Memory Lane - Jackson, Wyoming, and Yellowstone National Park

I'm currently reading a series of books by C. J. Box that details the life and adventures of a fictional game warden in Wyoming. This particular game warden has a habit of stumbling over and involving himself in crimes that are not really part of his fish and game jurisdiction - a trait that does not endear him to the local sheriff or his employers. Warden Pickett is sort of an anti-hero; he's not all that good at solving crimes, but his tenaciousness and pig-headed devotion to what is right eventually see him through, and it makes an enjoyable read.  As a bonus, Box is very good at describing the beauty and natural appeal of Wyoming, so all-in-all I'm enjoying the series.

The last two books have especially resonated with me in that the first was centered in Jackson Wyoming and the current book has Pickett in Yellowstone National Park. In 1958 my family and the Woods family camped in Jackson and Yellowstone and many of the details in the books evoke memories of that trip. The antler arches leading to the Jackson town square, the tourist-trap stores in Jackson, the ski lift.

Notice the killer flat-top and the very fashionable turned up cuffs. Notice too that there is no safety belt. Also notice that I am holding on for dear life with one hand. I'm really surprised that I let go to wave.

Yellowstone is a big place. My memory is that we got as far as the middle - where Old Faithful is - camped there and made day trips to other areas of the park, such as the Fishing Bridge (where fishing is not allowed now) and the Geyser Basin and the mud pots. It was Yellowstone, where after supper one evening, we walked up to the Old Faithful Lodge to sight-see, and on the way back Steve Wood went skipping ahead, calling out, "There's a bear. There's a bear." Then we heard a shriek and heard Steve coming back at full speed, yelling "There IS a bear, there IS a bear." Sure enough, one of the camp bears had peeled open our cooler and was helping himself to some bacon and eggs. We shouted him out of camp and as he made his way through other nearby camp sites, we could hear others shouting at him. And no, we didn't pause to take Mr Bear's picture. This is some other camp that did without breakfast, but it perfectly captures the moment.

I'm told that encounters with bears in Yellowstone are rare now (except for bears getting run over by autos); the majority of animal/tourist conflicts are with elk and bison that roam freely throughout the park. I don't recall seeing a single example of either when I was there. But I remember Mr. Bear.