FARROL JOAN (JONI) WALRATH NUNAN – 1934-2026

 

Mrs. Bonner's First Grade Class, 1955-56, Orofino Elementary School

My big sister Joni slipped peacefully from this world on Saturday, Sept. 19. Joni was going on 15 when I was born and was a player in my life, especially during my young years. I miss her already.

I have many “Joni” stories, but the one I’ll relate here is a favorite. Joni’s birthday is Nov. 10, so when she started school in Oklahoma, she began at midterm (January), but when the family moved back to Idaho, there was no mid-term program, and she was “put back” to the third grade instead of promoted to the fourth. In her mind, she was made to repeat a grade, and she resented this for the rest of her school days, though she had a wonderful group of friends among her classmates.

Joni graduated from Orofino High School in 1953 and subsequently attended the University of Idaho majoring in elementary and secondary education. Her goal was to finish in three years to make up for the year that was stolen from her in elementary school. Her U-I advisor told her this would only happen if she had no scheduling conflicts, which was doubtful.

In reviewing her coursework in September 1955, Joni’s advisor realized that if she could complete her student teaching that semester, she could graduate in the spring, fulfilling her goal to finish college in three years, but arrangements would have to be made quickly. So, Joni applied to our home school district and gained approval to student teach at Orofino schools, both elementary and secondary. An added advantage was that she could stay at home.

Well, there was a problem of sorts. Of the three first grade teachers, only Mrs. Irene Bonner was qualified to supervise a student teacher. School was already in session, and Mrs. Bonner was my teacher. The administration decided it would not be wise to reassign me. So, when Joni came to teach, it was not ideal. I was required to call her “Miss Walrath” and I didn’t want to.

Well, I was a young first-grader, having turned six just before school started. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do the work, I just didn’t. I didn’t understand that I was supposed to finish my paper and turn it in. Basically, I was totally oblivious to the fact that I might be flunking first grade. It meant nothing to me, and Mother had no knowledge of the situation.

But Joni told on me. “Mother, Kathy doesn’t finish her work,” she said. Mother was appalled and immediately scheduled a conference with Mrs. Bonner. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, to which Mrs. Bonner just shrugged. I suspect that for whatever reason, Mrs. Bonner was not as concerned as Joni and Mother.

Nevertheless, a plan was put into place to make me understand the necessity of finishing my work and handing it in. Mother made a chart and hung it on the wall in the breakfast nook, and when I brought a graded paper home, I got to glue a star on the chart. I guess earning that star was affirmation enough. The system worked. I became a good student, and much of the credit goes to Joni. At least, that’s the story. (I’ve often thought that Mrs. Bonner probably had a plan.) KW

[In the above photo, student teacher Miss Joni Walrath stands beside teacher Mrs. Irene Bonner. My friend Chris Cummings Miller and I identified this photo to the best of our ability a few years ago. 

Back row: Joni Walrath (Nunan), Irene Bonner, Craig Allen, Jerry Wilfong, Kathy Dobson (Warnock), Sherri Daniels (McMillan), Christine Cummings (Miller), Martha Sewell, Steve Titus, Tim Musiel. 

Center row: First three unknown; Kay Schwartzkopf, Judy Partee, Vicky Carrico, Patricia Irby, Mary ?

Front row: Chipper Prudhomme, Kenneth Dykes, Ged Randall, Jim Oud, Unknown, Lanny Tinney, Calvin Joye, Charles Lindstrom, Mike Steinbruecker.]

DELIGHTFUL COOLER DAYS

The cooler evenings are such a relief. So lovely to be able to sleep under a blanket in cozy comfort.  

Mike and I so enjoyed our day at the farm last Monday (Sept. 21) that we returned on Wednesday to stay a few days. It seemed to me that the fall colors along the river were more evident on Wednesday than they had been on Monday. I noticed it at the farm, too. I suppose that’s silly, but it does have to happen at some time and in some way. And when we returned to town on Saturday, the colors were again more vibrant.

Thursday afternoon it was a lovely 78 degrees at the farm, but it began to cloud up, and by Friday noon it was raining. Looking at the forecast, lows will now be in the 30s. Since a freeze might happen anytime, I decided to pick the rest of the tomatoes – 70 in all.

Farm yard from north field

For years, green tomatoes from our garden were slim to none, and I was able to make just a little mincemeat, but this year I could make a full batch twice over. Mike and I both enjoy a small mincemeat pie a couple of times during the autumn / winter season, but there’s a limit to how much mincemeat we can consume. The rest of our family doesn’t care for it. Come to think of it, I don’t know many people who do like mincemeat and a few who remark with disdain. It’s expensive to make this mincemeat, but it’s even more expensive to buy it.

So, this morning I chopped 12 cups of green tomatoes and placed the bag in the freezer to be processed on the next trip to the farm. And I also chopped up the Empire apples and cooked them into apple sauce.

While we were at the farm, I made two batches of elderberry jelly – 11 jars. Mike picked more elderberries, so I processed the juice and will make another batch of jelly with the next stay. KW

A BEAUTIFUL LAST DAY OF SUMMER

On the last day of summer (Monday, Sept. 21), Mike and I made a day trip to the farm. It was a beautiful day – sunny and warm with a cool breeze. I noticed right away that our fields have been planted, and I love the new look! It’s canola, which will be bright yellow in the spring.

Mike serviced the wood splitter and put it to bed for the winter. I helped him cover the pine logs in the front yard with the old metal roofing, as if we need to protect more firewood. We’ll never use all that we have in storage now. And we don’t know but what the winter will bring yet more downed trees.

In the afternoon, Mike enjoyed a rest in the hammock. He was going to put it away last week but decided to leave it up a while longer.

I washed sheets and jeans and hung them on the clothesline. They were dry by mid-afternoon. I picked eight tomatoes and three zucchinis and watered the raised beds. I see a lot of green tomatoes, and as warm as the afternoons have been, some of them might ripen before Jack Frost comes to visit.

Pear tree changing to autumn garb

You know, back in Ina’s day – or even my dad’s day – the growing season at Gilbert would likely be over by Labor Day, if not before. It was a short growing season at altitude. These days we can wait it out a bit. However, the shorter days and cooler lows are still a factor, and we don’t quite know what to expect anymore.

I loaded up projects and food to carry back to town, thinking that we wouldn’t return to the farm for a while, but now we’ve decided to spend more time there this fall, so I’ve had to readjust. It doesn’t hurt to keep using up the food, but I don’t like to burden Mike with a lot of packing back and forth. The fact is that it’s a lovely time of year, and I like to be at home at the farm. We’ll see if we can keep the house open through December.

Then Mike rode the XT back to town, and Bess and I followed in the Jeep. I drove. KW 

AUTUMN'S BOUNTY -- TOMATOES AND APPLES

 

Ah! Just smell those apples! This year I picked a bumper crop from the little Empire tree – three dozen mostly worm-free apples. The Freedom tree yielded 10 small apples – it’s first crop – and they also were worm-free. The Honey Crisp only produced a dozen or so, and they were terribly infected with worms. I picked them anyway for the good I could get from them, and I made separate batches of applesauce with the Honey Crisps and the Freedoms, both of which were pronounced delicious. I used a few Empire apples to make a delicious apple crisp.

Last spring, when it was time to spray the apple blossoms, the wand on Mike’s sprayer was broken, so I used an ordinary spray bottle to give the three trees an initial treatment. The repeat application the following week worked for the Empire and Freedom trees, but the Honey Crisp blossoms had already passed. At least, I think that’s the difference. I take courage that this was a better year and look forward to trying again next spring.

According to my notes, I picked more than six dozen tomatoes from three bushes during the season. It’s the best crop I’ve ever had. I shared some, cooked some, and we enjoyed them with our green salads and sandwiches. I picked just a few last week, and we noticed a definite difference in the flavor and texture. Perhaps I should have left them to ripen a few more days in the hot afternoon sun. Plenty of green tomatoes abound. If they don’t ripen, we’ll have green tomato mincemeat. Don’t scoff! Jarred mincemeat is hard to find, and when you do, it’s expensive. Mike and I enjoy the occasional mincemeat pie.

The zucchini didn’t do so well – just a few, as usual. Hardly worth the effort. It’s just disheartening because zucchini plants are supposed to be prolific. KW

“Vos papiers, s’il vous plait”

“It’s a terrible system we’re getting to have in our country,” said my late sister Harriet. I think of this so often these days.

“Your identity papers, please.” I never thought it would come to this in America. In fact, I put off getting my “Real ID” for at least five years, but when it came time to renew my drivers license, I finally stepped up to it.

My daughter suggested that maybe a Real ID isn’t so important for me. “Where are you going to go anyway,” she asked. But it’s a matter of compliance. And – she recently attended a hearing in a federal building in Boise, and in future I may want to accompany her, and I will have to have a Real ID in order to enter the building. You know how it is. We little old ladies cause so much trouble that we have to be scrutinized. 

So, at one month out from my renewal date (August 28), I read through the list of required documents and discovered to my chagrin that I would need a certified copy of our marriage license. Why? To prove the event that caused my name to change from my birth certificate. (This requirement discriminates against women.) Fortunately I’ve only had one name change, or this would be even more difficult. I had to order the license, and it took at least a month to be delivered. By the time it came, my driver’s license had expired.

We pay our bills online, so I didn’t have a utility bill to prove my current address. The monthly paper statement we receive to show our water usage was the best I could do, but it’s in Mike’s name. Oh well. Maybe this with the marriage certificate would work.

I don’t have a social security card showing my married name, but I do have tax statements from my state retirement fund showing my current name with my social security number. I tossed it in the file I was developing.

Once I had all my “papers” together, I made an appointment with the licensing department. I should have just gone in and taken a number. They aren’t that busy in my community. Be that as it may, I was there on time.

So, when called, I approached the representative and presented my papers. My expired license had to be renewed first – so I passed the tests and paid for an 8-year license. Then from my papers, the rep chose my birth certificate, marriage license, the water bill in Mike’s name, and my tax statement and scanned all these into the system. 

“Your license will have a chip in it so that they can scan it,” she said. “Do you mind?” What difference does it make if I mind? I mind about a lot of things. I said I didn’t mind. I paid again, this time for the “Real ID.”

And that was that. This thing that was a big deal in my mind for all these years is finally over. Maybe. KW

 

CANADA, O CANADA

 

My grandparents, Charlie and Nina Portfors, were married October 31, 1906, at the home of her parents, Thomas and Alice Mary Sanders, near the farming community of Melrose, Idaho. Within a few years, Charlie and Nina had settled in the small town of Orofino, Idaho, where Charlie established the Ford garage and operated it for the next 30 years.

Sometime after that 1906 wedding, Thomas Sanders took his family – his wife and other children (Bessie, Albert, and Muriel) – and homesteaded in northern Alberta, Canada. I don’t know the exact year, only that they were there in 1911 when Thomas died. 

Pearl in 1918

His son Albert then took over the farm, but in 1916, he came back to the States to marry my dad’s sister, Pearl Dobson. They then farmed the Alberta homestead for the next 30 years, and Uncle Al served as a member of the Legislative Assembly of Alberta from 1921 to 1935. Of the other children, Aunt Bessie settled in the States, but Aunt Muriel married Roy German and they lived in Calgary where Roy served in a government office.

But wait! There’s more! Two of my grandfather Charlie Portfors’ brothers, Andrew and Fred, also settled in Alberta where they farmed and raised their families. They became Canadians through and through.

When I was growing up, some of these Canadian relatives were members of my extended family. Aunts, uncles, and cousins visited most every summer, and I still have warm feelings for them. Of course, the original players are gone now, but their descendants, my cousins, still live in Canada. I wouldn’t insult them or hurt their feelings for anything.

Pearl as a child

A lock of Pearl's hair saved in Ina's book

Most of the time the Canadians visited us rather than vice versa. Why? Because they came to shop, not just to visit. They had lists of things they needed that they couldn’t find in Canada, or maybe it could just be purchased for less in the U.S., so they would stop in Spokane on the way home to buy what they needed. It’s well-known that the Canadians shop in the U.S.

I announced to Mike one day last week that I wanted to buy another doll – a “Maplelea” Girl, the Canadian answer to the American Girl. I know it’s insignificant in the scheme of things, but I want to show my support for Canada in some way. So, from the seven dolls representing seven Canadian regions, I ordered “Brianne,” the farm girl of the Canadian prairie. With her fair skin, blue eyes, and blond hair, she reminds me of Aunt Pearl. Every doll should have her own name, and while I don’t much care for the name “Pearl,” it really can’t be anything else, can it?

She’s here! "Maplelea Pearl, Canadian Farm Girl." 

[The first photo is of my grandmother Nina Portfors' family. Seated is her mother, Alice Mary Stinson Sanders, and behind Alice is her brother. Muriel Sanders German is on the left, and Nina stands on the right. Sitting on the ground is Albert Sanders, who married Pearl Dobson. Al and Pearl were my aunt and uncle on my dad's side and my great aunt and uncle on my mother's side.] KW

SUMMERWEEN AT THE FARM

 

I like to make the most of “Summerween,” the late summer / autumn season that culminates in Halloween when days grow shorter, mornings grow cooler, and evening shadows grow longer. The world takes on a certain enchanted glow. 

Son Yancey and his daughter Emmy visited at the farm for a few days late in August, so I brought out the Halloween runners and hung a fall wreath on the front door. The world didn’t disappoint. On the evening of the 27^th, we watched the “almost” total eclipse of the moon as it rose above the barn from the earliest stages about 7:30 until 9:20 when we saw that the eclipse was waning. It was a privilege to share it with family.

With the exception of the first photo above, these were taken by Yancey with his iPhone 17 Pro. The first was taken with my old SE. There's a 17 in my future. 

“FIND MY”

Shadows at eventide

We’ve been home from our 1926 trip to Yellowstone National Park for more than two weeks. Having toured on a shoestring, I know that Ina was hungry and tired, and it’s taken her all this time to recover. She has enjoyed having plenty of garden produce to eat. Meanwhile, in 2026, it was hard work for me to keep the 1926 days and dates straight, and after that, my blog muse said she’d had enough.

Some months ago, several of our children decided that Mike and I should be connected through our cellphones, and son Murray made it happen through the “Find My” app. Frankly, we didn’t pay much attention. Months passed – long enough for us to forget all about it – and Murray had to tutor us again.

The thing is – yes, it’s frightening to think that Mike could end up in a ditch while riding his bicycle, and to be honest, it has happened. However, other things happen (like flat tires) that can slow his return, and he also forgets to take his phone, which makes me a little casual in my attitude toward his riding.

And that brings us to recent experiences. Late in July, Mike made a motorcycle trip to southern Idaho, and on his way home, he stopped in Challis to spend the night. Since he still had hours of daylight, he decided to pick up a couple of geocaches, and – wouldn’t you know it? – he lost his phone. He borrowed a phone and called me so that I could use the “Find my” app to locate his phone. It didn’t help because the app said his phone was still at the first geocache when he could prove he still had it at the second one. He couldn’t find it and came home without it.

A summerween evening

Frankly, I would have taken the opportunity to have the latest iPhone iteration, but as luck would have it, DIL Kelly had just purchased a new phone and gifted Mike with her previous one, an iPhone 12 Pro. Mike’s previous iPhone was black, which made it hard to find anyway, and this one is white – easy to see but deemed “girly.” Mike coped by buying a blue-gray case for it. It was a trial setting it up without his previous phone, but son Murray was a great help, and Mike’s data was finally restored.

Today we went shopping in our black GTI with black interior. As we traveled along, I was suddenly aware that my black purse was nowhere to be found. I felt certain I had had it, so I panicked. Where could it be? I wanted to go back to the house, but we were already close to the store. Long story short, Mike used the “Find my” app on his phone and discovered that my purse was with us. I found it under the seat. KW

DAY 16 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

August 11, 1926 -- Wednesday

Just like Charlie of the M.T.A. song, I wonder if the family will ever return. I also sing “the tale of the castaways,” the theme song from Gilligan’s Island where a two-hour cruise turned into a nightmare. It appears that Ina has had enough of traveling and camping and is ready to be home. 

I have no information regarding this day in 1926 as the family travels through Washington and Idaho to reach home. All that remains among the memorabilia is a photo of Shirley at Spangle, Washington, which more or less indicates that they camped near there (18 miles south of Spokane), and I think it’s doubtful that they made it home in one day. Hopefully, they arrived on August 13 (Friday).

And I know nothing about their homecoming. Did Myrtle and Ethel prepare the desired nutritious homecoming dinner? They probably lacked up-to-date information from the travelers and likely worried. Perhaps Ina insisted on sending a telegram from Spokane, and that would have reassured the girls, but the timetable would still be uncertain due to unforeseen circumstances on the road.

But – I can pretend. I can see Myrtle rising early to bake a cake while Ethel went to the garden to pick tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, and lettuce. They also scurried around to tidy up, air the house, and hide the cigarettes and ashtrays.

I do know that the travelers made it home, though, because they went on to live out their lives for a good many years – all of them. Jack was first to pass on – 1946; Ina – 1957; Bernice – 1958; Lynn Dryden – 1963; Myrtle – 1971; Earle – 1975; Ethel – 1980; Vance – 1987; and Shirley – 2004. 

That’s all, Folks! Thanks for celebrating the 1926 Road Trip to Yellowstone with me. KW 

DAY 15 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 August 10, Missoula, MT

In her final postcard, Ina writes: We didn’t leave Anaconda until 12:30 P.M. Ate our lunch there and drove 117 miles. It was windy and cold, and we were in one hard shower. It has been cold ever since we left the Park. We wear our coats and sweaters and put the curtains on. We are trying to make it as far as Coeur d’Alene today. Spokane is over 200 miles away. We won’t get home till Thursday. I’m just wild when I stop to think of it. Hope we don’t have any more car trouble. In haste. Love, Momma

Vance plays with a dog

[Today, Interstate 90, a fast-moving four-lane highway, connects the 200 miles between Spokane and Missoula, but in 1926 it was an unpaved dirt and gravel trail. Ina hoped they would make it to Coeur d’Alene, but even that would have been ambitious. I know from the picture of Vance that they camped near Kellogg, Idaho, which means they traveled about 130 miles this day.]

 

DAY 14 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

[Ina writes another postcard to her daughters, Myrtle and Ethel, at the farmhouse. On a practical level, it's silly to keep writing these postcards because even with delays, they won't be delivered until after the travelers arrive, but today I'm glad she did and that she had the foresight to keep them. It could only be better if she had continued a journal.]

August 9 [Monday] – at Anaconda, Montana – 9:35 A.M.

Graham & Cora Wanless in 1937

We made about 190 miles yesterday. We were in two hard showers. At Bozeman, we were one day late for their round-up. The town was finely decorated with bunting and flags. Lynn had to have a flat tire vulcanized, so we are delayed again. I’m getting frantic [to be home] on account of Cora and Graham and how you are getting along. Love, Momma

[Cora Dobson Wanless was Jack’s younger sister. Ina must expect Cora and her husband Graham to visit from Boston Bar, BC, Canada.]

DAY 13 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

August 8 (Sunday), 9:20 A.M. – Livingston, MT

Dear Girls,

We checked out at the north entrance at Gardiner yesterday at 5:00 P.M. and drove 23 miles. Camped on a creek with fine big cottonwood trees. Driving along Yellowstone River. Road rough. Can’t say what day we will arrive. May phone or telegraph from Spokane. Weather cloudy and quite cool. We are very anxious to get home. Planned to be home sooner. Please have plenty of vegetables cooked for our first meal and a big cake, canned or fresh fruit. If handy, chicken. Love, Momma

[So, they are traveling home by way of Montana instead of retracing the route through Idaho. However, 1926 is decades prior to the opening of Highway 12 connecting Montana with central Idaho. Instead, their route will take them to Missoula and across the Idaho panhandle through Coeur d’Alene and on to Spokane before they can travel south into the remote area of central Idaho where home is located – a long and arduous journey. 

Frankly, I feel for Ina. Seeing the wonders of Yellowstone was interesting and educational, but I know she, Bernice, and Shirley had "down time" while they waited as the men fished. And now Ina is hungry for a decent nutritious meal. KW]

DAY 12 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

AUGUST 7 -- YELLOWSTONE, THEN AND NOW

[I have no postcards from this day, but they apparently left Yellowstone at 5:00 p.m. on this date, as revealed in tomorrow’s postcard.

It looks like the family had so much fun touring Yellowstone National Park and the Jackson Lake area, but I see the downside, and today a visit to the Park is a very different experience. I asked AI to give me a comparison. Read on:]

My aunts -- Bernice and Shirley

It is easy to look at old photos from the 1920s and feel like early tourists had a more magical, unfettered experience. Visitors back then could walk right up to the edge of active geysers, feed black bears directly from their car windows, and explore the wilderness without crowds, boardwalks, or reservation systems. From a perspective of pure, lawless novelty, it certainly looked like a thrilling vacation. However, historians and park rangers point out that this unfiltered freedom came with severe, often hidden consequences that would shock a modern traveler.

The Chaotic Reality of 1920s Tourism

• Severe Safety Hazards: Without boardwalks or guardrails, early visitors frequently suffered severe, sometimes fatal burns from stepping through the fragile thermal crust into boiling acidic water.
• Violent Wildlife Encounters: Encouraging bears to feed on human food and garbage caused massive spikes in injuries. Dozens of tourists were hospitalized every year from bear bites and maulings, and the animals suffered from poor health and shortened lifespans.
• Widespread Destruction: Early tourists routinely threw logs, rocks, and trash into geysers to force eruptions. This permanently choked off the plumbing of several unique thermal features, destroying them for future generations.
• Ruined Landscapes: Soap and laundry detergent were regularly dumped into pristine pools like Morning Glory to change their surface tension and trigger bubbles, which accelerated the growth of damaging bacteria and altered their brilliant colors forever.

Why Today's Experience Offers a Different Kind of Value

While modern rules can feel restrictive, they were enacted to save the park from being loved to death. Today's visitors trade the chaotic, destructive freedom of the 1920s for a different set of benefits:

• Ecological Health: Thanks to strict management, Yellowstone is the only place in the lower 48 states that still retains all of its medium-to-large wild mammal species that existed before European settlement.
• True Wild Behavior: Instead of watching a garbage-fed bear beg for scraps by the roadside, modern tourists get to witness apex predators hunting, foraging, and raising their cubs in a completely wild, natural ecosystem.
• Preservation: The boardwalks ensure that the vibrant thermal pools and delicate microbial mats look exactly the same for you as they will for visitors a century from now.

Early tourists certainly had a wilder, more unscripted adventure, but modern visitors get to experience a healthier, more authentic ecosystem that has a chance of surviving into the future. [End AI]

[As a final word from me, the fact is that you must do your homework before visiting Yellowstone – or any national park, for that matter. You can’t do it your way. You have to know the rules. Tent camping -- actually "roughing it" -- is a thing of the past. You have to have a metal-sided camper and keep your food within secure metal boxes. And you must have a reservation for overnight stay.

A friend once said, "A seer of sights I am not." I agree. And to this I can add, "Been there; done that." The crowds can have it. KW]

DAY 11 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

[It’s Friday, August 6, 1926. I am concerned that our family should be starting for home. It took them five days to get to Yellowstone, and it will take every bit of that to get home. So, what’s the hold up? Apparently the men are determined to fish, and yet they catch next to nothing.]

Ina wrote this postcard on August 6:

Dear Girls, We are camped on the Yellowstone almost nine miles above the falls and Grand Canyon. The men have gone fishing – crazy – but we’ll have to begin to hurry home. Each has caught a fine trout except Vance. They went off about 5 this A.M. in Lynn’s car to fish. Yesterday they tried it in the lake and river on Fishing Bridge but no luck, so we went on to Grand Canyon. I use only superlatives here to describe Upper and Lower Falls. Then we drove back about nine miles so they could fish. Lovely camp. Only two other parties here. A bear came into camp about 4:30 this A.M. and got the men up. He was turning over pots and pans. The girls are still sleeping, but I find it hard to do in more ways than one so got up and built a fire.

 

[Ina says that Earle took this photo of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone from Inspiration Point. Dad and I didn't go. The road was closed for repairs and it was a two-mile walk, so only the "boys and girls" went.]

Point Lookout and the Lower Falls. Dad, Shirley, Bernice, and I are the people you see in the "log pen" on the point. Earle, Vance and Lynn came on down the rim and shot back from "Grand View."

DAY 10 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

CAVORTING WITH BEARS -- August 5

[I read that bear sightings are more common these days as the bears lose habitat to fires and seek to find relief from the heat. In fact, as Mike and I drove up the Gilbert Grade on Saturday, a black bear lumbered across the road right in front of us. This is the first time we’ve seen a bear on the grade, though we see them in this region from time to time.]

Postcard: At Fishing Bridge Camp

Ina feeding cookies to a 2-year-old "brown bear"

We left Jackson Lake camp after lunch yesterday and made this camp among the trees. Saw a bear in camp standing up being fed. Mother bear and cub in camp this A.M. The next move is to backtrack five miles and see Natural Bridge and Knotted Pines. Then on to Grand Canyon [of the Yellowstone]. We are getting awfully dirty. Bernice says the nighties will get up and walk off with a blanket on each arm. Getting hungry for home cooking. 

Shirley & the brown bear

[Have you watched Hazardous History with Henry Winkler? This trip to Yellowstone in 1926 qualifies as “hazardous.” Never mind that the cars were anything but reliable and safe, did you see how close they stood to Old Faithful on Day 8? It’s not allowed today. And here we see them actually holding out treats for the bears to snatch. And Ina thinks it’s such fun!!! I’m surprised the bear didn’t swat her.

Here’s an overview regarding the evolution of the attitude toward bears at Yellowstone provided by Google:

“In the 1920s, bears at Yellowstone National Park were not widely viewed as lethal or terrifying apex predators but rather as entertaining, anthropomorphized attractions. Park management actively encouraged tourists to feed black bears and view nightly garbage-dump spectacles, treating minor bites and scratches as a fun ‘souvenir’ rather than a severe safety hazard. Despite the lighthearted public relations, both black bears and grizzlies remained powerful wild animals, and serious or fatal attacks did occasionally happen at feeding sites. The casual attitude toward bear safety eventually led to severe habituation and rising conflict. The National Park Service phased out the dumps and officially banned feeding by 1970.”

Aunt Bernice & the "brown bear"

In the mid-1950s, when I was about five years old, I went with my parents to visit Uncle Earle and Aunt Bernice in Idaho Falls. (Uncle Earle taught junior high manual arts and mathematics there for thirty years.) Uncle Earle drove us to Yellowstone Park, and I remember that we sat in a long line of cars on the road as the bears came along looking for handouts. Uncle Earle had brought a bag of candy, and as the bear approached our car, I tried to put one in its mouth. Alarmed, my dad was rolling up the window as fast as he could. KW] 

DAY 9 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

A colorized postcard view of Yellowstone Lake from the 1920s

 August 4, 1926

At Leek’s Camp at Jackson Lake. We plan to go back through S.E. entrance to Yellowstone Camp and on to Lake Camp, still on Yellowstone Lake.

[Ina completed her journal and apparently mailed it home. She didn’t begin another letter, so now the information about the trip is sketchy, mostly from postcards and the backs of pictures. They left Jackson Lake and went back to Yellowstone Park where they camped and did more sight-seeing. I’ll include here Ina’s “Wayside Notes,” indicating what worked.]

INA’S WAYSIDE NOTES

·      The tent is priceless, far above rubies. The feather beds are very comforting. Glad we brought ‘em along.

·      Shirley’s vanity case is the handiest thing on the works and the little Vaseline can in constant demand.

·      The little suitcase is next in the honor roll, holding all the little indispensables of our toilets.

·      The box which started out to hold fry pans and buckets was commandeered the second A.M. to ride the running board to hold extra wraps and parcels. Our backseat was much more comfortable ever after.

·      I soon found I could pin my hat onto the wide cloth band in corner of car cover, so I don’t wear it much.

·      At the desert station called Yale, Shirley put her black tie around my head, and I’ve been more respectable ever since.

DAY 8 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

A colorized postcard photo of Jackson Lake

August 3, 1926

[Several pages of Ina's letter journal blew away, so she reconstructs the best she can. The timeline becomes blurred, but the stories continue.]

From a postcard: "A bear came into camp last night and ate at table. We had lots of fun. This morning, a mother bear and cubs came into camp and we got pictures. Weather fine."

[Ina completes her journal with the following entry:] 

We left the loop we were taking around the Park and came 23 miles through the south entrance and on to Jackson Lake in the Jackson Hole country. Very fine scenery with the Tetons looming across the lake. We came through level valleys surrounded by beautifully wooded mountains and along lovely creeks. We went to Moran, opposite Mt. Moran, and here the Snake flows out of Jackson Lake, and there is a big dam. There was a little store full of furs, all made, and heads and skins of animals decorated the walls, also chairs made of elk bones. But the chance to fish was poor, so we got bread, eggs, etc., and came back several nights to this beautiful camp on the lake.

The men got a boat but caught no fish. Dad, who fished along the bank, caught four copper bellies which are poor eating. [These were likely Utah Chubs, bony bottom feeders that she called copper bellies because of their coloring.]

This is our most beautiful camp so far, among little poplars and lodgepole pines, on a gentle slope overlooking the lake with small poplars and sage scattered over it. I had a big sage fire last night.

Now my diary letter is up to date. The men got up early and went fishing along the shore. Earle got one lake trout, their only luck. They came back for a hasty breakfast and went again in the boat, We did up dishes and aired our bedding, which it badly needed.

[On the morning of August 3, Shirley wrote the following postcard from “Jackson Lake Camp”:] I’m going to start right off by asking one of you to phone to Aunt Ida and ask her to buy that green hat for me. We’re camped near Jackson Lake and have a splendid view of the Tetons. Words can’t express their wild, rugged beauty. We’re having a sagebrush fire tonight. We’ll start back around the Grand Loop in the Park tomorrow.

DAY 7 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

Shirley Dobson, Bernice Dryden Dobson, and Lynn Dryden at Old Faithful Geyser

August 2 -- 

Ina notes on the back of the above photo: Vance took this picture of Old Faithful Geyser and got scalded on his face and arms when a light breeze blew the steam on him. He felt the effects the rest of the day. Old Faithful erupts every 60 to 70 minutes, throwing a column of water two feet in diameter from 120 to 170 feet and maintaining it for three minutes. Bernice, Lynn, and Shirley look like they are ready to dodge.

A geyser near Old Faithful

On the morning of August 2, Vance wrote a postcard to his sisters at the farmhouse: We’re at Old Faithful Camp and are just packing to leave. The geysers are wonderful and will see a few more today. The bears didn’t eat Dad, contrary to all expectations. We expect to camp at West Thumb of Yellowstone Lake and go on to the Tetons tomorrow. I hope the fences are standing up.

Old Faithful Inn -- "about 30 rods from the geyser"

And Ina also wrote to the daughters at home: We saw wonders yesterday afternoon and this morning. We went through the Old Faithful Inn. Weather looks stormy. We saw the bears eating and one came almost into camp this A.M. We are having a fine time. Wonderful campground. Got pictures. Love, Momma

On the back of the photo of Old Faithful Inn, Ina quotes from the Haynes' Guidebook: "the most extensive log structure yet devised by man." At the center it's eight stories high.

The above photo is Jupiter Terrace, part of the Mammoth Hot Springs. It's more imposing but not so beautiful as Angel Terrace and not far from it. 

DAY 6 -- YELLOWSTONE TRIP 1926

 

From the Haynes Guide, 1926

August 1, 1926 (Sunday)

On this date, Shirley wrote a postcard from Pond’s Resort, about 40 miles from Yellowstone: We’re just about ready to leave for the Park. It was surely cold last night. We’re getting up so much higher. We had a tire tube fixed in Idaho Falls yesterday morning, and it was nearly 9:30 when we left. Then we didn’t drive as fast as we had before. We sidetracked about an hour and went to see the great Snake River Falls, but it was well worth it. It was wonderful and picturesque. I must stop for lack of room. Wish you were here. I’m surely missing you, Shirley Jean. Love, Shirley

Ina continues: We decided to sleep in a little so got up at 5:30 and were away for the great entrance to the Park.

Western Entrance to Yellowstone National Park

I must tell you a joke on us. We were all looking for Fountain Geyser, which was on our first right. We saw a sign called Fountain Road and turned off within parking of a nearby ranger station. When we came to a small mound and saw steam, we decided it was Fountain Geyser, but Lynn and Earl were well ahead of us, so we chased after them, frantically blowing our horn. I think we chased them at least a mile. Then we all came back to the “geyser.” We tried to get Earle and Lynn to take the car back to the ranger station a quarter of a mile away to ask what time the geyser would erupt, but they wouldn’t, so Shirley and Bernice went and came back laughing. It wasn’t Fountain Geyser at all – only a hot pool.

Mammoth Hot Springs Terrace, postcard

Our drive from here on into the Lower Basin was filled with wonders. Fountain Geyser was a gorgeous pool of hot water a beautiful blue and another of wondrous green and smaller ones around of various shades of blue, green, orange shading to brown, pink, lavender, gray, mauve. It is simply indescribable.

Excelsior Geyser, taken by Vance

This P.M. we saw Excelsior Geyser, Turquoise Pool, and Prismatic Lake, all close together. Turquoise Pool was a heavenly blue such as I’ve never seen before. It’s about 30 feet across. Excelsior Geyser was in a pit with walls, say 25 feet high. It was as big as the house yard, I’d say, and a deep blue and boiling and splashing up in different places. It was shaded to different tints at edge and flowed down over a many-colored bluff into the Firehole River. Prismatic Lake had so many colors – blue, green, gold, orange, bronze, brown, pinks, lavender, wine. No time for more description.

Mammoth Paint Pots, by Vance

We went on and camped at Old Faithful campground. We saw the geyser spout, got souvenirs, etc. 

[The family purchased a box of 50 colored postcards which have been enjoyed by the generations over the ensuing century. The black and whites are lackluster but serve as a reminder that they were impressed by the beauty of the Park features. I remember my elementary school teachers talking about the wonders of Yellowstone in the 1950s. Do they still talk about it today? Is it still impressive, or have we ruined it?]