I’m writing to you from Shoshone Lake – Yellowstone’s second largest body of water. Sitting on the warm black sand, I am cooking a late shore lunch. I’ll be eating in a few minutes. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the view of a lake that is locked in winter’s grasp. Although it is late-May, this area is a winter wonderland. My hike to this icy destination was three miles over snowpack. Who would have thought that I would be walking over two feet of snow?
I drove past the trailhead a couple of times. The snow on the side of the road was obscuring the way. After consulting the GPS, I was confident that I was in the right place. I got out of the car and readied myself for a hike. The sky was blue and the air was mild. I was wearing a button up shirt and field pants – my usual outdoor attire. Over the snowbank, I crawled and found the trailhead. I began my decent.
The trail was very icy; I almost made a retreat but decided to stick it out a while longer. Slipping and sliding down the incline, I thought about how unfortunate I would be if I injured myself so early in my employment.
Trail conditions weren’t the only thoughts on my mind, however. I’m still growing my confidence while exploring this new landscape. I thought of large mammals – grizzlies and moose – and the other inherent dangers of Yellowstone. Solo hiking comes with increased risk and I was still trying to quantify these unfamiliar aspects.
My worry decreased as the footsteps increased. The trail became more flat and my walk became steadier. Although I was highly vigilant, I was enjoying my surroundings. The trail meandered back and forth through pines and meadow. I saw waterfowl along DeLacy Creek but no large mammals. Soon, I saw the lake in the distance. Well past lunchtime, I was tired and hungry. I was eager to restore my energy and continue exploration.
Here I am, a thousand miles away from home. I contemplate the definition of home while sitting on the black sand and eating a hot lunch. Over the partially thawed lake, I remind myself that it is late-May and the snow and ice are long gone in Pennsylvania. Snowcapped mountains rise in the distance and I ponder my overwinter escape in South Carolina. Water fowl dive and float. I wonder how many people have been here. This lake is neither far or close; some effort has to be given to enjoy this place. I look behind my shoulder; the sky is dark. The sun shined all day but the rain will come soon.
I spent the better part of the afternoon at the lake. I don’t remember exactly what I did. I recall wanting to cross a bridge and explore some backcountry campsites. There is a ranger patrol cabin that I wanted to see. However, the bridge did not exist and the conditions were too chilly to attempt a portage. I decided to head back. The sunshine was becoming less frequent.
Many of my steps began to sink in the snowpack. I was falling though. Where the trail was supposed to be, the pack was two feet deep. The going was difficult; thus, I decided to walk the edge of the meadow. Although my steps occasionally sunk into the snow, my travel was flat. One time, my foot fell through into some water. Not long, my other boot was overtopped with water. Both feet were wet. Some distance later, although I was cautious and vigilant, the snowpack caved and I found myself nearly waste deep in a meadow pond. Luckily my arms stopped me from going deeper; I never touched the bottom. I crawled out and made distance from the hole. I was very fortunate. Only my legs and feet were wet; I still had two miles to go. That distance isn’t great but with wet feet and ice beneath them, the going was cold and cumbersome. Precipitation began to fall; thunder sounded in the distance. My best option was to complete my adventure before long.
Although I had a lengthy rest and a hardy lunch, the landscape whittled my resources. Cold and rainy, I ascended the last, slippery portion of the trail. My body had tired but my mind grew stronger with every step. I could conquer anything. I looked back upon the sign for the trailhead with new respect for a six mile hike. I discovered that the snowpack was no joke. In an unfamiliar land, I grew stronger.