Galaxies :: Image – NASA-JPL-Caltech
My favorite part of where I grew up was that it was never far to a wild place. Some of those places felt ordinary like where the Missouri River passes through endless, dry prairie with abrupt cut banks and cottonwoods lining its route, or even the steep dramatic river bluffs on the north end of my hometown where the Corps of Discovery had to portage their boats. When I lived in southern Montana it was more dramatic. I was surrounded by mountains only a mile from town and it was a short drive to Gardiner near the north entrance to Yellowstone National Park where the hot pots were located. It only takes seventy-five-minutes to drive there, which can be trimmed if it’s 1:00am and the roads are good. A friend told me that it’s not the same as it was when we went there decades ago. It was natural then because only the locals and nearby locals like us went there. She said now it’s more developed with infrastructure and user-friendly features.
The turn-off from Highway 89 leads to a short, unmarked gravel road which ends at a trailhead parking lot. It’s a small, packed dirt clearing that accommodated ten cars and each spot was designated by an enormous boulder, like curb stops did in town. Whenever I went with friends, we were the only ones parked there and it was the same on that night. We all piled out of the car and put our coats back on because it was the middle of winter. It was snowing gently, we were chatty, happy, and walked single file because the trail was narrow and flanked by head high bushes and dense undergrowth. After a few minutes, we heard rustling up ahead which quickly turned into loud crashing, and within seconds an enormous bull elk ran across the trail twenty feet in front of us. It was shocking and we were momentarily frozen in place, then began mumbling expletives repeatedly, even some yelling while the elk disappeared into the darkness and the crashing noise faded.
It was a few minute walk to the hot pots from the car. The closer we got, the louder the river became, which forced us to raise our voices while we stood next to it. It seemed darker there too, with just enough ambient light to see each other, the falling snow, dim river boulders, and hazy streaks of white water. Once we all disrobed and stuffed our clothes and shoes inside our jackets to keep them dry, we walked down the slope and stepped into the steaming pools. There were three of them connected with waist high water and the bottoms covered with small rocks. Each pool had a different temperature that ranged from very warm to hot. Everyone submerged slowly getting used to the heat, and found smooth submerged boulders to sit on. With only our heads showing, we disappeared and reappeared through the thick steam the entire night. After a while someone said, “You know, we’re not just seeing stars, we’re seeing galaxies too.”
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"The night. The stars. The river." Edward Abbey – The Monkey Wrench Gang
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Songs :: Livingston Saturday Night by Jimmy Buffet, Home by Bonnie Raitt, Nightswimming by R.E.M., and Have You Seen the Stars Tonite by Paul Kanter and Jefferson Starship
© C. Davidson