The lights are on, but nobody is home: National Parks in the off season.

Our National Parks are amazing places, designed to provide a sense of cultural identity and a point of national pride, as well as being an instantly recognizable model for conservation and protection. They serve as snapshots of the unique locations in our country and bring visitors from all over the country, and all over the world.

But, therein lies the problem. People. Those pesky other people. Now, don’t get me wrong: National Park Service employees are incredibly happy that people love our National Parks. Because the public cares about our parks, and wants to see them, visit them, stay in them, and learn about them, people like me have the amazing luck of being able to work in them day after day.  But, there are times when living and working in a National Park can become difficult because our day to day lives take place in the same locations where millions of visitors have decided to congregate.

Let’s look at the visitation stats for my “Home Park”, Grand Canyon.

(Note: All stats provided in this article were collected from the official NPS stats website at https://irma.nps.gov/Stats/ . This is an amazing site, accessible to anyone who wants to see visitation statistics about the National Parks. Further non-visitation stats for the NPS can be found through the IRMA (Integrated Resource Management Applications) Portal at https://irma.nps.gov/App/ )

So, in 2013 the total visitor count for Grand Canyon was roughly 4.5 Million people, the fourth highest year on record.

Source:

https://irma.nps.gov/Stats/SSRSReports/Park SpecificReports/Annual Park Recreation Visitation Graph (1904 - Last CalendarYear)?Park=GRCA

And if we look a bit closer we can break down those stats by month.

Source: https://irma.nps.gov/Stats/SSRSReports/Park%20Specific%20Reports/Monthly%20Public%20Use?Park=GRCA

Basically, any month that a person might consider spending time outside to be a positive experience is likely to be filled with tourists. Keep in mind that in a place like Grand Canyon there are only 3,000 to 5,000 year-round residents. On a busy weekend day in summer it’s very possible for tourists to outnumber the locals by 200 to 1! Not exactly a point where you’ll be likely to get out and enjoy the peace and solitude in your park, eh?

This is not to say that it’s impossible to enjoy a park as a resident during the busy season. One of the perks of living and working in a National Park is that you get to know it, or your local part of it, like the back of your hand. Once you’ve been around for a little bit you know where “that” spot is, the spot where on a beautiful summer day you can go to a place far from the throngs of visitors, and still have the beauty and majesty of the park all to yourself. It helps to keep you sane when you're number 30 in line at the post office >.> 

Back on topic: The crowds at the parks can be a bear during the summer, but the tradeoff is the magical time where all the tourists disappear back to their real lives, the hotels close up, the restaurants and stores run on limited hours, and the park is all yours.

This is what Old Faithful in Yellowstone looks like in the summer.

Image Source: http://www.youmustbetrippin.com/are_we_there_yet/montana_road_trip_yellowstone.html

This is the same boardwalk in January.

Nobody here but us Bison!

Which of those looks like the way you want to make a connection with a display of nature’s force and beauty? Mhhhhhhmmmmm…. That’s what I thought.

Now, let’s try this again. Which one looks like a better time to visit?

This?

Source: http://www.nps.gov/grca/parknews/2011-05-26_mather.htm

Image Credit: Michael Quinn, National Park Service.

Or this?

Image Credit: Lance Diskan.

Okay, I’ll admit that last image is cheating a little bit. It was taken during the 2013 government shutdown. It’s REALLY hard to find Mather Point completely empty during the day, even if you work for the park and are there on a regular basis.

But, the point still stands. If you want to experience a National Park, without all the people, you go in the off season.

You still get to see things like Punchbowl Spring at Yellowstone,

But instead of being greeted by tour groups, buses belching diesel smoke into the air, and screaming children, you get to enjoy things like this

Note: The two other people in this picture were traveling with me. There was not another person visible ANYWHERE when this shot was taken.

Instead of jockeying for position to take a picture of the upper geyser basin, you can take your time to get the image just right, and there won’t be anyone to mar your view

Instead of stressing about being bumped off the narrow boardwalks surrounded by boiling mud, you can sit down and watch the steam waft by in the afternoon light.

You get the point….

But let’s just drive it home with more gratuitous geyser pics, all of which were taken on a nice relaxing walk where we saw not one, not two, not three, but FOUR people on the entire 2-ish mile walk. Oh the humanity!

Possibly my favorite shot of the trip.

And last but not least, the critical shot of Old Faithful itself.

 

So, final lesson: Avoid tourists, enjoy your parks, go out of the way, love the off season!

Ta Ta for Now, from your friendly NPS-ers, living the dream.

~CBD

Dispatch from Geyserland: Frosty Mornings

Weekend mornings in the Old Faithful District are my domain. I've started taking my camera with me more often for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the mostly un-witnessed beauty of winter mornings. In these hours, Yellowstone becomes my private world - vast, secretive, fantastic. There are more wonders here than can be seen in a lifetime, and at this time of year so many of them unfold for my eyes alone. As I ride my snowmobile past the still-quiet Snow Lodge, I witness bison clad in frost moving along the roadway, plodding along the path of least resistance to conserve what energy they can. For a moment I stop at a distance and consider taking a photograph, but as the lead bison lifts its head to assess my intentions I think better of it and leave them in peace. They are spread out, three or four of them - such a small group compared with the throngs of bison that gather in the fall. We often say here that winter is the ultimate predator. I think for a moment of how much they must have enjoyed these past weeks of 20-degree weather after the bitter cold of early December, then move on.

I often find it difficult to explain my feelings about this place. It is sometimes brutally, heartbreakingly real, and sometimes implausible, magical, seeming to exist outside of time. Like Narnia, Skyrim, Serre, and Middle Earth it is full of wonderment and danger. I can be annoyingly poetic and yet fail to capture even a fraction of the essence of Yellowstone. Even my photos from today fall woefully short.

As I continue north the fog becomes impenetrable. I decide to turn south until there is more light and head for Kepler Cascades. One of my favorite views, I have photos of Kepler in almost every light and condition. Even on a dark night I like to go up and just stand there, listening to the roar of the falls. The snow on the boardwalk thuds under my approach. It's cold - not terribly cold by Yellowstone standards, but the increased moisture is palpable. I never wear gloves when using my camera, and my fingers begin to ache as I snap a few quick, improperly metered shots. Turning to the north I put the gloves back on for a few moments. Old Faithful is erupting in the distance, and the cold has turned the always impressive plume of steam into a billowing storm cloud. I can't see the geyser, but there is no mistaking the source of the steam. Moments later this is confirmed by the voice on my radio giving the next prediction. I head back toward the ranger station, my knuckles still protesting.

I make it back to the station a little before 9:00 and record the weather observations. It's still -4°F. No wonder my fingers hurt. Last night's low of -15°F is still nothing to the weather of a month or so ago, but it's a good 10 degrees colder than it's been the last couple of weeks. For giggles, I check last year's observations for this date. They are almost identical.

The remainder of my shift passes as shifts do during winter in the interior. The snowcoaches pass like colorful canned hams in and out of the parking lot. The snowmobile tours make their rounds, and the ambulance goes out on Mattracks to take a patient to the hospital with the ponderous persistence of a tortoise. By 4:00 it's twilight and I'm happy that the Christmas lights are still up outside the front door. The boards have been up on our lower level and front walkway for weeks, keeping out the snow but also the light. After getting geared down I check my photos and am disappointed. Next time I'll take the extra moment to make the correct adjustments, but I doubt that my camera will ever capture what I see in this place. The snow is more beautiful when one can also feel it.

Now, as I sit here indulging in the narcissism that is blogging, it's a balmy 10°F and has been fully dark for a couple of hours. The days will get longer from here on out, however imperceptibly at first. I'm making my plans for tomorrow which will necessarily include paperwork, but will undoubtedly include something amazing that I didn't even expect.

-- KMR