Earlier this year, the movie "The Bucket List," hit theatres in the U.S. The story follows two terminally ill men, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, on a road trip with a wish list of things to do before they die, or "kick the bucket." The movie met with mixed reviews from critics, and hasn't yet appeared in my mailbox courtesy of Netflix.
While I haven't seen the movie, I can relate, as I have my own bucket list of sorts. I used to call it the "Things to do before I'm 30 List," but as that particular milestone has come and gone, I've had to revise its title. Bucket list seems as adequate as anything else.
Some of my bucket list items are personal - get married, start a family, write a novel, learn to play the guitar. Some items center around my career and new enthusiasm for outdoor pursuits - get my cutt-slam, win an Association for Conservation Information award, deer hunt with a certain cute guy without completely embarassing myself. Then there are the places I'd like to visit sometime before my ultimate demise - New York City, Ireland and yes, even Disney World.
Last month, I got to cross one of those places off my list -- Yellowstone National Park.
Friends and collagues were shocked to learn that as a Wyoming native, I'd never visited our country's first national park. Almost everyone I know took a family vacation to Yellowstone. But raising five kids on a single salary didn't allow my parents the luxury of many family vacations. Logistics and finances dictated that our family adventures be more practical, usually centered around a work conference my dad had to attend or a rodeo he would announce in his spare time. We visited Jackson, Dallas, Laramie and Lander and many places in between, but the Cole family station wagon with its brown wood paneling never made it to Yellowstone.
I was attending a meeting with Wyoming Wildlife magazine editor Chris Madson and associate editor Judith Hosafros in Bozeman, Montana. We were there to meet with other members of the magazine cooperative that helps the Game and Fish deliver Wyoming Wildlife to our 36,000 subscribers each month. When Chris told me he was hoping to drive into Yellowstone and shoot some photographs one afternoon, I invited myself along for the ride.
We entered the park through the north entrance, driving directly under the Roosevelt Arch, a giant stone archway that has greeted visitors to the park for more than 100 years. President Theodore Roosevelt was visiting the park at the time of its construction, and laid the cornerstone for the arch, which then took his name. The arch is inscribed with "For the benefit and enjoyment of the people."
Had the rest of the trip been a bust, I would have been tickled pink just to make it that far. Teddy Roosevelt has always been one of my favorite figures from history, for his contributions to natural resources and his colorful personality. I have a photo of my great, great grandfather, M.P. Keefe, then mayor of Cheyenne and colorful personality in his own right, having dinner in his home with President Roosevelt, who was in Cheyenne for a local celebration. The arch was a neat connection to my own past, and a great reminder of why I work to help conserve wildlife-- for the benefit and enjoyment of all.
The rest of the trip, however, didn't disappoint. Once in the park, we followed the road to Mammoth and then east on to Cooke City. Immediately, I could see why millions of visitors have been drawn to the area over the last century. Even under a few feet of snow, the landscape was beautiful. The day was overcast and gray, not exactly conducive light for taking photos, but the wildlife didn't know that and were out in full force. Deer, elk and pronghorn greeted us in Mammoth. A few miles up the road, I spotted two bighorn sheep ewes placidly enjoying a late lunch. We saw red-tailed hawks, mallards, goldeneyes, osprey, mountain bluebirds and even a kingfisher.
Had their been more than about five cars on the road, we would have gotten caught in a bison jam. A few bulls meandered across our path, not much caring about us one way or the other.
Bison are the largest mammals in Yellowstone National Park, with mature bulls weighing upward of 2,000 pounds. Despite their massive size, bison are quick and agile. They can run at speeds of up to 40 miles per hour and sport curved, sharp horns that can grow to two feet long.
I've been around enough domestic bison to know I don't want to tangle with one. They are big, powerful and demand respect. But each year, more people are hurt by bison than by bears in Yellowstone, despite park regulations requiring visitors to stay at least 25 yards away from the animals.
I've seen photos of visitors just feet from a mature bison and wondered what in the blazes was going through their minds. These are wild animals, folks, not a donkey at a petting zoo. But as we tooled along the roadway, I began to understand how uneducated tourists could be duped into getting too close. The bisons' big shaggy coats and lumbering gait give them a deceptively friendly appearance. I guess if I didn't know better, I might be tempted to reach my hand out the car window and try to pet one. God bless the park rangers who work to try to keep all us idiot visitors safe...
I eagerly lapped up Chris's knowledge of the area, making mental notes of places he suggested for camping, fishing or hiking. I spotted a hillside covered with blackened trees and asked Chris where the 1988 fires had occurred. He explained the origination of fire that caused the aftermath we were looking at, and gave me a brief review of that memorable summer.
In the 1940s, scientists recognized that fire can aid ecosystems, including the arid mountainous western United States. By the 1970s, Yellowstone and other parks had instituted a natural fire management plan to allow the process of lightning-caused fire to continue influencing wildland succession.
The summer of 1988 turned out to be the driest in the park's recorded history. By the end of July, fires within the park alone encompassed nearly 99,000 acres, and by the end of the month, dry fuels and high winds combined to make the larger fires virtually uncontrollable. News reporters and firefighters from around the country poured into the park. Throughout August and early September, some park roads and facilities were closed to the public. Nearby towns feared for their property. Yellowstone's fire management policy was the topic of heated debate, no pun intended, across the country.
I could remember standing on the playground at my elementary school in Cheyenne, staring at the weird orange hue of the sun. My dad explained that I was seeing the smoke from the Yellowstone fires. Even 8 hours from the blazes, the acrid smell was distinct to my seven-year old nose. I asked my dad if the animals would be okay. He assured me that most of the animals had plenty of time to escape the fire, explaining that it wasn't quite like I'd seen in the Disney movie Bambi.
The fires were eventually dampened by early winter snows and extinguished completely in November. The fires affected 793,880 acres, or 36 percent of the park. Turns out, my dad was a pretty good layman wildlife biologist. According to the Yellowstone National Park Web site, surveys found about 408 animals that died as a direct result of the fires, a very small portion of the total number of wild animals that called the park home. Total costs to fight the fires exceeded $120 million.
The burned trees that still stood were a stark contrast to the pristine snow. It made the hillside look sad and forlorn. But after the initial destruction came new life. The fires created a mosaic of burned and unburned areas that provided new habitats for plants and animals and has given scientists a living classroom where they can study the effects of fire. They've learned that grasslands returned to pre-fire-appearance within a few years, with some grasses providing more nutrients than before. Aspen reproduction increased by fire stimulating the growth of suckers from the underground root system. And when I looked beyond the burned sentinels, I could see younger trees re-colonizing in most of the burned areas.
We turned around in Cooke City, content with all that we had seen and experienced. But this place still had a few treats in store for us. On our way out of the park, we saw a lone black wolf in the Lamar Valley, a great gray owl perched in a tree and a coyote trotting down the side of the road just as oblivious to our car as the bison had been. I snapped the obligatory photo from the car window as he passed to document my travels.
Yellowstone was definitely a special place. Even in winter, in poor light, on a whirlwind trip on just one road of the park, I had a blast seeing all the wildlife and experiencing the natural world. The diversity of life and nature was astounding. From the world's largest collection of geyers to an abundance of wildlife, Yellowstone is packed to the boundaries with adventures waiting to be had. Early explorers called it "Wonderland" for good reason.
Actually, Yellowstone will stay on my list. I plan to return to cast a fly for native cutthroat trout, witness Old Faithful gush its thermal treasure and explore the many trails and water falls. Maybe someday, I'll take my own family through Roosevelt Arch, building lists of birds and wildlife we were able to see and goofing on the tourists who cause bear and bison jams.
Podcasts, photos, books and documentaries are great, but even modern technology is no substitute for visiting Wyoming's wild places like Yellowstone Park. You can bet I'll beat a path, and the bucket, back to that corner of the state before long.
