My borderline obsession with Montana means regularly check in with local media, usually the solid Billings Gazette or the Bozeman Daily Chronicle (which Athens refers to as the Daily Comical for scant coverage of local events).
I have been struck by the deaths at Yellowstone National Park lately. All under different circumstances, but equally illustrative of deadliness lurking in the splendor.
One man got mauled by a grizzly while in the backcountry with his wife, who was part of a team of researchers studying them. Grizzly encounters rarely end well, especially early in the season when bears are hungry and females have cubs.
Two men apparently fell while ice-climbing at the waterfalls that flow into the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. Ice-climbing under any circumstances can be a roll of dice, but the weathered stone of the canyon poses other problems. A single trail leads into its depths, and that's under the best conditions. They were supposedly seasoned climbers, but skill and fate don't always line up.
The most recent struck me as the saddest. Months after rangers found an overdue rental car, the former Marine from Oklahoma who drove it was found dead of an apparent suicide deep in the backcountry.
At every stop I made in the park, the natural beauty overwhelmed me: the fly-fishermen casting in the Madison River, the shores of Yellowstone Lake, Mount Washburn's spectacular heights and the north entrance's high desert, among dozens more.
I don't dare guess about the circumstances which led him to want to die at Yellowstone. But it's depressing to think that someone could end their life in such an inspiring place, where megafauna and geologic marvels lie around every corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment