Another snowshoe hike was on order for the day; this one was taking us over the Upper Geyser Basin to Biscuit Basin with a return on a snowy bike path.
Starting out early today, we were able to take our time lingering under the ghost trees, eyeballing ice bacon, watching bison stalk us, and catching our breath after the altitude and cold air stole it from us. More about all of that as this day unfolds.
These particular bison weren’t the creepy stalker ones that were hiding behind trees plotting something nefarious just out of view. I’d tried photographing those, but they were blending in with the dark trees, trying to be stealthy. Never trust a conniving bison is what my grandfather taught me.
Having spent the latter half of Tuesday here on a mostly sunny Upper Geyser Basin, we were not taking a lot of time this morning to dwell, as the area between Morning Glory Pool and Biscuit Basin is an unexplored corner for us, I think, and we want to get to it.
The geyser in the previous photo was captured as it was finishing an eruption before returning to just billowing steam. I’ve always found it intriguing to be able to see deeper into the springs and geysers of Yellowstone, so I’m sharing this close-up view of the interior.
The vertebrae and pelvic bone of an elk are not something you see every day.
For that matter, the interior of the Morning Glory Pool is also not seen every day.
Maybe I should have gone through all of our other photos of previous visits to Yellowstone to see if I have another image of Artemisia Geyser, but I do believe this is our first.
Ghost trees typically sit next to hot springs where the steam freezes on the tree, enshrouding it with incredible ice sculptures, dripping icicles, and what we affectionately call ice bacon. Ice ribbons form on branches with stripes in a gradation of clear to milky ice and back to clear – it appears that as the water freezes, the temperature, humidity, or who knows what determines whether the ice forming is going to be clear or milky. This looks to all the world like bacon strips made of glass.
A close-up of some of the ice sculptures we found intriguing.
We’ve never in our lives seen ice like this.
With blue skies on the horizon, we can have hope for a bit of sunlight today.
What you may not be able to immediately make out in this photo is that ribbons of ice have melted to a small extent during the previous warm days when it was hitting highs in the mid-30s (+1 and +2 Celsius), creating the icicles hanging from the tree.
Tempting fate, Caroline is standing next to Mirror Pool under nature’s daggers.
A bit of a guessing game is going on here, but I think that we’re looking over towards Cauliflower Geyser from a bridge that will take us over to Biscuit Basin.
The weather moves around a lot in Yellowstone, threatening doom one moment and heaven the next.
Near the entrance to Biscuit Basin, you’ll find Vulnerable Spring, though not typically with bison in the background standing in the snow.
As I write this, I find no small amount of sadness that the diversity of colorful hot springs right before my senses is unable to elicit the poetry or creation of a new language to convey the profundity of what is experienced when approaching something simultaneously beautiful, mysterious, and absolutely dangerous to life. While this is not something that can attack and maul you, it would be a conscious decision to be taken by its scalding grip.
Step upon the wrong spot, and you could find yourself the victim of your own curiosity, but that cautious distance we maintain works to pique the interest to see further into the workings of the earth. Drawn to see more, smell more, and know more, we are pulled closer, if not physically, then sensually, so we might have a secret whispered to the spirit looking for more.
If I were a painter, the play of light, steam, elements, life, light, and time would certainly guide my hand in knowing where to put down the stroke that might define the shape of things on the canvas. If I were a musician, might the patterns become self-evident notes offering me access to a world the likes of Eric Satie, Sergei Rachmaninoff, or Max Richter have known? But I aspire to write and find myself grasping at worn words that, much like tones and hues in novice hands, leave little lasting impression, and so I continue to practice laying letters down while never really growing confident that I have added any value to the page.
It will have to suffice that the light that shines from within the shared love of these two people fortunate enough to experience places that can make hearts sing, simply plays to the universe with us as the only audience.
There’s a poetry that floats overhead and flows downstream while shadows play and a glistening reflection works to seduce us, but the fleeting nature of it all is orchestrated for an immediacy that does not wait for others to join in with appreciation for this once-in-a-lifetime moment that can only ever be known by those present for witnessing such things. And so we take all we can into memories, but those impressions are weak and betray the desire that wishes to hold fast forever to a scene that might only exist in a passing, yet profound, glance.
What if we understood that all around us, above and below, everywhere in all situations, we were capable of extracting immense beauty from life? Would we continue numbing our sense of the profound that stared at us from our first to last breath and still chose to be immune to awareness in exchange for some meaningless gratification of the ego that never really satisfies the soul?
We are as steam is to a hot spring, the life on a planet. We will appear for a simple moment, adding grace to a landscape, and just as quickly disappear into an invisible atmosphere as though we never existed. Yet, within those fleeting few seconds, the light of our being might have illuminated a corner of someone else’s consciousness. Did we offer delight to them or weigh heavy like storm clouds looming on the horizon?
How easy it is to witness beauty and allow its constructs to be assembled in ways we define as intrinsically wonderful when we condition ourselves to define nature in non-threatening ways. Replacing the grandeur of our earth with promises of heavenly eternities diminishes our need to see the world as it is: incredible and rich with wealth beyond the things we adorn upon vapid existences.
There is no monetary value to seeing one’s shadows standing 30 feet tall in pristine snow, but then again, the remembrance of such a moment shared with the person you love is priceless.
We burst into nature and expend our energy in a flash of bedazzling spectacle if we are fortunate, or we whimper to the exit, hurt and unsatisfied as being here and gone is the fate of us all.
The warm glow of the late day tells us that time is moving us toward sunset and that we’ll soon approach nightfall. The temperature will drop, as will our ability to continue past the wee hours. We’ll take time to replenish ourselves with food and sleep, but who among us understands the need to take time to replenish ourselves with sensuality found in the dance of nature? Even if our lives should be brief and taken away too soon, what will the encounter with its magic have been worth? Will you have lived or simply existed? This then begs the question, how do we accept the machinations of a society diminishing the value of the individual by corrupting our ability to find the light that illuminates our better senses?
The silhouettes of life around us grow longer, as does the value of what our own shadows have collected by just being out here walking into beauty.
Goodbye day, and thanks for allowing me this opportunity to roam in a world that, for a little while, is mine to share with others from now and into the future, should these words continue to flow outward.
I achingly long to remain under these skies, in these moments, next to my best friend, who is in the same space as I am. I sense the sting in her eyes and murmur in her heart as the music of nature paints this canvas of the extraordinary that’s being amplified by our shared love.
The pulse of life is there; can you hear it, see it, feel it? It will continue throughout the night and still be with us the next day, with or without you, with or without me. If we are lucky, we will rise together again to witness the cold give way as our hearts warm the relationship between you and me, us and them, day and night, life and death. Persisting in celebration, love, and happiness, this is the landscape we live to always explore.
The call of life comes from deep within and deep below if you are able to tune your senses to pick up on the magic of all this. But for now…
…we will go to sleep like all things do so we might restore ourselves for another day emerging from the deep.
