Elk surge down the slopes of Mount Washburn in the predawn light.

Mount Washburn. If there's any tradition within my "traditional" Yellowstone trip every year, it's been hiking Washburn in the morning and being first to the top. This time, that meant departing Madison by 3:45AM, and there were no second thoughts about waking up early this morning.

We reached the parking lot nice and early, with the sun already creeping over the horizon. We passed several cars on the road from Tower to Chittenden Road, but they were all camped out to watch the sunrise. No crazy hikers. Also no big herds of elk, which I've passed on the road in years past. There was one small group that fled the parking lot area upon our arrival, but otherwise it was quiet.

Six o'clock, and we were trudging up the hill. Last year was the first time I'd done the hike from the "back side," due to the road construction, but I actually find it easier and more enjoyable than the hike from Dunraven Pass. It's a long, lazy ascent surrounded by broad slopes and wide vistas, rather than a series of shady, rocky switchbacks. Soon we discovered where all those herds of elk had gone. They were spread out on the mountainside, a large group including many fawns. I'd never seen them roam this high before, and they were about to go much higher...

After a run-in with a grizzly bear, Washburn's elk were on edge.

The elk were tense, and when they saw us started moving en masse into the woods. We continued to hike, soon forgetting the animals as the wind blew in storm clouds, rain and eventually hail. The stormy periods were brief, and things soon cleared up a bit around us. We could hear cries from the elk in the woods, and spotted some of the herd moving out onto a bare portion of the hillside about 300 yards away. Suddenly, a dark, bulky shape slipped from the trees. The elk stood frozen for a moment (as did we), before half of them bolted around the ridgeline, the rest into the forest. The dark lump rumbled after the latter, into the trees where more panicked cries were heard. It had happened so quickly and my girlfriend and I were too stunned to have time to even pull out the binoculars. We had just witnessed a grizzly bear chasing 100 elk down the mountain!

Later of course, we realized that maybe it's good that the elk were around up on those slopes, or someone else (ahem) might've served as breakfast for that bear. The climb continued, and we saw the group which had disappeared around the bend emerge on the higher slopes of the mountain. They were climbing all the way to final meadows before the ranger station. Outside of the elk and their pursuer, the mountain was suprisingly quiet. No marmots, no squirrels, no sheep. Just a few bluebirds and the retreating herd. Either the weather was too lousy, or the bear's presence was keeping everyone indoors.

As we neared the snowy point where I had seen bighorns frolicking last year, my girlfriend spotted an elk who suddenly appeared a few yards away. It stopped, stared, and then was gone. A quick scramble to the side of the cliff revealed that there was no bear pursuing her. Phew.

Pelicans put on a show at Fishing Bridge.

We did make it to the summit, where it was cold and windy as usual, but the views of the retreating storm clouds required a stop to snap a few pics. The lack of bighorns left me only with the comfort of our accomplishment and the realization that I'm *wheeze* in the worst *gasp* shape of my life. Seriously, when is the chairlift gonna be installed? I also got to fill out a bear incident report. The descent, btw, passed without incident (though we did pass a bison, also the highest up I'd seen one of those)... we didn't pass other hikers until around 10 or so, 4 hours after we had started. They sure missed all the excitement!

There wasn't a plan for the rest of the day, but I knew we weren't going to nap away the afternoon again. Eventually making our way back around the loop, we did some more investigating. The coyote den near the Blacktail road was a target, but we couldn't spot it anywhere. The badger den H mentioned near Phantom Lake must've disappeared as quickly as it appeared, because that was also nowhere to be seen. Coyote, sandhill crane and hawk sightings were made along the way... I found myself driving past Canyon and south again, thinking that the Storm Point Trail would be a nice short afternoon hike.

I rarely cross the Fishing Bridge, but I was glad I gave it a shot this time. A flotilla of pelicans occupied the waters as we drove past. Best of all, they didn't seem to be going anywhere! It turns out that the trout were spawning near the bridge, and the birds were taking advantage of this, riding the wind-driven current and diving for any fish that came near the surface. It was so blustery that the pelicans would occasionally take off and fly ahead a few yards before settling into the water again and letting the current slowly move them back downriver, before the process was repeated. If one pelican happened to nab a fish, its neighbors would lunge toward it, hoping to steal its catch. With such great light and close proximity to these birds, this was truly one of the highlights of the trip.

Bald eaglets were testing their flying skills above the nest.

Later, after dinner, we headed out again and were fortunate enough to witness some elk and their fawns crossing the Madison River in early evening light. A brilliant opportunity to shoot some cute elk fawns in the golden reflection of a setting sun were lost when I forgot to replace my memory card in the camera after transferring files from it earlier. D'oh!

We drove back toward West Yellowstone, saw the swans up close and stopped at the eagle nest again. There was some great light on the nest, and I set up the tripod and waited. Unfortunately, the adults were nowhere to be seen, and the youngsters were on the opposite side of the nest out of view. Slowly, the sun set and everyone started packing up their gear to head out. It was then that the older eaglet came around to our side of the nest and quickly started flapping his wings. Soon, with more vigorous flapping and began to rise above the nest. He'd settle down and go again, higher and higher up... and eventually he'd hold steady a few feet above the nest, testing his wings. I felt lucky to stick around and witness such an important stage a young bird's development. I was told later by one of the more seasoned eagle groupies that this was the highest he had ever flown.

Overall, it was a great day with a number of unforgettable encounters. Was else could happen to make the trip even better???