We drove out on the east entrance road, past our hotel. The weather was threatening. Earlier in the day the weather had actually attacked, so I knew it was serious. I wanted to exercise caution.

Crossing the Fishing Bridge (so called because people used to fish there but don’t any more because the government decided it was a Bad Idea), it felt as if we were leaving the park. It was getting late. 7 PM, maybe, and the sun was still up but you could tell that it was getting colder and stormier and there was a generally less friendly feel to the countryside.

We traveled off the beaten track and across mosquito laden swampland at the top point of the great lake. Stopping momentarily to snap a picture, we moved on quickly. The weather sucked, and so did the mosquitoes.

Our objective was an obscure overlook. The area was covered with once-alive trees (that is, dead ones). A mass of forest fires had scoured many areas in Yellowstone, leaving only exceptionally thick toothpicks that stood 30 or 40 feet high. (I have a picture somewhere, which I might post, if I ever find it).

The turnoff was nicely paved and wound back and forth up a steep hill. At the end was a parking area and a couple of standard pit toilets, The view was impressive. To the south were the snow covered mountains, on the other side of the lake. To the west the sun was setting behind clouds. To the east was a mountain range still lit by the setting sun. Right where we were was wind.

Lots and lots of wind. Strong wind. Aggressive wind. Having failed to crush our rental car with hail, Weather was attempting to blow me away with wind. Up on the hill we were sitting ducks. Quack.

Not deterred by a little wind, I decided to climb the hill to the top. By myself, of course, because it wouldn’t be fun with anyone else. No risk. I charged up, forgetting we were at 8,000 feet and by the time I got to the top I was huffing and puffing in a most embarrassing manner.

But oooooooo the view! It was just like down below, except… higher!

It was also bleak up there at the top. I really felt alone, there in the wild. A bear could have appeared at any time and attacked and no one would have known. Heck a ground squirrel could have appeared at that moment and made me faint.

On the top of a hill in Yellowstone in high winds, no one can hear you scream.

Point is, it felt eerie. Empty. Devoid of life or anything good. There were tons of trees about, but they were dead, all of them. The wind pushed me back and forth, but the trees hardly moved. They were stiff and hard, as if paralyzed with rigor mortis.

I did what I had come to do. I took pictures. I hope that this one conveys some of the emptiness I experienced on the top of that hill in the middle of nowhere.