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As I stand in the foyer of the massive structure known as the Old Faithful Inn talking  quietly with the first visitors of the day starting to gather, I wonder how this day will unfold.  These are the first of the crowds that come each day for the four tours of the iconic old building. Many more visitors will come though to see for themselves the building that sits adjacent to the famous Old Faithful Geyser in Yellowstone National Park. This is a special day for me. Today is September 7, 2018 and it is 30 years—to the day—that we almost lost the Old Faithful Inn.

Chatting with these early-morning visitors before the first tour begins, I remember the first day I visited this fascinating building, only five years prior. I recall the sense of majesty I felt. It was as though she were speaking directly to me.

But on September 7th, 1988, she almost lost her voice. That day could have been such a fateful day—not only for the Old Faithful Inn but for the many people from all over the globe that have visited the Inn over the years and fallen in love with it. Fire could have been the end of that historic building.

Forest fires are an inherent part of nature, and Yellowstone has always been a fire-based ecology. Fires are a good thing. They open up the canopy and give new organisms a chance to grow. The fire also releases nutrients back into the soil. 

The summer of 1988 was extremely hot and dry. Lightning is the usual cause of fires. Those fires are observed, and fought only when they come near Park structures. In contrast, the National Park Service fights most human-caused fires. Eleven of the first 18 fires of that season had gone out on their own but, by mid-July, because of the extreme dry conditions, even natural-caused fires were fought. Fire fighting techniques were mostly ineffective.

In July, a careless woodsman in a National Forest west of the Park failed to sufficiently put out his cigarette. That blaze, the North Fork Fire, became the largest in the Park that summer. It progressed north and eastward.

By early September the fire’s southern end got going again and came right into the Old Faithful Village. Then, on September 7th, right up to the iconic Old Faithful Inn. The amazing feats of so many firefighters—as well as Inn staff who refused to leave—keeping water on the Inn and preventing blowing embers from taking hold, kept the Old Faithful Inn safe. It wasn’t until rain and snow finally arrived in mid-September that the advance of the fires was stopped. Over a third of the Park burned that year.

This coming summer of 2019 will mark 115 years the Old Faithful Inn has been standing. Construction of the Inn began in June of 1903. The work of about 50 craftsmen continued through winter, and she opened for business in June of 1904. One year later! An amazing undertaking. The architect was Robert Reamer, 29 years old and primarily self-taught. 

Made of Lodgepole Pine, the Inn rises seven stories—just under 77 feet high. Its massive fireplace is made of—and the Inn itself rests upon—the prolific volcanic Rhyolite rock of Yellowstone. When architects and those in the building industry visit the Inn, they marvel at how Reamer pulled off this incredible feat in the early 1900s without the type of equipment they have available to them in current-day buildings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The morning of September 7, 2018 had been more emotional for me than I had expected. Had the firefighters been unable to save that beautiful old building in 1988, I would not have the relationship I have with her today. I thought of Karen Reinhart’s book in which she refers to the Inn as the “sentinel guarding the valley below.” I would not have the joy of seeing that beautiful building standing so tall from wherever I am in the Old Faithful Geyser basin. 

Instead, I now enjoy the delight of watching first-time visitors’ reactions as they enter and their eyes go up, up, up to the rafters of the building. I would miss the joy of seeing their mouths drop in complete awe of a building that has stood for over a century.

Tom Swafford plays his fiddle at the Inn July 2018:

Yes, it would have been a terrible loss had the Old Faithful Inn burned that fateful day in the summer of 1988. Most especially, in my heart, I realized that day that I would have never heard her speaking to me and to the many others who visit every summer. Her voice would have been forever silenced. 

I am blessed and privileged to be able to do the Inn tours, but most especially on that particular day in September of 2018—thirty years to the day that we almost lost her. 

 

 

 

 

Further information:

Old Faithful Inn: Crown Jewel of National Park Lodges by Karen Reinhart and Jeff Henry

https://yellowstonegatewaymuseum.org/product/old-faithful-inn-crown-jewel-of-national-park-lodges/

Weaver of Dreams: The Life and Architecture of Robert C. Reamer  by Ruth Quinn    

https://www.amazon.com/Weaver-Dreams-Architecture-Robert-Reamer/dp/0976094517

 

The Old Faithful Inn:

https://www.nps.gov/yell/learn/historyculture/oldfaithfuldistrict.htm

 

The Yellowstone Fires of 1988:

https://www.nps.gov/yell/learn/nature/1988-fires.htm

Just like Willie Nelson’s song, we’re heading out on the road again, looking forward to being with “the best of friends” in our second home, Yellowstone National Park. It’ll now be my third year as a tour guide. As we left our home in Phoenix, Arizona, everything was in full bloom. It’s always hard to leave, but the hotter days are on the way, and I’m yearning to return to Yellowstone . . .  where it’s currently snowing! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We made our way to Ely, Nevada, home of Dirt the Cat who lives at the Railroad Museum. Dirt lives where the engines are housed (can you tell?!) and keeps the rodents at bay. 

It was fun to see snow on the mountains as we travel farther north.

As we traveled on it was fun to find Pronghorn, which we also see in Yellowstone. These guys are able to eat the abundant sage brush that is most everywhere.

We also found two Golden Eagles as we were traveling up into the Ruby Mountains. Such huge, majestic birds. They were flying fairly nearby but it was difficult to really get a good shot of them. Grateful I was able to obtain the photos that I did!

Outside of Elko, Nevada, we drove up into the beautiful Lamoille Canyon which is a valley carved by a glacier. This was especially fun as Yellowstone’s Lamar and Hayden Valleys were carved by glaciers as well. It was an absolutely beautiful afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About an hour outside of Boise we always drive by the historic water wheels in New Plymouth. Originally built in the 1920s, there are maybe only three left in operation. The canals brought water up into the farming community from the Payette River. These water wheels lift the water up and out into the fields. It is always such fun seeing them when we visit family living there.

Then it was on to Boise for another enjoyable visit with more family before finally heading up to Yellowstone. Boise has a terrific Farmer’s Market and it’s such fun to wander through the town. 

While in Boise it’s our tradition to always visit Kathryn Albertson Park and this day did not disappoint. Of course, as always, there was a plethora of Canada Geese.  But it was especially fun this time as there were lots of little goslings everywhere. The Lilac bushes are so incredible to see as they really can’t survive our hot summers in Phoenix.

 

 

 

 

Another day we visited the Foothills Learning Center and went on some nice hikes.

 

 

At the Center there is a wonderful Story Trail that has nature-related children’s books which change each month.

 

 

This month featured the beautiful book, “A Seed is Sleepy” by Dianna Hutts Aston. It is a captivating and quite informative kids’ book, wonderfully illustrated by Sylvia Long.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They also have beautiful artwork . . .

I love mosaic work and especially enjoyed this beautiful piece of work  . . .

The inlaid artwork on this piece was quite fun!

 

While there, we also were able to easily watch some (real) Great Horned Owlets born in the holes of the nearby canyon wall.  Apparently, there is a Belted Kingfisher and an American Kestrel nesting in these cliffs as well. Unfortunately, I was only able to get a glimpse of the Kingfisher but no photo.

 

Even though I always truly enjoy our stay here in Boise, I am certainly looking forward to gettin’  .•*¨*•♫♪  On the Road Again  ♪♫•*¨*•.  returning to our second home. Yellowstone National Park.

I am an avid—insatiable—reader. But have always been baffled as to how in the world I came to enjoy reading so much. Maybe you’ll see why when I tell you my story of learning to read.

I’m feeling quite small, holding onto my dad’s hand walking me down a very long hallway. Quite vivid in my memory is how deathly quiet it is except for the echo of our shoes on the concrete floor. After walking what seemed like forever, we finally came to my new school classroom. Dad was in the Army. We were transferred according to their needs; not our school’s schedule. And school, of course, had already begun.

Dreading actually arriving at the classroom, we are finally standing in the doorway. The entire class is staring at me like I’m some kind of alien creature. Well, actually, I felt like an alien. I didn’t know anyone and was quite sure no one would like me anyway. Can you tell my poor little self’s esteem was not dealing too well with always having to go into new classroom situations every few years? It must have gone alright. Though I have absolutely no recollection of it. Just the sound of our shoes clacking on the floor of that oh-so-very-long hallway.

With all this moving around, I was a shy little girl with not a great sense of myself. I recall most especially the reading circle. I absolutely dreaded reading circle. With chairs in a circle, someone would start. As we would make our way around the circle, each one having to read a part of the book, I was in sheer dread of them finally getting to me. I was absolutely certain I would screw it up!

So there I am again. Everyone looking at me. Just as in the trauma of walking down that very long hallway, that same dreadful feeling of standing in the doorway of my new classroom. My entire world staring at me. Judging me. I was utterly certain I would never measure up. So, by the time it was my turn to read, I was a basket case! Absolute terror. Then, to make matters worse, my teacher would always make a big deal out of the fact that I’d scrunch up my face and lips into these weird contortions when I would come to a word I didn’t know—or know how to pronounce. How I ever got out of that alive is beyond me!

So how did I transition from the trauma of that reading circle so long ago to an such avid reader? As it turns out, I didn’t read much until many years after graduating from high school; I was just glad to be done with school. In my late 20s, I finally had a desire to learn more and return to school for a degree. As I started learning more, I wanted to learn even more—and in many different areas. Learning had become a joy. Mostly I wanted to understand myself, but also understand nature. Many years later I remembered those early hardships of learning to read. I realized it was my yearning to learn more, and to better understand myself and the world I live in, that kept me reading. Now I understand that it was my growing love and desire for learning that let me drop any trauma from those early years. Yes, I wish I was a faster reader and that I retained more from all the many books I read. But I don’t let that stop me from reading—and reading lots. I want to soak it all up like a sponge. So I’ve always got books I’m reading everywhere—and on many different subjects.

The miracle of my passion for reading is awe-inspiring to me and I’m grateful for that love . . . given the absolute trauma I put myself through learning to read. You’d think that, after that kind of start, I’d never want to pick up a book again. But, just the opposite, I would love it if I could read TEN books every day! And to be able to understand and retain it!

I have an incredible—ravenous—desire to learn more. Whether it’s about places, environments and critters, or how different writers share their stories. I am clearly passionate about learning and reading.

 

I enjoy the slower pace and our wonderful Arizona winters when we’re home, but by this time of year I start getting impatient to be in Yellowstone as it pulls on my heart strings.

I’m dreaming of waking each morning, looking out on the Lodgepole Pines, hearing the forest sounds, thinking, “I live here!”

 

Yellowstone is a most amazing spot.

 

 

Even more so because, as a tour guide, I’m blessed to be out and about the Park every day, showing the thermal features, animals, birds, trees and flowers to our visitors.

I’m dreaming of how, when we first arrive in early May, we get to watch the new bison calves chasing around . . .

. . . and the bears fresh from their winter dens wandering in search of food.

If we’re really lucky we might have a chance to watch the wolf pups playing.

By mid-summer we’re watching the bison sparing as they go into their rut season.

Into late summer, the elk begin their rut season and it’s thrilling to hear the males bugling.

I’m dreaming of the antics of the smaller critters.

 

The marmots, chipmunks, pikas, and ground squirrels sunning themselves. Sometimes even otters, pine martens, or a badger make an appearance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m dreaming of watching and listening to all the many birds as they migrate through. But my greatest joy is seeing the ever-present Osprey near the rivers, sometimes on their nests.

Or the Bluebirds, so incredibly blue the color seems as though it could rub off on your hand.

 

 

 

 

 

And it’s always fun to spot the many different Swallows nesting everywhere.

 

 

I’m dreaming of the many varied wildflowers, from the early spring Glacier Lilies coming up through the snow . . .

. . . to the Arrow-Leaf Balsamroot looking so beautiful everywhere as they form their daisy-like bouquets.

 

 

 

 

As the season changes so do the wildflowers, all the way through to the Asters everywhere by the end of our summer. By then, the fall colors begin and I notice how the Aspen seem to magically appear through the Lodgepole Pines in their fall wardrobe. It is five months of constant change with an ever-changing growing season.

March begins our preparations, and brushing up on our knowledge of a special place. It is when I’m dreaming of returning to my favorite place on the planet—Yellowstone National Park.

I’ve finally been able to go through all my photographs from last summer in Yellowstone and have finished my now “annual” video . . .  Just in time to start preparing soon for our return.

 

Tomorrow I’ll be 70 years old. Hard to believe . . . but true.

It seems I was only recently in my 20s, 30s. What words of wisdom does 70-year-old Melinda have for that younger woman just beginning her life?

Don’t take everything so seriously. Not everything is such a tragedy. What will all the anger achieve? Trust the Peace of God. It will come. It’s always better when you take it slower and easier. Your fearlessness is wonderful . . . even when it takes what seems to be forever to let go of the apprehension (there she goes, running forth—finally—in fearless abandon)!  High Dive

When I was young, old was 30, 40 . . . 50 for sure. But by the time you were 70, you “mise well” be dead! Awww, the “wisdom” of youth.

I feel young. Certainly younger, even, than when I was young. In those younger days I would let so many concerns, fears and anger keep me stuck. You name it—work, money, life—whatever it was, I’d worry, fret, fume and be anxious about it. Depression often grabbed me like The Alien and I’d hide out for days.

It was gradual, but one day I awoke realizing the stress—that sense of just barely keeping depression at bay—was gone.

My life has transformed since those early “trauma/drama” days. I’ve worked with the “Course in Miracles” (www.acim.org) for over a dozen years, first hearing about the book in the 70s. But I really didn’t get it until I read “The Disappearance of the Universe” (www.garyrenard.com) when it first came out. I rode the bus to work in downtown Phoenix in those days and, when I’d finish it, I’d immediately begin again.  I must have read that book at least a half-dozen times. It was perfect. For me. It was exactly what I needed at the time. Through that book I returned to “The Course,” and have never “finished.” I’ll continue beginning my day with that book, no doubt, the rest of my life.

I’m grateful for the extraordinary life I’ve had thus far. I’m more joyful and have such peace in my life. Does age bring wisdom? For me it certainly has. Gone are the days when I worried about . . . well, you name it. I trust that I’m exactly where I need to be, until Spirit shows me what’s next. It always works out. Joy is a good thing. The peace of trusting God is a good thing.

It’s all good. Besides, as the title of this blog indicates (and my wonderful mom used to say), “It’ll never be noticed on a galloping horse.” Thank you mom! You were right. I’m thankful for my mom and my dad for bringing me into this beautiful world.    About Galloping Horse

Happy 70th Birthday Melinda!

Start back to work tomorrow! I’ll be doing tours again this summer and look forward to that, but it’s been wonderful to enjoy the Park before the summer crowds. The past five days we’ve just revisited our favorite spots.  Yellowstone really is such a magical place. It doesn’t matter what critters you have a chance to see, it is always spectacular and certainly never boring.

Our first day of course was spent in the Northern Range up to Cooke City.  Got to see the new wolf pups. A few pictures, but it’s quite a distance. I have a new camera this year and have gotten some great shots, but couldn’t really make out the pups in most.

The ospreys had returned to their nest again and enjoyed watching as they were both on the nest.

We’ve enjoyed lots of other birds as well . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One late afternoon we enjoyed watching the bison moms teaching the new reds (babies) how to swim the Lamar River.  It was amazing to watch as they started racing down the river in the current until they were able to get a foot hold. Once out of the water they’d kick up their heels and race toward the moms as if to be shouting, “I did it! Look at me!”

The pronghorn are always enjoyable to watch.

And then, of course, so special to get to observe the bears.

And grizzly bears

I’m looking forward to a wonderful summer exploring more of this amazing place I call home for half of every year . . . Yellowstone National Park.

As I pull out suitcases in preparation for return to Yellowstone, my thoughts turn to last summer’s experiences. Discovering the serenity of walking in the forest.

Experiencing the power of the river as the water comes rushing around the corner to the Upper Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone dropping down right in front of me.

 

Remembering a child’s wide-eyed wonder seeing Old Faithful’s spectacular stream of ancient water.

 

 

 

Yellowstone has a way of pulling my heartstrings.

 

 

 

I relive my joy of seeing the awesome power of Beehive Geyser’s enormous firehose-like eruption, the beautiful rainbow appearing as it rains down on everyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I remember the astonishing sight of the Lower Falls tumbling down 308 feet.

 

I recall the massive bison herd crossing the road in front of me, the osprey’s call as it flies overhead with a trout winding its way back to the huge nest on the tall Lodgepole Pine.

I remember the emotion welling up inside me watching the majestic wolf pack from across the valley, realizing those incredible animals were virtually wiped out from this truly wondrous environment.

There are so many images, whether captured in a camera lens or in my mind, that stay with me. Once again I’m drawn back to those awe-inspiring thermal features. But I’m also feeling drawn to the silent forest and the wonder of just who—or what—is making that sound. I’m looking forward to once again seeing those trees, hearing the breeze through the pine needles releasing their scent on a warm day. I’m eager to once again hear the Firehole River tumbling over rocks and cliffs,

 

 

 

 

 

 

and to watch the ice breaking up on Yellowstone Lake while hardly being able to see across that massive expanse of water.

Yes, Yellowstone pulls on my heart strings. My thoughts and remembrances of a place that is so very special to me now. We leave in a week to return to that extraordinary, magical place called Yellowstone National Park.

 

Thankful to now be part of a place I call home for almost half of each year.

It is 7:00 on a cold, gray and rainy morning in September at Yellowstone National Park. As a tour guide here in Yellowstone, I am driving myself to Grant Village at Yellowstone Lake to pick up my tour bus. Today I am to “step on” one of the outside tour buses coming into the Park. I’m spending the day with them, having fun interpreting the Park’s flora and fauna, history, geography, geology and ecology. What an opportunity! To share my joy, enthusiasm and knowledge, while helping them appreciate the many amazing qualities of Yellowstone National Park.

I start up over Craig Pass (rising up to over 8,000 feet) and see a sign reading, “Road Closed Ahead.” I pull over at Kepler Falls and radio my Dispatcher, “Ralf, I’m at Kepler; sign says the road’s closed ahead. What do you want me to do?” His response: “Well, it’s probably the South Entrance because of the fire closure. Let me know if you run into snow up there and call me when you get to Grant.” Right . . . Snow?! Okay, I can do this. But snow? I can’t remember the last time I drove in snow. I’ve lived in the southwest my entire driving life. Snow? Okay, Melinda, you can do this. It’s only rain.

It is absolutely beautiful though . . . and oh so quiet. Only a bit tense, I enjoy my drive to Grant Village, which actually isn’t far at all, and the rain pretty much subsides by the time I arrive. I call Ralf, “Everything’s good; no snow and it’s almost stopped raining.” “Okay, great. Thanks for letting me know.”

I pick up my tour bus and our first stop is the beautiful 125-year-old Lake Yellowstone Hotel. By the time we leave it is snowing. First the flurries. As we continue north the trees are absolutely magical with white everywhere  . . . snow.

It truly is a “Wonderland.”

 

 

 

 

 

“If you’ve ever wondered what Yellowstone is like in the winter, this will give you a bit of a glimpse,” I tell them. We saw bison herds in the Hayden Valley all covered in snow and even the white Trumpeter Swans in the Yellowstone River. White everywhere.  By the time we arrive at the Upper Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone the falling snow is covering everything  . . .

 

 

 

 

 

and we only heard the Lower Falls (with its 308-foot drop). “Listen. That is the sound of the biggest waterfall in Yellowstone.”  It was totally socked in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later we actually see Gibbon Falls over on the west side of the Park, with snow blanketing everything . . .

 

Amazingly, every single one of these folks get out in the snow and walk all around the Lower Geyser Basin (Fountain Paint Pots) with me   . . .  in the snow.  It is absolutely beautiful seeing the thermal features, explaining how they work . . . in the silent falling snow.

 

And then . . . on to the Old Faithful area in the Upper Geyser Basin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am even more impressed with myself. I’m not cold. Mind you, I’m a low-desert rat from Phoenix, Arizona—having lived there for almost 23 years (and before that in Southern California for 30+ years). When I first arrived up here in late April I was always so very cold. I got teased by all the seasoned guides for being such a wuss. But I’d bark back, “Yeah, just you wait ‘Enry Iggins’ . . . When you guys are oh so hot this summer, who’ll be the wuss then!”  We’ve had many great laughs this summer. And I’ve definitely acclimated to this incredible place I love so much.

The snow has all but melted off now. We’ll be heading back to Phoenix in a few weeks . . .  where we know how to do winter (none of this -40 to -65 below stuff)!  But we’ll be back next summer. It has been a joy having this opportunity to show people the Park and just how unique, yet fragile, this amazing place is called Yellowstone National Park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It could still snow again before we leave, but I’ve shown myself I can handle whatever happens . . . with joy and excitement because I live in Yellowstone National Park!