In addition to amazing wildlife and geothermal wonders, Yellowstone also has spectacular waterfalls and a gorgeous canyon—“Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.”
Yellowstone Upper Falls – view from South Rim Drive
View of Lower Falls and the Yellowstone River flowing through the canyon from “Artist Point” on South Rim Drive
It was here that I could see where the park may have gotten its name. The canyon walls looked quite yellow in the sun.
As you might imagine, Artist Point was packed with tourists taking photos. In situations like this, my policy is that I always say yes whenever anyone asks me to take a photo of them, and I never say no if someone offers to do the same for us. A nice young Japanese tourist offered to take this photo of us. She did a good job! She placed the waterfall between our heads on purpose. (She was all set with a selfie stick and didn’t want me to return the favor.)
Our selfies are not very good. I just can’t figure out how to position my arm AND take the picture. People say to hold the phone up high, but then you end up staring directly into the sun.
A word about bison.
They are a big part of the Yellowstone experience. You see both herds and loners—sometimes very close up.
Traffic frequently stops for bison crossing in Yellowstone.Bison basically eat all day long. Sometimes they’re sitting down, but they’re usually munching.
They warn you not to get within 25 yards of a bison, if you’re not in a vehicle. They can run fast and have been known to rush (and even gore) people who get too close.
The animals in Yellowstone National Park are magnificent and wild, but the thermal features are insane. I was not fully prepared for the crazy geothermal activity.
This area is known as Porcelain Basin
Colloidal pool at Porcelain Basin
Roaring Mountain Old FaithfulGreat Fountain Geyser – we got very lucky seeing this one erupt precisely at sunset!Grand Prismatic Spring
Bubbling “cinnamon spring” at Black Sand Basin (this one really made me long for a hotel hot tub)
We’re flying home from Jackson, Wyoming later today.
We had an amazing trip—especially Yellowstone National Park. Many people told me how awesome and magical it is—and they were right. America’s first national park is absolutely spectacular.
Our first stop, after a quick visit to Bozeman, Montana, was Mammoth Hot Springs, which is known for its stunning thermal features.
“Minerva Terrace” in Mammoth
The sound was beautiful too.
We took a half-day wildlife tour out of Mammoth with a National Park Service ranger named Rachael. She was terrific. She took us through the Lamar Valley.
Rachael looking for wolves that were in the area feasting on a carcass
A sweeping view of a bison herd crossing the Lamar Valley
A closer view of the bison herd
A herd of pronghorn we spotted in Yellowstone’s northern range, which is sometimes called “America’s Serengeti”
We stopped here to check out an osprey nest through Rachael’s spotting scope.I was able to get a photo of this young osprey, still in the nest, by holding my iPhone to the lens of Rachael’s scope.
Back at the hotel, a few elk were hanging out near our parking spot.
After two nights at the historic Mammoth Hot Springs hotel, we headed south towards the major geyser region of Yellowstone.
Stay tuned for Part 2 (and possibly Parts 3 & 4). I took so many pictures!
I look forward to catching up on all your blogs when I get back. 😊
I’m thankful that I got to have lobster (“lob-stah” – if you’re from around here) last night. I typically have one lobster dinner per summer, so I’m glad I got this one in before Labor Day—the unofficial end of summer.
Growing up in New England, I’ve eaten many, many lobsters. And yes, as a kid, I was extremely concerned about the seemingly cruel manner of death – by boiling. But once I had that delicious claw meat dipped in hot, melted butter, I got over it.
For those who have never had a lobster, the best ones are from the cold New England waters, especially Maine. (I made the mistake of ordering a lobster in Hawaii once. It was a totally different experience.) In my opinion, boiled lobster is best accompanied by a baked potato and either fresh corn or good coleslaw.
And if you’re a GenXer like me, you must recall a certain song, whenever lobster is served. (You know the one.)
Growing up in Massachusetts, I should have visited New York City before age 18, but I did not. For some reason, my parents never took us there, even though my mother’s parents were true Brooklynites—Dodgers fans before “dem bums” moved to LA. I remember my grandmother always pronounced certain words the Brooklyn way—“earl” for oil and “erster” for oyster. (My grandparents moved to Worcester, Massachusetts early in their marriage and never returned to Brooklyn.)
I first went to NYC on a bus from my college in Hartford in the mid eighties. We went for the day. I’ll never forget seeing those vertigo-inducing Manhattan skyscrapers for the first time. New York is so much bigger and taller than all the other American cities. Chicago, Miami, Philly, DC, LA, San Francisco, and of course Boston, are all special in their own ways, but New York is the greatest of them all. (And I say this as someone who grew up despising the New York Yankees.)
On that very first trip to NYC, I remember a shopkeeper asked me where I was from and I said “How do you know I’m not from New York?” He answered, “Because you’re not wearing black and you smiled and said thank you.” He guessed I was from Connecticut. Also, on that same trip, my friend Ann told me to quit gawking and saying things like “I can’t believe I’m in NEW YORK.”
I was determined to expose my kids to NYC before they were 18, so they wouldn’t seem so naive and Connecticutty when they visited.
A photo I took of my sister in NYC in 1987. (She was living there at the time and did not give Connecticut vibes like I did.)
My friend Andreada in Washington Square Park in 1988. That was a wild trip. NYC in the late 80s was a bit scary. I had to sit near a nasty perv on the bus down and got robbed of my leather coat while I was out at a bar. AIDS and drug addiction were casting a pall.My daughter in the Empire State Building, 2005
My son’s first trip to NYC, 2011
A mini-reunion with high school friends in Manhattan in 2011.
In 2018, I just HAD to see Hamilton on Broadway, so my friend Dina and I planned to go down for the day in late March. I thought we’d be safe from winter storms, so I bought tickets to a matinee. But then a freak spring snowstorm was forecast so we went down on the train the night before, so as to not miss the show. Well, the snowstorm was so bad that they cancelled our Amtrak home and we had to stay over a second night. It was quite a snowy adventure! We ended up running into a friend who took us to see a second Broadway show (Carousel starring Renée Fleming) for free. (She had extra tickets because her friends wouldn’t brave the snow.) We ate at the famous Sardi’s restaurant after the show.
The Hamilton marquis on Broadway, 2018My friend Dina outside the Bryant Park Grill in March 2018. Amtrak shut down for two days due to this little bit of snow! We took the bus home instead.
I went back to NYC for a conference the following month. There was no sign of snow then. I think that was my last trip to the City. I’m not sure when I’ll go back again, but I will.
Boston skyline with Leader Bank Pavilion (aka Harborlights) on the far left
And…darkness
Completed in 2003, the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge (on the right side of photo) was named to honor the late Lenny Zakim’s civil rights and race relations work in Boston.Back in the dock at Rowe’s Wharf, the huge flag seemed symbolic. It was the final night of the epic 2024 Democratic National Convention. Kamala Harris was accepting our party’s nomination later that night.
“And, so, on behalf of the people, on behalf of every American, regardless of party, race, gender or the language your grandmother speaks. On behalf of my mother, and everyone who has ever set out on their own unlikely journey. On behalf of Americans like the people I grew up with — people who work hard, chase their dreams and look out for one another. On behalf of everyone whose story could only be written in the greatest nation on Earth, I accept your nomination to be president of the United States of America.”
~Vice President Kamala D. Harris, Democratic National Convention, August 22, 2024
As we walked back through the first floor of The Red Lion Inn to the elevator, I finally could speak to my friend Gail openly. “Do we believe this lady or what?” I should have known that a 251-year old hotel has only one elevator and that our new friend was headed to the exact same place we were. Although she had taken a slightly different route, she ended up right behind us. Hopefully she didn’t hear me say that!
She got into the elevator with us and we all smiled broadly and said how much we’d enjoyed our time together on the porch. The elevator stopped on the second floor and we said goodnight again as she got out. Gail and I rode up to the third floor and opened our antique door with the old key.
Before we were even inside our double room, we began plotting our Google searches. We figured it would take us about 60 seconds (2 minutes tops) to figure out if this woman was truly fascinating or full of shit. You see, Gail and I are advanced sleuths. She has a Master’s Degree in Journalism and I spent 30+ years in fundraising. Figuring out who people are, who they know, and how much money they have was all part of the job. (Private trusts and family foundations were my specialty.)
We jumped into our side-by-side beds and began checking her out. This was going to be fun! Well, two minutes went by and we hadn’t made much progress. We found one woman who looked a bit like her on Instagram and Gail sent a friend request.
We finally found the antique store owning daughter. She looked just like her mom in the photo. There was a bio of the daughter that said she’d been raised in western Massachusetts and Belgium by a British mother and German father. So all that was true!
We still couldn’t find anything on our new friend herself. What the heck? Were we spelling her last name wrong? It was a common-sounding last name, but spelled “the German way” she had said. (Neither of us studied German.) Finally, I found the daughter on Facebook. She had her maiden name in parentheses. A HA! We had been missing an S.
Then we found her. LinkedIn, Instagram and Facebook. There were videos of her on the land where she’s building her solar farm, on the Miami condo balcony, on her recent trip to Lake Como. It was all checking out. I even found the 990 (tax return) of her pediatric cancer foundation. It’s a legitimate charity.
Her bio on her Instagram profile says, “Entrepreneur, Life Coach, Neuroencoding Specialist, Sport Fanatik 🏀🔥🏈, Cruising 🛳️ addicted, Childhood Cancer Advocate 🎗️” and includes links to her foundation and her life coaching website.
So, it was all true. What a fascinating woman!
One mystery remained. The out-of-the-picture German engineer husband. Who was he and what happened to him? The next day Gail figured out his name and I learned that he had died four years ago. He was clearly older than her and a very big deal in plastics. One LinkedIn commenter described him as the “alpha one” of the industry. So…that explains where the money comes from, although we think they split up before he died.
We both followed our new friend on Instagram and Gail sent her a private message to which she responded, “It was such wonderful surprise and highlight of my trip meeting you and Mary too!! I hope we get to meet again!!”
So maybe we’ll see her again someday. Who knows? Life is short and fascinating people are hard to come by.
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