Go Take a Hike

OK, I'm on vacation in Yellowstone, so this has nothing to do with theology. Unless it has to do with the perplexities of fallen anthropology. Yellowstone is an odd place. At all the spectacular sites, there are wall-to-wall people, mostly rude people. But if you wander 100 yards down a hiking trail, nearly all the people disappear as if by magic. The backcountry is spectacular, teeming with wildlife, and anyone who is willing to take a hike can find solitude, grandeur, and beauty that the vast majority here never find.

And so then I get back on the road that circles the park, and every few miles, the highway suddenly shuts down. Somebody saw a buffalo. Or a bear. Or a jackrabbit. Everyone stops in the middle of the road, jumps out of their cars, and starts snapping pictures, irrespective of the traffic jam or the danger (unbelievably, I watched a parent urge a six-year-old child to run toward a Grizzly Bear). It's almost impossible to get around the park because of these periodic traffic snarls.

And I can't help wanting to tell all these people, instead of blocking traffic, to go take a hike. Literally.