Being in Yellowstone has left me feeling pretty stoned – in two senses of the word.

On one hand, the physical beauty of the place leaves one stunned at times. The light and the colors, particularly at the end of the day, causes the effect of deserted cars and trucks on the side of the road, their inhabitants seen wandering through high grass, while gently spinning in a circle, binoculars to eyes, oblivious to their appearance.

However, the meaning of being pummeled by rocks also applies, especially in respect to the sheer number of fellow humans (and their autos) that constantly surround you, almost anywhere you go. And, no, the irony that Kath and I are part of the problem does not escape me, but the number of people in the park, especially near famous sites, like Old Faithful, really detract from the majesty of the place. I think the National Park Service does the best they can with the volume, and I don’t know how you turn people away, but something has got to be done about it, at some point.

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