Each and All: Hiking with Transcendentalist Math

Osprey Falls

Yellowstone National Park

9.2-miles round trip, strenuous
Long ago and far away from the Bunsen Peak Trailhead, Ralph Waldo Emerson poetically opined: All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone.  We love the hike to Osprey Falls, but pinpointing specific reasons for that fondness is difficult.  It’s a classic example of the sum being greater than the parts—of adding two plus two and magically getting five. 
  
Not that the “components” aren’t special, but what is remarkable is how they build upon one another to provide a classic Yellowstone hiking experience.  This is particularly so on a crisp, sun-splashed morning under the big (almost) Montana sky before crowds hit the trail.  An early start is essential.  We will cover nine-plus miles of variably challenging terrain, and a mid-afternoon return under a penetrating August sun can be draining.  The trail is actually an abandoned dirt and gravel service road for the initial 3.2 miles, a mostly flat route with only occasional tree cover obscuring otherwise wide open sightlines across scrub grass and meadow. 

Big (Almost) Montana Sky and the Gallatins.

And the views are stunning: Bunsen Peak rises immediately to the north of the trail, and unobstructed views of Electric Peak and the remainder of the Gallatin Range are available throughout the trek.  If we are successful with an early start, we may spot bison and elk on the adjacent range, browsing and grazing before retreating from mid-day heat.  A number of ponds, rife with waterfowl, are present near the trailhead; they will offer a nice penultimate respite on the return.

Sheepeater Canyon and the Gardiner River.

In due course, there is a preview of our destination: a bend in the road and a negligible climb provide an overlook of the Gardiner River entrenched in Sheepeater Canyon.  Although the falls are not yet visible, we get a sense for the different terrain ahead and for the looming descent into the canyon as the service road yields to the Osprey Falls Trail. 

Navigating the Switchbacks.

A .6-mile skirt along the rim tapers to a series of steep but not particularly hazardous switchbacks that deliver us to the base of the falls.  The occasional toppled tree and rock scree only enhance this .8 mile downward segment—along with the intensifying roar of the cascade and the atmospheric cooling of nearing water.  Trail’s end brings a jumble of rock outcroppings, collapsed from enveloping chasm walls.  They invite us to sit, to rest, and to take in the 150-foot cascade, the river, and the inner canyon that surround us and saturate our senses:

Micro-Scenery: Harebell.

The falls can be approached and accessed by scrambling across a steep slope, although our experience has been that the primary reward of doing this is a less impressive view of the falls.  The more subtle features of this place, such as wildflowers and other vegetation nurtured by mist from the cascade, can be appreciated and fully enjoyed from a spot on the canyon floor.

Mist-Fed Garden on the Canyon Floor.

Exercising Caution.

We are almost always less motivated for the return leg of an out-and-back-hike.  This is particularly true here because of the steep climb out of the canyon.  But thereafter, a comfortable pace and rhythm can be achieved over the increasingly level right-of-way with ever-modulating views of the Gallatins providing inspiration for the effort.

It is during one of these returns from Osprey Falls that we experience a quintessential Yellowstone moment.  Not ten minutes after grumbling mildly about another failure to sight the trail’s namesake Osprey—either in flight or nesting in the canyon—we receive a breathtaking wayside rebuke. Approaching a copse of immature pine trees, we hear—we feel, almost—a sudden rush of beating wings, as the magnificent brown-and-grayish raptor approaches and passes at eye level, talons deployed, in pursuit of unseen prey.  Once more we think of Emerson: Over me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and of deity; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird; — Beauty through my senses stole; I yielded myself to the perfect whole.

On Dirt and Gravel Return Road, Yielding to the Perfect Whole.

Perhaps that’s why we love this place: while we struggle to evaluate discrete parts, to measure unconnected moments, we know that the aggregate experience will be something new, something unforgettable, something inspiring.