Geyser walk at twilight
- By Nancy Bower for the Post Register
- The temperature is minus 13 degrees and falling, as January's cold sun sinks below the horizon. The park
naturalist has posted the last Old Faithful prediction of the day.
Let's layer on the thermax and down, pull on the Sorels, button up the storm-flaps on our parkas, and leave
the warmth of the Visitor Center for a twilight geyser walk.
Walking is hazardous, so grab a ski pole for stability. The snow, packed 2 feet deep on the boardwalk,
disappears abruptly at each runoff channel. Warm water prevents snow accumulation but adds plenty of
moisture to freeze into a glaze of ice. Watch out, too, for the deep holes left each time a bison steps on the
path.
As we circle around the geyser, the only sound is the squeaky crunch of subzero snow underfoot. Benches
that in summer are packed with tourists now lie buried in deep snow. Ahead is a bare, steaming patch of
ground that has been collapsing and growing warmer every year. Bison standing like huge, frosty boulders
are drawn here each evening seeking comfort from the frigid night air.
Carefully continuing to the north side of Old Faithful we stop near Chinese Spring. Here we will wait for Old
Faithful's eruption and enjoy the sights and sounds of the empty geyser basin. The Firehole River ripples
softly in the background.
Chinese Spring smells like grandma is boiling eggs on her stove, and it sounds like the kettle is boiling over.
Beyond, on Geyser Hill, the Anemone Geysers splutter and spit every seven or eight minutes, and Plume
just sent its four bursts 25 feet skyward.
We hear the smallest preplay splashes from Old Faithful, see them puff into clouds of steam and float up into
the darkening sky. When its eruption actually begins, clouds of gray, billowing steam obscure our vision and
fill the geyser basin. Unable to see the column of water, we listen to the power that sends it 150 feet into the
air. A curtain of water rains down and floods Old Faithful's terraces. In a few short minutes the geyser
begins to chug and heaves its last waves of boiling water. It then grows quiet.
Cold penetrates our mittens and boots and makes us eager to leave. But wait - listen - do you hear it? A
delicate, crackling sound in the distance. The ice, formed in the channel after the last eruption, is being
shattered by the scalding runoff. Listen as the crackling approaches, creeps under the boardwalk at our feet,
and descends into the Firehole.
The eruption is over and night has fallen. It is time to hurry to the Snow Lodge, melt the frost off our faces,
and enjoy a hot dinner.
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