So, the plan for the morning of “geyser day” was for me to drive down to Fishing Bridge (the RV park) to meet up with everyone else, and for us all to then drive (in our separate vehicles, to keep options open) around to the Upper Geyser Basin (aka the Old Faithful area). I duly drove down to Fishing Bridge in the morning, only to realize that no one had told me what sites they were in. I checked in the office, but it turned out that they also had not thought to leave info for me there—and the employees wouldn’t give out site numbers without permission, of course. Argh. So, I was reduced to driving the loops, trying to spot vehicles, campers, or people that I recognized—which did eventually get me there, if somewhat behind schedule. We all then took off for the Upper Geyser Basin, in our separate cars…without thinking to agree on a spot to meet up again when we got there (the area being a large and usually very crowded one). So, between a latish start and these various failures of communication and coordination, it was very late morning by the time we were all finally together in the Old Faithful Visitor Center and discussing how to proceed. Mom and Dad had already been here and seen Old Faithful earlier in the week, and they were of a mind to head out onto the boardwalks toward Morning Glory (which is at the farthest point reachable via boardwalks). Carl and family, naturally, wanted to see Old Faithful erupt, which it was expected to do in a half-hour or so. So they (with me accompanying) decided to stroll the closer portions of the boardwalk while waiting for Old Faithful, while Mom and Dad began their trek out toward Morning Glory. We would then have some lunch, after which we would make our way out toward Morning Glory ourselves.
Not far into our stroll along the boardwalks, though, we came to the spot where you can turn off onto an unpaved trail that goes up onto some higher ground in the woods, leading to “Observation Point” (from which you can see Old Faithful from above) and Solitary Geyser. Zane enthusiastically voted for this trail, so that’s where we ended up going (uphill AGAIN!). We didn’t make it to Observation Point in time, but we were still able to watch Old Faithful go off from the trail itself. I didn’t take any pictures of that, but I did take some of Zane and Bram goofing around along the trail.
Following a lunch in the parking lot, it was decided that Carl and family would briefly visit the gift shop, then get out their bikes and ride the paved trail along the edge of the Old Faithful area that leads out to Morning Glory, while I would set out immediately on foot for the same destination, via the boardwalks. I didn’t meander, linger over the sights, or take many pictures en route, since I’ve already got multiple collections of pictures of the many thermal features here—but I did make a point of checking out one of my favorites, Grotto Geyser:
Wow! For good or ill, that’s Grotto as I’d never seen it before; for reference, here’s one of my pictures of it from two years ago:
When I reached Morning Glory, I ran into Mom and Dad, and we chatted for a bit. I think I took a picture of them, with their camera, but no pictures of my own. Inevitably, though, I started reliving the story that I wrote about my experience at this spot two years ago—how I’d overheard some loudmouth know-it-all assuring his companions that here it was, Morning Glory, the best thing to see in the park, or some such, and then I’d walked a few minutes down a trail that leads away from the boardwalks and encountered a hot spring that looked like what I imagine Morning Glory may have looked like in the years before vandalism altered it, and I’d experienced a sort of transcendent moment. Mom expressed interest in seeing what I had seen, so she and I set off along the trail. Also inevitably, however, it proved to be rather a longer walk than I’d remembered (though still less than 10 minutes), and with enough trail hazards along the way that Mom ended up turning back. I had to go on and see it again for myself, though—and when I did, I found that the spot still sent a shiver down my spine.
Heading back down the trail toward Morning Glory and the boardwalk, I discovered that Carl and family had arrived via bike and met up with Mom—and were even on their way down the trail toward me. So, I turned around and accompanied them to my spot, and we all sat down to appreciate it together. While sitting there, we noticed that a marker labeled this as “Artemisia Geyser”—which struck us as odd, since it really looks much more like a hot spring than a geyser. And then, a moment later, suddenly a small geyser started erupting a short distance behind the beautiful, vividly blue hot spring! This little surprise was really cool: a private geyser eruption viewing, right at this neat little spot that already evoked such awe from me. So apparently, the captivatingly blue pool that I’ve so admired here isn’t even considered the “main attraction” at this spot; the named feature is actually the little geyser in the background that I hadn’t even known was there until now!
Shortly after this, everyone headed back for the visitor center & parking lots. Various ideas had been discussed for other activities over on this side of the park that we might do once we were finished with the Old Faithful/Upper Geyser Basin area, but it was late enough in the day already that many of them seemed unfeasible now. The one that stood out as still doable, though, was to check out the alleged swimming hole along Firehole Canyon Drive.
Here’s the essential back story on the Firehole Canyon Drive swimming spot: During my first visit to Yellowstone as an adult, back in 2009, I had hoped to find a place to go swimming out there. After that trip, when I wrote the first of these now-traditional post-trip detailed accounts, a main theme was how the trip had been a total blast in spite of the fact that Jen and I had each had a specific thing that we hoped to do during the trip (swimming for me, horseback riding for her), and neither of those things had worked out. It had turned out that there was this ONE swimming spot, along Firehole Canyon Drive, but it tended to be closed early in the season (that trip was at the end of June) due to high water levels making it unsafe—and indeed, when we found our way to Firehole Canyon Drive, the swimming spot had indeed proven to be closed (nor had we even gotten a look at it, since the path down to it from the road had been blocked off and since, in any case, we hadn’t stopped to look around once we saw that it was closed). Five years later, during our next trip out there, I don’t think we even bothered checking; maybe we asked somewhere and were told that it was closed, or maybe we just assumed it, since it was the same time of year again (and since the Boiling River, which I’d newly learned about that year, had itself turned out to be closed due to high water). Also, if memory serves, the weather out there was a bit chilly and rainy most days on that trip, so swimming may simply not have sounded all that nice. (Though as an aside: We DID get to do the horseback riding on that trip, rectifying the OTHER disappointment from 2009.) And then, two years ago on my solo Yellowstone trip, I had my whitewater rafting adventure (and relaxation in the Boiling River afterwards), which satisfied my desire for water-based fun enough that I again didn’t end up trying the Firehole Canyon Drive swimming spot, even though that trip was in late July and it probably would have been open (and the weather was beautiful).
So, back to the present: Here I was, 9 years after that initial trip when I’d been disappointed not to be able to check out the swimming spot, and this afternoon seemed like the right time to finally rectify the situation! It was hot, we were tired, the spot wasn’t too far away, and it just seemed like the thing to do. Unfortunately, Carl and family had not brought swimming stuff along when setting out this morning (I, of course, had, having learned on past trips to be prepared for anything at all times), which meant that they would only be able to wade in, not actually go swimming (about which the boys—especially my main swimming buddy Bram—were disappointed)…but even so, it still seemed like the thing to do. Mom and Dad, who had not yet lunched, headed off to a picnic area with plans to maybe, or maybe not, meet up with the rest of us later, and we all (Bram riding with me, and talking my ear off the whole way) headed for Firehole Canyon Drive.
The views of Firehole Canyon from the said drive were absolutely stunning, but hardly promising from the point of view of there actually being a safe place to swim somewhere nearby. And yet, we eventually came to the spot, where we found many cars parked along the side of the road, lots of people around, outhouses to change in (for those of me who had anything to change into), and steps leading down to the river. The mythical swimming spot turned out to be real after all—and not just real, but, in fact, AWESOME.
The water temperature was PERFECT (in contrast to the much colder temp that I had been expecting), and the water delightfully clean and clear. The current was…intense (strongest current in which I have ever swum), though only out in the middle. The dropoff was fun. While I was swimming in water up to my shoulders or so, Carl and the boys walked along the edges, right next to me, atop rocks where the water was ankle-deep. They made it around the bend along the left bank in the photo above, and back into an area not visible from this vantage. I, down in the water, also got myself back there, though only by grabbing onto the submerged sides of the rocks that they were walking on top of and using them to pull myself forward against the current! Just upstream around that bend, there was a narrow spot between the rock walls where the river spilled in, over smooth rock, from another wider pool beyond—almost like a waterfall, except that the water only “fell” a couple inches at most. I made it as far as that spot, climbed up, and stood in the gap. Other swimmers had made their way even farther, but I stopped here so as not to leave my companions (who couldn’t access the spot that I was at without getting in the water) behind. So, in short, the swimming spot was everything I’d hoped and more, and although I was sorry that the others couldn’t fully enjoy it along with me, I felt extremely gratified at finally, after 9 years, getting to swim here. And I had a new entry for my growing list of favorite spots in the park!
This was pretty much it for today. Mom and Dad did turn up at the swimming spot just as we were getting ready to leave, and then we all headed back to our respective home bases for the evening. Upon reaching Canyon, I stopped at the gas/service station there before proceeding to the campground, and inquired as to whether they might be able to charge my battery for me (an idea that Carl, I think it was, had suggested). The answer was yes, but that I’d have to bring it to them during the service garage’s business hours, which were 8:00 to 5:00 (the current time being, if memory serves, around 5:15 or 5:30). This was both encouraging and not, since plans for the next couple days weren’t looking likely to involve my being able to get to the station during the specified hours—but it was a step in the right direction, at least. In my head, I kept going back and forth between cursing myself for not having brought my charger along on the trip, and reminding myself that even if I had, I’d still have the problem of needing a place to plug it in. The said problem may, or may not, have been solvable, but all the ideas that I could think of seemed at least somewhat dubious. Argh!
Anyway, after spending another nice, relaxing evening at my campsite, I called it a day.