The last time I visited Yellowstone National Park was, gosh, has it really been fifteen years ago? I believe it has, a roundtrip with Bev, shortly after we had met each other, maybe closer to sixteen years.
Be that as it may, I was on a mission, not only to show Bev a magical place she had never seen, not only to see the geysers, not only to see the wild animals in their natural habitat, but also to witness the wonder of one specific location.
I first visited Yellowstone in 1994, a trip with my son, heard about it so many times, felt like it really was a bucket list item within grasp, why not, load up, packed our bags, pointed the car east and off we went, over the Cascades, across the barren east side, begin the climb into the Rockies, about a fourteen hour drive with determination, finally being welcomed by the town of West Yellowstone with the magnificent arch greeting all to Yellowstone National Park.
We took our time, so much to see, the heat of the earth pouring from fissures, the bison roaming along the road, a moose literally walking within a foot of our car bumper, elk and deer, black bear and fox, otters, cougars, magnificent animals, to be sure, not a cage in sight, no barriers to peek around, right there for all to see, sharing their land with visitors in strange contraptions, all holding little boxes aimed in their direction, trying to capture the moment to share with loved ones back home.
As wondrous as that all was, the truly magical moment, for me, came as we drove over a small hill and there, spread out before us, a scene impossible to replicate, the stunning Hayden Valley, the Yellowstone River snaking its way along the valley floor, bright blue of the water glistening in the sunlight, a herd of bison making their way to the shoreline to quench their thirst, elk doing the same, a scene from long ago, the fur trappers marveling at the boiling waters of this strange land, the Native Americans calling this place home, revering it, becoming one with it, a land so special that Congress, during one lucid moment, declared it untouchable, something worth saving for the millions approaching, for the many generations to come, a scene which, literally, has not changed for hundreds of years, unspoiled wonder.
That moment . . . that spot . . . was replayed three other times, different pilgrimages, and each time I left the park I was convinced that I would never again witness such beauty.
Short-sighted of me, of course, for in thinking that, I was refusing to recognize that beauty is all around me, if I choose to simply open my eyes and mind.
Maggie was with me in 2023 when we were witnesses to many such moments. Standing on a bluff in the eastern Cascades of Oregon, the land stretching before us for literally a hundred miles, flat and seemingly lifeless, the grandeur of it all leaving me breathless once again, lessons learned of courageous travelers following a trail, in wagons, to Oregon, unsure of what they would find, weak of body and mind after such a long, arduous journey, but determined to find a better life.
And again, standing in a Californian desert, surrounded by wildflowers during something called a Super Bloom, unable to comprehend how so much beauty could erupt from a moonscape-type land, Maggie wagging her tail in response to my excitement, always able to read my emotions.
And again, Southern California, another bluff, this one looking out at the Pacific Ocean, an approaching storm, bomb cyclone it was called, the waves angry, the clouds churning in patterns I had never witnessed, Mother Nature unleashed, sheets of rain appearing as curtains touching the black waters, wind threatening to knock me on my ass, Maggie looking at me for reassurance that all was well.
And again, along the Mighty Columbia River, entering The Gorge, walls of granite rising sharply above the river of life, a powerful, broad expanse of waters, the subject of much conjecture, and fear, to the early pioneers, now the source of power for tens of millions of untested city dwellers, waterfalls flowing from those walls, great ships delivering the goods, birds of many varieties darting to and fro, young children with parents tossing lines into the water in an age-old tradition, towns dotting the shoreline, history and the present colliding where the rapids once tested the brave and foolhardy, Maggie walking out into the shallows, happy in the water, my girl, a pup once again as though the waters had the power to turn back time and make her younger.
The point of it all, my friends, is that the wonders of this world are there for you to see, to touch, to listen to, to fully experience, but you need to get off of your arses and go see them, while you still have time, while you are still capable of getting up off of the couch and witnessing it all.
I only have four words for you . . . if not now, when . . . Maggie wags her tail in agreement. When is going to be the right time for you? When will you be able to carve out some time, from your busy, all-important chores, to actually LIVE?
If not now, when?
Thanks for joining me and Maggie. You can always find us where the pavement ends and the wonders begin. My girl and I, we don’t need to drive a thousand miles to see the wonder; it’s within walking distance, waiting for us, each and every day.
