Dancing with Wolves, Running with Bison

Winter returned to Yellowstone today.

We woke at dawn to discover a fresh layer of snow at Mammoth. Temps had fallen to the teens and a stiff wind was blowing. We boarded a van, with our guide Rick at the wheel, and drove to Lamar Valley, in search of wolves. All eyes were on the landscape, combing ridges and valleys for any signs of movement. As time went on, the mood became pensive. We had all come to Yellowstone in hopes of seeing wolves, and this was our best chance.

Then, as we made our third pass through the valley, Rick cried out “Wolves on top of the ridge!” And there they were: one black, one gray, silhouetted against the sky. We whooped in excitement, and Rick pulled over so we could all tumble out of the van, binoculars and cameras in hand. And as we watched, one wolf after another popped up over the ridge, until there were eight. Six blacks and two grays: the Lamar Canyon Pack. 

No spotting scopes were needed; the wolves were easy to watch with binoculars, and what a sight! As they crested the ridge, they began loping downhill. The lead black wolf — likely the alpha female — had something in her mouth, possibly a fresh kill, and she tossed it in the air. Then a gray wolf picked it up and they played a game of keep-away, jumping and running, leaping and rolling in the snow. The Lamar Canyon pack includes a mating pair and six yearling pups. No wonder they were so playful — most of them are juveniles! Wolves don’t have easy lives — their average life span here in the park is only five years. Most die from fights protecting their territory, some from disease. But this morning they were clearly enjoying life, and watching them was pure joy. As I took it all in, I couldn’t help but think of my sister-in-law Stella, who passed away last year. She was passionate about wolves, studying them and supporting their recovery. If she were here, I knew she’d be dancing right along beside me.

The Lamar Canyon Pack 

They finally disappeared over the ridge, and we clambered back in the van, frozen but euphoric. We knew we were lucky to see an entire pack, especially at such close range. We talked of little else as we headed back to Mammoth for a quick lunch before climbing back on our snowmobiles. We had an 80-mile ride ahead of us, and hoped to arrive back at the Old Faithful Snow Lodge before dark.

But our animal encounters were far from over. As we came around a bend on a narrow stretch of road, a herd of about 20 bison were camped out, blocking our way. We slowed to a stop and Rick gathered us together for a quick powwow. We would proceed slowly forward in tight formation, and hope that the herd would move down the bank to our right. Under no circumstance were we to fall back and let the bison get between our sleds. He didn’t see any bulls in the herd, so thought they’d be fairly placid. 

The video shows what happened next. As we moved forward, the bison got agitated and started running. Soon we were amongst a bolting, bucking herd of thousand-pound animals (with horns). Rick motioned us to stop, and the bison ran ahead of us.  Once they stopped, we approached again, and they bolted again. After repeating this scenario four or five times, I was pretty much terrified.  When you get the stink eye from a bison standing at arm’s length, you know your life is no longer in your own hands. 

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But there was no turning back now, and we finally pulled through the herd. I watched Rick anxiously count snowmobiles as we got clear. For the next half hour my teeth chattered uncontrollably, and not from the cold. I guess it wasn’t my day to become a statistic (more people die from getting too close to bison than from bear attacks in Yellowstone). We may not have harmed the bison, but we clearly violated their personal space and I was grateful they chose not to turn on us. 

The rest of our ride was uneventful, and I spent the last half hour debating between a warm brandy and a single-malt scotch upon arrival. As we pulled in to the Snow Lodge at sunset, our numb but triumphant badass gang was more than ready to turn in our gear and return to our creature-comfort zones. But I can guaranty that none of us will ever forget our winter experience in Yellowstone. 

Out of my Comfort Zone: Snowmobiling

Uneasy rider

As we donned our snowmobile gear early this morning, my stomach was tied in knots. A dozen other folks in matching outfits met us in the lobby, and one of them cracked, “This seemed like a good idea in the brochure.” 

Within minutes, after a short driving lesson by our guide Rick, we climbed on our Yamaha “sleds” and lurched out of the hotel parking lot. We started out slow, in strict formation. I sat behind Bob, relieved to be the passenger. And as we drove along snowy roads lined with lodgepole pines, I loosened my grip on my grab bars and unclenched my teeth  (among other things).

Intermittent snow showers and temps in the 20s brought home the reality that winter is not quite over here, and as we came upon Yellowstone Lake, I was amazed to see a vast frozen expanse. This is a big lake (20 by 14 miles) and I’d never seen so much frozen water.

Our next stop was the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. Lower Falls drops 308 feet, and it was definitely not frozen! Next to the plunging falls, Rick pointed out river otter slides that drop into the river below. What a ride that must be!

Lower Falls, Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

By the time we stopped for our sack lunches at Canyon Village, we were full-fledged members of a badass, nature-lovin’ snowmobile gang. We followed our fearless leader Rick through gorgeous snow-filled valleys, lodgepole forests, and geothermal basins. As we rode through Hayden Valley, next to the Yellowstone River, Rick motioned us to stop. There, not far from the road, was a lone fox, nose down, hunting — and completely unconcerned by our presence. Breathtaking.

Fox are making a comeback in Yellowstone, thanks to the wolves.
Wolves prey on coyotes, the foxes main predator.

Aside from the fox and a few bison, we didn’t see much wildlife today. But we covered a lot of territory on our sleds and I loved leaning back and taking in the incredible scenery. It was nearing dark as we arrived at the Mammoth Hotel, and our gang was road-weary but in high spirits after our 100-mile ride. Tomorrow looms large in our minds, as we’re heading to Lamar Valley, where the wolves live.

Deeper into the Park

This is how they roll in winter.

Up at 5:30, packed and ready to join our tour group, we arrived at the Mammoth Hotel at 6:30 and were herded on to our snow coaches. I’m not a big fan of group travel (ironic for someone who spent 25 years in the cruise business), but in some circumstances, it’s the only way to experience a remote destination. Our trusty van-on-treads took us from Mammoth deep into the park. The snow got deeper too, relatively. Normal snowfall for central Yellowstone is 6 to 12 feet; it’s a fraction of that this year. The signs of early spring are clear: the bear are coming out of hibernation already (we packed our bear spray at the last minute), and the bison are feeling frisky. We saw large herds in the Madison area, and the young bulls were jousting and frolicking (not a term you’d normally associate with bison). 

We arrived at Old Faithful about noon, and checked in to the Snow Lodge. Tingeing a bit green after the long snow coach ride, I was happy to get out for some fresh air. We strapped on our Yaktrax and walked the Geyser Loop Trail from the lodge. During the summer months, this boardwalk trail would be packed with tourists. But today we had it to ourselves for long stretches — well, except for the herd of bison taking a steam bath in the geothermals, just yards away from us. Gurgling geysers, brooding bison, mice-hunting coyote; it was a surreal stroll in a lunar-like landscape. 

Spa treatment at Old Faithful's geothermal.

Back at the lodge, we readied ourselves for tomorrow’s adventure: snowmobiling. I’ve never ridden a snowmobile, and honestly never thought I would. And as our guide lamented the lack of snow and the possibility of some “rough riding,” I’m feeling more than a bit trepidatious. But what’s an adventure without some adversity, right? Right???

We just strolled by this herd of bison. The boardwalk gave us a false sense of security.  Crazy tourists!

Arrival to Yellowstone: Feelin' Lucky

We arrived in Gardiner, Montana — at the north entrance to Yellowstone — last evening, after a long, Crosby, Stills & Nash-fueled  drive from Spokane. After a winning spin on the big wheel at the Rusty Rail Lounge and beating Bob at cribbage (beginner’s luck - he won’t let that happen again), I was feeling pretty lucky. We had a day on our own before joining our Yellowstone Association “Trail of the Wolf” tour, and we were hoping to see some wildlife and maybe do a little snow shoeing. 

High roller at the Rusty Rail

We first experienced Yellowstone in September of 2012, and we were blown away. We spent a week camping, hiking, and watching wildlife. The only regret we had was not seeing wolves. After hearing that the wolves are most visible in the winter months, we started planning this trip. Eighteen months later, here we are. Most people from the gray and rainy Pacific Northwest opt for warmer climes this time of year. But this is far from a normal year: record snow on the east coast, and record warm in the west. So I was looking forward to seeing some snow, bonding with my new Sorel's, and experiencing the beauty of a Yellowstone winter.

We headed into the park early this morning. During the winter months, most of the roads are closed to general traffic, but the stretch from Mammoth to Lamar Valley remains open. I was worried about navigating snowy roads in our Eurovan, but as we soon discovered, Yellowstone has had the same mild winter as the west coast. Even before we entered the park, we saw herds of pronghorn antelope, deer, and elk. And the bison were out in droves, grudgingly sharing the road with tourists. In Mammoth there was virtually no snow. But by the time we got to Lamar Valley there was enough to strap on our snow shoes and head out from Pebble Creek for a gorgeous walk in a slot canyon. 

Pronghorn antelope near Mammoth

As we slowly made our way back to Mammoth, stopping for bison stand-offs and moose sightings, the sun sparkled on snow patches stitched together by animal tracks, like a crazy quilt. Unlike the summer months in Yellowstone, there was no doubt that we humans were the minority. What a privilege it is to be here. Yes indeed, it was my lucky day.

Pebble Creek, Lamar Valley