Skiing Near Mammoth

It was around 11:30am when we decided that we are going to take the 12:15pm ski shuttle out to Indian Creek and ski down to the Golden Gate area, and we had yet to rent some gear. However, with everyone being extremely nice and helpful we were ready to go with the skis and poles in tow.

The shuttle dropped us off at the Indian Creek where we immediately climbed into a warming hut, which was rather cold. The stove was not too cooperative, but the shuttle driver was able to get the fire going again. We still got a bit cold while gobbling down our peanut butter and jam sandwiches, but we warmed up quickly when we set out on our first skiing adventure in Yellowstone.

We skied a bit along the road, crossed a bridge over Gardner River and turned on to the ski trail. The path wound through the young pines, whose branches, bent under the weight of the snow, threw blue shadows across the path. When out in the open, we could see for miles across the snow.
















We were steadily moving towards the Bunsen Peak, at the foot of which we were to turn left at the fork in the trail, towards the road. Logs occasionally crossed our path, and a couple downhill sections tightly lined by the pines challenged our snowplowing techniques. To be honest, falling down was pretty easy, cushy and soft. It was getting up that at times seemed impossible.

The snow around us, mostly untouched except by animal tracks, was probably about 2 feet deep. We stayed on the trail already compacted by other skiers, plus the skis kept us on top of the deep snow. But when we fell, it was hard to find anything to lean against in order get back on top of the skis. Our arms and knees completely fell through the snow before providing any leverage. The ski poles worked better but were harder to maneuver.

We still had over a mile to go, when we realized that the last shuttle for the day would reach the Golden Gate area, our destination, in about 20 minutes. A small heard of bison hanging out no more then 50 yards from the trail did not improve my spirits. A few minutes later Nick convinced me to ski ahead, and soon we were out of the trees skiing on the edge of the Swan Flats.

I could see the road marked by the tall polls to prevent it from disappearing into the snow. I was concentrating on skiing as fast as I could, when out of the corner of my eye I could see the ski shuttle coming back from Indian Creek.

I stopped a couple of times flailing my poles wildly above my head to convey to the driver that we did indeed wanted to be picked up. Every guide and driver in the park seemed to be an expert at spotting and identifying wild animals out in the distance even when they were just mere specks moving across the snow. So I hoped that I would look like a rather large speck.

We were not ever in any real mortal danger. If we missed the shuttle, we would have had to continue to ski down either on the trail or along the road, both of which would lead us back to Mammoth Hot Springs. So we would not have had to spend the night out in the snow, but the sun has set, and the idea of skiing for another couple of hours in complete darkness did not make me feel all fuzzy and warm.

After a few agonizing minutes, the shuttle finally turned off the road and stopped right before the road disappeared around the bend. I slowed down and took a breath of relief. I was taking off my skis and happily chatting to the driver, when Nick reached the road as well. Soon all 3 of us were rocking down the hill towards Mammoth, wallowing in the warmth of the ski shuttle.