AMERICAN ROCKIES
4.Yellowstone
The world’s first national park is astounding enough to see in summer, but
winter visitors can experience its vast, steaming landscapes in near solitude
P
ERHAPS NOWHERE IN
the Rockies is the contrast
between summer and winter
so stark as it is in Yellowstone
National Park. It’s not just
a matter of numbers – more than 750,000
visitors in July, fewer than 30,000 in January.
When a place that exists on the edge of
boiling point comes under the blanket of
winter, the stage is set for an epic contest of
fire and ice. This huge volcanic caldera is
the most geothermally active place on Earth,
and, in low temperatures, the steam clouds
sent up by its searing hot pools and geysers
are even more impressive.
‘Nobody knows exactly why the geysers
behave the way they do,’ says park ranger
Annie Carlson, one of the staff at the visitor
centre by Old Faithful: the most famous
geyser of them all. It usually erupts at 90-
minute intervals, give or take 10. ‘We predict
eruption times for five geysers in the winter
and six in summer,’ says Annie, a native of
Wisconsin, who has now spent four seasonsin the park. ‘In winter we rely on people
watching webcams. It’s neat, because people
watch from around the world.’ She breaks
off momentarily to switch on the PA system,
and announce that Beehive Geyser – one
of the less predictable ones – is putting on
a show. Outside the tall windows, on the
far side of the Firehole River, a slender jet
of water reaches 50 metres into the air.
‘For some geysers it can be a few years in
between eruptions,’ Annie says. ‘I got to see
Giantess erupt. You know you have geyser
fever when you go running out to watch.’
Old Faithful is neither the tallest geyser in
the park, nor the most punctual, but instead
a compromise between the two. At sunset,
some 20 people brave the chill to stand in
wait at the viewing area around the geyser- a space that can see a thousand or more
spectators for an eruption in peak summer
season. A dozen bison graze in the defrosted
meadow by the river beyond. The geyser-
watchers squint at the modest clouds of
steam that drift from Old Faithful in its
resting state, and try to convince themselves
that every larger-than-usual billow is a sign
of imminent action. The predicted eruption
time passes, and in the gathering dusk, all
but six of the viewers decide to head back to
the warmth of the nearby lodge. Six minutes
after the end of its grace period, Old Faithful
proves its worth in a scalding white fountain
that dwarfs everything around. Coincidence
or not, as the plume subsides, a twilight
chorus of yowls from coyotes starts up,
echoing from the surrounding hills.
Annie had said that the geyser basin in the
morning was the most otherworldly place
she had ever been, and the following day her
observation is borne out. On Geyser Hill at
first light, the boardwalk that keeps people
off the fragile crust becomes a path into an
ethereal realm. The sun filters capriciously
through the steam clouds, while ice crystals
flash through the air. Vapours rise from the
hot pools and are instantly chilled, the water
molecules clinging madly to the nearest
surface to form rime frost. Where thePendant Spring, on Geyser
Hill, gets its orange fringe from
heat-sensitive cyanobacteria.
RIGHT Annie Carlson is one of
the few park staff to stay on
for the winter season