“Members of the genus Bison are large, even-toed ungulates within the subfamily Bovinae.
“The bison's temperament is often unpredictable. They usually appear peaceful, unconcerned, even lazy, yet they may attack anything, often without warning or apparent reason. They can move at speeds of up to 35 mph (56 km/h) and cover long distances at a lumbering gallop.[11]
“Their most obvious weapons are the horns borne by both males and females, but their massive heads can be used as battering rams, effectively using the momentum produced by 2,000 pounds (900 kg) moving at 30 mph (50 km/h). The hind legs can also be used to kill or maim with devastating effect. At the time bison ran wild, they were rated second only to the Alaska brown bear as a potential killer, more dangerous than the grizzly bear. In the words of early naturalists, they were a dangerous, savage animal that feared no other animal and in prime condition could best any foe.”
Well, I’m glad we didn’t read THAT before we went scooting with the buffs. We were frightened enough as it was.
For our last day in YS, we opted for a long day in the saddle, planning to travel the entire upper loop from our base in Bridge Bay. I think the total was to be about 114 miles, but Loni really wanted to see Mammoth Hot Springs again to relive her childhood memories of the place. I remembered, a day late, that we did have some photo-taking capability with our iPod, although with a super-wide-angle lens and relatively few pixels. Better than nothing.
We scooted through the Fishing Bridge camp area and headed north again along the river. But not for long. We soon came upon a line of stopped cars: a bison jam!
A bunch of them are in the woods on the left; a big one is standing in the oncoming roadway just in front of the white car. Another big one is on the shoulder on our side of the road, out of this picture, but blocking the lead car in our lane. This stalemate went on for many minutes, with no one making a move. Finally, our lane began to move forward, so we followed. This went well until we crept up even with the big guy on the left, and the damn cars ahead STOPPED so they could take pictures. Well, let me tell ya, the bikers ahead of us and we were hollering our heads off to GET MOVING! You simply can’t imagine how vulnerable you feel sitting right there with buffs on both sides just feet away. We were looking UP at their heads. Yikes ain’t the word! This is the guy who was on our shoulder, but had moved off a bit allowing the line to move forward. We weren’t too happy sitting where we were.
Eventually the clowns in the cars ahead got the picture, and we were able to move off. We didn’t get a shot of the big bull that was in the oncoming lane while we were sitting next to it. Loni was getting ready to jump off if he moved a muscle, and I was too busy trying to get us going. This was more up close and personal than we wanted.
Having escaped violent death, we scooted north and passed through a beautiful grassy plain with the river far below and hundreds of buffalo grazing as if they were on an 1850 prairie. This was a magnificent sight, and I longed for my camera. The little iPod lens just doesn’t do it justice. The little black specks are the bison; there’s lots more out of the picture to the right and left, and behind us on the other side of the road. This really was like a step back in time.
We came upon another herd just a bit farther on, this time all of them on the other side of the water, so we walked down from the roadway to get a closer shot. This picture could have been taken thousands of years ago, with little unchanged.
Our first destination on the northern loop was Tower Falls. What I found interesting about these was that they seemed to simply spring out of the face of the mountain. There’s a road that traverses just above them, which we later crossed, and we didn’t see any river feeding the falls. Does it travel underground? Dunno.
Leaving Tower, the road to Mammoth Junction involved a lot of climbing before it descended into the Junction, which is the lowest spot in the park. This is where the Army set up headquarters back in the early days of the park. The old buildings are still standing, and the place has the air of the military about it. We took a shot of the place from a high point, but it doesn’t show a lot.
All this white stuff in the foreground was the area that Loni had remembered as being beautifully colored. This was, then, a springs area, with gorgeous flows cascading down the hills. but 55 years brings a lot of change, especially after the 1960 earthquake that disrupted a lot of the geothermal processes. A ranger we spoke to said that these particular springs stopped flowing only about 5-6 years ago, and the colorful deposits had since been bleached white in most areas. Not pretty at all. We did noodle around some on the side roads, and found a couple of interesting features, this being the best. But, unless you are entering the park from this NW entrance, I would advise skipping the long trip up to this corner.
The remainder of the trip back, down to Norris, across to Canyon, then back down to Bridge Bay, was unremarkable . . . except for the buffs.
We encountered another bison jam, this time a huge one. With nothing coming in the oncoming lane, I crossed the double yellow and cruised past at least a half mile of stopped cars before coming to the stoppage point. Buffs were all over the place, blocking both lanes, crossing back and forth to the grazing areas on both sides. There was a pullout on the left, so we stopped there next to a pair of Harleys that had been overheating while idling in the line. We all turned off our engines to wait. Loni snapped this shot of a bull getting up from a dust bath just to our right.
While we were waiting, a crowd started to form up around us, with people getting out of their cars and coming up to get pictures. That wasn’t a problem until three of the buffs came up an embankment and, finding cars across the road in front of them, decided we would be easier to move out of the way, and started coming towards us. SAY WHAT!?!
Feet, don’t fail me now! With the scoot dead-stick, I tried the back-pedal foot shuffle, with Loni still aboard, and promptly ran smack into the jerk who had set up his tripod right behind us. Yahhh. They’re still coming our way. It was Monty Python time. Run away, run away! I tried starting the scoot, realizing instantly that the safety interlock prevents starting it unless the left brake is full on. But that means stopping. And they’re still coming. Shuffle shuffle shuffle. The tripod clown beats a retreat and we keep backing up along with a sea of drivers trying to get back to their cars. But then the buffs stop, and just stand there. Faceoff!
Finally, “our” buffs turn around and go across the road.
The oncoming line of cars crept past for a while, then stopped again about 100 yards up, about where the top of that RV is in the picture above. Our line moved forward to that spot, and stopped as well. Another big bull was playing statue in front of the lead car in our line, and the oncomings were reluctant to move forward as well. This went on for another five minutes. I looked at the Harleys, but they didn’t seem inclined to budge, so I told Loni, “Let’s go for it.” We crept forward in the oncoming lane until we got to the lead car in our lane, with the buff right in front of it across the lane, with its head facing the center line. Do we? Don’t we? They’re used to people by now, right? They don’t charge like fighting bulls, do they? Fortunately we hadn’t read the passage cited at the beginning of this post, and ignorance was a sort of bliss. We gunned it past him in the oncoming lane, then swerved right around him and, victory pumps in the air, we sped away. I don’t know how long the cars sat there, but no one came up behind us the whole way home.
Too much adrenaline for cooking, we opted for the lodge at Fishing Bridge, eschewed the buffalo burgers, and had a very nice dinner of pork chops. And, of course, berry cobbler a la mode. Sorry, no pics.
I have to say that the 17 miles or so between Fishing Bridge and Canyon are some of the most scenic we have ever been on. Seeing the buffs spread out all over the place, in that beautiful setting, was like stepping back in time. We had the feeling that the wild west was alive and well in this small corner of the country.
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