Out West Ski Trip #2

Dates: Feb. 25 - Mar. 4, 2023

Crew: Gavin Rye, Mark Pipp, Britten Lewis, Sawyer Braun, et al.

Locations: Bozeman, Big Sky, Yellowstone National Park

Now Entering Big Sky Country

Shred west, young man

"I love it when a plan comes together" - Gavin, during this trip. I couldn't agree more! After talking about it for years, we finally got our act together and staged a westward invasion by the skiers of Brighton, MI. Gavin's MTU friends Britten and Sawyer and a large group of their friends were in as well for a total of 11. After a long night of packing I joined Mark, Gavin, and Britten in Denver for a final flight to Yellowstone-Bozeman airport. We made it to Big Sky an hour later at 11pm ready to sleep, and I ended up in my customary top bunk, with the kicker that the bed was missing half its slats for some reason, so I had to sleep there as the resident bantamweight with the smallest chance of crushing Mark to death. The stars were brilliant and I considered taking some astro shots, but decided we would have all week to do it. Sadly, this was the last we'd see of the night sky for the week. Remember to seize your chances when you have them!

The first day was spent almost entirely on the main face of the mountain. The excitement of the day came when we went up the Challenger lift, everyone (except Mark) ignoring the signs that proclaimed in bright red that "THIS LIFT ACCESSES EXPERT TERRAIN ONLY. NO EASY WAY DOWN." Shockingly, the lift line kept getting steeper and steeper and deposited us at the top of a steep and icy face. A sign pointed left for "easiest way down," with that being only a black diamond traverse to a mile of knee-crushing moguls. Mark and Gavin went that way but I took a wrong turn and found myself on the face. This led to a long stressful descent trying not to slip and tumble down the whole thing. Britten and I survived it and then rode in the safe comfort of the black diamond glade runs to the bottom. When we finally all found each other, we finished the day out on the main lifts from the Mountain Village; Swift Current and Ramcharger. Between the altitude, the length and intensity of the runs, and maybe me being out of practice, I was nearly cooked by the time we made it back home. We then saw a winter storm warning for 4-6 inches of snow overnight and immediately switched our next ski day from Tuesday to Monday to take advantage.

They never stopped to think if they should...

With daylight starting to fade already, we started the drive in towards Palisade falls. The winding forest road was plowed but snowy and trenched in, so the first 9 miles were slow going and Gavin's U.P. driving skills were very useful. The last mile was gated off and unplowed, which instantly turned the short 2-mile hike I convinced the guys to do into a lovely 4-mile snow hike. I was champing at the bit and took off from the gate at a blistering pace, determined to get there while there was still daylight for photos. I think the other guys were less enthused by the newly extended hike through the slippery hills.

Gavin's photos of my gracious descent from the slope.

On our way home we spotted several long trains of Elk walking on the far side of the ranches, and then a moose foraging on an island in the Madison river. It was too dark by that point for decent photos, but Gavin and I were extremely glad to have seen the moose and add it to our wildlife roster for the trip. I even pulled off this shockingly decent shot of an old barn from the moving car- there's the rural Montana aesthetic I was looking for!

Day 4: Powder and trees

Resuming the trip, we soon passed alongside the Madison River, and saw a lone coyote plowing his own path through a snowy plain. I tried to capture shots showing his progress as well as emphasizing the single trail he left behind in the untouched white sheet. 

Soon after we passed Mt. Haynes, a prominent peak standing tall across the river. We also came across our first herd of bison, standing happily on the riverbank. One cow was digging furiously at the snow, and another forged her way across the river, giving me action shots of both with sprays of snow and water coming off their hooves. Fun fact- there are no buffaloes native to America! The big humpbacked beasts you know are bison, and anything named otherwise is a misnomer from pioneers who didn't know any better (looking at you Buffalo Bill, Colorado Buffaloes, and Home on the range- if you want a home where the buffalo roam you'll have to pack up and move to Asia or Africa).

Digging for something to chow down on

Fording the river. Look at that snow-encrusted coat- they insulate so well the snow won't melt from their body heat!

We then wound our way up a canyon with steep banks around us, where the river became the Firehole river, a tributary of the Madison. We stopped at Firehole falls for another photo op. The river was named the Firehole because so many geyser basins and geothermal features surround and feed it that it steams like smoke from a fire. These features were striking in the winter, and we passed patches of steaming green grass amid the feet of snow, steaming fields, and colorful pools of boiling water as we continued up the road.

Maybe the highlight of the day came when we had to pull off to let a lone bison pass in the other direction on the road, and got the opportunity to video and photograph from way up close. I was lucky to be able to grab my camera out of the tailbag before he passed me.

Rare close-up look at these lumbering beasts. Also there's a bison.

After a quick walking stop at a boardwalk over some colorful and smelly thermal pools, we made it to Old Faithful Village in time to watch the famed geyser begin steaming more and more violently, throwing up the occasional splash before finally letting loose and blasting a column of boiling water and steam a hundred feet in the air. In the frigid temps this made a massive steam cloud that hung in the air and blended with the iron sky and snowy foreground, making for a difficult picture to capture. After Old Faithful, we were surprised with a subsequent eruption from nearby Beehive geyser, which is less predictable but equally entertaining. I also got a surprise visit from a smaller bison charging through the parking lot of the visitor center, passing 20 feet in front of us at top speed while we could only stare as it ripped by and went right around the corner.

Some color studies. Yellow pebbles, vaguely alien. Rust-ringed turquoise pool.

Exciting times standing in the zero temps for 20 minutes waiting for Old Faithful.

Old Faithful eruption series. First couple shots before the water froze and engulfed the area in a cloud, last shots as it maxed out and died down.

Beehive Geyser surprisingly erupted as well, about 100 yards from Old Faithful.

On our way back we stopped at the fountain paint pots, where vibrant pools of turquoise, orange, red, and blue boil and steam. The fountain paint pot itself gurgles away happily, a pool of mud with steam popping out in small puffs. We saw the eruption of Jet, Jelly, and Clepsydra geysers. I had a great time taking pictures of the steam hovering lazily around each feature, and of the group walking lazily past them too.

Clepsydra Geyser throws some water in the midst of its continuous tantrum. Jet Geyser picks up activity shortly before erupting.

I enjoyed framing people against the fountain paint pots and Red Spouter. Especially the lone man (possibly Who?) left unhazed in the second shot.

The full day affair concluded with some photos at the park sign and returning to town. We drove back home and enjoyed a huge dinner of spaghetti to warm us back up. When Gavin first pitched going to Yellowstone by snowmobile, I was passive about it because I didn't think the closed-down park would have much to offer in the winter. I was quite wrong and I'm glad I was. The wildlife, scenery, and contrast between the frigid winter and geothermal activity the park is famous for made for one of my favorite park days ever.

It's always strange being on a long trip where you're putting in a lot of work each day; sometimes you find yourself looking forward to the end of each day knowing it brings a warm bed, internet, a hot tub, an end to the tree crashes and freezing winds, whatever it might be. That's not to say you didn't enjoy the day and putting in the work, but when you're tired you're tired. Then you start to reach the end, and you realize the trip is slipping by you and soon you have to go back to your life. No matter how hard you cling to the last day, the last hours, it keeps going by and before you know it, you're on a plane wishing you could go back and do it all again. That's the nature of life I guess, but it's a recurring pattern for me on all these trips. I made a conscious effort on this trip to embrace it all and not will anything to go by faster. Smiling and laughing when you hit a rut and somersault down a hill, when your face covering is a frozen sheet of ice, when your feet are screaming, or when the wind cuts you like a knife on a stopped lift takes some willpower and some faking it, but I wouldn't trade any of the moments away. Type 2 fun forever!