My time in Yellowstone “roused my appetite without bedding it back down.” I arrived in Montana on the night of July 27th. It was completely dark, but I could still see the outline of the mountains all around. Checking in, I proceeded to go find my rental car. Wheeling my luggage through the parking lot, I paused to inspect each vehicle. I couldn’t find my car. A gust of wind blew dust into my eyes, as I sat down on my luggage to wait for a miracle. Within minutes an attendant asked, “Do you need help?”
Reaching my hand to my forehead, I grabbed the strand of hair that had escaped and tucked it behind my ear. “Yes, I can’t find my car.”
He glanced at the key chain in my hand, “May I?”
Offering it to him, I said “Certainly.”
It took five seconds for him to push one button, and somewhere I could hear an alarm going off. Following the sound, I walked further into this massive parking lot. Finally, I saw the car at the very end of the parking lot. When I arrived, I inspected it. Black as the night, it was a brand new Ford Escape SUV. After loading my bags, I sat in the driver’s seat. Reaching my right hand up, I felt for a light switch. Nothing. I turned on the Flashlight app on my phone, to get a good look at the steering wheel. There was no place for a key, only a single button that said Push-To-Start. I pushed the button. Nothing. Stepping out of the SUV, I ran around the parking lot looking for the attendant. He was gone. Then, I remembered the phone number. I called the rental car desk. Dillon, the young man who had helped me, answered.
Trying not to sound hopeless, I said “I can’t start the car.”
“Hold down the brake, while pushing the button and have the key chain on you.”
Keeping my voice cheerful, I said “Do you have any advice for me?”
“You can’t start the car, unless you have the key chain. Don’t lose it.”
After we hung up, I was able to start the car. Luckily, the drive to the hotel was super easy. I got into my room, and unpacked. For this trip, I had to pack my food items in my checked bag. However, I learned that it is a bad idea to pack pickles. Upon opening my bag, I discovered two of my pants were soaked in pickle juice. There would be no opportunity to wash them. My pickle pants were out. This was my first time at Yellowstone and I wanted to make a good impression. I went to sleep as soon as I hit the pillow.
The next day, I checked out at 6am. Loading up my car, I pulled out my own music. Once I started the drive, I realized that the sound system did not take CDs or have an auxiliary source for me to hook my ipod to. Much to my dismay, I drove the entire way in silence--3 hours. I started to notice my difficulty breathing on the drive to the park. The altitude was 1,000 feet and my lungs weren’t used to that.
I arrived at my class at 10:30am, an hour and a half late to my first day--no biggie. Sneaking into the room, I sat in the very back. The teacher kept talking. When I looked around, I discovered that people of all ages and backgrounds were taking this class. The youngest person was 14 and the oldest person was 70.
When we took a break for lunch, I unloaded my SUV and put my stuff in my assigned cabin. I didn’t eat my pickles. They had sufficiently pissed me off, so I threw them in the trash. Somehow I managed to gulp down a tortilla and some string cheese, while feebly attempting to breathe.
My first day there, I tried to adapt. I’m so used to being in the city, where hearing the sound of a cell phone ring or receive a text is familiar. In the park, there was no cell reception. At first this silence was odd, but then I started to like it. I liked the freedom that comes from not being chained-to-your-phone.
It took me a while to warm up to the strangers in my class. My favorite was a fellow named Chris, from England. It was amazing that I did not annoy him because I was constantly switching from speaking normally to speaking as though I were Mary Poppins. Considering my behavior, it was surprising that Chris kept choosing to sit next to me on the bus.
Rising the next day at 5am, we immediately boarded the bus. We rode into the heart of Yellowstone--Lamar Valley. Setting up our equipment took some time, but it was a welcome distraction from the biting cold. Tall pine trees and sage brush covered the land. A hundred yards away, on a steep incline, I focused my telescope. The den site was somewhere nearby. Looking into the back country was deceptive to the eye, it appeared small, but actually it stretched on for miles. My hands started to tingle. Wishing that I had brought gloves, I kept looking for any signs of life. After an hour shivering with my eye fixed on the scope, the eureka moment came. Someone cried wolf. Where? In between the trees, they appeared. Two black wolf pups were playing. They moved so fast, it was difficult to keep up. Watching them chase each other, my pulse increased. My heart felt like it was doing the Texas-two-step in my chest. Even from a distance, this sighting was incredibly satisfying. Everyone in the crowd reacted, like when you are in church, and suddenly you feel the Holy Spirit in the room. After thirty minutes the pups ran back to the den. Suddenly, a deep chorus of voices united. The Lamar Valley wolf pack howled, and the sound was pure joy. It bounced of the hills and we all tuned in. When the howling ended, there was silence. No one wanted to break the spell. Eventually I climbed back into the bus with Chris and the others. We returned to the ranch, all of us blissfully happy from seeing the wolves.
The beauty of Yellowstone National Park was so staggering, so mind-blowing that I left feeling completely revived, restored, refreshed! I can’t wait to go back.
