Before Coffee at Old Faithful

Episode 45 | Yellowstone National Park, WY

Mornings like this are the reason I travel.

It was somewhere around 5 a.m. and I was already outside, which should tell you everything you need to know about how the time zone shift was still working in my favor. Denise and Becca were back at the Snow Lodge, blissfully unconscious and probably dreaming of coffee. Me, I was out on the boardwalk with a camera, a cold face, and no particular plan beyond pointing the lens at things that deserved it.

Old Faithful had erupted about an hour earlier, in the dark, while I was out there trying to photograph stars. I got it. At least I think I got it. You find out later with those shots, when you pull them up and either pump your fist or quietly delete them. Either way, standing out there in the pre-dawn quiet while the earth vented steam into a sky full of stars is not something you need a photograph to remember.

Old Faithful erupting at dawn, steam column bending across the sky, last light on the horizon — *Old Faithful, pre-dawn. Set the alarm. It’s worth it.*

The Boardwalk at Sunrise

By the time the sky started doing something, I’d been out there two and a half, maybe three hours. A few joggers. A handful of photographers. Some early risers getting their steps in. The boardwalk winds through the Upper Geyser Basin past thermal pools that glow in colors that look like they were invented by someone with a very confident sense of humor. Teals and oranges and deep impossible blues, all produced by heat-loving bacteria thriving in water that would cook you in about thirty seconds. Life finds a way, even where it shouldn’t.

There’s a spot where you round a bend and the Old Faithful Inn comes into view across the basin, its massive log facade catching the first warm light of the morning with steam rising in the background. I stood there for a while. Long enough that I was late getting back for coffee, which is saying something.

Old Faithful Inn porch at dawn, wet boards reflecting the light, steam rising in the background — *The Inn at first light. One of the great old buildings in the National Park system.*

About the Snow Lodge

Now. The Snow Lodge. Or more accurately, the Old Faithful Snow Lodge currently undergoing what I can only describe as an ambitious renovation that was not mentioned anywhere on the booking website.

To be fair, when it’s done it’s going to be great. There’s going to be a new observation deck. Upgraded fire systems. All very sensible improvements. In the meantime, the better part of the property was wrapped in blue construction fencing, scaffolding, and a tower crane that you could see from basically anywhere. The noise levels during the day were something to behold.

My only gripe, and I want to be clear that it is a gripe, is that none of this was disclosed when I booked. If it had been, I would have made the same reservation. Probably. But it would have been nice to know.

Walking past construction fencing and scaffolding at the Snow Lodge — *The Snow Lodge, mid-renovation. It’ll be great when it’s done.*

The Thermal Pools

After breakfast we headed out to a few pulloffs along the basin road to look at mineral pools and mud pots and various bubbling, steaming things that the park has given wonderfully specific names to. Biscuit Basin. Infant Geyser. The naming team at Yellowstone is clearly having a good time, and I respect that.

The colors in these pools are genuinely difficult to photograph accurately because the eye doesn’t quite believe them in the first place. That deep electric blue at the center, surrounded by rings of rust and orange and white mineral deposits. It looks like something from a different planet, which in a geological sense it sort of is.

Brilliant blue thermal pool with orange mineral rings, Yellowstone — *The colors are real. No filters. The planet just does this.*

Me and Becca, selfie on the boardwalk, geyser erupting behind us — *Father-daughter Yellowstone. The geyser had good timing.*

The Picnic Philosophy

Somewhere in the middle of all of this we stopped for lunch, which on this trip meant pulling out the cooler and finding somewhere to sit outside. Denise and Becca wandered down to the water to dip their feet in while I sat there thinking about how this is the correct way to travel and I should do it more when I’m on my own.

A picnic isn’t a revolutionary concept. I know that. But there’s something about it that forces you to slow down, to actually be in the place you drove however many miles to reach. You talk about where you want to go next. You figure out where everyone’s at, stamina-wise, mood-wise. You eat something that tastes better outside than it would anywhere else.

I should also mention that we were still sore from the horses. Two days later. Still sore.

We closed out the evening with dinner at the Old Faithful Inn, which despite the construction next door remains one of the great dining rooms in the National Park system. Photographed the full moon through the window screen on the way to bed. Not perfect. But sometimes the imperfect shot is the honest one.

Lot of driving ahead tomorrow. Worth it.