Bechler, the Other Way

We took everyone except the Petes on the Bechler hike. This time we went from Old Faithful to the Bechler ranger station. The other way. One day of climbing, and the rest downhill.

Starting off, from the Kepler Falls parking lot.

Lunch, at Lone Star Geyser. 

Heading into the wild.

More breaks. After a pretty flat start, we spent the rest of the first day climbing. So no more pictures from me.

Madelyn skipping through camp.

There were so many mosquitos that we had to hide in the tents to get away from them.

Starting off second day.

Jack, helping Lily across one of our many stream crossings.

The rest of us..

This is the boggy section south of the continental divide.

And a child shall lead them. June needed out of the pack once in a while.

Fortunately, she's muy cute.

At our second camp, near the convergence of three rivers. And near Mr. Bubbles.

Laura, matching herself.

Laura is standing in the mixture of hot and cold water from the river and a thermal spring.

Heart of slime.

Adam, negotiating a bridge.

Thermal spring, by Mr Bubble.

Thinking about getting in.

Mr Bubble is a hot spring (lower right), with the cold river flowing in (upper left). The combination is just right, on average. With some deviation.

June wasn't sure if she wanted in.

But, she enjoyed it in the end.

Wide shot.

Low shot, with my camera strap dangling in the water.

Supper.

Madelyn.

Adam, with stylish poncho.

Angie, trying to decide if she likes hiking.

Rory, wishing to himself that we had brought more mosquito repellant.

Third day.

Thermally active areas were not common, but there were some.

Jack, with butterfly.

Lily's hair!

More stream crossings.

My flip flop had given up the ghost the previous day, as soon as we got back from Mr Bubble. So, I had to sort of tape it up to keep it on my foot while fording.

Sam, getting his toes dry after crossing.

Jack even took his pants off.

June, consenting to be carried.

We finally came to the big bad ford. The deep one.

Jack, pausing to consider the consequences of a misstep.

And, that's it for pictures from me. My taped flip flop gave way half way across the river, and I fell in, submerging my camera, and destroying it. Sam took my pack over, and I got back up and made it across. Jann and the kids now call this ford Pops' Flop.

Our last campsite was that buggiest, and we pondered on the wisdom of hiking at all. We were allowed a fire, though, which helped.

The fourth day, we were so fed up with the bugs that we dashed (even the little girls) through the last seven miles in three hours.

When can we do it again?