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Your Own Private Yellowstone

To see America's most spectacular national park from a fresh perspective, go with a personal guide.
By Thomas McNamee
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Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, buffalo, bison buffalo A lone bison traverses Hayden Valley at dawn.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, geyser castle geyser Castle Geyser blows off steam in the Upper Geyser Basin of the park.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone yellowstone creek Guide Kurt Westenbarger crosses a creek near timberline in the Absaroka Mountains.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, yellowstone lake yellowstone lake A hiker rests on the shore of Yellowstone Lake at dusk.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, west thumb geyser basin west thumb geyser basin Thermophilic bacteria and algae give color to a hot sprig in the West Thumb Geyser Basin.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, west thumb geyser basin, blue funnel spring blue funnel spring The clear waters of Blue Funnel Spring, in the West Thumb Geyser Basin.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, bull elk bull elk in yellowstone Young bull elk spar near the Firehole River.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone brown cannon Photographer Brown W. Cannon III takes in the view of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone yellowstone A fisherman casting a line in the Yellowstone River.

Your Own Private Yellowstone

yellowstone, trout lake trout lake A tributary feeds tranquil Trout Lake.
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Trout Lake is a mirror. My guide, Kurt Westenbarger, puts finger to lips. Across the water, a young grizzly bear catches sight of us and disappears into the forest. In the creek that feeds the lake, cutthroat trout are spawning. The bear has been fishing. Suddenly, the water bubbles and an otter slithers up an inlet, also in quest of fish for breakfast.

Descending through meadows spangled with wildflowers, Kurt and I compete amicably in rapid-fire plant naming. We share our dismay at the misunderstandings that still surround the fires that roared through here in 1988. These meadows, these resurgent trees amid the whitened skeletons of the burned, the politics of wildfire -- all are familiar ground for us. But even after thirty years of exploring and studying Yellowstone, I don't know half of what Kurt does.

I hired a private guide, hoping to further my knowledge of this majestic landscape. In advance of my trip, I did a lot of research -- talking to experts, asking about their background and experience -- and finally settled on Kurt, who began leading tours in these parts thirty years ago, while still a student at Montana State University. Today he seems to know every square foot of the backcountry: where the wolf packs are on any given week, how the new pups are faring, the history of each tree. "You see that Douglas fir over there?" he says, pointing. "It was 900 years old when General Howard chased Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce tribe through here, in 1877." Kurt is a man who has devoted his life to learning the nearly infinite stories, subtleties, history and ecology of Yellowstone. A couple of days in his care, I hoped, would reveal a Yellowstone that was still unknown to me.

And it's already happening just a few hours into our adventure. Kurt points to a family of otters. I never imagined that they would be in this lake, in the park's little-known northeastern corner, despite the fact that below us stretches the Lamar Valley, the primary locus of two of my books, The Grizzly Bear and The Return of the Wolf to Yellowstone. It was here, as chairman of the Greater Yellowstone Coalition, the region's leading conservation group, that I mourned the stubbornly ignorant press coverage of the 1988 fires. (Natural fire is not a disaster, experts agree; it is these forests' means of renewal.) And it's here again, under the tutelage of a true polymath, that I become one of the lucky people who rediscover a place they thought they knew.

Yellowstone is famously a land of superlatives. World's first national park. World's greatest panoply of geysers and hot springs. In area, bigger than Rhode Island and Delaware combined. Biggest high-elevation lake in North America. Largest volcanic system in North America. Largest migration of mammals (elk) in the Lower 48. Last wild refuge of the American bison. And there is another superlative that subsumes all these: the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, comprising Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks, seven national forests, two Indian reservations, state lands and private lands. It is the largest essentially intact ecosystem in the North Temperate Zone. Twenty million acres. Twice the size of Switzerland.

You can come to Yellowstone Park, as nearly three million people do every year, and see incredible scenery through your windshield, catch an eruption of Old Faithful, videotape Yellowstone Falls. Or you can hire Kurt -- or another of the region's top private guides (see "Yellowstone With the Experts," page 101) -- and find fascination, mystery and heart-aching beauty that nearly everyone else will miss. Yellowstone is a profoundly complex place. And it is a demanding place. To see wild creatures going about their natural lives, you must rise before dawn or skip the cocktail hour back at the hotel. Sometimes you must climb and sweat and not fall off a cliff.

"What do you look for in your clients?" I ask Kurt as we pause at the lip of a vertiginous canyon.

"First, I find out in advance what interests them and what their physical capabilities are," he replies. "It's frustrating sometimes. It's hard to get some people up early. I say, 'Look, this isn't a zoo. We're on the wildlife's schedule.' Our itinerary may change at a moment's notice. You've got to be flexible. People need to understand that you can't do Yellowstone in a day. And I tell everybody, 'Ask lots of questions. Please!'"

Kurt tailors trips to your particular needs, tastes and abilities. "My job," he continues, "is to give people experiences that they wouldn't have otherwise. If you want to see a family of wolves out for their evening howl, I can be pretty sure where they'll be." Thanks to his years of research and exploration, he knows hidden places, backcountry hot springs few ever see. He knows where the ospreys are nesting, whether the bison bulls have begun their tumultuous head-butting battles for mates, where the otters are hiding in the Lamar Valley.

Because guides of Kurt's caliber are few, you must plan well in advance, even for a three-night backcountry adventure like mine. And if you're expecting luxurious accommodations and great food, you will need to adjust your sights. Our starting point, a motel in the tiny mountain town of Cooke City, Montana, was fine, but it was just a motel, with thin walls and a cottage-cheese ceiling. Our dinner was also fine -- well, barely. Tonight, however, we move to the Lake Yellowstone Hotel, the nicest hostelry in the park, with sensational views. The restaurant staff are seasonal, young and inexperienced, and they do try, but it ain't Paris. In any case, it's not the lodging or the food that we've come for.

Dawn again. We stroll across the empty parking lot that serves Artist Point, an overlook that affords a splendid view of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and that three hours from now will be as crowded as Grand Central Station. We are soon off trail, emerging in a meadow with the gentle green hills of Hayden Valley below us. A line of six white pelicans, shoulder to shoulder, harry baby trout against the bank of the glass-smooth Yellowstone River. A pair of trumpeter swans paddle along a tributary in unison. A bald eagle rides the day's first currents of warming air.

We hike to Clear Lake, which is indeed clear but also poisonous, with acrid hydrogen sulfide fumes rising to its surface. Farther on, the landscape turns all-white, not a plant alive. A gaping hole twenty feet across is gurgling deeply and, every so often, flings a gob of hot gray mud through the air.

I creep near the rim and peer down. The whole bottom, some five feet below, consists of slowly bubbling, glutinous, reeking mud. Kurt sticks his thermometer into a small steam vent near the hot spring. "Hundred and ninety-two," he says. "At this elevation -- 7,700 feet -- boiling is 198 degrees. The Sheep Eater Shoshones cooked in hot springs like this."

As I inch toward the edge of the next crater and its dozens of little mud volcanoes, each glubbing out a different note, Kurt calls urgently: "Whoa, Tom! Come back. Slowly." The crust can be thin, he tells me, and these hot springs can be deadly should you fall through. In fact, your body could disintegrate entirely in rather short order. I back away. Yow.

As our second day together nears its end, Kurt and I drive to the top of a butte above Yellowstone Lake, from which we take in the vast green-and-black mosaic of forest from the '88 fires. Nearly all the burned areas are now colonized by lush vegetation. Far off, we spot a strand of smoke winding slowly into the still air.

We head north and homeward, but soon meet a line of stationary cars stretching as far as we can see. A huge cloud of smoke billows up beyond the trees. The wind is gusting. In two minutes the volume of smoke doubles. "We need to get out of here," says Kurt. "Now." Not because we may be trapped by fire but because the spectacle of several hundred cars turning around on this narrow road is going to be a slow-motion nightmare. As we complete our hundred-mile detour, smoke fills half the sky. "Looks like we dodged a bullet," says Kurt. "That's the same little fire we saw from the butte." No real harm done, of course, just a question of our personal inconvenience. The fire is burning northeastward, with nothing in the way for fifty miles but more trees and old burns. "It'll make more openings in the forest," he continues, meaning additional grass for elk and room for aspen to grow back. "We're programmed in our DNA, I think, to fear fire. But this is regeneration. Next summer in these burns, you'll find bright-green grass and fireweed in bloom."

I can see Kurt picturing all this new bounty in his mind's eye. I can see reflected in his face his love for this ecosystem and its sudden, violent transformations. And, once again, I can see him thinking how nature prevails over human convenience. Kurt can explain the whole thing.

Yellowstone With the Experts

GETTING THERE AND AROUND

The most convenient towns to fly into are Bozeman, Montana, and Jackson, Wyoming. Once you arrive, a car is essential. Winter and spring are ideal for encountering wildlife in abundance, though the weather can be harsh. To see wolves, visit in late spring, when elk are moving up the mountains. Wildflowers are at their peak from late June through early August. Fall brings the mating of elk and bison, and you'll easily find bulls in battle.

I booked my trip through Off the Beaten Path (800-445-2995; offthebeatenpath.com), a company that can simplify your planning considerably. Founded by two of Montana's top conservationists, Bill and Pam Bryan, OBP will match you with just about any service you can think of: guides, restaurants, lodging.

GUIDES

Fees can vary widely, depending on what you want to see and who is in your group. Kurt Westenbarger (406-683-4415; yourguide@earthlink.net) charges $250 a day (per party, not per person), with a minimum of three days. Specialists with particular equipment can cost more: the photographer Tom Murphy (see below), for example, charges $1,000 a day for one person, $200 for each additional person. Based on my research, the following are other top Yellowstone guides.

Mike Bryers has been a Yellowstone guide for more than twenty-five years. In winter he leads guests by snow coach, and in summer he takes small groups into little-known areas. He has a keen interest in Yellowstone's hydrothermal features. 406-646-9044; mikebryersart.com.

Steve Gehman and Betsy Robinson are not only superb guides but also wildlife biologists. They offer a trip that is part tour and part research project: a survey of wild predators on a 9,000-acre ranch. Gehman and Robinson are avid birders as well. Wild Things Unlimited, 406-522-9825; wildthingsunlimited.org.

Tom Murphy is one of the best-known nature photographers in the West. For his photography courses, he takes groups into the outback to watch bizarre geothermal wonders far from the touristy sites. 406-222-2986; tmurphywild.com.

Don Perkins leads white-water-rafting trips, sea-kayaking expeditions into the wilderness, river-camping journeys and fishing excursions. Snake River Kayak and Canoe, 307-733-9999; snakeriverkayak.com.

Ken and Susi Sinay offer personalized full-service, safari-style trips concentrating on particular goals: seeing wolves and bears, for instance. Susi specializes in llama treks, on which the gentle animals carry your gear while you walk. Yellowstone Safari Company, 866-586-1155; yellowstonesafari.com.

Leslie Stoltz has a vast fund of knowledge of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. She works year-round but focuses on winter ecology and backcountry skiing. She is also a passionate birder. 406-995-4906; lesstoltz@montana.com.

Drew Thate is a birding guide, a river-rafting guide, a sea-kayaking guide, a fly-fishing guide, a wildlife guide, a natural historian and a photographer. 406-570-7452; tomminercreek@hotmail.com.

WHERE TO STAY

The best lodging in the park is at the Lake Yellowstone Hotel, open from mid-May to early October. Doubles from $227. 866-439-7375; travelyellowstone.com.

The Snake River Lodge & Spa, in Jackson Hole, embodies the true new Wyoming: Old West style, as imagined in New York or San Francisco, with very good food. Doubles from $250. 866-975-7625; snakeriverlodge.rockresorts.com.

There is no hotel in Greater Yellowstone that's more luxurious than the Amangani, in Jackson, Wyoming. Treat yourself to a night here after a few days of roughing it with your guide. Suites from $565. 877-734-7333; amanresorts.com/amangani/home.aspx .

  
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