Awoke to a
wicked storm brewing in Gardiner this morning! The winds are crashing against the logs of the
house and the brutally frigid temps have been seeping through the windows all
night. Can this really be the cards we
will be dealt for all of October? I
guess I should feel fortunate that it's a good day for a grant deadline,
because without the January like storm which has locked down the Gardiner Basin
I would be yearning to drop everything to pursue runner brown trout in the
pools of the Gardner River.
It has been
almost a week since I have seen the rugged sandstone outcropping of Electric
Peak and for the third morning in a row the monarch of Mammoth Hot
Springs—Bunsen Peak—is shrouded in a white haze and leaving me to wonder
whether the extinct volcano cone is simply a figment of my imagination.
On most days the
expansive view from our flat bench overlooking the worn and raggedy town of
Gardiner and the park beyond often makes us feel as if we are living in the
Vatican of Yellowstone. But on days such as today, when the vistas leading into
the gaping mouth of the Black Canyon and prominent landmarks such as Turkey Pen
Peak, Rattlesnake Butte, Sepulcher Mountain and McMinn Bench are cloaked in the
flurries of a storm, our home acts not as temple but instead as a refuge.
One of the
many pleasures of being the head boys’ basketball coach here in Gardiner is the
opportunity to endure the incessant winds and glacial temperatures that
accompany winter in one of the sturdiest structures in town, the gym. Though I always dread the 6 am practices when
I have to awake two hours before the gray rays of light begin to dully
illuminate our sleepy little basin, knowing I will soon be in the warmth of a
gym with 20 of my boys makes this daunting task more than tolerable.
Each winter
morning starts the same: I take tender
steps with achy bones not yet warmed into the cold and darkness of winter. My head is covered in stocking cap and hooded
parka and I usually have a decision to make about my hands. Being that I often forget my gloves in the
tomb of the truck overnight, I more often than not have to make a difficult
decision for a foggy brain: What’s
worse? The painful possibility of
pinching the steering wheel between my right index finger and thumb in effort to
reduce skin contact to the steely rubber of the trucks piloting device, or,
forgoing skin to rubber contact and choosing to encase my hands in a frozen stiff
leather glove? But regardless of how I go about arriving on the hardwood in
time to open up the locker room doors and prepare the gym for a frenzied
practice, there is a sense of relief having hurried from the windswept parking
lot of the school and into the sanctuary of our winter home away from home.
I find it a
bit disturbing that I am having these thoughts of January on the 9th
day of October but thus far, with the exception of one day, the first week and
a half of what is usually my favorite month of the year more closely resembles
the short and blustery days of winter than the splendor of autumn. It is not simply that the calendar on my
wall tells me it is far too early for such extreme and yet steady weather, but
the land itself does not seem ready for the blustery winds and mercury dropping
readings we are now experiencing throughout the region.
The three day
weather forecast for Bozeman, Montana reads: Today’s high 22, low 2, with 100%
chance of snow. Saturday’s high 22, low
5. Sunday’s high 23, low 7. And yet, the cottonwoods lining the
Yellowstone River and dotting the arid heart of Gardiner still hold their deep
green hue and even the 30+ mph winds are not yet tearing the leaves from their
stems.
As I write
these words the rattle of the gutters and battering of the windows send small
tremors throughout the house and the right side of my body tenses with the
sporadic flow of cold air seeping through the door. For the sanity of the residents of our small
gateway communities I have to hold out hope that this is just a freakish
anomaly, not a harrowing trend.
~Michael Leach, Director
Within one hour of writing this essay, Electric Peak began to appear...
For the first time in a week the sandstone outcropping of Electric on display in G-town!
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