Buckle the Fluff Up, We’re in Yellowstone

Day One of the mother/daughter Backroads adventure started early, gathering in the hotel lobby and doing that thing you always do at the beginning of a group trip: casually looking around while secretly trying to determine, Who is going to be my new friend?

There was another tour group meeting in the lobby at the same time, which made things more complicated. But after a little observation, I decided our group looked slightly more adventurous. Also, we weren’t wearing name tags. So clearly, we were cooler.

I’m doing this trip with my mom. Last year, Mom and I traveled together to Quebec, and she had a really good time. I sort of thought that might be the end of our more active trips together, but when I gave her several options for this year, Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons was the one she wanted. So, Yellowstone it was.

I’ve said this before, but if you can travel with your family, do it. Even when they get on your nerves. Or, perhaps more accurately, when you get on their nerves, which is just as likely. Take a breath, remind yourself that these are the people you love, and remember there are no guarantees about how much time you get together. So, at the risk of getting a little sappy here: love the one you’re with and then get back in the van.

Our first day was a big one, with a long drive from Jackson to the East Entrance of Yellowstone National Park. Turns out there are 12 people in our group with three guides.

Yellowstone is one of those places that almost doesn’t seem real. You’ve seen so many pictures of it that when you’re actually there, part of your brain is still thinking, Oh look, Yellowstone.

After about two hours in the van, we stopped for lunch along the Firehole River near the Nez Perce trail area. It was beautiful. It was also extremely windy.

There’s nothing quite like trying to have a lovely picnic lunch while simultaneously preventing your sandwich, napkin, and possibly your mother from blowing into the Firehole River.

From there, they dropped us off near the Daisy Geyser Trail, and we started walking toward Old Faithful.

Now, technically, I’d been here before. Four years ago, Chad and I brought the kids to Yellowstone and the Tetons for New Year’s, also with Backroads. But everything was buried under snow then, so seeing it in September felt almost like visiting an entirely different place.

As we drove through the park, one of our guides, Eileen, told us about the explosion at Biscuit Basin a couple of years ago. Apparently, people were standing on the boardwalk when the ground essentially went KABOOM, sending rocks and debris flying everywhere.

And, in fact, on our Backroads map, someone had helpfully marked the spot: KABOOM. This is the kind of cartography I appreciate.

As we drove past the now-closed area, I suddenly realized this was the same place where Annie and I had walked during our winter trip. Which is a mildly unsettling realization when someone has just explained that the ground later exploded.

Yellowstone has a way of reminding you that the earth beneath your feet is very much alive and occasionally would like everyone to remember who’s in charge.

The nice thing about this particular hike was that the majority of it was on boardwalks, so it was perfect for Mom—fairly flat, easy walking, and lots to see along the way.

There was an optional climb up to an overlook, which we politely declined because sometimes the best view is the one that doesn’t require additional elevation.

We walked straight into the Old Faithful area and watched the geyser erupt from below.

And here’s something I’ve learned:

Old Faithful is not actually Yellowstone’s most spectacular geyser. Old Faithful simply has the best marketing department. It erupts reliably, it has a giant historic hotel sitting beside it, and people have been gathering around waiting for it to perform for more than a century.

Basically, Old Faithful is the Willie Nelson of geysers. It knows how to give the people what they came for.

We spent the night at the Old Faithful Inn, which is pretty spectacular in its own right. The original inn opened in 1904, and the fact that they managed to construct such an enormous log building in one year is mind-boggling. The lobby alone makes you want to stand there staring upward for a while, preferably with a cocktail.

The funny part is that even when the inn was built, putting a massive hotel that close to a geyser wasn’t exactly considered the wisest idea—or even legal. But they did it anyway.

I’ve done quite a few Backroads trips now, and one of the reasons I keep coming back is the guides. They tend to be interesting people who have somehow constructed lives where their job involves hiking, biking, traveling, and convincing the rest of us that another three miles sounds fun. This trip is no exception, although our guides are a little more… seasoned.

That’s my polite way of saying they’re closer to my age (or maybe more) than the usual Backroads guides, who are often young enough that they haven’t yet developed an overwhelming desire to sleep in their own bed. Our guides are Ed and Eileen, and they are spectacular.

Ed has been working in Yellowstone in one capacity or another since his early twenties. His background is in hotel management, and he even met his wife while working at the Lake Hotel.

Listening to Ed talk about Yellowstone doesn’t feel like you’re being guided through a national park. It feels like you’re riding around someone’s hometown while he points out where everybody used to live and tells you which neighbors were weird. And Ed has stories. Lots of stories. He also appears determined to keep us supplied with junk food at all times, which is exactly the kind of wilderness guide I can get behind.

One of the interesting things you notice while driving around Yellowstone is the dead trees with stark white trunks near the bottom. They’re sometimes called bobby socks trees because minerals from the thermal ground have turned the lower portion of the trunks white, making them look like they’re wearing little white socks.

Ed, however, informed us that they have another name. 
“Quiet dog trees.”
Naturally, we asked why. Ed waited exactly long enough.
“Because they have no bark.”

And this is apparently what we’re doing for the week.

We also had a support leader named Tessa, who was phenomenal and clearly wasn’t going to let Ed corner the market on bad jokes. Whenever it was time to get back into the van, we’d hear the standard: “Buckle up, buttercup!” But Tessa had her own version.

“What does the bunny say?”
We’d all look at her. “What does the bunny say?”
“Buckle the fluff up.”

And honestly, I can’t think of a better motto for this trip. We’re in Yellowstone. The ground occasionally explodes. My mother is hiking. Ed is handing out junk food. And apparently, the trees don’t have any bark.

Buckle the fluff up.