July 15, 2024
Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
August 2021
There’s no rush quite like takeoff. At least I’ve always thought that to be the case.
Having been on more than my fair share of flights, I still experience that thrill each time the plane hurtles down the runway. There’s far more buildup in a plane than in a helicopter, but the latter delivers a different kind of punch. On this particular day, it was a brief engine start-up, a crescendo of rotor blades slicing through the air, a slight wobble of the fuselage as lift was generated to get off the ground, followed by a quick tilt forward as our four-seater floated up and over the tarmac.
The little red Robinson was airborne.
One of the quickest ways to grab someone’s attention with a photograph is to showcase something that’s been seen many times before, but from a different perspective. There’s a reason commercial drones have become so popular—they take a common scene and flip the script.
But drones come with their limitations. The National Park Service implemented a blanket ban on these unmanned aircrafts across all National Parks to prevent disturbances to both visitors and wildlife. I always enjoy getting my drone out for photography, but I couldn’t agree more with this rule for the parks. These spaces are national treasures, and swarms of machines buzzing overhead wouldn’t exactly add to the ambience.
I visited Yellowstone for the first time in July 2020. This return was solely focused on getting a new perspective of what I’d consider one of the park’s most impressive features. With a drone out of the question, there was really one option.
Never mind the irony of my lifelong fear of heights, this project came with a hurdle of its own. There was extensive coverage on the significant wildfires in the Pacific Northwest leading up to my trip – coverage that I evidently tuned out or assumed wouldn't impact my plan. As my flight descended into Bozeman, I was greeted with a thick haze that would have made a pyromaniac proud. I knew that even the slightest bit of smoke could detract from the vibrant colors I came here to shoot. On a four day trip, however, there wasn’t much wiggle room.
I reached out to the pilot and decided to delay the flight, hoping that the haze would clear. Each morning I was up to the same smoke. Mentally, I was prepared to head home empty-handed and return down the road. I tried to enjoy Yellowstone as best I could considering the original plan appeared to be foiled.
On my second-to-last night, while driving through the park’s hills, I saw a flash of lightning off in the distance – a glimmer of hope. As luck would have it, rain rolled through overnight. I woke up to a clear, sunny day. I texted the pilot that morning saying that I was happy with the conditions. He confirmed his availability, and with that, I set off for Bozeman. We’d be taking off just after noon.
I did my best to put my fear of heights to the side for three hours and ignore the fact the equivalent of a car seat belt buckle was keeping me inside the helicopter. I tried to appreciate that I was soaring 2,000 feet over Yellowstone. Much of the trip takes place over a relatively muted landscape, but amidst a sea of green pine trees, one feature stands alone.
Around 45 minutes into the flight, a burst of color came into view. I remember hearing my muffled voice over the headset. “Wow” was all I could formulate. Grand Prismatic—the largest hot spring in the United States—in all of its glory.
This geological beauty mark is part of the Midway Geyser Basin, a collection of thermal features just north of Old Faithful. Grand Prismatic is renowned for both its colors and scale—it measures about 370 feet in diameter, and is more than 120 feet deep. It was also the sole reason I found myself in the air, holding my camera out of a helicopter.
The word “prismatic” comes from the Greek stem “prisma” meaning “separated or distributed as if by a prism.” The hot spring’s center reaches temperatures of 190°F, too extreme for any bacteria to survive, resulting in the deep, clear blue. As you move outward from the center, the temperature cools, allowing different types of microbes to thrive. The pigments within these bacteria, tuned to specific wavelengths of light, create the colors we perceive. A work of art formed by just a temperature gradient and microorganisms.
The timing of this flight was intentional. I wanted to arrive at a time of day when the sunlight would be strong enough to illuminate the colors, but would hit at an angle to cast shadows for some depth. I’ve seen images of Grand Prismatic from the air where photographers edit out the adjacent walkway, but in my view, it’s an essential element of the scene. The people provide context, a sense of scale, and serve as a reminder that we are mere spectators to what nature is capable of crafting.
I lost track of time up in that helicopter, but the image timestamps show that we spent over an hour above Grand Prismatic. My pilot was incredibly accommodating, skillfully banking the small R44 as we circled. This allowed me to lean out for the top-down shot that I was aiming for. He made a number of adjustments to our positioning based on what I was seeing on the camera’s display.
After plenty of time having my arms blasted back by the wind, I knew I captured some keepers. The pilot banked the helicopter, and we headed northeast for the final part of the flight. We made a few passes over the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone and the Upper Falls before turning north for our return to Bozeman.
I’ve spent many hours driving throughout Yellowstone, both in the summer and winter. Rental cars stuck in snow banks, bison causing traffic jams, naps in the car on the side of the road after very early mornings. But this trip delivered a new experience to take home with me.
-EK
15/07/24
