Yellowstone Vandal Guilty/The Ski Trip From Hell

All kidding aside, this story from October, 2003 makes my blood boil:

RESOURCE DAMAGE AT YELLOWSTONE’S LONE STAR GEYSER

2 geniuses in a pickup truck went off-roading in Yellowstone and did a fair amount of damage near a geyser, then obligingly told the rangers everything they needed in order to bust them.

The Salt Lake Trib had more information after the incident on these two geniuses and their adventure in the wilderness – with excellent snark provided by the reporter, who implied the pair were in need of an IQ test, rather than a sobriety test. I love the part about the coolers, beverages and snacks. And their “camp.” And the alleged bear. Morons.

Now here’s the followup story from the NPS on his sentencing:

Court Sentences Individual in Lone Star Geyser Incident

And here’s the sentencing from the Salt Lake Trib’s point of view (the Trib can be amusingly snarky when reporting on stupid criminals).

U.S. Magistrate Judge Stephen E. Cole found Adam Ray Elford of Vancouver, Wash., guilty of operating a vehicle off road, injuring mineral resources, possessing a loaded firearm in a motor vehicle, storing food improperly and operating a motor vehicle with a suspended driver license, according to a news release from the National Park Service.

Elford was sentenced to 90 days in jail, with 70 days suspended and three years probation, and was banned from entering Yellowstone for five years. Elford, 22, must pay a towing bill of $386.69, was fined $1,550, is required to pay full restitution for restoration costs and must reimburse the U.S. District Court for the cost of his court-appointed defense attorney.

That’s interesting, I didn’t realize that defendants had to reimburse the state for the services of a court-appointed attorney, unless it’s the only way the judge can legally smack him around a little more for the amusement of counsel. I wonder if the defense attorney objected to, or totally agreed with, the judge requiring their time be reimbursed by Genius #1?

He’s also guilty of being an idiot not in possession of a lick of sense in my view, but he wasn’t charged for that. Pity.

And now, the personal angle – Lone Star Geyser is located in a beautiful, empty meadow, and on one of our winter trips to Yellowstone, we skied out there with my sister and her friends, so my sense of outrage is a bit keener than it would otherwise be if I hadn’t expended time, sweat, effort, and a hell of a lot of bruises, not to mention cursing the memory of an old curmudgeon and his steed.

But here’s Lone Star as it appeared one day in February, 1997:

Lone Star Geyser

For more information about Lone Star’s eruption pattern and other geysers in the area, check here.

For the epic tale of the ski trip from hell, read on (much colorful cursing re-enacted while you wait)…

“Fuck you, Howard Eaton, and the horse you rode in on!!”

When David and I decided to go to Yellowstone in February, 1997, we thought we were going for 4 days of fun, skiing, and sitting around the lodge at night playing cards and consuming many snacks and beverages. During the day we expected to see a lot of wildlife and geysers. We got what we expected and more – including one outing I remember with alternating curses and shudders (well, actually, I can laugh about it now.

My sister Timmy, her husband Frank, and their friends Jan and Russ had been going to Yellowstone in February for years – usually every other year or every third year. They always do the same thing – book about 4 nights’ stay at the Snow Lodge (we were at the old lodge the first time we went), drive up to West Yellowstone for one night, and take the snow coach in to Old Faithful in the morning (the morning coach departure forces the overnight stay in West Yellowstone).

So we agreed to go along that year, packed up all our ski gear, and flew to Salt Lake. A morning or so later, we piled into their big SUV for the long drive north to West Yellowstone for the overnight (Jan and Russ took their own car). There are a couple of traditional stops they always make – buying lottery tickets, seeing some relatives in Malad, and stopping for pie and sandwiches in Pocatello. They usually stay at a large motel that has an indoor pool and a Jacuzzi, load up on cheap liqueur (compared to Utah) at the liquor store, get a steak dinner, and go to bed early. So we kept to the program and were having a lovely time, in a lively town full of local color (“West,” as my sister always calls it, is an agressively Western town. Think antlers and ranch brands as universal design elements in all local businesses).

We turned in early, and then figured out why the motel parking lot was so big and also full of large trailers – it’s one of THE places to stay if you’re an out of town snowmobiler. That one night, I realized I really, really don’t care for snowmobilers or the machines they rode in on, and wondered how the locals could stand it, except for the fact that the sport is a huge part of the winter economy of the area.

And they were out in the parking lot all night long, revving up their engines… supposedly to keep them from freezing overnight, but more likely just raising hell at all hours for the fun of it.

Fine. Assholes. Fine.

So we get an early start to have plenty of time for a big breakfast at one of the local joints – probably Running Bear Pancake House – and then it’s time to head over to the pickup point for the snow coach into the park.

And these aren’t just weeny little vans fitted with tracks, they’re Bombardiers, man.

They’re loud, smelly, an obnoxious yellow color, not particularly comfortable, and they’re driven by a shifting crew of local characters who do their best to make the ride in and out of the park interesting, scenic, and memorable. Usually, you remember the ride because your butt is aching and your back is killing you the next day, but the drivers make frequent stops for passengers to take pictures and spot wildlife, so it’s part of the initiation process of getting to go to Yellowstone in winter. The Bombardiers are not for everybody (and are probably going the way of the dodo, because people just aren’t the hardy outdoors adventurers that used to ride them in to Yellowstone in the late 50’s).

The driver usually stops a couple of times by the Firehole River to spot eagles, elk…

and other wildlife…

…and takes a one-way loop past a waterfall.

But eventually you arrive at the Snow Lodge. The new one is very nice, large, and rustic-inn posh. The old one was the former employee dorm and restaurant, but it was torn down to make way for the new one after this trip. As crummy and uncomfortable as it was, I missed it – it attracted the few hardy Boy Scout/10th Mountain Regiment/low-number REI & Mountaineers members that liked their lodging a little rough around the edges. It tended to keep the creampuffs at bay. But I must say I do like the rockers and the big fireplaces and the rustic lodge decor of the new lodge (and they had decent food and a good variety of beers, too).

And the bedrooms – very nice, and comfortable, too. Yes, much nicer than that crummy wonderful old dormitory. I guess.

One of the day trips we took was to ski out to Lone Star Geyser, via a rather complicated route that Russ worked out that included a side-trip to see a waterfall or something. I struggled and fell a lot during the sidetrip, because I’m no damn good on steep climbs with humpy-lumps and tree wells (that’s deep snow when you fall into a conical tree well that’s more than 3 feet deep, and climbing out of them is even worse than falling in). The final approach was via the trail from the parking lot used by our two geniuses. Care must be taken to avoid bison divots (deep, deep holes in the snow) and, uh, other bison artifacts. In spite of the artifacts, I liked the road trail – it was much more level and negotiable (and I only fell once or twice).

So far, so good (that’s Tim-Tim in front. Note bota bag).

And soon we reached the wide meadowland that Lone Star Geyser inhabits, and shared some lunch around.

(please don’t feed the animals…oh, well)

After lunch and watching the spectacular “minor/major” eruption display Lone Star puts on for the patient, we packed up and headed for the Old Faithful area via a different route back… the Howard Eaton Trail.

Named for an early park outfitter and guide, the Howard Eaton Trail paralleled the Grand Loop Road in many places. Remnants of this old horse trail are maintained and used by hikers today. Here in the Old Faithful District, the trail provides a less traveled route to Lone Star Geyser from the developed area.

And another website has this to say about routes to and from Lone Star…

Lone Star Geyser

Beginning across from the Old Faithful Snow Lodge, the trail follows Mallard Lake Trail through the Old Faithful Lodge cabin area crossing the Firehole River. The trail goes to the right following an old road cut to the snow vehicle road. Approximately 100 feet up th road, signs will direct you back into the woods. After skiing about .5 mile over moderate hills, the trail returns to the snow vehicle road at Kepler Cascades. Across the road the trail continues along the east bank of the Firehole River. The trail connects with and follows an old service road to Lone Star Geyser. The geyser erupts about every three hours with activity lasting approximately 30 minutes. Novice skiers should return to Old Faithful by the same route. A more difficult return route can be made on the Howard Eaton Trail.

Lone Star Geyser Loop

You may ski this loop in either direction; however, if you begin by following the Lone Star Geyser Trail, you will encounter some very steep downhill sections on the Howard Eaton Trail upon leaving Lone Star Geyser. If you begin your trip on the Howard Eaton Trail, be prepared for some steep climbs. Please yield the track to skiers coming down.

Howard Eaton was a local character around the turn of the last century – an outfitter, guide, and general curmudgeon known for guiding mounted parties on horseback. He maintained trails for this purpose and one of them (a rough affair hacked out of the forest and never graded) is now a hiking trail in summer/ski trail in winter, and the alternate route to or from Lone Star.

Okay, my problem was not the steep downhill section for the last mile or so downhill to the back of the Snow Lodge area. That was waist deep powder, I sank in to my knees on the skis, and it was great. GREAT!!! And I only fell once. I actually had decent control on the downhill. Not bad.

The horribleness was climbing up Howard Eaton’s backside – a twisty, steep, narrow trail that was nothing but moguls, treewells, snags, curvy dips sure to catch a ski tip – or two, in different directions! There was no place you could really set your ski edges and get forward motion unless you had climbing skins and mountaineering skis. Which Jan had (she had a great day that day) but I did not. I attempted, with little success, to herringbone (a technique for climbing slopes) on the curvy places, bowed out the skis, and fell in numerous comical, humiliating ways. So I struggled and I sweat, and I swore, and I swore some more. It went like this:

::ski ski ski dip tip slide fall (shit!) ski ski slip (crap!) ski ski faceplant GODDAMIT! ski buttplant (ow!) ski treewell (fuck, sorry, Timmy, but fuck) ski double treewell dipsy doodle faceplant whack the back of the head with the tails of the ski (fuck you, Howard Eaton) ski ski better ski even better ski ski humiliating tumble into yet another treewell, followed by immediately tumbling the other way, followed by ski tips in opposite directions buttplant, followed by bellowing “FUCK YOU, HOWARD EATON, AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON…” followed by echoes and sounds of startled wildlife galumphing off to hide followed by discreet sympathetic laughter from some distant point on the trail ahead. “GO ON I’M FINE GODDAMIT” grumble grumble regroup regroup refuse help from entire human race sulk goddamn horses anyway sulk remove skis trudge past the worst dips ever on the trail put skis back on ski ski ski better ski ski up a bit more ski leveling out ski one last fall for old times’ sake, Howard me old bastard, ski ski out of the trees and level out just before the long downhill in powder ski ski ski catch up to everyone else at the beginning of the “good part.”

::huge relief and a long pull at the nearest bota bag.

When I finally cleared the trees everybody else was standing around trying not to smile. I apologized and looked nervously downslope – I’m never good on steepish downhills (turning or stopping consists of a series of controlled falls, unless the track is set right and it’s not too icy). Tim took off into the powder and I could see that she didn’t go as fast as Jan, who took the trail (and zipped down with no problem). I started out on the trail, went pretty fast, had a lot of fun, but augured in about a third of the way down. Then I took off on a line of fresh powder so I had more control. MUCH better. Almost worth the agony. Very nearly worth the agony.

After getting back to the lodge, we all compared bruises – I won. Then we heard that the lodge employees had staged a race for charity the day before and took the Howard Eaton trail backwards (up the steep slope, down through the twisty treewelly dips) and completed it in about 45 minutes.

We took 6 hours – at least 3 of them on Howard Eaton. Ugh.

The rest of the time we were in Yellowstone, we took easier trails, and groaned a lot on the Bombardier on the way out (ouch!)

All in all, it was a great trip except for those 3 hours of hell (Howard Eaton, horse, you know the drill).

We survived mostly intact (note second bota bag).