snow, finally

bunsen peak ski

We skied down from our old house and right past a bison, who we failed to notice until we were past him...and he wasn't happy to see us, so we continued on our way.


Through the trees,


down the first hill, and over a bridge.

blacktail plateau ski

We've been MIA because we've been busy not doing things in the snow...this past week, while the rest of the country was dumped on with snow, we've had 40 degree weather and RAIN. Everywhere you go around here all anyone is talking about is snow, as in "want it, need it."

It's still possible to find snow here on the northern range, though conditions are not ideal. Blacktail had just enough snow and minimal wind, though I was skiing in a long-sleeve shirt and pants: no hat, no long underwear, no jacket.

Send snow. Please.

february, part 1

February got away from me. Steve was in NYC for three weeks, and I kept myself busy with skiing, running, and various social activities planned to keep Park residents from going crazy during one of the coldest months of the year. As I write this, the temperature outside is -20, as in Twenty. Below. Zero. Oh, and 15 MPH winds on top of that.

Running has almost completely consumed my non-work life, but before Steve returned from NYC, and back when it a wee bit warmer, I skied the Chittenden Loop with friends. But first, a pre-ski Cheddar Bomb burger at Buns 'n Beds in Cooke City to fuel up for the 10-miler.


Then we hit the trail. First stop, the winter-deserted Tower General Store and parking lot.


Then we climbed up the road to Tower Campground,


and skied past the campsite Steve and I camped at a couple of years ago. Steve remembers this campsite because there was a heavy snorer one tent away (it wasn't Larry Carr) who kept him up all night, 2 nights in a row. But I digress...


This route is only open in the winter, and as we climbed up the road we had nice views of the surrounding mountains.


We weren't the only people using this road. We skied alongside fresh wolf tracks as we went along...


Which makes sense, considering. I'm guessing a carcass log isn't something everyone expects to encounter when they're out for a ski.


And finally, views of Mt. Washburn in the distance,


before we skied back to Roosevelt via the road.

merry, merry

This was our second Christmas in Yellowstone, first in Mammoth. On Christmas Eve we had dinner in the Mammoth Hotel dining room, and we woke up Christmas morning to sunny and warmish skies.

We Skyped with our families, and then opened a few presents.

A Boss and Office combo for Steve:


Awesome new cookbooks to keep me going this winter:


A very Rolling Stones Christmas:


And for me, a dehydrator and jerky gun whoo hoo! Just what this Wyoming girl asked Santa for...


After a breakfast of sourdough waffles, we hit the trail with a friend and skied past elk and bison on Blacktail Plateau (6.7 miles).



Electric Peak in the background.




Happy Holidays!

solo ski day

On Sunday I hitched a ride to Madison with a friend who works at the warming hut there. It was freezing when I woke up--it was -22, without any windchill factor--and her snowmobile wouldn't start. We zipped off after it finally started, and it was so cold that the plastic face shield on my helmet was completely frosted over the entire way to the junction.

I planned to use the warming hut as a base, snack a little, ski a little, repeat. I was still thawing out, drinking hot chocolate, when one of the guides from West offered to drop me off at the top of Firehole Canyon. I grabbed my boots and skis, and hopped onto his bus. There were six people with him, out for a day tour of the park, and they weren't quite sure what to make of the girl who hopped on and then hopped off in the middle of nowhere.

On the way up, we passed two bald eagles, and the guide pointed out this cave that he called "Bigfoot's Cave"--I'd never noticed it before, and he said there are always bones there (these look like elk bones.)


I took my time skiing down the canyon, so that I could stop and take a few pictures along the way. The sun was out and it was (finally) starting to warm up.



There was no one else out, and it was completely still and quiet, save for the sound of the river.


As I came around the final turn I saw a coyote making its way along the river bank. By the time I managed to get my camera out my backpack he had moved on along the river, jumping over fallen logs.


Before I skied back to the hut, I stopped at the Gibbon Meadow overlook;


after a few minutes of standing still, a bald eagle flew overhead.


After a quick lunch, I took off with a ranger to check out animal tracks in the snow on a short loop she created out the back of the hut/ranger station. While we were strapping on our skis, a coyote darted across the meadow below us. As we took off, he watched us, we watched him, until he finally darted past us and went on his way.

After skiing with her for about 45 minutes and studying tracks in the snow, I took off on my own. I started by following her ski tracks, then took off through the Madison campground, where the snow came up over my knees as I tried to break trail. After I broke out of the snow and left the campground, I skied along the Madison River and caught up with the coyote again, who was mousing along the bank.






I made it out past Harlequin Lake and then decided it was time to turn around and head back towards Madison junction and the warming hut.


As I came back towards the campground, a herd of elk were grazing near the river,


and I had to detour around them by skiing up the road. A group of snowmobilers were stopped, watching the elk, until they decided to watch me instead--a couple of them even took pictures of me. I'm sure the photos of the crazy skier lady will make for some fun vacation memories.

trip north: part 2

After lunch on Tuesday, we jumped on a snowcoach and took the bumping, three hour ride to Mammoth. We got in around 5:30, but we didn't stop there. We warmed up our car that had been sitting for about a month and headed north 50-some odd miles to Livingston, MT.

All this to make it to the 2nd Street Bistro for our first real meal in weeks. The restaurant, which serves a fantastic array of upscale comfort food, did not disappoint. Our starter of fresh shrimp drowned in a warm-greek dressing with kalamata olives, cherry tomatoes and creamy feta was amazing. For our entrees, Wendie went with the meatloaf pizza that she had read so much about, while I couldn't resist the same dish I had the last time we went to 2nd St., the penne-bechamel macaroni and cheese that comes with a half a roasted chicken on top. Both were excellent and left us happy and fueled for big day in the Northern Range on Wednesday.

We woke early to make it out to the Lamar Valley to see if we could spot some animals (see previous blog), and then stopped at the Bannock Trail

and strapped on our skis for a little pre-lunch jaunt.

An ancient path, the Bannock Trail is thought to be the remnants of a thoroughfare used for hundreds of years by Native Americans as their main artery to the hunting grounds in the area of what is now Yellowstone. For that reason, the trail actually exits the park and heads out to Cooke City, MT.

After munching on a couple of pieces of cold meatloaf pizza, we started out fording a small brook that runs parallel to the larger Soda Butte Creek

then passed through a couple open meadows.

As it always seems to do in the Northeastern part of the Park, it was snowing quite a bit as we entered a heavily wooded-area and climbed up a gradual hill that overlooked what I think is Warm Springs

About a mile and half into the ski, we left the park (and Wyoming) and headed toward Silver Gate, MT. Having already seen our moose in Silver Gate, we didn't go all the way into town. On our way back, we re-entered the Park,

and cruised back downhill to our car.

From there we cruised through the Lamar and past all the coyotes to the Yellowstone River picnic area where we decided to make lunch.

My culinary skills attracted the attention of a wily raven that sat on a tree limb about two feet over my head, waiting for me to leave something for him to steal. Luckily, having heard all the stories of these birds pilfering lunches from unsuspecting snowmobilers, I successfully defended our vittles.

While we were waiting for the noodles-in-a-bag to "cook", we hiked up to the river overlook. Thanks to our lack of snow the uphill climb wasn't too bad and before we knew it we were overlooking the huge canyon that the Yellowstone's water has been gauging for thousands of years.

We each took our turn peering over the edge

before retreating down the hill to eat.

Due to the lack of snow our plans to ski some other trails had to be scrapped. So after some more wildlife watching we headed into Gardiner for some real food at the K-Bar. We (or at least I was) were excited to get to watch some Winter Olympics while eating our hamburgers (actually a bison burger for me -- lookin' at 'em all day made me hungry).

Disappointed we were when we looked up at the TV and realized our Olympic experience was going to consist of an hour of watching curling (there is a reason it almost rhymes with boring). Still, by the time we left, we were, just like everyone else in the bar room, sucked in, offering suggestions to the TV and complaining about the Americans' lack of skill.

From there we headed back to Mammoth. And though we had another gut-jarring three hour ride back to Old Faithful at 8am the next morning, we at least had memories of good food to get us through our final three weeks of EDR grub.