Wandering Through the Woods

Jamaicans, Albanians and the Singapore Seven

2007-07-01T23:11:00.000-07:00

I’m going to take the opportunity to expound on the international array of park employees. I first had a discussion about the prevalence of international employees with my boss, Curtis, before the majority of them arrived. He mentioned offhandedly that by mid summer half of the employees at the hotel would be foreign. At the time, I had trouble believing him, but it is now most certainly the case. At our location we have practically an entire village of Jamaicans, over a dozen Columbians, numerous Western Europeans, even more Eastern Europeans, several Chinese, and seven Singaporeans. I’m sure I’m forgetting some, but I think you get the picture. All of this results in some fascinating cultural blending.

The Jamaicans keep largely to themselves because their group is so large. Still, I work with a thirty year-old named Patricia, and she likes me because I’m left-handed, like her. She says in Jamaica they call us “left-clawed crabs.” She cooks much of the food for the employees, so we’re often eating dishes with a certain Jamaican twist.

The Albanians are hilarious. Most of them are actually from Kosovo, around Prishtina. One of them is them is a terrible womanizer. His name is Bujar and he has a certain Eastern European charm that makes the ladies swoon. He’s perfected the art of winking and he’s fond of wearing a shirt that says “Gr8Nbed.” The Columbian girls (who party out to mariachi music until two in the morning) seem irresistibly drawn to him.

I have grown to know the Singaporeans particularly well. For a variety of reasons, they have chosen to adopt me into their group. They call me “Superman.” This is a nickname which has fed my ego more than anything. It came about, I’m told, because I always where my glasses to work and my contacts when I’m off work. Also, one of them said I look like Christopher Reeve.

Keith and Judith are two of the Singaporeans with whom I often go hiking. Keith is 24 and immensely friendly. Both he and Judith are studying chemical engineering. He told me the other evening when we were hiking out to Hellroaring Creek (a fantastic little hike), that Yellowstone is the best place he’s ever been. Consequently, he’s been photographing every rock, tree, sunset and person in a futile attempt to capture the uncapturable beauty of the park. I’ll be sad when he and Judith leave in two weeks.

Two nights ago Chuck, Molly, me and the Singaporeans hiked Storm Point under the full moon. Seeing the moon, cradled in the clouds and reflecting a silver trail of light across the lake is a fairly enchanting experience. We may hike Avalanche Peak during the next full moon.

Oh, for any who were concerned (Dan) I finally bought bear spray, so I can now feel slightly better when I choose to hike alone. Of course, I generally don’t hike solo. Also, Doug told me to tell Joe and Dan “hello.” He found out I was Joe’s brother when he said I looked familiar and asked me if I’d worked in the employee pub a couple years ago. I told him no but my brother did.

I hope everyone is well back home. I believe Sara and Patrick are leaving for New Zealand soon. I hope you both have a safe flight. Keep in touch!

Meditation at the Peak

2007-06-17T20:01:00.000-07:00

The other day I finally conquered Avalanche Peak. It was a short but fantastic hike. The trail begins near the eastern edge of the park and ascends over two thousand feet to the summit. I was so eager to get to the top that I began by practically jogging up the trail. My hikes book said it should take 2-3 hours to climb to the peak – I (to boast a bit) did it in one hour and fifteen minutes. The trail begins by winding up a steep incline along a stream. The pine trees are large and beautiful and don’t seem to have been scarred by any recent forest fires. As one edges upward the air becomes noticeably thinner and the slope steeper. For a time I felt as though I were simply falling forward and forcing my feet to move to catch me. At that point, I began to get discouraged until the trail emerged from the tree line.

Rather suddenly, the trees become scarce and the view becomes amazing. Snow capped peaks surround you, reflecting sunlight in a dazzling display. It was at this point that I was inspired to find a new burst of strength, and I soon found myself keeping up a pace that I did not know I could muster energy for and sustain. Soon, I was climbing over massive snow drifts eight feet high. It was as though nothing could slow me down. I was only a couple hundred feet from the summit, and I kept likening myself to the marathon runner who has just come in sight of the finish line. The body may be spent, but the mind won’t let it quit.

When I did reach the peak I collapsed to the ground and guzzled nature’s cool refreshment from my Nalgene bottle. The wind had become fierce, and I put my leather sheepherder jacket back on to keep warm. It was an awe inspiring sight. I truly felt as though I were on top of the world. In all directions I could see the magnificence that is Yellowstone – snowy mountains and grassy green meadows, blankets of pine forests and mountain lakes and streams. I decided to soak it all in by sitting Indian-style on the mountain’s highest point and meditating. After a while, I reflected on the time I had spent in the park thus far and on the times yet to come. Mostly I couldn’t escape thinking about how woefully fleeting and transient my stay is going to be. But, I suppose such is always the way with good things in life.

The descent was ridiculously easy. Actually, it was so easy as to be perilous. The steep slope encourages one to go dangerously fast, but it is ever important to find one’s footing. Still, it must have taken me only a half hour or so to reach the beginning. As I was signing out in the trail log I read some of the other entries. Apparently, two large grizzly bears had been sighted on the trail some three days before by the National Park Service. They advised traveling only in large groups and recommended carrying bear spray. I had done neither, nor had I read the other entries in the log book before I began my hike. I have not yet become a wise and prudent hiker. I suppose the word to describe my actions is folly. Nevertheless, there can be fun in folly and prudence can sometimes feel so burdensome.

Social Commentary

2007-06-09T19:39:00.000-07:00

Last summer I lived and worked in Washington D.C. I was an intern with Congresswoman Melissa Bean's office. It was an experience that was altogether very different from what I'm doing now. This summer, my hikes lead me to some of the most beautiful places on earth, whereas last summer my "hikes" consisted of walks through canyons of steel and concrete. And, the "predators" I encountered in D.C. were not wolves and bears, but rather were lobbyists and politicians.

The most interesting and intriguing difference between my two experiences involves the people with whom I've interacted. In D.C. I often felt a profound sense of social seclusion. I remember asking one of the other interns from the office if he wanted to hang out, and being rejected because he needed to attend a social networking party with some of the Princeton alums living in D.C. I also remember having to explain to multiple interns what a "public school" is like and what is sold at "Wal-Mart." And, everyone seemed to dress in Banana Republic - something that is beyond both my budget and taste. Here is part of an entry from a journal I kept last summer:

"Every day on Capitol Hill I am surrounded by privileged and pompous Ivy Leaguers. I speak with them sometimes, but they are from a completely different world."

Sadly, that excerpt largely sums up my relationship with co-workers and acquaintances during my stay in D.C. I didn't develop any meaningful friendships. Indeed, it was only after I started working in the evenings as a bartender and barista that I met any "normal" people, with whom I could relate.

The friendships I'm developing here are completely different. Everyone I've met either goes to a state university or graduated from one or isn't enrolled in school. Everyone actually needs the money they receive from their paychecks. We usually wear t-shirts, not polo shirts. Many of us are from broken families. We drink cheap beer. No one cares about finding friends that will be "useful." We hang out. We're here to enjoy life, not to play a game of social chess and manipulation. Essentially, the people I'm currently living with are the sort of people I enjoy and want to work with throughout my adult life. Tragically, the sort of career I'm interested in pursuing will probably lead me to work with the sort of undesirable characters I encountered last summer.

As always, when a life experience starts to provide some answers it also produces twice as many questions. I'm starting to suspect that my life will never have a sense of direction or a destination, but will rather be one long, wandering journey. At least, I hope for such a life.

After the Storm

2007-06-03T21:02:00.000-07:00

We had a short thunderstorm today. The rain always seems to be fleeting and brief out here. Still, storms are quite exhilarating to watch from the Sun Room of the hotel. The Sun Room is the place I often go to read, listen to the piano and enjoy a cold beer. There's really little that relaxes me more. However, the Sun Room is also an ideal place to watch storms roll in from across the lake. I'll describe how one usually looks:

First, the cumulonimbus clouds gather on the horizon - looming, dark blue masses of icy water particles. Or, heavy, thick and violently painted strokes on the dark blue canvass of the sky. As the clouds approach, the lake waters grow choppy. The sort of choppy that flipped Anke's kayak over. Sloppy waves that smack together and lap against the docks of the marina. Occasionally, one can see bolts of lightening strike down upon the surface of the lake. All in all, it's a pretty neat spectacle. And, unlike Indiana there is very little chance of the storm producing a tornado.

After the storm, the lake becomes a mirror and the trailing clouds seem to stop in the windless sky. They simply hang in the air like white silk. It's as placid a scene as one is ever likely to experience. If one walks to the shore there is absolutely nothing to disturb the tranquility of it all. There are no planes in the sky, no buildings in the distance, no cars and (until the marina opens for the season) no people or boats. Indeed, one can enjoy the beauty and serenity of pure, untarnished nature.

So, that's what I spent this evening doing. However, I'd also like to recap some activities from the past week or two, in no particular order.

Chuck and I attempted to hike Avalanche Peak. At 10,300-some feet it's recommended by most trail books that individuals wait until July for the snow to melt. As we are ambitious and not easily daunted folk, we thought we'd give it a go at the end of May. Perhaps, our ambition led us to be foolhardy. We drove out to the trail head, parked the car, and started up the trail. After about a hundred feet we were walking through ankle deep snow. Then, after a half mile or so we were trudging through waste deep snow. The trail disappeared, and it started sleeting. After getting drenched (we failed to bring our rain gear), we decided to turn back and play it safe. We'll probably try again in a week or two.

Driving back from Avalanche Peak, a tree fell directly in front of our car. Thankfully, it didn't fall on our car. Given our recent "luck" it wouldn't have surprised me. Traffic was forced to halt until the massive obstruction was removed from the roadway. Therefore, in what I suppose is the typical Wyoming take-charge spirit, we and the individuals from three other cars and trucks worked to rip apart the tree by wrapping chains around the trunk and attaching the ends to one of the trucks. We then cleared the rubbish and soon had a perfectly functioning roadway again. I suppose pine trees in and around the park fall a lot during storms.

We had an 80s dance at the employee pub the other night. It was loads of fun. The younger employees wore funky clothing and costumes which we think of as being representative of the 80s - Prince costumes, denim jackets, torn sweaters and spandex. I'm not sure if even half of the costumes were totally accurate, but they were still fun. I have a strong suspicion some of the older employees just delved into their wardrobes and wore old clothes.

Well, I'm going to jet so that I can hang out on the porch. Peace.

A Wreck on the Continental Divide

2007-05-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

We had a car accident last night. Chuck, Anke and I drove to Idaho Falls to pick-up a suitcase that Chuck had left at a friend's house. We also went to the store for snacks, cameras and beer. It was a fun little adventure. However, when we were driving back east into the park, our luck turned south.

It was just before midnight. Snow had been falling in the park periodically throughout the day. It had caused a few power outages, but this is nothing unusual for Yellowstone. We were jamming out to Chuck's mp3 player, listening to Dust in the Wind by Kansas. Suddenly, out of the looming darkness a bridge appeared, glossed in a sheet of deadly and shiny ice. We weren't going fast, and Chuck tried to slow us down some more. It was a futile effort. The icy claws of the bridge had already gripped onto us. Anke said, "this is going to be bad." We started spinning out of control. Chuck did an amazing job keeping us on the road, but the bridge was only followed by more ice. We slid and spun for about the length of a couple football fields before skidding onto the side of the road. Our momentum and a small pine tree caused us to flip over and careen down the side of an embankment into an icy marsh.

Now upside down, I unbuckled my seatbelt and rolled onto the ceiling of Chuck's vehicle. I asked Chuck and Anke if they were alright. I heard Anke mumble something, but I couldn't hear Chuck. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Then I realized all of the windows had shattered, so I climbed through the now empty hole next to me. I had been sitting in the backseat, and I was afraid the front of the car might be sinking. As I crawled outside of the vehicle my knees and boots started sinking into mud and icy water. I stood and tried to open Anke's door, but it was jammed shut. Both Anke and Chuck crawled out the other side.

Amazingly, we were all practically unscathed, aside from very minor lacerations. The car had landed in a sort of muddy marsh, not an icy pond like I had feared. The ice and water was only a foot of two deep. The three of us walked back up to the road and found the sign for the continental divide. We had literally landed exactly on the continental divide. On one side of the car, the water was flowing west to the Pacific Ocean and on the other side of the car the water was flowing east towards the Atlantic. Lake Isben was directly across the road. Thankfully we hadn't landed in it, nor had we crashed into the side of the mountain. We were certainly counting our lucky stars.

Still the three of us were wet, we were at 8,200 feet in elevation, and it was only about 15 degrees. More still, we were miles from anything. We were about five miles from where we could even get cell phone reception. I walked back down to the car and crawled into the back and yanked out Chuck's sleeping bag before it got sopping wet. The three of us wrapped it around ourselves as we huddled together for warmth. After shivering in the snow and dark for about 45 minutes we saw headlights approaching. I signaled them with my flashlight. They had some trouble stopping on the icy road, but eventually slowed. It was a small pick-up truck with two mountain men inside. We explained our situation. Since they didn't have room for us they said they would drive back to the Rangers' station at Old Faithful and get help.

About 30 minutes or so after this a Ranger finally arrived. We were able to cram inside his truck and finally start warming up. After this, we spent another three hours watching three rangers and four firefighters work at flipping Chuck's car over and then towing it back to the road. The tow truck driver gave us a lift back to our dormitory, and we arrived around 4:30 a.m. Since Chuck and I always start work at 5 a.m. we cleaned our cuts, changed into work clothes, and walked over to talk to our boss. We asked about possibly only working for a couple of hours until someone else could be called in. This was apparently impossible. So, we both worked full shifts. Needless to say, we both collapsed from exhaustion when we finished and had arrived back at our room.

This brings you up to speed as to how I feel right now. So, after a lengthy nap and a bite to eat, I'm now going back to bed. Cheers.

A Grizzly Encounter

2007-05-21T20:07:00.000-07:00

There is a trail near Lake Hotel called Elephant Back. It's a short, four mile loop trail. I hiked up it the other day to enjoy the absolutely beautiful view of Lake Yellowstone, with its picturesque mountain backdrop. I hiked it with four of my friends and coworkers and there were no incidents. Most of the group haled from Los Angeles, and this short hike through the woods, with its subsequent panoramic view was, as one of them phrased it "f#@%ing pretty - probably the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced."

My roommate, Chuck, and I decided to hike it again this evening with a different group of people. So, we set out around 5:30 in the afternoon. We decided to cut through a "closed" access trail. The trail was closed due to recent bear activity. Only a group of idiots would trespass through. However, the access trail was only a few hundred feet long, and it saved us about a half mile hike around. Of course, a ranger saw us and wrote us up. We didn't get citations, but we were all issued warnings. He was doing his job and helping to save us from our hapless selves.

We continued onward because the actual trail wasn't closed. We hiked up to the top of the hill. Jazmin cut herself on a branch, but otherwise we were fine. At the top we encountered an old man, far older than most hikers I've seen. He had a long white beard, shiny bald head, two hiking poles, and a backpack. The evening sun reflected a sort of twinkle in his eye, and he smiled as we approached. We spoke with him at length about many things - the park, his job, youthful exuberance - and as we departed to head back down the hill he remained seated on a half charred log, seemingly waiting for the sun to set behind the mountains. He uttered a warning as we made our way down the trail "watch out for the grizzlies at the base of the hill." He sounded so light-hearted about it we assumed he was simply kidding.

We trudged down the muddy trail, laughing carefree about our jobs and life and discussing the eternal problems of civilizations and the human condition. It was at no particularly significant point in the trail that we encountered a grizzly cub, not 50 feet from us and not but five feet off the trail. Jazmin did what comes naturally, but what is typically considered unwise in such a meeting - she screamed. A shrill, piercing scream rang out in the hollow that most certainly should have beckoned any potential mother to come bounding towards us. Since the cub was moving away from the trail and obviously was not interested in us, we kept moving. We spoke in calm, soothing voices and quickly vacated the area.

I have no idea if there was a mother nearby. I presume there was. The cub was beautiful, perhaps two years old, and looked incredibly natural and comfortable under the pine tree canopy. I'm glad we had the chance to see him or her. I'm also glad we did not see the mother. That is an encounter I would rather have from many hundred yards off. This little event has inspired me to purchase bear spray for future hikes. It might not save my life (although it very well could), but it will certainly make me feel safer.

On Kayaking in Icy Lakes

2007-05-19T19:43:00.001-07:00

Joe raised a question about when the ice on Lake Yellowstone broke. His question actually brings to mind a rather funny story. To answer that question, the ice broke the first day I was here. I drove through the park to get to Gardiner on May 11th. As I drove past the lake that evening it was frosted in a sheet of beautiful, jagged and porous ice. When I returned to the lake on May 12th the ice had completely melted. Simply amazing.

It was on May 13th that one of the girls I met, Anke, was determined to take her kayak out for a spin. An obvious question comes to mind - wasn't the water freezing? Yes, it was ridiculously cold. Actually, it was dangerously cold. I was half convinced she was going to fall in, freeze to death, and slowly drift into the abyss of the four hundred-some foot lake. Still, I was apparently content to watch her do this.

It was windy and the water was extremely choppy. So choppy that she had difficultly even getting started. Still, she managed to paddle out about 30 feet before a wave knocked her over. She bobbed up and down in her life jacket, her muscles too frozen to move much. As she struggled unsuccessfully to get back into the kayak I tossed my jacket to the ground and rushed out to help her. Thankfully, she was pretty close to shore, and since I'm fairly tall I was able to reach her without even having to swim. I grabbed hold of the kayak and towed her back to land. Afterwards, we received some curious glances and snickers as we walked back to the dormitory, absolutely drenched.

In retrospect it was funny, but probably not very safe.

Lake Yellowstone

2007-05-17T14:26:00.000-07:00

This picture shows where I'm living. We're actually situated just next to Lake Yellowstone, inside the rim of a giant volcanic caldera. Cool, huh? Needless to say, it's beautiful here.

I'm going to recap some of the things from last week:

Starting Wednesday I drove 1,700 miles in three days to arrive in Gardiner, Montana on Friday evening. Missouri and Iowa were pretty boring. They were a little too similar to Indiana to be exciting. It wasn't until I arrived in South Dakota that the landscape (and people) truly changed in a dramatic way. I passed the time in my car by singing and listening to the book on tape for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

On Saturday morning I checked in with my employer for the summer, Xanterra. I was one of dozens checking in for summer work. At check-in I met three people who remembered Joseph and/or Daniel. One of the guys recognized my face and asked if I had a brother who had worked at Lake Hotel.

On Sunday I started work. This involved a host of training activities pertaining to fire, knife, and food safety as well as the typical sort of briefings and propaganda about company policy. I was also promoted from Kitchen Crew to Cook. This isn't much of a promotion, but it does come with a small pay increase.

Monday I started work as a breakfast cook at Lake Hotel. Since we don't open until Friday, we've just been training since then. This has meant we've been working with the Park's executive chefs to learn the proper methods for slicing and dicing vegetables, as well as how to prepare a tasty Eggs Benedict or a Roasted Radicchio sandwich. It's actually been quite enjoyable. My co-workers and managers are some of the best individuals I've ever worked with. I think there's a simple explanation for this. The people that are here want to be here and have sought out their respective positions. Typically, the places I've worked have been full of people who work because they don't know where else to go or they can't make it anywhere else, and they've ended up working in jobs they don't enjoy. Most of the people here love their jobs.

That's my recap. I'll post again in a day or two and about once a week thereafter.

Greetings!

2007-05-16T20:36:00.000-07:00

This will be a way for me to share some of my thoughts and experiences in Yellowstone National Park this summer. I'll try to update once every week or so. Feel free to post comments.