The Tragedy of the Commons

After my near perfect visit to Big Horn National Forest, I next set my sights on Yellowstone National Park.  It took a couple of hours to cross the Big Horn Basin, which was absolutely baking in the mid-90s.  While passing through, I was treated to a thunderstorm that cooled things off a bit.

By the time I got to Cody, Wyoming, the biggest town just east of the park, things had dried out and the temperatures hovered back in the 90s again.  (Up in the mountains in the Big Horn National Forest, the highs were in the 70s.)  In Cody, I did laundry, took a shower, gassed up, and refilled the cooler with food and beer.  By the time I hit the road again and headed towards Yellowstone, it was late afternoon and more storms were brewing.  As I climbed the mountains leading up to the park entrance, it turned into a full-on nasty and impressive tempest.

Right about the time I got to the park, the storm started to let up.  And at the park entrance, as if on cue, I was treated to a real life show.  A buffalo scratching his junk back and forth on a rock right by the entrance.

 

I approached the park entrance booth just a few feet from Mr. Itchy, and the 20-year-old kid working the booth was leaning his head out the window, staring wistfully at the buffalo and propping his chin on his forearm.  When I get to the window, without even taking his gaze off the buffalo, he says to me, "I have the best job in the world."

But then, bad news.  Just past the entrance, there is a sign listing all the campgrounds and their distances.  And next to every campground name is a tag saying "FULL" -- which was sort of surprising given that there are about 2,000 campsites in the park, and probably an equal number of rooms in lodges and cabins. 

Oooops.  Oh well.  What the hell, I thought to myself.  I'll just drive to some of the campgrounds and lodges and see if there are any last minute vacancies.  And if not, I can always drive back down to Cody (about an hour from the park entrance) or down south of the park to Jackson.

But then as I drove deeper into the park, it was getting dark, and I started to think, this is stupid.  I had struck out at the first couple of places, it was getting late, I was tired, and distances in the park are such that I could be driving around all night trying to find a place to stay.  Finally, around 10:00 pm, I stumble into Grant Village, and the desk person said that they had one room available.  Score!  And they even let me have it at a discount because it had a broken window.  

Next morning, I got up bright and early to start my Yellowstone adventure.  But the adventure quickly soured.  The entire 3,500 square miles of the park seemed to be taken up with buses, oversized RVs, fifteen-seater vans, cars, and people.  And lots and lots of children (who were far less interested in the park than their parents).  I clearly missed all this night before because it was so dark and so late.

Nevertheless, I sojourned on.  First stop:  Old Faithful.  Now you would think that since Mr. Faithful erupts several times a day, the crowds wouldn't be too bad; after all, a tourist could opt for any one of about eight different eruptions.  I opted for the 11:30 showing.  And, alas, the place was mobbed.  This is what I had to compete with:

I felt like I was at a U2 concert something.  I did manage, though, to get the obligatory photo of me and the geyser (conveniently cropped to make it seem as if no one else is there!\).

The annoyed face is because of the screaming children nipping at my ankles.

Next up, strolls though the various geyser basins.  Unfortunately, because of the bajillions of people who pass through every year, visitors are restricted to "boardwalks" that dictate where you can go and that are choked with tourists who waddle at an interminably slow pace, don't believe in natural fibers, and wear fanny packs.  (The Horror!)  And they all seem to have more than their allotted 2.2 children, and they don't believe in disciplining any of them.  

Still, the hot springs and geysers were cool, once I actually got up and close and blocked the other tourists out of my peripheral vision.

And I was treated to a couple of other lovely views while driving around the park.  The lower falls of the Yellowstone River were quite impressive.

Note the tiny people on the platform at the top right of the falls.

And the canyon that starts at the base of the falls was stunning as well.

There was lots of wildlife, like this elk I spotted:

And the roads had areas every quarter mile or so where you could pull over and enjoy a new spectacular view (if you could manage to get an empty parking spot).

Lake Yellowstone

While driving around the jam which is park traffic, Grigsby hit a milestone.  He crossed the continental divide for the first time.

To celebrate, I let him get his first tattoo.

But really, after one day in Yellowstone, I was done.  I couldn't handle the crowds.  While I was able to edit out most of the throngs of people from the photos above, make no mistake:  The park was absolutely teeming, maxed out with people and their machines.  May a pox strike down the person who invented RVs!  Especially the RV in front of me that kicked out a piece of gravel and chipped Grigsby's windshield!

So I escaped the park the day before yesterday after spending barely 24 hours in it.  On the advice of my friend Sylvia who grew up in these parts, I checked into the Chico Hot Springs Resort and Day Spa, about 30 miles north of the park, to let nature's Calgon take me away.

Chico is a resort that dates from around 1900, with an old-school lodge and hot springs pool behind it, plus some newer buildings that have been added over the past hundred years or so.  My room was in the main lodge.  The room was tiny, little more than a bed and a tiny dresser, with the bathroom (shared w/eight other rooms) down the hall.  (They have nicer accommodations, too, but I'm traveling on the cheap, and I don't mind a shared bathroom.)

The resort is nestled right at the base of the Absaroka Mountains in a very picturesque location.  The weather is absolutely delightful, highs around 80, lows around 60.  After I checked in, I four-wheeled over to nearby Emigrant Creek and cooked myself some dinner on my portable gas stove (brats and corn on the cob).  Because the snow melt off this year has been so intense, the creek was positively gushing.  It made for a lovely background music and scenery while dining.  Then I came back to my room and crashed.

Yesterday I didn't do much.  I hung out by the hot springs pool.  Finished a book -- The Abstinence Teacher, a great read, check it out!  Took a yoga class.  Got a massage.  Not a whole lot to do here but chill.  Which is nice.  

A couple of days at Chico was a nice break.  My only two gripes:  First, there are lots of children.  I sort of thought this would be more of an "adult" sort of getaway, but this is clearly a "family" sort of destination.  While I adore children, I can only handle two or three at a time.  There must be 40 staying here, and the place isn't that big -- the kids totally overwhelm the pool.  They should consider having "adult" time at the pool for a couple of hours every afternoon.  The kids pretty much stayed away from the big porch (too boring for kids to just porch-sit, I suppose), so that's where I spent most of my time.   

Second, both mornings they started construction work out by the pool area at 7:00 am!  Criminy.  Power tools and shop vacs at that ungodly hour?!  They clearly need to get on east coast time.

But overall, it was a nice stay.  I'm checking out this morning.  Not sure where I'll end up night.  That's half the fun, though.  Onward!