We wake up the next morning to a breakfast of eggs and precooked bacon. The plan is to go see Old Faithful and the various other geysers/hot springs around Yellowstone.
The drive to the geyser area takes a little under an hour, during which time Alvin negotiations between The Chemist and me crescendo. The situation is tense. I know if I find Alvin, The Chemist will not be receiving him. The Chemist knows the same thing.
We get to Old Faithful, where I take one of the best pictures of the entire trip:
 |
| When you look at Bright Spot, you gaze into the face of God. When you gaze at this sign, it's hard not to like it. |
Look at that warning sign. I don't know if I've ever seen something that so perfectly captures the ephemeral nature of human life, the terrifying eternity that awaits us all, the dangers of going off the prebuilt path. This picture is tragedy. This picture is the naivete of childhood and the grief of losing a child. This picture is the unabated, callous wrath of Mother Earth and the apathy of a stranger. This picture is art.
Prior to the trip, someone told The Chemist to hike up a hill and watch Old Faithful from there. We decide to do this, judging from the lack of crowd that we will have time to look around at the surrounding hot springs and geysers before Old Faithful erupts.
One particular geyser, called the Beehive, unpredictably erupts somewhere between ten hours and five days following its previous eruption. Old Faithful far overshadows Beehive with her regularity and size. I take many pictures of the geothermal phenomena, most of which look the same. They are all ceaselessly churning and steaming and giving off sulphurous fumes. Here is a sample:
 |
| Going swimming in this is not recommended, because it is way too small. You could barely tread water in this thing. |
After seeing a sign telling tourists not to throw coins, rocks, or other objects into a boiling pool, The Sojourner suggests we throw coins, rocks, or other objects into a boiling pool. We do not, each for different reasons. The Recycler deeply respects park rangers and does not want to anger them. In fact, The Recycler wants to be a park ranger when he grows up. The Sojourner understands the underlying chemistry behind these steam vents and the negative consequences of disrupting said chemistry. The Chemist is too afraid. As for me, my excuses total to zero. But that's something my excuses and my regrets have in common.
While we are looking at hot water, I am thinking about the live supervolcano beneath us. It is an awesome thought, by which I mean it induces awe. The volcano could erupt at any time, killing thousands of people, annihilating billions of dollars of infrastructure, and blotting out the sky with ash. Such a catastrophe might bring about a second Ice Age, an Ice Age I wouldn't get to see, being dead and all. That's fine. I've seen the Ice Age movie. Plus, if "Died in supervolcano eruption" is to be my cause of death, I have no complaints. Shoutout to all the Romans who lived in Pompeii. I've got Yellowstone here -- she says, "Vesuvius ain't got nothin' on me."*
I look around at the carefully positioned walkways, the hotel, and the other tourists, and wonder what this place looked like hundreds of years ago. I wonder how mystified I would have been if I had stumbled on this place, where water is boiling, in 1442. I wonder what explanation I would have come up with. I think about science overcoming myth.
I also think about profit overcoming the environment. I do not like the state-sponsored commercialism all around me, but it is what brought me here. The paths and hotel corrupt the scene, but without them I would not be able to enjoy it. This juxtaposition between artificial and natural will recur.
The hike is strenuous, but doable. We make it to the top without Old Faithful going off behind us. The view is fantastic. I take the following picture at the top:
After admiring the hotel's architecture, I wait with a camera. Old Faithful erupts a couple minutes later. I video it. We hike back down for lunch.
We drop inside the hotel, to look at the architecture some more. I take a picture of the large clock inside:
 |
| A paragon of timekeeping. |
Back out, and our lunch has taken long enough for us to watch Old Faithful erupt again, this time much closer. While we wait, the Beehive goes off:
 |
| I am lucky to have this picture, given the rarity of the occassion. |
Here is a picture of the crowd around Old Faithful:
 |
| The crowd is much, much, much larger midsummer. |
I withhold actual ground-level Old Faithful images. Go there and see it yourself. I hear real life has very high definition.
Part 7
*Sorry, Pompeiians. Your tragic story lives on in my heart. The readers, though, all they want is an effigy to crucify.
No comments:
Post a Comment