Yellowstone NP: Cruising the Crater of a Super Volcano

We’re cruising in the van with our binos in our laps and the spotting scope sprawled across the bed like my brother after too many drinks. I’m squished in the middle of the two seats on a pouf (basically a bean bag with more structure), and I’m scanning the hills, tracing my gaze back into little gullies and down the curves of over-full river banks, spilling over like rising yeast in a too-small cup. We ramble along the curves of the park until we spot wildlife, or see a sign post for a feature we’ve circled on the map, or glimpse the tell-tale steam rising like smoke from ancient campfires over the rim of the trees. Then we sweep the van to the side of the road, edging onto pullouts or into mostly-empty parking lots.

And we explore.

The Park

Last September, my parents and I visited Acadia National Park in Maine. Other than Rocky Mountain National Park, an hour from my house, Acadia was the first national park I truly visited. I used to pooh-pooh national parks, convinced they were just a conglomeration of traffic and tourists in an area similar to all the rest of the mountains. So why would I want to visit a national park crowded with people when I could go to my cabin and only encounter two other people?

But Acadia changed my mind. It was gorgeous and stunning and an absolute adventure to experience with my parents. You can read all about it here. Sitting atop the Beehive Hike in Acadia National Park, we all agreed we should start to visit more national parks. And here we are. In Yellowstone.

The snow is two feet deep in places and nonexistent in others. When the sun shines, it’s shorts and T-shirt weather. When clouds scuttle in like sand crabs, it’s pants and sweatshirt weather. Unless you’re my dad, then it’s literally always shorts weather while you deny the presence of goosebumps creeping up and down your exposed legs.

Rivers bulge at the seams, and some valleys flood entirely, calm waters mirroring the trees they swamp. We experienced one slow down when we just missed a black bear and her three cubs parade across the road, but otherwise it’s easy cruising, easy parking, easy living.

Oh, yeah. And we’re doing all three–cruising, parking, living–in the camper van.

The Van

My parents bought a camper van last fall and they’ve adventured in it several times, but this is the first time the three of us set off into the sunset in the van. It’s a two person van (and they only deigned to allow me to encroach upon their sacred space because we’re visiting Yellowstone on the way to a wedding). And, I will admit, I was worried about the close quarters for four days and three nights.

But I squeeze between the two established seats on a pouf we’ve had for years and the table lowers to the height of the benches so a third person can settle narrowly on the ledge to sleep, like a eagle chick on the precipice of the nest. And it works. Better than we anticipated. It’s close quarters, but I get along quite well with my parents. And often the side door is open and we’re jumping in and out, so we spend very little time in the van other than when sleeping or driving. There’s simply too much to do and see.

Geothermal Wonders

Yellowstone was the first National Park in the United States. Created in 1872, it was intended to protect a unique geothermal area. See, Yellowstone is a super volcano worthy of end of the world sci-fi movies. This geothermal activity in the Yellowstone caldera (which is a word for the collapsed mouth of a volcanic crater) is what powers Old Faithful, shoots roaring steam into the air, and provides unique habitat for colorful microorganisms that thrive in scalding water.

Sulfur scent hovers in the wind and steam vents smooth the goosebumps from my legs. Sometimes, a fumarole spits so much steam that it coalesces in the air and it feels like we’re walking through rain. Water bubbles on my sunglasses when we emerge from the white mist.

Hot water gathers in pools, sulfur springs filling them with clear turquoise water. And the calcium deposits that ring the pools, sometimes called travertine, are often pure white. It looks so enticing, like a Mediterranean grotto, perfect for swimming and soaking…except it might boil you alive.

In other areas, meltwater and rainwater create pools and seasonal water level determines whether the pool is a boiling hot spring or bubbling mudpot.

Either way, the park service has built extensive boardwalks to keep visitors off of the fragile ground and protect them from the crust of the earth possibly falling away (since all this geothermal activity shifts and moves).

Old Faithful

Of course, the most famous of these geothermal wonders is Old Faithful, which is one of the few geysers that can be predicted because of its regularity. Shooting about 100 feet into the air every hour and a half, it’s a familiar symbol of the United States National Park system. We stopped by around 6pm and enjoyed the small crowds and dramatic sunlight filtering around the mist.

Before Old Faithful geysers (yes, it is a verb; I looked it up), mist drifts from the earth like smoke from the nostrils of a sleeping dragon. Then, it roars, water launching into the sky. Heat comes from magma underground, and the rock in the earth’s crust constricts the hot water from escaping (heat rises, you know). Eventually, steam builds up beneath the water and then explodes through the only path it can find, forcing water to defy gravity in it’s violent escape.

Old Faithful is the most touristy part of the park, surrounded by buildings and gift shops and rows of benches where the plethora of rent-a-RV tourists can gather with their selfie sticks. For that reason, we thought about skipping it, but I’m glad we didn’t. Watching the roaring water shoot so high in the air is truly incredible. An important reminder of the power of our earth.

Grand Prismatic Spring

The next most familiar site is probably the Grand Prismatic Spring; the line into the parking lot is a huge indicator of it’s fame. So we drove right past and circled back the next morning before the crowds could clog the surprisingly small parking lot.

The Grand Prismatic Spring is a giant hot spring that wafts steam into the air and is rimmed by thermophiles, which are colorful heat-loving microorganisms. The water in the spring cools as it spreads farther from the hot source in the center of the pool, and different colored microorganisms thrive in different temperatures, which is what creates the rainbow spread of the wide pool. Visiting in the scorching heat of summer means there will be less mist and you get a clearer view of the pool, but it was fascinating to walk around the pool in the cooler temperatures of a spry spring morning and not be able to see across. Additionally, if you look closely, the mist rising in wafts and whirls reflects a rainbow of colors.

In the Grand Prismatic Spring, hot water bubbles up from the earth at 188 degrees Fahrenheit. The hotter water rises to the surface of the pool and then spreads. It cools as it spreads, and then sinks. It’s this convection current that prevents the water from erupting. Of course, sometimes hot springs can also be geysers and, as any sign in Yellowstone will tell you, geothermal activity is constantly changing. I guess you just have to hope you’re not chilling in a hot spring one day when it decides to suddenly become a steaming, scalding geyser!

The one disappointment of an early spring trip was that the Fairy Falls hike was closed due to snow on the trail. We wanted to do this particular hike because it leads up the hill above the Grand Prismatic Spring and offers a birds-eye view of the massive, colorful pool. Alas, there’s always a reason to return to a fantastic place.

Dragon’s Mouth Spring

My favorite out-of-the-way geothermal phenomenon is the Dragon’s Mouth Spring. You hear it–and smell it–long before you’re close enough to see more than mist.

An underground pool, this spring both spits steam, billowing like an angry dragon resides within, and roils the water, as though the dragon is lashing it with his tail. Though more violent in real life, as you can hear the water gurgling and growling deep in the recesses of the cave, the video does capture how mesmerizing this geothermal feature is. Even the sulfur stench begins to fade as you gaze into the pool.

The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

My dad and I had a conversation on the second day about how Yellowstone is cool with its geothermal features, but that the mountains themselves are nothing special. There are far more beautiful peaks and vistas to be seen just cruising around the Rocky Mountains. But then…

The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone is worthy of a long, lingering look.

It’s a completely different world in the Northeast sector of Yellowstone National Park. In fact, this might be the prettiest feature you’ve never heard of in Yellowstone.

The canyon is twenty miles long, which is significantly dwarfed by the Grand Canyon in Arizona (277 miles). As someone who has never seen the Grand Canyon, I can’t make any sort of comparison. But sometimes things don’t need to be compared. Only experienced and admired for what they are. And I loved the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. It’s vast, sometimes as deep as 1,200 feet, and sports two dramatic water falls. A calm, peaceful river leaves Yellowstone lake, then out of nowhere, the Upper Falls plummets 109 feet.

A short distance later, the Lower Falls drop twice that (308 feet). The canyon walls are a brilliant yellow, though not the reason for the Yellowstone name.

The best feature of this canyon is the ability to hike right to the top of the falls. The Brink of the Upper Falls is a much easier hike, but if you feel confident in tackling 600 feet of altitude gain in less than a half mile, then go for the more impressive Brink of the Lower Falls. As you descend, every knee-jarring step builds the anticipation. You can hear the water roar.

The path approaches from up-river and, at the end, the water simply disappears. The platform at the very brink of the falls is built on steady ground, but my stomach swoops and I feel vaguely nauseated as the water plummets and the falls hammer into the canyon with such force. Water shoots in droves into the edges of the canyon, the ends appearing plumed like the dips and curves of a feather duster, but carrying such force. The disorientation is magnificent; yet another reminder of the power of the earth.

The Wildlife (that’s not so wild)

Yellowstone is known for its wildlife: wolves, bison, and bears, oh my! And we were determined to see them all. Luckily, the wildlife in Yellowstone is not so wild after all. That doesn’t mean I relish coming face to face with a bear, but it does mean there is absolutely no fear of vehicles.

And I couldn’t resist taking a few pictures.

Actually, I couldn’t resist taking a few hundred photos, so you’ll have to check out my second post (coming very soon!) to see all the beautiful animals we were lucky enough to observe in their natural habitats.

It’s safe to say that our van adventure, nay, advanture (what is wrong with me?) through America’s oldest national park did not counter our experience in Acadia. In fact, I, at least, am more determined than ever to visit more national parks and see the beautiful landscape that our forebearers had the foresight to protect.

Yellowstone NP: Cruising the Crater of a Super Volcano

The Park

The Van