Norris Geyser Basin.—Fire beneath the Surface.—A Guide’s Ideas.—The
Curious Paint Pot Basin.—Lower Geyser Basin.—Boiling Springs of Many
Colors.—Mountain Lions at Play.—Midway Geyser Basin.—“Hell’s Half
Acre.”—In the Midst of Wonderland.—Old Faithful.—Other Active
Geysers.—Erratic Nature of these Remarkable Fountains.
A pleasant drive of twenty miles in a southerly direction from the Hot
Springs Hotel, through the wildest sort of scenery, over mountain roads
and beside gorgeous cañons, will take the visitor to the Norris Geyser
Basin, a spot which promptly recalled to the writer somewhat similar
scenes witnessed at the aboriginal town of Ohinemutu, in the northern
part of New Zealand. Clouds of sulphurous vapor constantly hang alike
over both places, produced by a similar cause, though the scene here is
far more vivid and demonstrative. This whole basin is dotted by hot
water springs and fumaroles, which maintain an incessant hissing,
spluttering, and bubbling, night and day, through the twelve months of
the year. The water which issues from these sources is of various
colors, according to the impregnating principle which prevails, the
yellow sulphur vats being especially conspicuous to the sight and
offensive to the smell. What a strange, weird place it is! No art could
successfully imitate these extravagances of Nature. Some of the rills
are cool, others are boiling hot; some are white, some pink or red, and
one large basin, fifty feet across, is called the Emerald Pool, because
of its intensely green color; yet it appears to be quite pure and
transparent when a sample is taken out and examined. Each spring seems
to be entirely independent of the rest, though all are situated so near
to each other. An almost constant tremor of the earth is realized
throughout this immediate region, as though only a thin crust separated
the visitor from an active volcano beneath his feet; and,
notwithstanding the various scientific theories, who can say that such
is not actually the case?
“I know all about the idea that these eruptions of boiling water, steam,
and sulphurous gases are produced by chemical action,” said our guide.
“I’ve heard lots of scientific men talk about the subject, but I don’t
believe nothing of the sort.”
“And why not?” we asked.
“Do you believe,” he said, “that chemical action in the earth could
create power enough, first to bring water to 212° of heat, and then
force it two hundred feet into the air a number of times every day in a
column four or five feet in diameter, and keep it up for quarter of an
hour at a time?”
“Well, it does seem somewhat problematical,” we were forced to answer.
“After living here summer and winter for six years,” he said, “I have
seen enough to satisfy me that there is a great sulphurous fire far down
in the earth below us, which, if the steam and power it accumulates did
not find vent through the hundreds of surface outlets distributed all
over the Park, would seek one by a grand volcanic outburst.”
“Put your hand on the ground just here,” he continued, as we walked over
a certain spot where our footfall caused a reverberation and trembling
of the soil.
“It is almost too hot for the flesh to bear,” we said, quickly
withdrawing our hand.
“Too hot! I should say so. Now I don’t believe anything but a burning
fire can produce such heat as that,” he added, with an expression of the
face which seemed to imply, “I don’t believe you do either.”
“The original volcanic condition of this whole region seems also to
argue in favor of your deductions,” we replied.
“That’s just what I tell ’em,” continued the guide. “Them big fires that
first did the business for this neighborhood are still smouldering down
below. You may bet your life on that.”
This rather startling idea is emphasized by a smoking vent close at
hand, which is also constantly sending forth superheated steam and
sulphurous gases, like the extinct volcano of Solfatara, near Naples.
Sulphur crystals strew the ground, and are heaped up in small yellow
mounds. Not far away an intermittent geyser bursts forth every sixty
seconds from a deep hole in the rock-bed of the basin, showing a stream
of water six inches in diameter, and sending the same skyward thirty or
forty feet. Here also is a powerful geyser called the Monarch, which
leaps into action with great regularity once in twenty-four hours,
throwing a triple stream to the height of a hundred and thirty feet, and
continuing to do so for the space of fifteen or twenty minutes. Beneath
the sun’s rays all the colors of the prism are reflected in this
vertical column of water, and not infrequently the distinct arch of a
rainbow is suspended like a halo about its crown. Nature, even in her
most fantastic caprice, is always beautiful.
There are several other high-reaching and powerful geysers in this
vicinity, but we will not weary the reader by pausing to describe them.
Gibbon Paint Pot Basin is next visited, being a most curious area,
measuring some twenty acres, more or less, situated in a heavily-wooded
district, not far from Gibbon Cañon. Here is a most strange collection
of over five hundred springs of boiling, splashing, exploding mud,
exhibiting many distinct colors, which gives rise to the name it bears.
One pot is of an emerald green, another is as blue as turquoise, a third
is as red as blood, a fourth is of orange yellow, another is of a rich
cream color and consistency. The visitor is struck by the singularity of
this hot-spring system, which produces from vents so close together
colors diametrically opposite. The earth is piled up about the seething
pools, making small mounds all over the basin, and forming a series of
pots of clay and silicious compounds. Near the entrance of Gibbon Cañon
is a remarkable collection of extinct geysers; the tall, slim,
crystallized structures, originating like the Liberty Cap already
described, look like genii totem poles, corrugated by the finger of
time, and forming significant monuments of bygone eruptions, while the
surrounding volcanoes were slowly exhausting their fury. Even about
these long-extinct geysers there is an atmosphere indicating their
former intensity, though it is quite possible they may have been
sleeping for ten centuries.
The locality known as the Lower Geyser Basin is filled with striking and
somewhat similar volcanic exhibitions, though there are more hot springs
here than other phenomena, the aggregate number being a trifle less than
seven hundred, including seventeen active geysers. In some respects this
spot exceeds in interest those previously visited, being more readily
surveyed as a whole. The variety of form and the large number of these
springs are remarkable. As a rule they are less sulphurous and more
silicious than those already spoken of. Here, as at the terraces near
the hotel, the last touch of beauty is imparted by the sun’s rays
forcing themselves through the white vapory clouds which are thrown off
by the mysteriously heated waters. One of the large basins, measuring
forty by sixty feet, is filled with a sort of porcelain slime, notable
for its soft rose tints and delicate yellow hues, which are brought out
with magic effect under a cloudless sky. This basin has an elevation of
over seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is surrounded
by heavily-timbered hills which are four and five hundred feet higher.
Numerous as these springs and geysers are, each one is strongly
individualized by some special feature which marks it as distinctive
from the rest, and renders it recognizable by the residents of the Park,
but which, however interesting to the observing visitor, would only
prove to be tedious if here described in detail.
While sitting at twilight on the piazza of the rude little inn where we
passed the night in this basin, there came out from the edge of the wood
on to a broad green plateau a couple of long tailed mountain lions. They
were not quite full grown, and were of a tawny color. These creatures,
savage and dangerous enough under some circumstances, seemed half tame
and entirely fearless, playfully romping with each other, and exhibiting
catlike agility. The proprietor of the inn told us that not long since,
upon a dark night, they came to the house and attacked his favorite dog,
killing and eating him, leaving only the bones to explain his
disappearance in the morning. They, too, must have read the regulations,
“No firearms permitted in the Park.”
The Midway Geyser Basin is situated a few miles directly south of that
just spoken of, and contains an extraordinary group of hot springs,
among which is the marvelous Excelsior Geyser, largest in the known
world. It bursts forth from a pit two hundred and fifty feet in
diameter, worn in the solid rock, and which is at all times nearly full
of boiling water, above which there is constantly floating a dense
column of steam, which rising slowly is borne away and absorbed by the
atmosphere. The water which flows so continuously over the brim has
formed a series of terraces beaming with beautiful tints. This
stupendous fountain is intermittent, giving an exhibition of its
startling powers at very irregular periods, when it is said to send up a
column of water sixty feet in diameter to a height of from fifty to one
hundred feet! So great is the sudden flood thus produced in the Firehole
River, which is here between seventy-five and a hundred yards broad,
that it is turned for the time being into a furious torrent of steaming,
half-boiling water. The Excelsior has also a disagreeable and dangerous
habit of throwing up hundred-pound stones and metallic débris with this
great volume of water, while the surrounding earth vibrates in sympathy
with the hidden power which operates so mysteriously. Visitors naturally
hasten to a safe distance during these moments of extraordinary
activity.
About midway between Firehole and the Upper Geyser Basin is a strange,
unearthly, vaporous piece of low land, which is endowed with a name more
expressive than elegant, being called “Hell’s Half Acre.” Here again it
seems as if this spot is separated from the raging fires below by only
the thinnest crust of earth, through which numerous boiling springs find
riotous vent. The soil in many parts is burning hot, and echoes to the
tread as though liable to open at any moment and swallow the venturesome
stranger. During the season of 1888, a lady visitor who stepped upon a
thin place sank nearly out of sight, and though instantly rescued by her
friends, she was so severely scalded as to be confined to her bed for a
month and more at the Mammoth Springs Hotel. The air is filled with
fumes of sulphur, and the place would seem to be appropriately named.
There are forty springs in this “Half Acre,” which, by the way, occupies
ten times the space which the name indicates, where the seething and
bubbling noise is like the agonized wailing of lost spirits. The place
has another, and perhaps better, designation besides this satanic title,
namely, Egeria Springs. Great is the contrast between the heavens above
and the direful suggestions of the earth below, as we behold it under
the serene beauty of the blue sky which prevails here in the summer
months, and which renders camping out in the Park delightful. “You
should come here during a thunder-storm,” said our companion, who is a
dweller in this region. “I have done so twice,” he continued, “simply to
witness the fitness of the association: rolling thunder overhead and
flashes of lightning in the atmosphere, through which the boiling vats,
hissing pools, and steaming fissures are seen in full operation, as
though they were a part and parcel of the electric turmoil agitating the
sky.”
It is impossible to appreciate these various phenomena in a single
hurried visit. Like the Falls of Niagara, or the Pyramids of Gizeh, they
must become in some degree familiar to the observer before he will be
able to form a complete, intelligent, and satisfactory impression which
will remain with him. One cannot grasp the full significance of such
accumulated wonders at sight. We look about us among the green trees
that border the open areas, surprised to behold the calm sunshine, the
tuneful birds, and the chattering squirrels, moved by their normal
instincts, utterly regardless of these myriad surrounding marvels.
The grandest spouting springs are to be found in Upper Geyser Basin,
where there are twenty-five active fountains of this character. Here is
situated the famous “Old Faithful,” which, from a mound rising gradually
about six or eight feet above the surrounding level, emits a huge column
of boiling water for five or six minutes in each hour with never-failing
regularity, while it gives forth at all times clouds of steam and heated
air. The height reached by the waters of this thermal fountain varies
from eighty to one hundred and twenty feet, and it has earned its
expressive name by never failing to be on time. It seemed, somehow, to
be a more satisfactory representative of the spouting spring phenomenon
than any other in the entire Park, though it would be difficult to say
exactly why. Its prominent position, dominating the rest of the geysers
of the basin, gives it special effect. Irrespective of all other similar
exhibitions, the stately column of “Old Faithful” rises heavenward with
splendid effect in the broad light of day, or in the still hours of the
night, once in every sixty minutes, as uniformly as the rotation of the
second-hand of a watch. The effect was ghostly at midnight under the
sheen of the moon and the contrasting shadows of the woods near at hand,
while not far away, across the Firehole River, the lesser geysers were
exhibiting their erratic performances, casting up occasional crystal
columns, which glistened in the silvery light like pendulous glass.
There is quite a large group of geysers in this immediate vicinity,
which perform with notable regularity at stated periods. There is one
called the Beehive, because of its vent, which has a resemblance to an
old-fashioned straw article of the sort, the crater being about three
feet in height. The author saw this spring throw up a stream three feet
in diameter nearly or quite two hundred vertical feet for eight or ten
minutes, when it gradually subsided. There are over four hundred geysers
and boiling springs in this basin. Among them is the Giantess, situated
four hundred feet from the Beehive, which does not display its powers
oftener than once in ten or twelve days; but when the eruption does take
place, it is said to exceed all the rest in the height which it attains
and the length of time during which it operates. It has no raised
crater, but comes forth from a vent even with the surface of the ground,
thirty-four feet in length and twenty-four in width. When it is in
action, so great is the force expended that miniature earthquakes are
felt throughout the immediate neighborhood. There are seen, not far
away, the Lion, Lioness, Young Faithful, the Grotto, the Splendid, etc.,
each one more or less operative. We have by no means enumerated all the
active fountains in this basin, seeking only to designate their general
character. However well prepared for the outburst, one cannot but feel
startled when a geyser suddenly rises, mysteriously and ghost-like,
close at hand, from out the deep bowels of the earth, its white form
growing taller and taller, while the spray expands like weird and
shrouded arms. To heighten this sepulchral effect the atmosphere is full
of sulphurous vapors, while strange noises fall upon the ear like
subterranean thunder. What puzzling mysteries Nature holds concealed in
her dark, earthy bosom!
Let us not forget to mention, in this connection, one of the hugest
fountains of the Firehole Basin, namely, the Grand Geyser, which is
placed next to the Excelsior in size and performance. This fountain has
no raised cone, and operates once in about thirty-six hours. Of course
the visitor is not able to see each and all of these strange fountains
in operation. He might remain a month upon the ground and not do so;
consequently, he is obliged to take some of the dimensions and
performances on trust; but most of the statements which are made to him
can easily be verified.
When this Grand Geyser is about to burst forth, the deep basin, which is
twenty feet and more across, first gradually fills with furiously
boiling water until it overflows the brim; then it becomes shrouded by
heavy volumes of steam, out of which come several loud reports, like the
discharge of a small cannon, when suddenly the whole body of water is
lifted, and a column ten or twelve feet in diameter rises to a height of
ninety feet, from the apex of which a lesser stream mounts many feet
higher, until the earth trembles with the force of the discharge and
falling water as it rushes towards the river. This strange exhibition
lasts for eight or ten minutes, then the fountain slowly subsides, with
hoarse mutterings, like some retreating and overmastered wild beast,
growling sullenly as it disappears.
It will thus be seen that these geysers vary greatly in their action, in
the duration of their eruptions, and in the intervals which elapse
between the performances. Some of them labor as though the water was
slowly pumped up from vast depths, some burst forth with full vigor to
their highest point at once, while others become exhausted with a brief
effort. There are a few that subside only to again commence spouting,
being thus virtually continuous; but these are not of such power as to
throw their streams to a great height. One group of this sort is called
the Minute Men, some of which spout sixty times within the hour; others
eject small streams incessantly.
This immediate valley is very irregular in surface and thickly wooded in
parts, showing also the ruins of many extinct geysers. It is a dozen
miles long and between two and three wide, literally crowded with
wonders from end to end. It contains a collection of boiling and
spouting springs on a scale which would belittle all similar phenomena
of the rest of the known world, could they be brought together.
As the reader will have understood, the period of activity with all the
geysers is more or less irregular, except in the instance of Old
Faithful. We have no knowledge of a simultaneous eruption having ever
taken place. Many of these active springs which now exist will,
doubtless, sooner or later subside and new ones will form to take their
places, a process which has been going on, no one can even guess for how
many ages.
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