Travel Journal
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On the Way to the National Parks
(with stopovers on the way to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks)
Part III
November 2019
By Sandra Bertrand
Our merry quartet of travelers consists of myself, my partner Joanne, and Nettie and Annaville, two dear pals from Amsterdam. Curious and intrepid travelers all, we have said our farewells to the misty peaks and rain forests of Washington’s Olympic National Park and are headed for Wyoming’s Yellowstone National Park and its neighboring, equally impressive Grand Tetons Park.
Getting to a desired destination for some can mean traversing a “flyover” zone, with a cursory nod out the plane window, Bloody Mary in hand. “Drive-throughs,” sealed within the comforts of our Jeep Grand Cherokee, are an entirely different matter. Leg stretches, refueling, even an occasional pack of beef jerky (at least a dozen different varieties on display) are an essential part of the agenda.
Getting to a desired destination for some can mean traversing a “flyover” zone, with a cursory nod out the plane window, Bloody Mary in hand. “Drive-throughs,” sealed within the comforts of our Jeep Grand Cherokee, are an entirely different matter. Leg stretches, refueling, even an occasional pack of beef jerky (at least a dozen different varieties on display) are an essential part of the agenda.
Spokane, Washington…
Our first stopover was the historic Montvale Hotel in downtown Spokane. It’s a charmer, with a distinctive Belle Epoque feel. A local brochure bills the town as “creative by nature,” which seems a fitting description of the four of us. With a single night to explore our new environs, we opt for Riverfront Park, the former site of the 1974 World Expo.
With twilight darkening our heels, we descend a cascade of steps to the river railing, where we could hear the distant yet thundering rush of water from the Spokane Falls. We could also detect the rumblings of empty stomachs, so a quick dash through the neighboring blocks elicited chicken fingers and pulled park sandwiches to fit the bill.
Tomorrow another state awaited - Idaho.
Coeur d’Alene is situated in the chimney-shaped, northern portion of the state, a town that can claim more than fifty-five lakes within driving distance. Early fur traders believed the local Indians to be sharp negotiators, hence the translation: “Their hearts were sharp as an awl.” Before we exited the tourist office, that friendly “Where you folks from?” phrase stopped us in the doorway. Once Nettie effusively let “Amsterdam” out of the bag, the conversation got livelier.
We navigated a floating boardwalk nearby, taking in the peaceful lake views beyond the hustle and bustle of the town’s merchants. It was as if nothing but a foreigner passing through or an occasional cloud drift could interrupt the flow of those age-old currents. We had entered the Mountain Time zone, Montana taking shape before our eyes. Dense rows of conifers pushed upward into the blue while we steadily descended into the Clark Fork River valley ahead.
Our first stopover was the historic Montvale Hotel in downtown Spokane. It’s a charmer, with a distinctive Belle Epoque feel. A local brochure bills the town as “creative by nature,” which seems a fitting description of the four of us. With a single night to explore our new environs, we opt for Riverfront Park, the former site of the 1974 World Expo.
With twilight darkening our heels, we descend a cascade of steps to the river railing, where we could hear the distant yet thundering rush of water from the Spokane Falls. We could also detect the rumblings of empty stomachs, so a quick dash through the neighboring blocks elicited chicken fingers and pulled park sandwiches to fit the bill.
Tomorrow another state awaited - Idaho.
Coeur d’Alene is situated in the chimney-shaped, northern portion of the state, a town that can claim more than fifty-five lakes within driving distance. Early fur traders believed the local Indians to be sharp negotiators, hence the translation: “Their hearts were sharp as an awl.” Before we exited the tourist office, that friendly “Where you folks from?” phrase stopped us in the doorway. Once Nettie effusively let “Amsterdam” out of the bag, the conversation got livelier.
We navigated a floating boardwalk nearby, taking in the peaceful lake views beyond the hustle and bustle of the town’s merchants. It was as if nothing but a foreigner passing through or an occasional cloud drift could interrupt the flow of those age-old currents. We had entered the Mountain Time zone, Montana taking shape before our eyes. Dense rows of conifers pushed upward into the blue while we steadily descended into the Clark Fork River valley ahead.
Missoula, Bozeman and Billings, Montana…
Missoula is the home of the University of Montana and, as we strolled from our inn along the riverbank’s jogglers, it was hard to picture this as the arduous route of the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1804-06. It was even more difficult to imagine it as the “Porte d’Enfer” or Hell’s Gate (its former name). Yet, this 12,000-year-old glacier lakebed became a site of great conflicts for later settlers on their westward journey. If only the bones could speak, I thought.
Pearl’s Café proved without question that fine cuisine is lying in wait in the most unsuspected places. Founded by Montana-born Pearl Cash 44 years ago, the café features a capacious room with a high, open-beam ceiling, salmon-colored walls and an elegant faux fireplace. Cream of asparagus soup was followed by a dusting of king crab over a sautéed trout fillet for the main course. Our Dutch companions, happily insistent on dessert, shared with us an ample heap of raspberry sorbet.
Missoula is the home of the University of Montana and, as we strolled from our inn along the riverbank’s jogglers, it was hard to picture this as the arduous route of the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1804-06. It was even more difficult to imagine it as the “Porte d’Enfer” or Hell’s Gate (its former name). Yet, this 12,000-year-old glacier lakebed became a site of great conflicts for later settlers on their westward journey. If only the bones could speak, I thought.
Pearl’s Café proved without question that fine cuisine is lying in wait in the most unsuspected places. Founded by Montana-born Pearl Cash 44 years ago, the café features a capacious room with a high, open-beam ceiling, salmon-colored walls and an elegant faux fireplace. Cream of asparagus soup was followed by a dusting of king crab over a sautéed trout fillet for the main course. Our Dutch companions, happily insistent on dessert, shared with us an ample heap of raspberry sorbet.
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On the road again the next morning, miles of fields festooned with goldenrod and herds of black cattle greeted us. We were truly in the Land of the Big Sky with its roaming then napping cloud billows overhead.
Bozeman was a must, with its Museum of the Rockies and its resident dinosaurs. It was John Bozeman who brought the first wagon of pioneers to the “valley of the flowers.” This was a sacred hunting ground to Native Americans, and Bozeman was later killed by angered Sioux warriors. The Museum promised a rare experience, especially for our European friends. A fully mounted Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton fills one of several rooms. Giant eggs and nests and every variety of fossil is here. It is one site where the exclamation of “awesome” seems perfectly apt. By early evening, we arrived in downtown Billings, where we discovered Jake’s, a steak restaurant that was obviously the “go-to” place. The prime rib I ordered could easily compete with the offerings of any first-rate steak house in the country. |
The next morning in the Riversage Inn lobby for breakfast, Annaville and Nettie greeted Joanne with a whispered rendition of Happy Birthday in Dutch.
Months earlier we had agreed that taking the Beartooth Mountain Pass, a 68-mile byway with the highest elevations in the Northern Rockies, would lead directly to the Northeast entrance to Yellowstone National Park and our Silvergate cabin. This was a high alpine, not to be missed route, whose roads were only accessible five months a year. We had also agreed that a detour to the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument was worth a visit before reaching the Park environs later that evening.
Standing at the base of the granite memorial on Last Stand Hill in the hot July sun, I could only conjure a dim memory of my visit to Gettysburg - but the feeling was similar. So many lives lost with only the dry winds and our own silence as a response. On June 25, 1876, Sitting Bull’s village of 8,000 Lakotas and Cheyennes was attacked by George Armstrong Custer’s 7th Cavalry. The entire skirmish resulted in the complete annihilation of five companies of soldiers under Custer’s command. (Custer’s remains were reinterred at West Point, NY in 1881.) The lecture we attended left little time to explore the paths that stretched like tentacles before us. A friendly pow-wow ensued, Joanne reminding us we had no choice but to back track sixty miles on I-90 to Billings in order to pick up US-212 to Beartooth Pass. A stop for supplies in Red Lodge was still over two hours away. |
Beartooth Pass
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Sometime later, the car loaded with provisions, Joanne took the wheel for the precipitous climb ahead. At every loop of the highway the eye wanders from depth-defying ravines to snow-covered peaks that form the Custer, Gallatin and Shoshone forests. Our equilibrium was quickly shaken from a summer idyll in the plains below to the icy tundra lining the embankments outside our Jeep’s windows.
Something haunting lingers in these snow-riddled slopes - stacks of fallen trees or snags lay like so many pickup sticks left in the wake of a child’s temper tantrum. All this devastation remained a reminder of the raging fires of 1988 - a bone dry Black Saturday in August when flames fanned across 160,000 acres, eventually affecting about half of Yellowstone Park’s 2.2 million acres. Today, the ecology remains largely intact, yesterday’s ash becoming today’s fertilizer. It remains one of the largest blazes in U.S. history.
By the time we pulled up in the driveway outside our cabin, dusk was creeping in from all four corners. It wasn’t long before Annaville decided on a healthy walk to “take in some air.” Only minutes before, in the last miles before we’d reached Silvergate, we’d seen a mama black bear and one of her clubs at roadside. Maybe they don’t have bears in Amsterdam I thought. Only the stuffed kind.
Something haunting lingers in these snow-riddled slopes - stacks of fallen trees or snags lay like so many pickup sticks left in the wake of a child’s temper tantrum. All this devastation remained a reminder of the raging fires of 1988 - a bone dry Black Saturday in August when flames fanned across 160,000 acres, eventually affecting about half of Yellowstone Park’s 2.2 million acres. Today, the ecology remains largely intact, yesterday’s ash becoming today’s fertilizer. It remains one of the largest blazes in U.S. history.
By the time we pulled up in the driveway outside our cabin, dusk was creeping in from all four corners. It wasn’t long before Annaville decided on a healthy walk to “take in some air.” Only minutes before, in the last miles before we’d reached Silvergate, we’d seen a mama black bear and one of her clubs at roadside. Maybe they don’t have bears in Amsterdam I thought. Only the stuffed kind.
Young Boy Pointing at "Jackson"
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The good news is she did return, intact. It seems she ran into a friendly stranger at roadside, and they had a chat. As she happily recounted to us, he remarked, “I’ve lived in Cody all my life and I wouldn’t take that walk.” Within minutes, our neighbor was knocking on our front door. “Jackson’s here!” she said. “Come see.”
“Jackson” was a very large bison or buffalo, now grazing only feet from our porch railing. Great tufts of dark fur covered his hump, and when he lifted that gigantic head, I could just make out his small brown eye gazing at our party. For an interminable moment, we waited, feet nailed to the deck. Then he moved into a neighboring yard and that was that. Yellowstone awaited. The only problem was Jackson was back at his grazing, only feet from the Jeep. So was a five-year-old who had stopped his bike to get a better look at our guest. For several breathless moments time stopped still, until the child’s father appeared in the driveway and scooped up his charge. Jackson eventually found a greener pasture, and we were on our way. |
Yellowstone National Park
Our excursion started with the sights along the Lamar Valley basin, home to herds of bison, elk and black and grizzly bears - Yellowstone’s answer to the Serenghetti Plains. By the end of the morning, we had observed more bison and their young than I could have ever imagined. But the most indescribable beauty was found along the canyon rim, where overlooks of the Upper and Lower Falls attracted denizens of tourists. We were as guilty as the rest of the horde, snapping away, the drop-off a little too close for comfort with the cascading falls in the background. We then managed a lunch visit to the Yellowstone Lake Hotel, its pale yellow exterior and giant white columns lining the porch an inviting respite from our wanderings. And, later, once Jackson had vacated the front yard that evening, we grilled burgers and watched the mountainous peaks surrounding us turn black with the night. |
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Mammoth Hot Springs
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Our second day we headed to Mammoth Hot Springs in the northwestern quadrant of the Park. Trust me, there’s no way to fully describe the out-of-this-world landscape. The famed terraces or living sculptures of the springs are melting before your eyes. What’s going on? Limestone from a vast sea millions of years ago combines with dissolved carbon dioxide, making carbonic acid. The hot acid, rising through ground fissures from rain and snow, is deposited above ground as travertine, the new rock that forms the terrace surface. Tapestries of color - orange, brown, and green - flow in watery ribbons, the rock transforming itself minute by minute. Visitors are warned to keep to the boardwalks or official trails, and it’s obvious to see why. Torrents of steam rise from the fissures everywhere you look, the earth bubbling beneath your feet. A companion can disappear in the unearthly fog that surrounds, reappearing just as quickly with your next step. |
Old Faithful - a wonderment we saved for our final day. The Park was established in 1872, but the Old Faithful area evolved based on the pace of road construction and the introduction of the Northern Pacific Railroad. It wasn’t until the 1950s that the National Park Service began an all-out effort to upgrade facilities.
Old Faithful is not the tallest geyser in the Park, but it is the most faithful. The intervals between eruptions can range from 60 to 110 minutes, with a height of 106 to 185 feet. As seasoned theater buffs, we grabbed second-row center seats on the benches lining an open field. Soon, others followed suit, cameras and binoculars in hand. Nature didn’t disappoint. A few spurts were followed by a full-blown geyser sighting, and enough “oohs and aahs” to fill Madison Square Garden. It was a nice finish to the afternoon followed by a late lunch in the lodge, with only a slight wait. The lodgepole Gothic-designed Yellowstone Inn is a marvel of construction, created by Robert C. Reamer in the early part of the last century. Two tiers of balconies rise to a 92-foot high ceiling with a fireplace consisting of 500 tons of rough-cut stone. |
Old Faithful Video
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By the time we left the facility, it was after three, and we were headed south to the Grand Tetons. Our plate was filling up.
The Grand Tetons
For grandeur beyond imagining, Wyoming’s Grand Tetons are the highest expression of the Rocky Mountains. In 1929, the central peaks and half a dozen lakes became officially a national park, but only a third of its current size. It was John D. Rockefeller who used his philanthropy to ensure that views of the Teton Range and public access to northern Jackson Hole would be protected. And it was Rockefeller’s Memorial Highway, established in 1972, that carried us on our way to the next slice of heaven on earth. Of course, the road to paradise can be a bit bumpy. Somewhere northwest of Jackson, Sirie, our tried and true Jeep’s navigator, recommended we take a short detour to reach our lodgings in nearby Alta. At least the narrow road, with a dense overhang of spindly branches, was paved. The minute the words left my mouth the asphalt became a dirt path, a mire of potholes and dry clouds of dust covering the shiny crimson exterior of the Jeep. I wanted to tell Sirie to “take a hike” but we were in her hands, with stray unfamiliar maps at our feet. |
Wyoming's Grand Tetons
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At last, a little the worse for wear, we reached the Teton Teepee Lodge. Thanks to our hosts, Alma and husband Dan, our high spirits returned. We were indeed in a gigantic teepee-shaped structure, with 18 rooms laid out like wheel spokes, opening off a central lobby with a massive central fireplace. A ski-crowd’s dream and ours too, even if we were a bit off-season for our visit.
Sandra at Lookout Ledge, Grand Teton National Park
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Dinner, at Alma’s suggestion, was Teton Thai Restaurant in the nearest town of Driggs, Idaho, just over the Wyoming border. The place was jam-packed, with Pad Thai curry dishes of shrimp and chicken, happy if hot choices at level three. We capped off the night with a bottle of Chardonnay we’d stashed in the hotel lobby’s fridge.
The views of the three Tetons - Grand (13,770 ft.), Middle (12,804 ft.) and South (12,514 ft.) - are the star of the show. Once again, Alma came through for us by insisting we save on time and money by heading a few miles north to the Grand Targhee Resort. From there we could hop a ski lift that would afford us a stunning vantage point from the backside of the peaks. This proved a great alternative to a longer drive to the aerial tram available within the park. Once aboard the four-party lift, we ogled a death-defying cyclist below our seats as well as a lone marmot leapfrogging the jagged rock bed. A few teeth-chattering moments later, we arrived at the top, grabbing a pair of ski poles for the rocky stubble under our feet. Soon I found my attention divided between the magnificent morass in front of me and a family gathering precariously posed near the daisy-strewn edge for “selfies.” A bit of friendly advice: It’s best to enjoy Infinity one step at a time. |
A few steps away was a small nature center where we compared photos we’d taken of a mother bear and her cubs in Yellowstone with the park ranger. No grizzly ours, but a brown-black variety with a pointed rather than broad snout. The other highlight of our Teton experience was a shuttle boat excursion we took across Jackson Lake, a pristine body of water that rests below the hard-to-miss Teton range. What I remember best was an overlook on the lake rim. We walked along a shaded path and stood awestruck before another view of these massive Teton sentinels. It’s a humbling experience, our own lives seemingly a blip on earth’s timeline screen. On the way back, crossing the Idaho border to our teepee lodging, we passed a boarded up drive-in movie theatre. A pickup truck was parked in the front driveway with a giant fake spud in its back trunk. We had a good laugh - surely not the most picaresque of snapshots but a slice of Americana for our Dutch pals. |
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Our last dinner, another recommendation from our hostess Alma, was at Warbirds, tucked behind the hangars of Driggs’ tiny airport. Overlooking the landing strip with the Tetons as a backdrop, the restaurant offers visitors an eclectic local menu and fine wines as well as a small museum with an impressive collection of Navy and Air Force fighting planes. Such entrees as Wyoming elk and heirloom tomato Bolognese, seared steelhead trout and grilled bison chili tamale whetted the taste buds of this four.
The next morning, after an early breakfast in the central lobby, I found Annaville at creek side behind the lodge. The Jeep was packed to the brim for our departure, and I knew she would be hunched over her journal, picking up a last bit of inspiration from our wanderings. Jackson was still almost forty miles away, where we would load our friends on a shuttle bus for Salt Lake City and their flight back to Amsterdam. I thought how old friends don’t say goodbye. Maybe they don’t say anything at all. And that’s just fine. **Note: The fourth and final part to "On the Way to the National Parks" will be published in December. Stay tuned for a glimpse into Sandra and Joanne's continued travels to historic Deadwood, the Black Hills of South Dakota, the Crazy Horse Memorial, the Badlands, a German festival in Milwaukee, and a final wind down in Chicago!
Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Sandra was Sanctuary's Featured Artist in May 2019 and is also Sanctuary's columnist for "Travel Journal."
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INFORMATION FOR PLACES OF INTEREST
Montvale Hotel Pearl’s Café 1005 W. 1st Avenue 231 E. Front Street Spokane, WA Missoula, MT 59802 509-624-1518 406-541-0231 Museum of the Rockies Riversage Inn 600 West Kegy Blvd. 880 N. 29th Street Bozeman, MT 59717 Billings, MT 59101 406-994-2251 406-52-6800 Jake’s Steak House Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument 2701 1st Avenue N. I-90 Frontage Road Billings, MT 59101 Crow Agency, MT 59022 406-259-9375 www.nationalparks.org Silver Gate Cabins Yellowstone National Park 109 US Highway National Park Service 2112 W. Silver Gate Complete Guide Silver Gate, MT 59081 307-344-7381 406-838-2371 Yellowstone National Park Website Teton Teepee Lodge Teton Thai 440 W. Alta Ski Hill Road 18 N. Main Street, Suite 100 Alta, WY 83414 Driggs, ID 83422 307-353-1000 208-787-8424 Alma@TetonTeepee.com Warbirds Café Grand Teton National Park Driggs-Reed Memorial Airport 307-739-3300 Driggs, ID 83422 208-354-2550 |