Bill-on-the-Hill

All good things must end, including this trip. After a fairly unsatisfactory night in West Yellowstone, we packed up and went back to the Upper Geyser Basin for one last bit of gazing, of which I must make an admission: that great shot of Grand Geyser from my earlier report was actually taken on this day. Poetic license and all that. Still no action from Giant Geyser, so I won't repeat the description of the joys of "the Cage", even though we did spend more time there before heading south. I will, however, make some remarks on geyser-gazer sociology. Apologies to any of my friends among the Gazers who are offended by the following; the intent is not to give offense, but to make a suggestion that might even be useful.

Actually, the Cage wasn't really a major focus of this day's geyser gazing, because as we learned from a rather tired and cranky (not that I can blame her) Sonia, Grotto Geyser had finally erupted during the wee small hours, under conditions that made it rather unlikely that we'd see Giant for a while. Accordingly, when it approached time for Grand to do its thing, we hied ourselves off to its viewing area to wait. Grand Geyser is particularly rewarding for the observer, not just because it's a huge and beautiful geyser, but because of the uniquely tantalizing way that it builds toward an eruption. Grand erupts from a modest-looking pool that is quiet most of the time, indeed is overshadowed by a more turbulent pool just a few yards away from which much smaller Turban Geyser erupts every 25 minutes or so. Following an eruption of Grand, its pool drains completely, then refills over a period of a few hours while Turban (after a brief hiatus immediately following Grand's eruption) provides most of the entertainment. Eventually Grand's pool is full, and the fun begins -- the fun of anticipation, that is, because there's still stuff that needs to happen before the actual eruption.

So: here we have a full Grand pool, and Turban spouting along. Those who know the pattern (and many less dedicated observers know it as well as the hardcore Gazers, see reference at bottom) watch the Grand pool intently, to look for a series of almost undetectable waves that may start to radiate outward from its center. This is a sign that the eruption is imminent, and it happens at nearly the same time as a Turban eruption starts. The otherwise unspectacular Turban therefore becomes a matter of intense scrutiny, not just because of the possibility that Grand will go but also because Turban eruptions also produce small fluctuations in Grand's pool that may persuade the onlooker that the waves have started. Usually, for two or three Turban cycles after Grand's pool is full, those fluctuations end without producing anything exciting; indeed Grand's pool drains very slightly, and a quiet groan issues from the watching crowd. But eventually, there comes a Turban when the real wave action starts, builds to an undeniable surge, and a few seconds later, BOOM! Grand thunders forth in all its glory.

I go through all of this detail not only to describe the fun of waiting for a Grand eruption, but also to introduce one not entirely flattering aspect of the Geyser Gazer: the interactions between the hard-core Gazer and the unknowing crowd. (Again, Gazers, don't take offense here; an idea that may interest you is coming below.) Geyser Gazers, it must be said, have a certain charisma. Of the perhaps 100 people that may be waiting for a Grand eruption during the last hour before it occurs, maybe a dozen will be hard-core Gazers, and it isn't difficult at all to tell who they are. They just radiate a certain knowledge of what's about to happen, even if you don't hear the lingo or see the 2-way radios. The remaining 90% of the crowd, not unnaturally, wants to know when the eruption is coming, never mind that even the most knowledgable Gazer can't really be sure until the waves start. And so the crowd plies the Gazers with questions. Some handle this well and patiently, fielding the "is it about to erupt?" question over and over again, while a few (including one old goat whom we'd seen on previous trips, but fortunately he wasn't there this time) display absolutely abominable manners that make one embarrassed to be associated with them. Most fall somewhere in between: the first few questions get reasonably polite answers, and then the Gazers retire to converse among their own clique -- I can't call it anything else -- and get testy when interrupted. The resulting atmosphere is not always as cordial as it could be, although eventually the eruption happens and everyone leaves smiling.

Keeping in mind that the Gazers really are a considerable asset to the rangers -- a great deal of information gets passed from Gazers to visitor center that helps the latter make accurate predictions, for example -- it would be nice if there was a way to simultaneously make the Gazers' knowledge available to the crowds, while protecting their privacy when they're tired of answering questions. In this direction, I'm surprised that the Old Faithful Visitor Center doesn't have a "Docent" program. One could imagine a setup where Gazers who are willing to take on questions wear something (hat, armband, whatever) proclaiming them docents who can be questioned; when the Gazer tires of getting grilled, he/she simply takes off the insignia, and that, in principle, is that. A sign at the predicted geysers could alert the crowd to the Docent program, including a plea not to bug an off-duty docent. In turn, the Gazer/Docent might get some small perk from the park -- preferred parking? -- as compensation for his/her willingness to be bothered. This is just an idea, and there might be down sides to it that I'm missing. However, I think that, on balance, having visitors more fully informed about what's happening around them is a Good Thing, for visitor, park and Gazer alike. The informed visitor is an engaged visitor, and the engaged visitor is one who is more supportive of the conservation measures that must be taken to keep this wonderful place healthy. That's in everyone's interest. Right?

Anyway, the time came when we had to head home, so we started the drive south, pausing at West Thumb Geyser Basin about 30 miles south of the Upper Basin on the way. West Thumb actually has very little geyser activity (I've only seen one eruption there in many, many trips), but it's spectacularly scenic, set along the shores of Lake Yellowstone, and it's also a great wildlife magnet. On this visit we had to share the basin with a considerable herd of elk that were blocking the trails, and they definitely do have the right of way! I got several shots of this distinguished cervid gentleman -- -- who was obviously the boss, but unfortunately, a weird camera glitch spoiled the best and closest of them. Oh, well.

Finally, and grudgingly, we left the park for points south, including a drive through the gorgeous Grand Teton National Park, no shabby affair itself when it comes to wildlife. Hours later, following a decent Chinese buffet in the town of Jackson (Wyoming) -- a celebrated tourist site in its own right, but its charms are largely lost on us -- we turned in for the night at Rock Springs, in the southern part of the state.

I usually give a Web Site du Jour that illustrates something interesting about the day, but this one is simply going to point to a book you can buy at Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Geysers-Yellowstone-T-Scott-Bryan/dp/(...)

This link points you to T. Scott Bryan's superb guide, "The Geysers of Yellowstone." No serious geyser observer should be without this book, and I owe a considerable debt of gratitude to Geyser Gazer "K.B.," who returned our copy to us when we left it sitting on a bench, following an eruption of the magnificent Beehive Geyser, on an earlier trip. If you're going to do a visit like ours, pick this thing up. Scott Bryan was in the Cage with us for a while, and he's working on a new edition that should be out next summer, but don't wait.

Footnote: Giant Geyser finally erupted the day after we left the park. Sometimes you just can't win.