Wyoming (Kid Stuff)

In the summer of 2000 our little family of three hit the road for the most American of all traditions – the family vacation.  Our destination was Wyoming.  In particular, Yellowstone National Park in the northwest corner of the state and its lesser cousin, Grand Teton National Park, to the south. 

Only the mind of God could conceive places of such beauty.  Snow capped peaks punctuated by azure skies.  River valleys stretching to the horizons.  Meadows praying quietly as the breezes comb their grasses.  But the processes of their birth witness work that goes beyond genius.  Yellowstone, born out of the fiery caldera of an ancient volcano.  And the Tetons – reaching to the heavens in worship as one immense piece of the earth’s crust slowly lifted its opposing neighbor.  And in His time, these unimaginable forces shaped environments that are now home to an abundance of life not only in number but form as well.  The mighty grizzly, the industrious beaver, the soaring majesty of the crane, each master of their own realm, set among herds of deer, elk, and bison.       

First stop, Yellowstone.  We hit all of the obligatory tourist attractions – Old Faithful, Mammoth Hot Springs, and Yellowstone Falls to name a few.  Each unique and awe inspiring in its own right.  National treasures all.  But our most memorable experience occurred along a path less traveled at a relatively minor geothermal feature located along the Upper Firehole River – Lone Star Geyser.  At the time, Lone Star erupted sporadically and but once a week at best making the odds of witnessing an eruption minimal.  Nonetheless, names like Firehole, Lone Star and Shoshone, conjured images of a bygone era when fur trappers first ventured into the vast, primitive glory that is Yellowstone.  And we were drawn.

So a lunch was packed and soon we found ourselves at the trail-head where we would step into a less hectic generation for a few brief hours.  Not far in we crossed the Firehole and began to meander parallel to its path through stands of lodgepole pine and along meadows still awakening from under their winter blanket.  And before we knew it, the trail opened into the Lone Star Geyser Basin itself – an area much devoid of vegetation and washed white from the centuries of sulfuric emissions.    The “hiker’s log” reported that the last visitors had preceded us the day before and the last witnessed eruption was recorded some two weeks back.  There was a quiet and a peace to the place.  But as lunch was being brought out, a single “burp” resounded deep down inside the bowels of the geyser cone - somewhat startling against the silence.  Another “burp” followed a minute later.  Then a “burp”, a hiss, and a small puff of steam.  And as lunch ended, the “burps” and hisses melded into a constant din of water, steam, and spray.  Some outpourings gurgled out in a blob while others streamed perhaps 40 feet into the crisp air.  Cool stuff for a guy somewhere before that age when a boy becomes a man.  

In the days to follow, there were downpours mixed with hail as we traversed boardwalks running over hot springs and bubbling mud pots.  We had the area to ourselves.  I remember thinking condescending thoughts of my fellow tourists for letting a little rain ruin their vacation.  The possibility of lightning never entered my mind. And crossing the Continental Divide in a summer snow - perhaps along the same deer trail that the famed explorer John Colter had followed nearly two centuries earlier.  But I suspect John’s horse provided better traction than my balding tires.  And of course, photo opportunities with wildlife - bison so close that their musky scent became the focal point but a feature never to be captured on film.  All that to say with certainty that God really does look after fools (me) and more importantly, the ones I love next to me.

And He provides blessings as well.  For on we went to the Tetons and Jackson Hole to the south.  There, we experienced dinners of cold-water lake trout – cooked fresh and served against a backdrop of granite shooting rocket-like, straight into the skies.  And a gondola ride that delivered us to the top of the world while providing perspective of that which lies below.  And visits to museums, rich in history, which dispensed not only lessons of knowledge but humility as well.

So, here I am now, sixteen years further along, paging through the old photo album that holds the key to so many of these vacation memories.  I’m reminded of sure-footed mountain goats dwelling with thanksgiving along the basalt while waterfalls eagerly bolted-free of those same great cliffs in frantic search of a place of rest.  The delicate fragrance exhaled from acres of alpine flowers and the pungent odors of sulfur emanating from cauldrons of creation.

And it strikes me that time and life march forward together in lockstep.  Nonetheless, there were relational bonds formed and reinforced amongst the grandeur on that ten day road trip.  And those treasures remain.  Only the mind of God could conceive of such beauty.