Unit 8 – The Bechler-Pitchstone Plateau Wilderness
One of the beauties of Yellowstone is how each wilderness region has its own unique qualities. The Bechler-Pitchstone Plateau Area stands out as being perhaps the most unusual of all. Bordered by the Park’s West Yellowstone to South Entrance road to the north and east and various Targhee National Forest roads to the south and west, the Bechler-Pitchstone Plateau Wilderness covers an area of nearly half a million acres. A remote hinterland of lush forests, clear streams, the largest wilderness lake in the lower forty-eight states (Shoshone) and countless waterfalls, this area definitely has a character all its own. In fact, to Park rangers and employees, the word “Bechler” has become synonymous with “wet”. Two major factors combine to give the area this reputation.
First, there’s the weather. If a person goes to Yellowstone Lake’s Bridge Bay Marina to rent a boat for the day and asks a ranger there about the day’s weather possibilities, the ranger may point to the west-southwest and say something like, “Most of our weather comes from that direction. Keep an eye out over there.” The “over there” the ranger would be referring to is largely the Bechler area. Many storm fronts move into the Park from this direction, so the annual rainfall is the highest of any in the Yellowstone area.
Second, there’s the landscape. The Madison and Pitchstone Plateaus both act like huge sponges which soak up millions of gallons of snowmelt annually and release it gradually during the course of the summer. This keeps the lower Bechler area wet as wet can be. Late August here can feel like a soggy June in other Park areas.
Due to these factors, the area is only accessible to the average backcountry user during the months of August and September of most years. Even though this helps keep the region isolated for most of the year, it’s also a factor in concentrating use to a very short season.When one sees how this use is further concentrated to the existing trails and backcountry campsites, it’s easy to see how the people-pressure can reach levels which call into question the term “wilderness experience”.
I first hiked into Union Falls many years ago. On that trip, I remember picking up some garbage at one of the backcountry areas. I thought it a bit bothersome that someone would leave litter in such a beautiful place, but, all in all, it didn’t bother me that much or detract from my experience. The problem, however, is much worse now. The area has gained a reputation. The “word” is out and it has begun to be overrun by too many of us out to experience its beauty. The problems arise when folks fail to follow the “leave no trace” ethic. One ranger told me he picks up a quart jar full of cigarette butts every time he takes the trail to the falls. I’ve met other rangers who tell me they have their hands full simply making sure campers aren’t leaving behind food scraps, and unknowingly attracting bears, let alone the other duties they’re responsible for.
During the time spent photographing this area I’ve, more than once, had to wait behind other hikers to cross narrow bridges and ford streams. I’ve crawled into a blissfully warm swimming hole, only to have to share it, five minutes later, with four semi-naked social workers from Cleveland. I’ve entered an area where several backcountry campsites, even though well apart from each other, were all apparently occupied by one large group of people, this made evident by the fact that they all seemed to know each other and traveled frequently back and forth between sites.
Yet, I remember a day that brought all this unwanted companionship into perspective. I was hiking deep in the Bechler backcountry, near Colonnade Falls, when I met a woman on the trail who was looking for a lost horse. Later, there was a man who was looking for the woman who was looking for the lost horse. Finally, on down the trail, I met up with a group of young men who were looking for the man who was looking for the woman who was looking for the lost horse. Then, just as I was thinking about how ridiculous this all was, my hiking partner spotted a large brown bear right on the trail, only fifty yards ahead. This hit me like a rock on the head as I quickly remembered how untamed this country actually was. The beautiful creature bolted upon sensing us, one sign of a truly wild bear, and plowed a trail over the rocks and through the brush and timber that would make a bulldozer proud.
As I stood there in awe of the animal, even after it was out of sight, I realized perhaps Yellowstone was trying to tell me something. Perhaps the Park was big enough for the lost horse, the folks who lost the horse…and me…and the bears, too.
