GRAND CANYON OF YNP
So I left you hanging for almost a month. What can I say? Clients come first. In case you need to catch up here are the first four days of the road trip: one, two, three, four.
I left off with the tantalizing cliffhanger that things were about to get furry (ahem…bears).
We got up early and left Grant’s Village Campground for Canyon Campground. If I had to choose between the two Grant’s would win, but Canyon did have the perfect trees for hammocks. It also had fraternity brothers, kids, and a family with the biggest white canvas tent I have ever seen. All of which were our campground neighbors.
By day 5 we were all desperate to see a bear. We could care less about the massive amounts of bison that traffic would pile up for. John, Trent, and Jami wanted bears. I wanted a bear that was far enough away it wouldn’t eat me.
We rolled into Canyon Campground and decided the best way to find a bear would be to ask the campground attendants. We felt like fools.
“Um, hey, so, do you know where we could see a bear?”
They looked at each other and laughed. But their answer was at least positive.
Had we only turned our heads to the left when we were entering the campground we would have seen a traffic jam to end all traffic jams, which in YNP can only mean one thing: bear. Sure enough a grizzly was a good hundred yards from the paparazzi-filled street. You could only see his rump as he was napping on top of his meal. We had accomplished our goal. I just didn’t realize that wasn’t enough for my fellow travelers.
After setting up camp we headed out to the Grand Canyon of YNP. As someone who has seen the real Grand Canyon, I can attest that there is a striking similarity. The boys would not let us hike a trail that was paved…ever. So we ventured out on a dirt path that followed along the river. Across the river were multitudes of tourists, so we were glad to have some space. Even though I was sure the bears would prefer our side more.
Most of the morning was spent hiking, stopping, taking in the views, and more hiking. After an easy decent down 328 stairs on Uncle Tom’s trail we realized we had to venture back up. It was only at this point we realized we were simply bolted in to the side of the canyon wall, not to mention that many of the stairs were dented in from large rocks falling on them. Needless to say we worked as quickly as we could to get back to the top.
At this point in the 11-mile hike everyone was a bit weary. We knew the only way we could get to Artist’s Point was to walk (driving access was conveniently closed that day). Without thinking I stated that we were only going to be here once, so we might as well go see it. By the time we made it to Artist’s Point were were exhausted, but the view made it totally worth it. I figured we would simply return the way we came which seemed to be bear-free. I was wrong.
If you give your husband a map and compass do not expect a familiar journey back to the car. The boys convinced Jami and I that if we went a half a mile farther on a trail through the woods we would actually get back to the car quicker. I am still trying to figure out that math problem.
The trail was pretty much abandoned which only made the hairs on my neck stand on end more. The boys were trying to use the elevation changes on the map to determine which right turn we were supposed to take. I was in full-clapping mode. And all of us were watching a large storm start to head right for us. Once we entered the quiet woods we all started talking more. Even singing songs so as not to surprise anything furry. My verse in the song was very anti-bear as you can imagine.
We came across a lily-filled lake as the rain hit. We turned a corner and there were fumaroles and geysers bubbling up. We knew we were far from everything because nothing was fenced off. My eyes were on John and the bear spray as we rounded the bend and saw Clear Lake. Wow. It alone was worth every nerve in my body being shot. We headed into a field of flowers that literally smelled like laundry detergent. About this time a new phrase was coined, “I think the car is right over this hill.” It wasn’t. The storm was chasing us through the valley as we started to pick up our pace. Finally we let out a big cheer as we found the car many, many hills later.
So what about the bear story?
That night we stopped by the General Store to browse around. John ended up finding a book called, “Death in Yellowstone.” Gahhh. As he read through horrific stories of how tourists met their end in the park he came across a story of a couple’s deadly encounter with the Wapiti Sow that happened just a few summers prior. As he read on it became very clear, this couple had died on the very trail we had been on that day. It was at that point that Trent and Jami came forward with a scary confession. Earlier that day on the trail while I was staring at John and his bear spray, Jami and Trent were staring at the fresh bear tracks that we were walking on.
So there wasn’t really a bear that we saw, but that’s probably because my clapping saved us again. The story stayed in the back of my mind as we ventured out to see Lamar Valley by night to look for more wildlife. Luckily, this time it was by car.
For more on the story of that couple and the Wapiti Sow, check out this article.
