Part Forty

     August 16th - 18th            Yellowstone National Park             (Go to Pt 1)

On the way down from Grants Pass to Shoshone Lake, we walked through the Shoshone Geyser Basin which is fascinating, to be sure, but pales to a pittance in comparison to the grandeur of the Firehole/Old Faithful Geyser Basin that Craig and I had walked through and which Dave and Murry never saw because their bus let off on the wrong side of the building.

Click on the map for a larger image

By going through the Shoshone Geyser Basin, Dave and Murry would at least get to see some geothermal activity while in Yellowstone with the only kink being, they were ready to make camp. They were tired, ​sunburned and struggling with their pack loads and as far as the ‘scenery’ was concerned they could barely give a shit, but hey, what’re you gonna do?

By the time we got down to Shoshone Lake it was late in the afternoon and, as would be expected, every campsite at the lake was taken.  Knowing this would be the case, Craig and I had stopped into the National Park Service Office in West Yellowstone and gotten all of our camping permits in advance, so one of those campsites was ours.

The sites were clearly marked-out and signed, so we wandered down the lakeshore until we came across our assigned campsite – which was occupied.  Okay, not cool.

We dropped our packs and Dave and Murry took a knee while Craig and I strolled over to where a 

couple of guys were sitting in front of their tent. The two had their backs to us and they were staring out at the lake, pretending like they didn’t know we were there, which was ridiculous because we were standing right there, until finally they acted surprised and one guy jumped up to introduce himself as ‘Chuck’.

I had our permit in hand and wondered if they had been issued a permit for the same site.  Chuck studied our permit for a minute then, in an ‘aww shucks’ kind of way, said “Nah, we aint got no permit, but we were kinda hoping maybe we could share this site with you guys.”  

Honestly, the site was plenty big enough for three tents and it was obvious nobody was about to move.  I looked over at Dave and Murry who were too tired to care about tent arrangements and then over at Craig who shrugged and said “Sure, Chuck.  We got plenty of room.  No problem.”

Shortly after that a Wilderness Ranger came by checking permits. First, he checked our permit for two tents and four backpackers then asked Chuck for his permit.  When Chuck told him they didn’t have one, the Ranger was not at all happy.  

He was going to give both Chuck and his buddy a hefty fine for illegal camping in the backcountry unless Craig and I consented to having them listed on our permit. I didn’t care, so this led to paperwork, driver’s licenses, a reissuance of our permit to include Chuck, etc., and a stern lecture from the Ranger.  

All of this was rather entertaining as Chuck was trying to work his ‘aww shucks, we didn’t know’ routine on the Ranger and the Ranger wasn’t buying into it, not even a little bit.  The more Chuck talked the thinner the ice got.  I think the Ranger would have loved to have given Chuck a citation for simply being an idiot and I’d have to say, thus far, the guy was certainly earning it. 

After that was all over with, Chuck was ecstatic with gratitude and pulled out the only thing of value he had to offer which amounted to a paltry pinch of pot dust in the bottom corner of a baggie.  This immediately alarmed his buddy into loudly whispering “NO! That’s all we’ve got!”  Again, like we weren’t there.  We declined Chuck’s very generous offer and went back to setting-up camp. 

Once we’d gotten settled and had some supper, Craig and I wandered over to hang out with Chuck and his buddy who had saved their pinch’o pot to smoke with us.  Chuck was kind of a motor mouth with not much to say but he was a nice enough guy and it was pleasant to have some company.  His buddy, on the other hand, hardly spoke and looked like the Unabomber; the guy was still wearing his sunglasses under his ballcap well past dark.

The next morning, once we got them out of their tent, Dave and Murry put a little more hustle into their pack-up, but they were teenagers on summer vacation, at least prior to this, and they were just plain slow in the mornings. Again, Craig pitched-in to help keep their momentum going, while 

being the designated ‘dick’, I finally had to bark “Jesus! Dead turtles move faster than you guys! Let’s go!”  They got better as we went along.

The temperature was cool, and it was a glorious morning.  Thick clouds that had been lying on the lake at sunrise were lifting and a silvery sun filtered through, shining bright shafts of light across the lake.  From Shoshone Lake, we had our sights set on crossing over to Lewis Lake, a respectable 13-mile day for the greensticks. ​

The coolness of the morning did not last as the sun quickly burned through, portending another hot day.  We all marched through more, numbingly monotonous terrain that crossed over vast hills of dry, dusty lodgepole pine and without any more view than an endless film-loop of tress out in front and pulverized dirt underfoot.  

Dave and Murry did a decent job of keeping pace throughout the day and after arriving at the lake, hot and tired, they got busy setting their camp and pulling their evening meal together by following the Rusk/Dunn methodology they had watched us employ.  I was impressed, these guys were starting to show some promise. ​

We had a pleasant, relaxing evening along the lakeshore then took a semi-easy day over to Heart Lake the following day.  The boys were finally catching their rhythm and were able to hold pace with me and Craig, at near full throttle, all the way to the Heart Lake Geyser Basin. ​

And when we finally did reach the geyser basin, Dave and Murry weren’t nearly as tired as they had been while hiking through the Shoshone Geyser Basin, which allowed us to amble our way down through the thermal features slowly, stopping often to enjoy and better appreciate the strangeness of all this natural phenomenon. ​

None of the geysers erupted while we were there but we did walk up to the steaming edge of one to take a look.  As I was peering over the edge, I suddenly wondered ‘Holy shit, how thick is this crust we’re standing on?’ and started to back away.

​I’d already plunged into the earth once, back in Montana, and my alarm bells were sensitive. One glimpse into  

that cauldron and it was obvious nobody could survive a crash-through into that hole. “Guys, I think we’d better back-up!” I said with startling alarm.  “This crust doesn’t look safe!”

​Turns out, panic really is contagious, as the three of them practically levitated back from the edge and scattered away from the cone - but for all I knew, maybe that crust could have held a cement truck, I just didn’t want to mess around and find out.

We eventually made it down to Heart Lake then skirted around the north side to make an early camp near the outlet.  It was another calm, pastel evening and after dinner, we all moseyed down to the lakeshore to make a cheery, little campfire.  Murry was cracking some pretty funny jokes and I think the boys were finally having some fun. Too bad.

During the night the temperature dropped from warm to not and early the next morning I awoke to the miserable sound of rain on the tent-fly. I poked my head outside to a cold drizzle misting its way down from dreary, low-hanging clouds. So far, Dave and Murry hadn’t exactly been fireballs out of the tent in the morning but having to face this weather first thing was going to be brutal for everybody.

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Go to Part 41

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The CDTC was founded in 2012 by volunteers and recreationists hoping to provide a unified voice for the CDT. Working hand-in-hand with the U.S. Forest Service and other federal land management agencies, the CDTC is a non-profit partner supporting stewardship of the CDT. The mission of the CDTC is to complete, promote and protect the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, a world-class national resource. For more information, please visit continentaldividetrail.org.

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