The mandatory Old Faithful visit is done. It is at this time the trip begins to feel like a checklist, a connect-the-dots-enterprise with as much freedom as an actual connect-the-dots enterprise. There is nothing wrong with that; in fact, I'm not sure how it could be any other way, but for some reason it feels a little artificial to me. Maybe I'm just a terrible tourist.
Some people fall asleep on the car, so The Chemist and The Recycler spontaneously decide to take us to a third waterfall: Gibbon. We get to the waterfall parking place. The view is grand:
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| Below is a collapsed beaver dam. We saw many beaver dams during the trip. I thought this was really cool. |
We sit here for a while. The sound of the water is loud, but not harsh; ceaseless, but not tiresome. For me, listening to it is a profoundly peaceful experience.
Prior to the trip, I'd been earnestly attempting to meditate, and failing miserably. I understood that meditation is about getting rid of the inner monologue endlessly going through my mind, a voice of insecurity and worry and stress. It is hard to eliminate this voice because it's on all the time. It is a default setting.
Listening to the waterfall somehow makes it easy. At first, I contemplate the water perpetually and inevitably crashing into the rocks, compelled by gravity, the monotony of it, the eternalness of it.
It occurs to me that some people live mundane lives: Wake up, go to work, come home, pay the rent, watch TV. Lather, rinse, repeat. Some people get bored because there is nothing to do. Some people go skydiving and set things on fire. Politicians dictate the rise and fall of nations, they go to war, they try to increase their own power, they struggle to please an insatiable constituency. Scientists make astonishing discoveries and try to secure funding. Janitors purify buildings, ward away disease, make our hypocritical indifference towards our own environment tolerable. People fall in love and enact revenge.
Throughout all of this, the waterfall at Yellowstone is flowing. It does the same thing every second, oblivious to the romance and sorrow around it. It does not love or hate; it simply is. There is nothing else. The water itself is meditating, or at least I consider it to be, and that helps me clear my own mind.
We climb back up after a while. I do not know how long; I lost track of time down there. We drive to the hot springs so we can check off one more attraction, during which time The Chemist finds Alvin. Alvin does not look happy. Then again, Alvin's facial features have not changed ever since he was birthed in geologic chemistries I will never understand, up until someone gave him the gift of sight by gluing googly eyes on him.
As we drive, a bison comes up to the minivan:
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| The Sojourner informs us that bison live in the Americas, whereas buffalo live in Africa. CU Boulder has been getting it wrong. My silent, conspiratorial gasp goes unnoticed. |
I am aimlessly clicking the camera at this time, which annoys The Chemist. I continue, mostly due to inertia.
In the primordial soups of being stuck in a small metal box together, proteins sythesize themselves into writhing meme-jokes compelled with all the force of the biological imperative. The Chemist, who is driving at this juncture, says the following:
"If I were playing GTA 5 right now, I'd jump this van off the cliff, do a 360, crash, take my gun out, and start shooting people and bison."
This is when I learn that in GTA, if you are in a vehicle, you take no fall damage.
Around the same time of this quote, The Sojourner asks:
"What's our ETA?"
Can you feel it? Can you see the amino acids lining up into chains, coalescing into self-modifying cells, coming alive? Can you hear the joke writing itself?
From then on, we constantly ask the driver (whoever it is) "What's our GTA?" and The Chemist comes up with increasingly violent, illegal, and physics-violating activies he would be doing if he were playing GTA instead of being in communion with three other breathing human beings.
The animal-spotting contiunes, and we manage to grab some great bear pictures:
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| Let's assume for the moment that Buddhism is true, and we reincarnate when we die. This bear right here has more swagger than I will ever have in every lifetime I will ever live. I mean, just look at him or her. You are looking at the definition of cool. |
Check the hot springs off our list:
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| That is not smoke on the water. It is just steam. |
See an elk on the way out:
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| White butt, tight strut. |
Forested cliffs surround the hot springs, tall and austere. I think back to junior year of high school, when we read some Henry David Thoreau writing regarding the transcendence of nature. It occurs to me that, back then, I had no idea what Thoreau was talking about. In Yellowstone, however, I can see the awe-inspiring scenes that inspired his writing firsthand. The feeling makes me want to write some poetry myself. I compose a verse or two in my head, then scrap it. This place is too good for my words.
Next time: Ranger danger!
Part 8
