4. Yellowstone.

I left Goldhill, Colorado, at the beginning of June, spending a couple of nights at the edge of the Rocky Mountain National Park. I took a trail uphill to Chasm Lake, passing through lodgepole forest and treeline spruce and fir, then dwarf birch and willows and into the alpine zone ... just like it should be back home, apart from the marmots busily feeding after the snow melt. It was billed as 'strenuous', and indeed it was a stretch, climbing up 2500 to 12000 feet on a hot day; despite this there were perhaps 150 other folk on the trail that day, partly I discovered, because the forecast had said no lightning storms were predicted. ‘Too busy’ I thought, little did I know that's how all the Parks are these days.

I drove on north through the rattlesnake badlands, ranches and oil towns of Wyoming, the cowboy state, so dry the snakes were heading into town, towards the mountains where I found a spot to camp in the Sinks Canyon State Park. The Park surrounds a sheltered limestone gorge that heads west into the Wind River Wilderness, and is a place where the tribes of the past have rested and carved their petroglyphs into the rocks. I sheltered there a couple of nights myself, beside the fast snow-melt river, complete with majestic waterfall. Then drove on again through the Wind River reservation, trailer homes and casinos; Thermopolis, a faded spa town; and Cody, a tourist theme park of Buffalo Bill fame, with nightly rodeo. And finally arrived after some 500 miles at Yellowstone National Park, that legendary place, to fulfil a long-held ambition to check out yogi bear and co.

I spent my first evening with a few other folk sitting by the Yellowstone river, watching a herd of elk (red deer back home, although quite a bit larger here) on the opposite hillside; mergansers on the river, a heronry on an island downstream, and a gaggle of canada geese. There were three bison on the meadows on our side of the river, later coming down to drink and have a dustbath. A tranquil, timeless scene. Until the elk got edgy, moving off quickly; and then a glimpse of a black bear as it broke cover and sulked off into the forest. This time of year the young elk calves are left hidden until they can run, and the bears know it; however, the elk have countered the best sense of smell in the animal kingdom with odourless young. The wonders of co-evolution! Or creation as I think a large proportion of the Wyoming population would say. So a good introduction and I spent the night at that spot, sleeping in the car as all the camp sites were full.

Up at 0530 to head off and get a camping spot. I'd noticed what I thought was smoke the previous evening, curious given the recent fire history of the Park. And now, on this misty morning, I thought I could smell a whiff in the air. Rounding a corner there was a sign for the Sulphur Cauldron. I'd been so focused on the wildlife angle that I'd completely forgotten about all the hydrothermal wonders of the Park. Stopping for a quick look it was the most extraordinary sight, and sound, of boiling sulphurous mud! So after checking in at the campsite, queueing for a spot at 0645, and some brekker, I spent most of the day exploring the Norris Geyser Basin, one of many 'windows to the earth's interior' in the Park. What an amazing place, with steamy fumaroles, tempting emerald hot springs and an array of spouting geysers. 'Geyser', I learned, is pronounced as in the regular male, rather than the person of diversity or, as I thought, the bloke from sarf London.

It was a sensurround experience, with colours of red, brown, green and yellow from the thermophilic organisms that incredibly thrive in these conditions; the sounds of hubble-bubbling, gurgling and hissing of superheated water; and the smell of sulphur in the air. The Park area was considered sacred to the indigenous peoples who came each year, the Eastern Shoshone describing it as having ‘a lot of medicine’ At the Minute geyser three folk were sitting on camp chairs, with notebooks and stopwatches, timing the eruptions, the current one being now twelve minutes long and set to become the longest of the day. I had a quick chat ... they were on vacation, came every year, just fascinated by the hydro action.

My own anal pastime took off back at the parking lot at Canyon, one of the major visitor hubs in the Park. With more than 4 million visitors a year these days, this is a busy place .... hotel, lodgings, restaurant, a good cafe and ice cream outlet, a gift shop with the usual range of t-shirts, cuddly toys, books and fridge magnets, a store selling groceries, a ranger base, and vehicles parked up from all over the US. I'd noticed that the license plates here are rather attractive and differ for each state, usually depicting an iconic landscape to attract the tourist dollar, often accompanied by a state motto. Wyoming has a rodeo cowboy out on the range and I was looking forward to passing through Montana soon, 'Big Sky Country' complete with smoking volcano. One of my favourites is Utah, (everyone says go there), with a picture of orange sandstone arches and the strapline 'Life Elevated'; Washington has a snowy peak with the line 'Evergreen State'; Arizona is a good one, with a purple desert cactus landscape, turquoise sky and the motto 'Grand Canyon State'; New Mexico has to be one of the best, 'Land of Enchantment', wow, gonna go there next time, or maybe to Nevada 'The Silver State' (although I heard someone refer to it as the 'drive through' state). A few are historical ... Illinois, 'Land of Lincoln' with a profile of himself; South Dakota, 'Great Faces Great Places', a little random until you look closely and see Mt Rushmore in the background. And some are philosophical ... New Hampshire,'Live Free or Die' and Texas,'In God We Trust' with the flag of course. And then there's Idaho ... a dark blue forest skyline, pale mountains behind and a sky grading from white to sunset red; and the motto .... 'Famous Potatoes'. Eh? What? Well I do like my tatties, and Moray where I live grows some good ones, and carrots; however, I'm not sure that really ranks with 'Land of Enchantment' for getting me to visit, I'd go with the leprechauns any day. Finally, on my way to get an ice-cream, I spotted a Kentucky plate; first thought? 'finger lickin good'? No, a shame they missed that opportunity and went for the heroic 'Unbridled Spirit' instead.

Most folk are here of course for the animals rather than the license plates. You can tell the newly arrived visitors as they'll stop the traffic to admire the bison, which indeed are magnificent beasts. The bulls are often wandering in ones or twos along the roadsides, now looking shaggy as they lose their winter coats and oblivious to the attention. After a couple of days folk just pass by looking for other animals .... elk draw a lot of interest, far fewer here than in Scotland; but in particular bears, and 'bearjams' on the roads are quite common, one I stopped at had a whole crowd of people with lenses focused on a youngster in a tree, snoozing away. There's a constant drip of info covering what to do if you should meet a bear whilst hiking, depending on whether it's a black or grizzly. One thing not to do is climb a tree, although this is apparently a good way to tell your bears apart .... if it follows you up, then it's a black; if it pushes the tree over then it's a grizzly. The wolves of course are on everyone's list but keep a much lower profile.

A couple of days later I climbed Mt Washburn, a central vantage point in the park. There were still snow banks on the trail, hard going, but interspersed with easier clear sections. It was warm although looking a little ominous to the north west; afternoon lightning storms are a serious hazard here. I stopped to watch some ground squirrels frantically eating old pine needles and grass shoots; must have just emerged from beneath the snow, quite friendly critturs. A couple from Carolina stopped to chat and I was encouraged to carry on. There was thunder in the distance and a few spots of rain towards the top, but the storm passed by. The mountain is on the edge of a former caldera, Yellowstone having been through three volcanic super-eruptions over the past two million years, the continuing vulcanism powering the hydrothermal features. With glaciation, the geology and resulting landforms are quite complex but there's a good overview from the top, indeed a panorama ... 360 degrees of forest, prairie and sagebrush steppe, the gorge of the Yellowstone canyon, the lake and, all around, the distant snowy mountains of the greater Yellowstone ecosystem.

When I got back down to the parking lot there were blue flashing lights and three cops … whoa, maybe someone’s been eaten I thought. Or perhaps my first run-in with the law? I'd ignored the 'road closed' sign at the lot and squeezed through a few cones to park up, but surely they were after bigger fish? Just in case, I tried walking on innocently as if my car wasn't there, but was called back; indeed I had committed a 'violation' and now it seemed like it was the rookie's lucky day. A number of questions ensued and a request to produce my particulars. All in order but a fine was imposed ... it was apparent that this was a training outing of some sort and the rookie made a real hash of the paperwork which later caused me some bother. The chief said how lucky I was, as the other two cars in the lot, probably including my friends from Carolina, were about to get towed away! He asked how my day had been so far and hoped that this incident wouldn't spoil it. Very thoughtful. Now these guys had rangers uniforms on; where I come from rangers are the cuddly folk who lead walks and blindfold your kids so that they can play at being bats.

And so south again stopping off at Old Faithful, an air of anti-climax rippling through the crowd with the performance we witnessed, not one of its best. I drove through the Grand Teton National Park, the Tetons named from the French word for tits according to a woman I overheard in the street in Jackson; but these are real alpine peaks, young and ruggedly pointed. Despite what I said above about Idaho I spent a week or so there in the Teton Valley, helping out at the Earthfire Institute, a small organisation which runs a wildlife sanctuary and hosts occasional retreats. (See earthfireinstitute.org).

The director, Susan Eirich, is a cousin of Nick M from back home in Forres. It's been going for twenty years on 40 acres, a fabulous spot with stunning views of the Teton range now to the east, every sunrise and sunset lit up in differing colours. They care for bears, both grizzly and black, wolves, including two cute five week old cubs, my favourite a cougar, coyotes, a bobcat; many of whom have been pets that outgrew their homes, others that have been orphaned or injured. There are foxes rescued from fur farms. And soon they were to take in a family of beavers being re-located. Every so often a great yowling, barking and yelping goes off. Susan, a psychologist, believes that connection with the animals brings about a deeper way of relating to nature, as well as being valuable for personal healing. She supports the 'nature has rights' movement. (See www.earthlawcenter.org). Her partner Jean is the animal handler and sometimes gets commissions to work with the media or on film sets.

Before I left the area I headed into the Teton Canyon, the trail crossing avalanche runs with piles of twisted trees, to climb the Devils Staircase, steeply up through a series of limestone crags and ledges, where I could see there would soon be a wonderful display of flowers, to a spot amongst the snow patches where I spent an hour watching the sun descend behind those pointed peaks. The western side of the Tetons is much quieter and I had the place to myself. Back down the trail I met a couple of charming young Jehovahs witnesses, one of several Christian encounters on the trip so far; and then followed a porcupine as it waddled along ahead, the noise of the river blanking out my steps. It stopped and turned at one point and we met eye to eye. If you've never looked into the face of a porcupine, even through binocs, they're pretty freaky .... long protruding orange incisors, deep staring eyes and a complete facial fringe of erect quills. It's not just the big beasts that bring special encounters. Back at the parking lot a couple of frisky adolescent moose were hanging about, you’ve got to be careful of them. From the interpretation board I learned that this area is part of the Jedediah Smith Wilderness; Jed, to his mates, was an early frontiersman, hunting and trading across a wide area of the west. Legend has it that he virtually lost his scalp in a grizzly attack, getting it sown back on by one of the aforementioned mates … only foolishly to lose it again a few years later, this time permanently, to the Commanche.

Those incisors, porcupine’s rather than grizzly’s, must have prompted my own appetite as I checked out the Royal Wolf in Driggs, the local town on the way back. It's an ironic name for a bar here as the w word is not mentionable locally; Susan and Jean had a really tough time when they first arrived in the area and even now they face some hostility. The menu features 'The Colossal Potato', baked with a range of fillings .... I've tasted better, although it was a fair size right enough. The humble tuber does indeed feature a lot in Idaho culture, there's even a candy bar called the Big Spud and heading north again the next day on the way to Jackson I passed the Spud Drive-In Theatre. They're really proud of their potatoes in these parts, but I still think they need a change of marketing manager, unless they're rightly wanting to keep places like the Teton Valley closely guarded secrets.