YELLOWSTONE BACKPACKING TRIP PART 2:

WATERFALLS AND HOT SPRINGS

Christy and I spent the next 3 days exploring the waterfalls and hot springs in the southwest corner of the park. Our route took us west from the Falls River to Bechler Meadows. We then continued north through the Bechler River Canyon towards Shoshone Lake.

A WARM BATH, A COLD BEER, AND A GOOD RUB

The mosquitoes were moderately bad Sunday morning. A few days earlier I would have described them as terrible. I had a new perspective after the Pitchstone Plateau though, as well as a new standard for what constitutes terrible.

We got an early start, breaking camp at 8:30. We had a short, easy day ahead of us, but we wanted plenty of time in the afternoon to visit a waterfall and a swimming hole. We hiked up and away from the Falls River before descending to Proposition Creek. The stream was braided in 3 channels, and the middle portion was tricky to cross without getting our boots wet. We hiked on to Mountain Ash Creek, a stream that would pass for a river in the North Carolina mountains. Here we picked up the side trail to Union Falls.

We reached our campsite on the bank of the stream before noon. Here we ran into the first backpackers we'd seen thus far. They had stayed at the campsite the previous night but hadn't checked out yet. We worked around them as they packed. We had a quick lunch, did laundry, and set up camp. We finished our chores with plenty of time to enjoy the falls and a refreshing dip.

We followed the heavily traveled path up Mountain Ash Creek. Along the way we passed two pairs of ambitious dayhikers returning from the falls. Although the terrain is gentle, the hike to the falls from the nearest trailhead is at least 16 or 18 miles (ok, I don't remember exactly). Many serious hikers make the journey though. Union Falls is allegedly worth the effort. It's over 250' high, making it the second tallest waterfall in a park known for waterfalls (world famous Lower Yellowstone Falls is the highest).

Union Falls WAS worth the effort. We reached an overlook at the end of the trail with a stunning view of the falls. While Union Falls is tall, it's really the width that makes it impressive. Two streams come together at the top of the falls (hence the name Union). Then the water fans out over a broad rock face as it spills into the gorge. Not to take anything away from Lower Yellowstone Falls, but this immediately became my favorite cascade in the park. It is huge, raw, and powerful, and we had it all to ourselves. The fact that it had taken us 3 days to get to it only adds to its appeal.

We stared at the falls until we lost track of time. Then we closed our eyes and listened to the roar. After all that, we'd pretty much exhausted the entertainment potential of the falls. It was another brutally hot day, and the abundant mist from the falls wasn't doing much to alleviate our discomfort. It was time to head for the swimming hole.

We backtracked to a junction at the hitching posts. We were surprised to find 5 horses there. We hiked an unmarked trail towards the North Fork of Mountain Ash Creek. After a few minutes we reached a small waterfall and a deep pool. Here I encountered a cruel mirage. Lounging in the pool were four mermaids drinking ice cold import beer. They waved at us to come and join them. Obviously I was crazy from the heat. I rubbed my eyes. The image blurred, and the mermaids changed to 4 middle aged guys.

Editors Note: Ok, I'll admit, as far as mirages go, this one is going downhill fast. Bear with me though.

The import beer became cans of Bud and Coors, but that's not so bad. And what the hell, they were friendly, even if they weren't mermaids. We joined them in a pool that, if the Pope were aware of it, would qualify as the 8^th deadly sin. The water temperature was absolutely perfect. The cold mountain stream is heated from below by an unseen hot spring. The water is a crystal clear blue, but the depth of the pool is impossible to judge. It's surrounded by rocky cliffs that serve as ideal diving boards. Best of all, we quickly discovered that it was possible to sit on a ledge below the waterfall. This provided a powerful back massage that was well deserved.

So the mermaids turned out to be 4 guys from Driggs, Idaho. In case you're wondering, as I was, Driggs is just west of the Tetons in the northeast corner of the state. And yes, one of them was a potato farmer. His wife had just given birth to a baby a few weeks earlier, and he'd needed to get out. Two of the guys were contractors. None of them were really sure what the 4^th guy did, although they'd known him for years. All of them had been coming to this swimming hole since they had been teenagers. In fact, one claimed to have been conceived there.

Anyway, as I mentioned, they were friendly guys. Friendly to the extent that they shared their beer! This was generosity of epic proportions. After all, they'd hauled a cooler (well, their packhorse had hauled a cooler) a good 10 miles. That cooler was nearly empty, too. It's one thing to share a couple of beers when you have plenty, but it's a gift on an entirely different scale when you're almost out.

My 12-ounce can of regular Coors ranks as the third best beer I've ever had. This was largely because it was 1) received after 20-some miles of hiking in 100-degree heat, and B) completely unexpected. The second best beer I've ever had was the first $4 can of Budweiser I enjoyed at Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. This came after 30-some miles of hiking in 100-degree heat. If you're paying any kind of attention, a common theme should be evident. The best beer I've ever had was the second $4 can of Budweiser I enjoyed at Phantom Ranch. I enjoyed it more or less right after I enjoyed the first can. I don't remember much after that one, except that the walk back to our campsite was hysterical for a reason that now escapes me. That and a rather nasty hangover the next morning, which was the only one of those that I've ever managed to acquire from 24 ounces of beer.

The list above should not be taken as a promotion for ordinary domestic beer in a can. In fact, I generally prefer fancy imports and microbrews. The point is, your enjoyment of a beer has more due to with the circumstances that you drink it in than the beer itself. So it's entirely possible, after a couple of weeks in July carrying furniture around in Death Valley, that some lukewarm Milwaukee's Best in a plastic bottle might rank as the best beer ever. Highly unlikely, but possible. Anyway, that's probably how Pabst Blue Ribbon won all those awards (really!). The PBR people must've trapped the judges for a month in the Iraqi desert before they sampled their product.

So what have we learned from this little tangent I've been on? First, if you really want to enjoy a beer, torture yourself by hiking in blistering heat for a few days first. Joel, are you getting this? Second, horseback riders can be your friends, even if they turn out to be a bit hairier than your average mermaid. Oh yeah, and if you go to Phantom Ranch in the Grand Canyon, take cash.

We indulged ourselves in the swimming hole all afternoon. Later, 4 college kids arrived. They worked at the restaurant in Grant Village, on the shore of Yellowstone Lake. Their presence was not a problem, as there was plenty of room, though the beer was gone. A new menace arrived at the same time. The mosquitoes had been absent most of the afternoon, but the horseflies were eager to fill the void. We realized this when one of the girls left the safety of the pool for a few minutes. She was barely out of the water when the flies began biting. Watching her jump around slapping in vain (in vein?) at the flies was enough to keep us submerged for an extra hour.

We couldn't stay forever, though I'd be lying if I claimed that we didn't consider it. The mosquitoes had driven us nearly to madness and left me looking like a case study for the West Nile Virus. The horseflies may have been worse though. After all, they promised a fair bit of pain with every bite. We exited the pool and dressed quickly. I left my shirt off though, as I found it less useful as a shield than as a weapon. Swinging it around seemed to discourage most of the horseflies, though it was rather tiring.

We returned to camp and Christy made pasta with salmon sauce for dinner. While she cooked, I declared war on the horseflies. I found it much easier to defend myself from them, as it was pretty obvious when one landed. Luckily, they are slow to bite. Slapping with the hand works fairly well, but the t-shirt has better range.

I also worked on finding new and creative ways to torture and kill them. Our friends from Idaho had enlightened us with a suggestion. They claimed that sticking a pine needle up a fly's ass makes it shoot straight up in the air like a rocket. It took awhile to catch one without splattering it, but when I finally did I was eager to give their idea a try. I inserted a pine needle into the appropriate area, but I may have had too strong of a grip on the fly. It didn't shoot anywhere. Instead it just wiggled around on the pine needle, flapping its wings uselessly. The look on its face was precious. If it had been capable of speaking, I'm sure it would've begged me to let it off. I left it there on its perch as a warning to all of the other horseflies.

Later I caught a horsefly between two fingers directly out of the air. Mr. Miyagi would've been impressed. I thought about another attempt at the pine needle idea, but decided to mess with it a little first. I stared at it eye to eye. It wiggled. I didn't like its attitude, so I decided to give it a little plink in the face with my finger. Horseflies are surprisingly fragile. I thumped it in the face, and the entire head popped off. I guess I need to work on my torturing skills. When the head tumbled to the ground I let go of the fly. Interestingly, the headless body began flying around the campsite. It was the first time I'd seen a headless horsefly impersonate a headless chicken.

As you can see, we were well on our way to madness at this point. We were obsessed with flying insects. To be more specific, we were obsessed with torturing and killing flying insects. By the time we finished dinner, the area around the fire pit was littered with insect carcasses. Soon the ants were out to work funeral duty. One of the most fascinating sights of the entire trip was watching a small black ant haul off a full-grown horsefly by itself. The horseflies disappeared that evening, but the mosquitoes came back out. We got a brief reprieve when it rained for 5 minutes. This constituted a major storm, as it was the first noticeable rain we'd seen since we'd left North Carolina. The bugs were back after the 5 minute sprinkle, so we retreated to the tent.

FIRE IN THE HOLE

The mosquitoes were up before we were Monday. I made it out of the tent in time for my morning devotional though. Most of our campsites were equipped with toilets, though they were usually of the open-air variety. When I arrived at our camp toilet, I found it guarded by a swarm of mosquitoes. Through the first three days of the trip, I'd acquired mosquito bites on every part of my body, save one. I attempted what I'll call the "hit and run" technique, but that wasn't enough to prevent a fresh set of bites on the unmentionables.

After some crunchy oatmeal we hit the trail. I shuffled along in a fair amount of discomfort. The bugs were once again hideous. I don't want to keep repeating the same theme, so for now on, just assume that the mosquitoes and horseflies were horrible unless I say otherwise.

We reached our first difficult stream ford at Mountain Ash Creek. We had crossed the creek on a bridge on the way to Union Falls, but we were on our own here. The water was knee deep with a strong current, but we made it across without incident. After that, the hiking was easy. We followed a flat trail through a mixture of Lodgepole Pine forest and flowery meadows.

We passed a horse party heading for Union Falls and reached a confusing junction. The sign was wrong, though it took me awhile to figure that out. This was the only place we had trouble with navigation on the whole trip. I guessed that our trail led to the right. Luckily, I was right. We found the correct trail and continued toward Bechler Meadows.

We hiked through more woods and meadows before stopping for lunch by a small stream. It was blazing hot, which was enough to subdue the mosquitoes. During lunch, Christy spotted a bizarre bird at the far end of the meadow under a group of pine trees. We watch it for awhile with binoculars, but couldn't make out what it was. It was huge, with a long neck. Does Yellowstone have wild Ostriches?

We came to a faint junction with the Bechler River Trail. Fortunately there was a sign here, otherwise we would've walked right by it. We followed the new trail north, crossing several large streams that are shown as intermittent on the map. The first intermittent stream was wide and thigh deep. We waded it, but were able to cross the next stream on a series of wobbly logs. Finally we reached the edge of massive Bechler Meadows. The expansive marshy grassland looked like ideal moose and elk habitat, but we didn't see any wildlife in the afternoon heat.

We hiked through the meadow towards the mouth of the Bechler Canyon. Ouzel Falls was visible in the distance as it spilled over the cliff that forms the canyon's western wall. We continued up into the wooded canyon until we reached our campsite near Ouzel Falls. It was a pleasant spot on the bank of the Bechler River. Ouzel Falls wasn't visible from camp, but it was nearby. I decided to try for a better look.

I put on sandals and waded the river. The water was only knee deep, but the current was incredibly powerful. I knew we'd have to wade the river twice the next day with full backpacks on. I only hoped that the water wouldn't be any deeper. If it was, crossing really would be hazardous.

I reached the far shore and found a jungle. The vegetation was thick and over my head. Fortunately I found a faint animal path and followed it into the woods. I hoped that the vegetation would be thinner in the shade. It wasn't. The next 30 minutes required a legendary bushwhack. During that time I only managed to travel a couple hundred yards. To further complicate matters, I was still wearing tevas, leaving my feet unprotected.

Until now the trip had been rather frustrating. Union Falls and the swimming hole had been wonderful. Otherwise, we'd had tremendous difficult enjoying ourselves because of the heat and bugs. I knew I wasn't far from the falls, and I felt like all of the misery would be worth it if I could just get there.

I reached what seemed to be the end of a long run of cascades below the base of the falls. After a couple of aborted attempts, I found a faint path heading up a steep hill. I followed it up to a bench, but there was still no view. Some more bushwhacking led to another climb, and finally I reached a spot where I could see through the vegetation. Appropriately enough, there was a swarm of mosquitoes waiting there for me. High above, Ouzel Falls cascaded over a cliff and plunged into the canyon. It was a nice view, and I knew I was seeing something that most hikers miss.

I returned to camp with the satisfaction of having accomplished something. I arrived in time for a dinner of coucous, ham, and tomatoes. Over dinner, Christy and I reflected on the trip thus far. We both admitted that we really weren't enjoying ourselves. The bugs were overwhelming to the point that it was hard to have fun, or even to think about anything else. We were burning through our only bottle of repellent fast enough that I didn't think it would last until the end of the trip. I didn't think it was really having any affect, but I feared that it might really be helping. If that was the case, I could only imagine the hell we'd be in for once we ran out. Maybe we could call Harrison Ford and have him rescue us with his helicopter?

We hadn't seen many people on the trip, although we were in one of the most popular parts of the Yellowstone backcountry. This is probably because most people have the sense to stay away until the mosquitoes die off in late August. September would probably be the best time to hike in Yellowstone. By then the weather is cooler and the bugs are gone. On the other hand, the elk, bison, and local college kids are all in rut, so you do run the risk of being trampled.

Christy and I were halfway through the trip, so we were committed to finishing it. We decided to ration our repellent and cope with the mosquitoes as much as possible. By cope, I mean we decided to dish it out as well as we took it. We began to delight in killing them. Simply slapping them was too bland. We began to find creative ways to kill them. We dropped them in boiling water. We ignited them with the stove. I even crushed one in the tent zipper. Then we moved on to torture. Initially we were satisfied with the 8-year old boy method of pulling off their wings. At one point the cooking area was literally crawling with maimed mosquitoes wandering around like zombies. Soon we were pulling off their wings and burying them in the sand. Then I took things to the next level. I'd capture a mosquito and carefully pull its probe out. I say carefully, because anything less than a gentle touch would pull the whole head off. We certainly didn't want to kill them. Oh no, that would be too painless. It was much more amusing to watch them wander around aimlessly, wondering what they were supposed to do without a probe. Were we totally mad at this point? You betcha.

After dinner, we put on two layers of clothing and walked back down to Bechler Meadows to look for wildlife. We reached a meadow bordered by aspen just before sunset. We didn't see any moose or elk, but we did spot two huge birds as they flew overhead. At a guess, they may have been Sandhill Cranes, though for all I know they could've been Pterodactyls.

My bug bites were tormenting me, so I took Benadryl before bed. I slept well for the first time in recent memory, though I was troubled by delirious dreams.

DUST AND BONES

Editor's Note: We now pause for an excerpt from the author's documentary, "A Day In The Life Of An Ordinary Mosquito"

Phil was up before dawn. It was a pleasant morning, without the hint of a breeze. "I wonder where we'll be feeding today", Phil wondered. He hoped that he could find a fat bison to suck on. Bison are nice and meaty, and completely incapable of defending themselves. He began the commute to work, following swarms of other mosquitoes on their way to another grueling day of blood sucking. Then, Phil caught a whiff of something intriguing. Up ahead, he spotted a vision from his wildest dreams. Hikers! Sweaty hikers, judging by the odor. He loved nothing more than hikers.

Phil had been born only a few days ago. He'd never seen hikers before, but instinctively knew that they had the tastiest flesh and blood. They were full of bulging veins, covered by only the thinnest skin. With hikers, there was no thick hide to penetrate. He also instinctively knew that they were dangerous. He'd have to be careful to avoid flying appendages.

Since birth, Phil's motivation had been to live up to the standards of his late Uncle Dracula. Uncle Dracula had been the envy of mosquitoes everywhere, winning an unprecedented nine "Parasite of the Week" awards. Dracula had been a daredevil, feeding where mortal mosquitoes feared to tread. He had gone out of his way to acquire weird diseases simply for the pleasure of passing them on. His luck finally ran out though, after he found his way into the Valhalla of mosquitoes, the Red Cross building. There he fed until he exploded. It was a blast that had shocked the mosquito world.

Uncle Dracula had been done in by greed. Phil was determined to avoid his fate. Phil would be careful. He approached the hikers with caution, searching for a weakness in their defense. Phil spotted a bare ankle and flew in to investigate. Phew! That ankle was rotten! He circled away and waited until the hiker had his hands occupied. NOW! He flew directly for the face, hoping to get in a quick bite while the hiker's defenses were down. He hovered in near the chin, looking for a vein. WHOA! A sudden breeze came from nowhere, and Phil found himself tangled up in the branches of a tree. He shook his head to clear his vision and considered his next strategy.

Phil noticed that one of the hikers was changing socks. Now was his chance! He'd avoid the rotten ankle and aim directly for a swollen blue vein on the top of the foot. "Red Leader, this is Phil. I'm going for the right foot. Create a diversion for me by buzzing his left ear." "Phil, this is Red Leader. I'm heading for the ear. Prepare to attack." Phil waited for the right moment. He saw the hiker swatting at his left ear, and knew this was his opportunity. He dove for the foot and hovered over the swollen vein. He landed gracefully, with only a whisper light touch. He found his spot and inserted his probe. Ah yes! This was everything it was made out to be. He could feed here for hours.

Phil was in such ecstasy that he didn't notice the shadow right away. Perhaps it was just a passing cloud blocking out the sun? Wait, there's never any clouds in the morning around here. What was that whistling sound? OH NO! EVADE! FLY AWAY! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Things ended badly for Phil. There would be no swollen veins in his future. No "Parasite of the week" awards, either. In fact, there was no future. Phil found himself lying upside down in the dirt, caught in the final throes of death. Then there was the final humiliation. An ant lifted his broken body and carried him towards a hole in the ground. Soon there was nothing but darkness.

Editor's Note: We now return to the trip report already in progress.

I eventually shook off the Benadryl induced fog and packed up. We broke camp, leaving a pile of insect carcasses around the fire pit. Christy and I estimate that we each killed over a thousand mosquitoes during the course of the trip.

We hiked upstream through the canyon. After an hour or so we arrived at one of the scenic highlights of the trip. We followed a short side trail to breathtaking overlook of Colonnade Falls. This waterfall features the full might of the Bechler River spilling over two sheer drops totaling about 100 feet. At the base of the lower drop is a rocky amphitheater of sheer cliffs, boulders, moss, and wildflowers. A deep, turbulent pool can be seen at the bottom of the falls. We relaxed at the overlook for a while and met a solo hiker with an impressive array of photography equipment. He was planning on waiting there for a few hours for better light.

We didn't have that luxury. We resumed our hike, and reached Iris Falls a few minutes later. Iris is nearly as impressive as Colonnade. It features a single drop of perhaps 50'. It's appeal though, is its width, which is probably double its height. Abundant wildflowers added to the beauty of the falls, as did a rainbow arcing across the pool at its base.

We resumed our hike upstream and reached the first ford of the Bechler River. It looked intimidating. This was mostly because there were two backpackers fording the river when we arrived. They were coming our direction, and they were struggling. The water was thigh deep, and the current was obviously strong. It took them a couple of minutes but they finally made it to shore. The face of the second hiker was so white, I thought he'd seen a ghost.

Christy bravely went first, while I waited on shore. We thought it would be wise to go separately in case one of us ran into trouble. It took a couple of minutes, but she made it across. Then it was my turn. At first it seemed easy, but it got deeper towards the far side. I knew it was getting serious when the water began creeping up my shorts. Thankfully the water wasn't too cold, because I was in it for a long time. There were a few nerve-wracking steps at the deepest part, where the current threatened to sweep me off my feet and send me on a ride towards Iris Falls. I kept my balance though, and collapsed in relief on the far shore.

We hiked upstream for a mile before reaching the final ford. This one was much easier, as the water was only knee deep. From there it was only a short hike to our campsite. We found it right at the base of Albright Falls. Albright Falls is on a small stream that starts on the plateau less than a mile from the Bechler River. It must begin at an impressive spring, because there was an amazing amount of water spilling over the cliff above our campsite. Camp was situated in a great spot at the base of the falls. We arrived early in the afternoon, so we took advantage of the opportunity to explore.

After we set up camp, Christy and I continued upstream to the Three Rivers Meadow. The meadow is situated at the confluence of 3 forks that form the Bechler River. The open meadows provided views of the rugged canyon walls. Scattered throughout the meadows were colorful hot springs. We explored the springs carefully before continuing upstream. Our goal was another heated swimming hole on the Ferris Fork of the Bechler River.

We reached a bridge over the Ferris Fork just above the confluence. From the bridge we had a nice view upstream to Ragged Falls. Below us was a nice vista down the canyon. We crossed the bridge and followed the trail up a ridge between the Ferris and Gregg Forks. This created a stereo effect as the twin streams cascaded by on either side of us. The trail here was a well-traveled dirt path. With each step, Christy kicked up a cloud of dust that was impossible to see through. I had to walk quite a distance behind her to be able to breathe. I guess that's what happens when it doesn't rain for a month.

We reached an unmarked junction and took the side trail towards the Ferris Fork. We hiked through the woods and descended to the river in an exciting thermal area. The valley was full of hot springs. Several were visibly boiling, while others were ejecting columns of steam.

We continued upstream in search of an appropriate place to swim. This was tricky, as nearly everything except the river was boiling. The river itself was shallow and full of rapids. We passed a boiling cauldron and the path became faint. Then we reached an intimidating spot. To continue, we'd have to hop over a small stream. Although it was small, it started just above us in a boiling spring. The water was still bubbling as it raced past us. Hopping across would be practically effortless, but the hot water gave us reason to pause. Unlike most stream crossings, this one carried a hefty penalty for failure.

We jumped across. We wandered farther upstream until the path disappeared altogether. There didn't seem to be any more hot springs ahead of us, so we stopped. I knew that there were several waterfalls farther upstream, but I wasn't feeling too motivated. I had already completed the "stupid bushwhack to a waterfall" phase of the trip with my little adventure to Ouzel Falls. I was mainly interested in finding a place for a relaxing dip.

We had developed high standards for swimming holes, but decided to be less picky. We returned downstream and I spotted a deep hole in the middle of the river. Since it was in the main stream, I expected the water temperature to be safe. I stuck the tip of my finger in, and it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming and jumping around with my finger in the air. Christy would not have been amused. I waded in slowly, taking one step at a time. The water was pleasant, and I headed towards the blue hole in the center of the river.

At this point, Christy voiced objections to the whole idea. She decided that she wasn't going in, and preferred that I not try it either. I sat down where I was and considered it. The water felt great. I knew that the clear blue hole was a hot spring, but obviously it was safe since it mixed with the cold river water. Christy wasn't having it, so I conceded. Later she admitted that she was having flashbacks from the movie Dante's Peak. In the film, a couple is enjoying a hot spring in the woods when volcanic activity causes the water temperature to increase instantly from warm to boiling. It's not a pretty scene.

We spent the rest of the evening back at camp enjoying the falls. I set up the tent in a grassy field while Christy explored the area. She found a massive leg bone, which we guess came from a Bison. That evening we enjoyed a spaghetti dinner and some adult beverages. In fact, we enjoyed all of the adult beverages we'd packed. We had brought cider packets and a bottle of brandy for the trip. It had been too hot for warm drinks though, so we hadn't touched the brandy. I was tired of carrying it around, so we mixed it with raspberry lemonade. Believe it or not, it worked. As a matter of fact, it worked so well that I didn't notice the bugs the rest of the evening.

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