The End Of A Season

Late Start. Little Snow. Lots of Guests. These are the 'titles' of the 2010 winter season. With next to no early snow and a death in the family, the season started sluggishly. By month end, we actually debated closing early. However, we knew if things turned around next year, we would face an uphill battle letting the world know we really were open for business. Furthermore, the good folks in West Yellowstone (after five years of listening to us complain) put us on the map and convinced us to purchase an add. We hated to disappoint anyone who actually decided to find out where that new trail led.

And so, January faded into February and the snow just did NOT want to fall. However, business started looking up. The first week we actually sold more food than we had to eat to keep it from going bad. Maybe, just maybe February would make us enough to justify keeping the lodge warm.

Week two - better than week one. Weeks three and four - business stayed steady, in fact, at times too steady. For the first time in six winter seasons we ran out of food - TWICE - the day before we were scheduled to restock.

As February drew to a close we watched, amazed, as the people kept coming. Perhaps the most telling comment - the one which told us, more than any other, this was no accident but a real-life blessing - was the one we heard the most. "We were wondering if you were open. There were tracks, but we didn't see anyone else on the trail."

That is not the norm. Typically we hear of this group of 20 or that group of 6 who "passed us heading for the hills" (or heading back to town). Not this year.

As we continued to serve up to and exceeding 30 lunches per day, we realized we were being handed an unexpected (and undeserved) gift. While we scrambled to keep enough supplies, the crowds kept showing up at our door. As February passed into eternity and March rolled around the corner, we expected things to return to January's quiet days. After all, the first full week of March is usually 'okay' but by the second, the tap has been slowed to a trickle. Again, we were surprised.

March 1, 2, 3 - the days flew past. Where are all these people coming from? The snow is thinning. The trail is ROUGH! Why? Yet they came. You'd think we would have gotten the picture. Yet habits die hard.

Look at the books. The last two years agree. It is very slow the second full week of March. After January's slow start, what's the point of keeping the doors open. Thus we decided not to make a new Sysco order. We would just run until we ran out of food or until the usual slow down kicked in.

I am sure you can guess what happened. By the end of that first full week, the food had disappeared. No bacon. No cheese. No burgers. No pickles. I could not help but laugh at myself. Who would have guessed the first week of March would find us with as many lunch guests as the best week in February? Not me, obviously!

Well, accidents happen. Nonetheless, we went into that second full week in March certain we would see next to no one. Did we buy more supplies? Of course not. We weren't going to have anyone to feed. Right? Wrong!

The first day met our expectations. Not a soul in sight. Elk Lake back to the quiet oasis we enjoyed in January. The second day of the second full week brought over FORTY guests! Where did they come from? What were they doing clear out here? Why now? Lunch? Sorry, no food!

Put out the 'Closed' sign, will you, Dear? This is embarrising! Day three - three guests who saw the sign but decided to make the loop. Day four. Quiet. Now this is what we expected.

It all just goes to show one should one should never make assumptions. Just when we thought we had winter figured out, along comes a left hook and catches us unaware. Just when we thought our blessings had dried up, along came a bucketful and drenched us. Just when we thought the economic blues might have reached Elk Lake, the 'world' showed up.

And so the winter of 2010 ended brighter than the winter of 2009 (and I mean more than just the preponderance of gorgeous sunny days)! Oh me of little faith! Thus I pass along to all you winter guests a hearty thanks for coming to see us (many of you more than once), for helping us keep our doors open, and for rolling with the punches when the selection grew thin. You are appreciated!

Lessons learned. Blessings overflowed. The sunshine upon the still-white snow is not the only 'bright' spot in our little world here at Elk Lake!

Lady of the Lake

Why Do People Come To Elk Lake?

I suppose it seems like a straightforward question, but the answer can be anything but straightforward. In fact, it can be downright difficult to put into words.

When I try to tell people what it is about Elk Lake which has captured me, I often find myself struggling for adequate terminology. How do you put a feeling into words? How do you explain a pomegranate to someone who has never seen a piece of fruit? Elk Lake is that different, that unique. It sometimes defies my best attempts to verbalize the essence of the place.

Nonetheless, people come. People from every walk of life. People from countries across the globe. People old and young. People from the city. People from the country.

Obviously Elk Lake does not just appeal to people from a certain social status or even geographic region, but appeal to some it does. However, as perfect as Elk Lake's fans believe it to be, it is not for everyone!

In the past six years we have probably had about that many guests who really did not like Elk Lake. In addition, I have talked many more out of coming - not because we do not want to share, not because we do not appreciate the business - but as much as I love Elk Lake, I know it will not appeal to some folks.

However, to those who love it, there really is no place which compares. So, what brings people to Elk Lake? More important what bring them back (because most return and the majority of those who do not speak longingly of 'one day when. . .')?

For some it is the wildness. Granted Elk Lake is not the only place which has escaped the ravages of time, but it is one of the few which is semi-easy to access in the lower 48. Furthermore, while some places are wild now, you know that is likely to change. Given enough time and enough people, some developer is bound to 'civilize' the place.

That is one reason I am thankful for the abundance of public land surrounding Elk Lake. Forest service land. State land. BLM land. Federal wildlife refuge land. And, thanks to the efforts of The Nature Conservancy, many of the large privately-held tracts of land in the valley are protected under conservation easements. Not that I have anything against subdivisions and people moving to more rural settings, but it is nice to know some places are unlikely to change much.

Speaking of not changing - that is another reason people come to Elk Lake. I have listened to 60+ year old men (and women) talk about their childhood memories of coming to Elk Lake with their parents or grandparents. The single thread which binds all of these stories together is the inevitable comment, "It's just like I remember it!"

Elk Lake's wildness does not appeal to everyone. Wildness implies a bit of tension - perhaps running into a bear or wolf. To some people, this is not thrilling. It is frightening. However, even folks frightened at this prospect are drawn to the peace and serenity which seems to surround the area.

In a world which pulls at us from every direction, more and more people are looking for someplace they can really relax. Even during our 'down-time', the phone or the door or the fax or the TV or the internet always seem to bring interruptions. Sometimes we just need to escape the voices of our 'electronic servants' (and the rest of the world) and just relax.

With no noise or light diffusion, with no TVs or telephones in the cabins, with no paved roads, lawn mowers, or honking horns, at Elk Lake stress seems to run out of your body like water. That feeling has caused folks to return year after year, some for twenty-five or thirty years or more!

Of course there is the natural beauty. We are all surrounded by beauty of one kind or another. The beauty in a flower. The glories of a puffy-cloud filled sky. The brilliant green of a spring meadow. The color splash of a blooming tree. These and more bring beauty into our daily lives. However sometimes people just like to get away from the 'manmade' contraptions which fill their skyline. That is easy to do at Elk Lake!

Perhaps even more amazing are the stories from those who have not only called Elk Lake home - they have called Elk Lake work. The previous owners all have their unique stories to tell. Experiences unlike those of any other owner. Yet, invariably, somewhere in the conversation every previous owner has expressed essentially the same thing: The best years of my life were the years I spent at Elk Lake!

Whatever the reason, people come to Elk Lake. And, more often than not, they leave here scratching their heads. "What is it?" they ask. "What makes this place so special? Why does it draw me like a magnet?" My reply is always the same. I do not know. It is special - what more can I say? Words may not be adequate to express the feeling, but time after time Elk Lake has worked its magic. Invariably I'm looking forward to returning even before I've even left!

Lady of the Lake

Otter Odyssey

Often living in the middle of nowhere provides you with unexpected adventure. Granted this can happen anywhere. However, for many, the unexpected adventure can be irritating, time consuming, or just plain awful. However, out here, while my adventures can send my heart racing, it is usually as much from thrill and fear.

Such was my experience this past spring. As all resort guests know, I have a wonderful hiking buddy. Two actually, but one who, if I don't want his company, I must sneak away. In other words, he thinks I walk for him! It's not about me. It's about his next adventure!!

And, many times, I have been very thankful for his company. Like the time he flushed a bull moose out of the patch of willows where I was headed. Or the time the cow elk came running around the corner at full tilt - only to come to a sliding stop, wild-eyed and stiff as she took in the two legged 'thing' with two furry four-legged companions.

Usually Bo is a great hiking buddy. Usually he is quiet. Usually he is well mannered. Usually he comes when called and stays when told. But not this time!

This time he turned into a totally different animal!

While you might be thinking 'bear' or 'wolf' or 'bull moose' or 'cougar' (that's what I thought when I heard the commotion), it was a lone otter which precipitated the whole thing! This is the saga of Bo and The Otter.

Early last May when the snow was too deep to traverse the draws, I spent most of my mornings hiking the roads. While the walk down toward the refuge is pretty, I tend to prefer the views from the high point on the road toward Hidden Lake. Thus my steps usually turn north.

On this particular morning, Bo and Rosie and I were greeted by three or four inches of fresh snow. Of course the dogs thought it was great, and, I must admit, I found it invigorating (although I was ready to kiss snow goodbye for that season). When we walk, Rosie usually stays close to my side. Bo, on the other hand, ranges about 50 to 100 feet ahead. That is my doing. When he was just a pup I debated teaching him to heel, but decided he'd do little good in flush out potential 'encounters' (like the Bull Moose), if he was dogging my heels. So, I let him range in front a bit.

That time of year there are few tracks in the fresh snow. While the moose and fox and coyotes (and wolves) are still around, the deer and elk are just returning and the bears are just waking up. So it was just the dogs and me and pristine, unmarked snow - until just past the north end of the bay where we picked up some fresh and unusual tracks.

Based on their size, I first thought coyote. However, this coyote appeared to be dragging something heavy, something which left a regular groove in the snow. It continued up the road to the old fox den then turned up the hill away from the lake. I could see the tracks cresting the ridge to the west and assumed they continued on into the meadow beyond.

Never one to leave a good mystery unsolved, I pondered these unique tracks as I continued to to the top of my own hill. The longer I thought about them, the more puzzled I became. One, they were coyote-sized, but the rhythm (pattern) did not match what I had seen before. Two, if that were a coyote dragging something, why did it leave such a regular groove and what was it? Three, most likely anything a predator would be hauling would be a fresh kill. Thus, where was the blood? (I had seen no blood!)

Instead of making a loop and coming back to the lodge from a different direction, I became so determined to solve my mystery, I turned around and came back down the road. I figured if I could follow the tracks down the hill to the lake, I might get a better idea (and perhaps some clearer tracks on the hard surface of the ice) where the animal had come from - and even, if I were lucky, what it was dragging!

Picking up the tracks where they first entered the road, I backtracked down the hill to the lake. And there, to might delight (but continued puzzlement) the mystery was solved. My 'coyote' turned into a critter who loved to run and slide and its belly across the lake's icy surface. Duh! My critter was an otter. It was 'dragging' its tail! So, now the only question - Where on earth was that otter headed? There was NO water anywhere close to where it had headed!

By the time I saw my puzzling friend again, a week had passed, as had the snow. However, one morning I happened to be heading up the road just minutes behind the otter. The wind was blowing in our face, but the dogs had not picked up on the otter's scent. Thus I grabbed a couple handfuls of dog collars and watched the animal moving amazingly gracefully and quickly up the hill following the same path it had taken the week earlier. Eventually the otter became aware of our presence (and the dogs of its presence) so I dropped back and let it continue over the next hill unmolested. While I suspected where it was headed, seeing it take the same path as it had a week before did nothing to answer my question: Why?

I suppose I should have expected to see the animal again, but, to be honest, this otter's actions were so different than anything I had seen or read about, I really thought I'd managed to catch this otter partaking in some rare and unique ritual which only the otter elite understood. Not so! Another week passed. Another hike up the hill. Another encounter with the otter - but this time the results sent my heart pumping!

This time, instead of watching an otter make its way quickly and gracefully up the hill, the hike turned from peaceful to pandamonium about half-way into our walk. The first I knew of the otter's presence was Bo's frantic barking. From a dog who rarely barks, this much noise was disturbing. I really had no idea what to expect. Moving as quickly as my now-burning lungs would allow, I hurried up the hill toward my furiously barking dog.

As I neared the old fox den, I could see Bo running around in a tight circle around a furiously spinning and spitting otter. Rosie was still at my side, but as we neared the dog and otter, the excitement overcame her obedience. Now I had two dogs facing off with the otter. At this point, I began to fear for the otter's safety.

After all, we have a 50 pound otter facing off two dogs which, together, weigh about 250 pounds! I should have directed my fears in the other direction. The dogs finally heard and heeded my yells and returned to my side.

With both dogs under control, I decided to stand quietly and let the otter move off unmolested. I assumed the animal would continue up the hill as it had the past two times we'd cut its track. Wrong! Obviously this otter had more guts per square inch than any animal I'd met previously.

Instead of heading up the hill, this little critter ran nearly under the nose of the dogs and retraced its track down the road toward the lake. Well, this was more than Bo could stand. Off he ran, back on the otter's trail and more determined than ever to prove he was bigger and tougher than a rat's cousin. Foolish dog!

While I never saw Bo get close to the otter, that little otter lifted a hefty chunk of Bo's fur! Furthermore, that otter could spin and run and pull fur with such speed, running down hill I couldn't keep up!

Long story short, I chased Bo and that otter all the way to the lake - screaming myself hoarse in the process. That otter had Bo so angry, my dog who HATES water jumped in (the ice had left just a few days earlier) right on the otter's tail. Now my fears for my dog doubled! Otters can be leathal in the water - especially since the dog was basically helpless to defend himself. Thus I started throwing rocks at my dog in an attempt to get his attention. When he did come back to me, I tried the same tactic. Surely, now, if the dogs and I sit quiet, the otter will swim away.

No! This otter swam in circles about 20 feet from the shore, watching us (and not even appearing to breathe heavily). Grabbing Bo by the collar I headed for the lodge. That stinking otter swam along the shoreline, dogging our steps. Needless to say, I returned to the lodge that day more puzzled than ever. What, exactly, was this otter's problem?

I had to wait another month for the answer - but when it came, it made perfect sense! Apparently, in rare instances, otters will nest up to a mile away from water. Meet Mama Otter! With this missing clue, the otter's actions made perfect sense!

And, the best news of all - about a month later I was kayaking on the lake and much to my delight I ran across an adult otter with three young pups! Apparently both the dog and the otter came through their encounter in good shape!

Just another day in my life of Elk Lake!

Lady of the Lake

Living With Wolves

NOTE: The photos in this post are under copyright. Written permission is required if you wish to reuse them.

Many of our guests are curious whether we see many wild animals. When we reply to the affirmative, they always want to know 'what.' As we begin reciting a list of the most commonly seen criters, many interrupt. "What about bears? Do you have Grizzlies?"

"Yes," we answer.

"Do you ever see them?" is the predictable next question.

"Not often, but yes, on occasion. We see more tracks than bears, thankfully."

Without hesitation I can predict the next question. "What about wolves? Do you have any wolves around here?"

And so the conversation goes. Usually, somewhere along the line, someone's eyes take on a far-off look and they say, "I wish I could see a wolf."

I always reply. "It is a major thrill to see a wolf - in Yellowstone Park. But to see one in your back yard, to wake to tracks outside your fence, or to find fresh tracks on your cross-country ski trail - that is a different story."

As I've said before, I enjoy seeing wolves. They are wild. They are beautiful. And, they look enough like our pets we often think of them as safer and more friendly than they are. However, the only thing wolves have in common with most domesticated dogs is their looks.

After a similar conversation this summer with some guests, I received an email. Unlike most people I talk to, this guest had not only been intrigued by the wolf subject, he took the time to do some personal research. Furthermore, he shared his findings with me. What follows is from his email and the links he provided.

Our guest commented, after his research, "[Wolves] seem to learn quickly that people can be lethal and should be avoided." While one would expect this would be true, our experience has not shown this to be the case - at least not around here. In fact, the wolf we saw about a month ago allowed Craig to approach within a few hundred yards (he was on a snowmobile and had intended it harrass it away from the resort).

While this may not a valid 'proof test', I recently learned this animal is, most likely, a member of our 'local pack.' The local trapper shot at and harrassed this pack last summer because they were feeding on nearby cattle. It made me wonder. Where is the natural fear? Where is the preference for no human contact?

Then I looked at the links the guest had provided. Wikipedia is often a wonderful resource. Their article on wolf attacks is completely fascinating. I encourage you to read it. Did you know when compared to other predators "the frequency with which wolves have been recorded to kill or prey on people is much lower, indicating that though potentially dangerous, wolves are among the least threatening for their size and predatory potential"?

Which instead of bringing comfort about my 'relative' safety around wolves, just makes me more leery of the other critters. With the lack of fear our local wolves have exhibited (in every situation over the last two years), it makes me wonder why they are so self-confident .

Perhaps the most valuable piece of information included in this article is what they entitled, "The Seven Stages Leading To Attacks." They are as follows:

• Scarcity of wild game.
  
• Wolves introduce nocturnal visits to habitated areas.
  
• Wolves progress to visiting habitated areas during daylight hours and watching people and stock from a distance.
  
• Wolves begin attacking smaller livestock and pets - often chasing them to the porch. At this stage they only growl at humans.
  
• Wolves begin attacking larger livestock and may follow riders as well as mounting porches and decks to look in house windows.
  
• Wolves begin harrassing people, but usually nipping and chasing if the person runs yet still retreating when confronted.
  
• Wolves begin attacking people.

Before you change your travel plans to exclude wolf inhabitated areas, I encourage you to take an inventory of your street. How many dogs reside there? While wolves and bears and cougars do kill people, the domesticated dogs we call our pets are responsible for a growing number of deaths. In fact, according to an article in Parade, dog-induced deaths are on the rise. And, just in case you did your inventory, found no pit bulls on your block (or your walking route) and thus feel safe, think again. Only half of the people-killing-dogs were pit bulls.

I don't know about you, but I'd still rather live in a place where I know to exercise wisdom and caution rather than think I am safe and find out differently. While I do not care for wolves in my back yard, I still feel safer and more comfortable at Elk Lake than I would in just about any other place I can think of living.

Lady of the Lake