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A vast
plain of fragrant sagebrush and rustling grass stretches before us as we hike
for two hours in the Lamar Valley in Yellowstone National Park. Distant
mountains form the backdrop. We follow a beaten dirt path through this palette
of late summer colours, hoping that we are following the right route and not
just being led astray by a bison trail. The bison are present. They are in the
distance but on the move. Will they approach us? Will they block our route? We
want to see them but at a comfortable distance. And we do not want to take a
long detour because our backpacks are heavy and we still have some way to go.
Along the
route we see graceful pronghorn antelope, pretty mountain bluebirds, Clark’s
nutcrackers, ravens, squirrels and chipmunks. And bison in the distance.
In time, we
arrive at the backcountry campsite we reserved months ago, situated by Cache
Creek in the Lamar Valley. We have Nature all to ourselves. The peacefulness is
overwhelming, the vastness humbling. We set up camp, fiddling with the tents,
the food, a campfire (no success on that front). My friends try to sound eager
about the food I have served: instant spaghetti a la carbonara made from powder.
As dusk falls
a herd of bison rambles down the hill we have only just come down ourselves.
They make comfortable rumbling sounds that come from deep within. The mighty
animals cross the river and move up the hill on the opposite bank. They
disappear over the crest of the hill, presumably to partake of their evening
meal before lying down for the night.
The day was
pleasantly warm but the evening is chill. We lie snug as bugs in rugs in our
sleeping bags. Next morning we see a lone bison bull coming down a path that
seems to head right towards our camp. He catches sight of us and looks like he
is wondering what we are doing in his territory. He follows the path faithfully
as it leads directly towards us. We wonder what to do. Suddenly the path veers
away from our camp and the big fellow continues over the river in the same
direction as the herd from last night. We breathe a collective sigh of relief.
Breakfast
is oatmeal with dried apricots. My friends were sceptical at the sound of it and
once they taste it I sense a mutiny. After a short stroll along the river we
break camp a day early and return the way we came.
