800 kilometres across Yellowstone National Park
This earth originates from the greatest depths, yet it is newer than everything around us. In Yellowstone, we stand inside the caldera of an active volcano; the ground bubbles and steams. The heat from beneath gives the region its trademark feature: its colours. Yet in the end, that wasn’t the most fascinating part in this leg of the journey.
KM 900, 2.1 million years ago
First, however, a brief jump back in time; for Yellowstone is past and present all at once.
2.1 million years ago the Earth saw the birth and largest eruption to date of the Yellowstone volcano: the Huckleberry Ridge eruption. Two further eruptions followed. The last outbreak, which actually contributed to the caldera’s current shape, occurred just 640 000 years ago, known as the Lava Creek eruption.
We slowly drive into the park, approaching from the south directly from Grand Teton National Park. The road winds uphill. Behind us, a never-ending tailback of cars struggles up the slope. At over 2000 metres, the Land Cruiser’s engine no longer delivers much power, especially when climbing, so we push forward slowly yet steadily at 40 km/h. We quietly enjoy the landscape and keep an eye out for wildlife. The enthusiasm of the drivers behind us, who are taking the brunt of our black exhaust fumes, seems rather limited by comparison.
Lewis Falls comes into view, the river meanders through the tuff just like the road. Tuff is a rock formed from consolidated volcanic ash and pyroclasts. Reaching the ridge above, we stand at the edge of a round basin. Yet unlike so many volcanoes we have visited across the continent, we see neither a beginning nor an end at Yellowstone.
Yellowstone’s volcanic caldera measures 48 by 72 kilometres. Beneath the caldera lies a hotspot, the point where hot mantle material rises from deep within the Earth. The ridge we crest every time we drive through Yellowstone Park is the rim of the supervolcano. Below it bubbles a massive magma chamber, and its enormous forces can be felt all the way to the surface. At such hotspots, the Earth’s surface regenerates from ancient, molten rock. And this plateau rises and falls by several centimetres every year.
We have arrived in the present of our journey: where stone comes to life.
Some elements of a typical volcanic landscape are visible to the naked eye. Over 10 000 hydrothermal features shape the terrain. Geysers vent steam as if mini-factories were at work everywhere. Mud pots bubble away, and bison warm themselves on nature’s underfloor heating. Other features can only be felt: thermal springs warm the rivers to the perfect temperature for fish. And in winter, the interior of the caldera shelters a warm zone here and there where animals can escape the deepest snow.
And then there are the living organisms that only truly thrive in near-boiling water: thermophilic microorganisms. They not only withstand boiling water, but also feel right at home in extreme acidity. However, they like it hot but do not tolerate temperature shifts. In the hottest water live mainly transparent and yellow microbes, with the transparent ones glowing blue to the human eye. Along the cooler edges, orange, brown, and green groups gather. Together, they create an impressive, colourful, living spectacle.
KM 1100, 130 years ago
Yellowstone National Park has five entrances and a loop road—each several hundred kilometres apart. We choose the East Entrance, the path straight into the heart of Wyoming. At the edge of the volcanic basin, we encounter barren slopes with sleet and heavy winds, followed by dense, bright green forest, and just before arriving in Cody, the water seems to disappear. It becomes barren, arid, and dusty: welcome to the Wild West.
Cody was not only named after a famous cowboy, but was actually founded by him. William Frederick Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, was an astute businessman. He recognised the financial and tourist value of Cody’s present-day location, situated close to the USA’s first national park: Yellowstone was established in 1872, Cody only in 1896, growing into the rodeo capital of the world.
Since the Wild West is unimaginable without rodeo, and given that we find ourselves in the self-proclaimed “World Capital of Rodeo”, we cannot miss the evening show. In 1920, the first Rodeo Stampede took place in Cody. Yet it is not just the professional circuit that comes to town annually; the next generation gets its chance too. When we arrive, the second rodeo show of the year is underway; the season has just begun.
Cody Nite Rodeo, the arena where young cowboys gather their first points, hoping to eventually compete in the professional league as famous rodeo riders. Since 1938, The Star-Spangled Banner has heralded the start of the rodeo tournament every summer evening.
After asking God for strength and protection, the young participants sing the national anthem with full vigour. Then the show begins: calf roping from horseback, 8-second bull riding, 8-second rides on wild horses both bareback and saddled, barrel racing at a full gallop, and the occasional stunt on horseback.
Two hours full of wonder, laughter, and precautionarily closing our eyes when 10-year-olds in helmets and protective vests cling to young bulls until the liberating buzzer sounds after 8 seconds—or until they fly off in a high arc too early. The entire show and the youngsters’ excitement offer a welcome change from our nature-focused routine.
KM 1150, 150 years ago
Yellowstone National Park covers an area of nearly 9 000 square kilometres—2.5 times the size of Mallorca. Established in 1872, it is considered the first official national park in the world. However, the welcome news of nature conservation had a dark prelude—for animals and humans alike.
We drive along the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway over Dead Indian Pass towards the North East Entrance of Yellowstone National Park. The tragic name of the pass stems from the displacement of Native Americans from their ancestral lands. The Nez Perce fled from the Yellowstone mountains to the Great Plains during the Nez Perce War of 1877. In doing so, they outsmarted the US Army: they led them to believe they were taking the easier southern route. Instead, they climbed the steep pass. By the time the soldiers realised, the Nez Perce were gone. Apparently, however, a Nez Perce was ultimately killed on the pass—giving Dead Indian Pass its name.
The region around the Rocky Mountains was inhabited by various Indigenous groups. For a long time, they were tolerated in these barren and challenging areas because settlers were slow to reach them. Originally, the concept of a “national park” arose in the early 19th century as a place where Native Americans could maintain their traditional way of life. But the idea shifted: Native Americans were forced onto Indian reservations, and from the national parks emerged the dream of creating an untouched wilderness. Until then, the American wilderness was viewed merely as a vast, lawless hunting ground.
What has become of this wilderness is something we want to see with our own eyes.
KM 1300, in May 2026
An early morning drive through the northern Lamar Valley includes a traffic jam—a bison jam. The animals graze by the thousands in the hollow of the Lamar River. Young calves leap daringly across the road while mothers glare fiercely at the cars. It feels almost like morning city traffic. The only difference: in the vastness of Yellowstone, stress feels far away.
Or so we think.
Around the next bend comes the shock. The tailback is no longer a bison jam, but man-made. Every small pull out serves as a parking spot; one car leaves and a minibus driver squeezes into the gap. What is happening here? Tour operators step out heavily armed: binoculars with up to 40x magnification and cameras with lenses as long as a leg, mounted on tripods just to hold them up, are standard equipment. Elbows out left and right to clear space for their group. It looks as though everyone works for National Geographic.
All the commotion is for a single animal species: grey wolves. They brought down a bison during the night and are still feeding on the remains. Wolves were eradicated here in 1926. None remained. It was not until 1995 that 41 animals from the Rocky Mountains of Montana and Canada were reintroduced. Since then, nature has recovered.
When the wolves were absent, the elk population grew too large. Trees could no longer grow, and riverbeds became bogged down. Only the wolves brought the balance back. Today, there are around 500 grey wolves in the area, offering a nearly guaranteed spectacle for tourists.
A coyote watches from a distance, waiting for its moment. The bison graze on. Then a grizzly bear ambles towards the carcass, wanting its share. A murmur ripples through the crowd; the few without binoculars wait impatiently for updates from the lucky ones with optics. Meanwhile, the hundreds of living bison all around seem to interest no one at that moment.
The bison herd in Lamar Valley is estimated at 3,500 animals. The new offspring leap through the grass like bright, light-brown balls of wool. Yet the fact that these animals graze peacefully in the valley today is by no means something to take for granted.
Bison were hunted across vast areas of America for their hides and meat. Millions of animals were decimated to such an extent by 1880 that they were nearly wiped out. The Yellowstone herd got lucky. The 23 surviving individuals found a safe haven in the USA’s first national park. Today, it is the largest wild herd on public land and the only one that was never fully eradicated. Around 30 000 wild animals are now said to roam the prairies of North America once again.
We flee the wolf-gazing crowds, but the stream of people does not abate. The moment an animal is nearby, rules and common sense are thrown out the window. People stop in the middle of the road and chase after bears. Jostling and shoving. Complete gridlock.
The wildlife in Yellowstone is breathtaking: bison, wolves, grizzly and black bears, elk, deer, coyotes, badgers, beavers, and pronghorn we have seen up close; cougars and lynx are also said to prowl the forests. Add to that the thermal springs and geysers that turn the landscape into a colourful steam bath. And yet, eventually, we have had enough: too much hustle, bustle, and commotion.
Just before the North Entrance, Mammoth Hot Springs compels us to pause once more. Amid the chaotic parking lots, gleaming white travertine terraces steam. They look like giant, petrified waterfalls. Day after day, hot springs pump dissolved limestone to the surface. The water cools, leaving the lime behind. It is not just the park, with its millions of annual visitors, operating non-stop; the volcano, too, is relentlessly building.
KM 1400, plus an extra 800 km inside Yellowstone alone
The direct route from Dinosaur National Monument led us through 1 400 kilometres of varied American wilderness. We actually drove many more, as we travelled every road in Yellowstone at least once. Despite the heavy tourist crowds, we leave Yellowstone filled with admiration. For even at the very last moment, nature has one more surprise in store.
Just beyond the historic arch stand three pronghorns: a heavily pregnant doe and, beside her, a new mother. The newborn looks unsteady on its legs. The mother licks its wet coat dry. It seems no one else has spotted them yet. We decide against taking a photo, allowing them their well-deserved peace.