[combat_boots]

There is absolutely nothing on God’s green earth like seeing the Yellowstone basin in early evening, when the orange-pink-purple sunset casts it waning light on the mountain peaks. Or Old Faithful and Mammoth Hot Springs, or the mud pots, in the middle of the worst blizzard you’ve ever been in. Or the sound of the bull elk on the Teton plain, sounding throughout the nights as they’re in autumn’s rut, herding their females together. The sounds of the buffalo, jiggling your feet underfoot, as they run somewhere over a rise, but you can’t see them. The taste of true, pure, water from ice melt, hiking the Tetons, cold as snow and fresh as pure can be. Come nightfall, the tents all covered in inches of snow you have to shake off, with camp fires all around and that pungent, pine-and-aspen wood smoke trailing up into the night sky. Glory. It’s glory.

[mojo114]

What you wrote is just beautiful!
We have stayed at Yellowstone and understand the beauty.
Thanks.

[PennsylvaniaMom]

I know that this is a very serious topic; and am learning a lot from the “geo-knowledgable” FReepers...but your post CB was beautiful. Your descriptions grand and full of feeling...thank you for posting it!!!

(Your Beck FRiend) PAMom

[reagan_fanatic]

I was out in Yellowstone Park back in 1991 for about three days of camping. It is one of the most beautiful places on the face of the Earth. I wish I had the time and money to go back.

Unfortunately, if Yellowstone blows it’s lid, there won’t be a park to go back to :(

[Lazamataz]

There is absolutely nothing on God’s green earth like seeing the Yellowstone basin in early evening, when the orange-pink-purple sunset casts it waning light on the mountain peaks. Or Old Faithful and Mammoth Hot Springs, or the mud pots, in the middle of the worst blizzard you’ve ever been in. Or the sound of the bull elk on the Teton plain, sounding throughout the nights as they’re in autumn’s rut, herding their females together. The sounds of the buffalo, jiggling your feet underfoot, as they run somewhere over a rise, but you can’t see them. The taste of true, pure, water from ice melt, hiking the Tetons, cold as snow and fresh as pure can be. Come nightfall, the tents all covered in inches of snow you have to shake off, with camp fires all around and that pungent, pine-and-aspen wood smoke trailing up into the night sky. Glory. It’s glory.

And then it explodes.

And we all die.

The End.

[GregB]

Would I love to go back to Yellowstone!!!