Headed to Pebble Creek Campground
Fall is in full swing in Yellowstone, and my desire to be “out there” before the season turns towards winter is at a fever pitch. So I head out to Pebble Creek campground for a solo mini-getaway camping in Yellowstone’s fall color.
Driving through the park my spirits sink; there are people everywhere. Never in our 20 years have we encountered a year like this—the crowds just keep coming. Not that I can blame them, I love this time of year in Yellowstone too. I’m just unaccustomed to sharing it with so many others. Usually cold and snow have driven most people home by now.
I get the camper all set up at the campground, and realize the people across from me are listening to a sports game on some kind of radio. Really?? I lay down to read a book, but instead of the creek, and the wind in the trees I hear… a static-y announcer doing a play-by play. Not exactly the nature retreat I was looking for, at least at the moment. I have to admit my mood is deteriorating.
I know there’s only one solution; go for a walk through the cottonwoods along the river.
So here I am and it is glorious indeed. The golden reflections of the aspen on the water, the sweet smell of the cottonwood leaves, the peace and stillness of the real Yellowstone starts to seep in.
The afternoon light and the colors are over the top. I can’t get over the reflections in the water! It’s like someone dipped their fingers in primary colors yellow and blue and swirled them around over the rocks. I ask myself can one die of beauty? If so I feel my hours are numbered.
Speaking of numbered days, I am alone, and the cottonwoods and brush get a little thick, so I make a lot of noise. To be honest I really hate making noise – I feel like even more of an intruder disturbing the beautiful piece of this place. Buuutt… I also don’t want to surprise a bear. So noise I make, and lots of it. As always, my bear spray is at the ready.
I follow my curiosity, texture and color as my guides, crisscrossing the stream in sandals following whatever scene calls to me that I might want to capture with the camera. It’s largely a futile endeavor; there’s no way to translate the three-dimensional experience into a two-dimensional photograph, but it soothes my soul to try. (If you want to try your hand at photographing fall in Yellowstone, see Ann Skelton’s article Photographing Fall Color in Yellowstone National Park.)
It’s blissfully clear. Crystal clear. The clarity feels so surprising as if the persistent smoke of summer erased all memory of what bluebird skies are like. I am grateful. It’s as if I’ve forgotten what the mountains are really like.
The too-the sharp contours and crags of Baronnette Peak and Abiathar and Norris stand in high relief in this light. They are excruciatingly beautiful.
“Hey Yellowstone,” I think, “there you are. Nice to see you again. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m feeling emotional.”
The clear skies make me feel like it should be a national holiday–like we should drop everything we have to do and be outside. The smoke is gone! The skies are blue and clear! Get the hell outside!
I find a spot in an open gravel bar along the creek to sit and write in my journal. I watch the undulations of gold and blue in the water. I feel the breeze on my neck. I am at peace.
As I rise to head back, just before the sun disappears behind the shoulder of the mountain, I see a fisherman upstream, his line arcing through the achingly beautiful slanted sun, the light catching the spray of water as it flies off the line.
Exploring the Beartooth and Chief Joseph Highways
This morning I decide to head east.
I have no agenda, no deadline, no responsibilities, no ETA. I laugh maniacally to myself as I take pictures of golden leaf reflections in the Clark’s Fork of the Yellowstone.
Before long, however, my laissez-faire attitude towards my agenda morphs into a serious bout of FOMO as I feel the desire to get to all the places–all at once. The colors are absolutely overwhelmingly beautiful and I don’t want to miss a single patch of trees.
I meander along the Beartooth and Chief Joseph highways, stopping here and there to wander into sneaky, color-filled spaces.
Back at camp after dark there is screeching in the woods. And another one and another one.
After a little sleuthing I realize it’s at least 2 (maybe 3) juvenile great horned owls begging for food. It’s too dark to take a picture, but I love knowing the owls are there. They are persistent, screeching until well past midnight. “You big babies!” I think, smiling to myself. “Go catch your own food!”
Camp is much better tonight. Soft sounds of people talking, crackling campfires, owls screeching, all under the bottomless Milky Way.
Checking out the cottonwoods in Lamar Valley
I decide to head towards Lamar Valley to see the morning light on the cottonwoods along the river. It’s another beautiful morning, but not quite as clear.
I almost regret my choice when I come around the corner to the valley to find it packed with cars—folks watching the Junction Butte wolves. I love wolves, but don’t love watching them with hundreds of other people. Yes, I admit I am spoiled. Even the Soda Butte Valley is packed with cars at eight in the morning. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I worry about the effects on the ecosystem having less shoulder-season breathing room. Who am I kidding? I worry about the effects on me!
So I do the only thing I know how to do, which is retreat to a quiet place in the hills overlooking the valley.
Eventually, I notice a large brown spot running way out across the valley. Since a lone animal running often means “something” is happening, I am curious. Through my binoculars, I discover it’s a moose! A cow I think, or a young bull, the distance is too great to see the detail. The moose is hightailing it across the valley floor. What spooked it? A predator? All the folks on the roadway? Some questions remain mysteries—I’m just happy to witness wild animals doing what they do.
Last morning at Pebble Creek
My last morning at the campground I sit at the picnic table journaling, enjoying the quiet as the site empties out. It’s the last morning for anyone at Pebble Creek campground actually, it’s closing for the season today. So I’m sitting in the first warm(er) rays of sun, happy as a clam.
All in all it’s been a pretty great getaway.
Can’t get enough fall color? Check out Yellowstone’s Fall Colors Basecamp, Reveling in Yellowstone’s Fall Colors, and Hiking Yellowstone’s Fall Color.
Planning your own trip to Yellowstone? We can help! Check out our trip planning resources.
Images © Jenny Golding
