Roadie Day 3: Familiar Faces

(quick note, the pictures can all be clicked on for much larger versions)

Easily one of my favorite parts of the entire trip was my stay in Livingston, MT on the 2nd and 3rd nights of my journey West. A week or so before I left home, I was going over my plans with my Dad; Where I was going, places I'd like to stop and see along the way, mostly in an effort to ease my Mom's worries that I'd somehow get lost in South Dakota and never be heard from again.

When I mentioned that I'd like to see Yellowstone, my Dad perked up, both because he had just been there the year before on a flyfishing trip, but also because he had a cousin who owned a hotel and some apartments in Livingston, a town once considered the original gateway to the park.

Two emails by my Dad later, and I had a place to stay for free for two nights, because of the generosity of a man I'd never met, and who probably barely-at-best knew of my existance before that email.

Why do I feel it's important to mention that?

I've always said that if end up being half the man my Grandpa Kaul was, well, I'll have lived a life better than most. I don't honestly know how to put it into words, but books could (and should) be written about the Kaul men in my family. Any time I've ever been in their presence, from my father, grandfather, uncles, and the many others I've met over the course of my life, I'm overwhelmed by the feeling that I'm sharing the company of great men.

My grandpa was the kind of man who could walk into a room of 100 strangers, and walk out an hour later with 100 friends. It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me well that Kaul men tend to enjoy talking. It's funny how you look back on your relationship with someone you love after they've passed and think about what you would have done differently. With my grandpa, I would have had a tape recorder with me every time he told a story. When I was 14 years old, I went and saw the movie The Perfect Storm with him. On our drive home, he related the movie to a time when he was in the Army, maybe just 18 years old, on a small transport boat headed for Japan that drove right through a hurricane. While his stomach remained steady, he was unable to stand the smell of everyone else below deck throwing up. He decided that he'd had enough, and despite the fact that half the bow disappeared beneath the roaring sea each time it plunged down one of the massive waves, he grabbed a few feet of rope, went topside, and literally strapped himself to the deck. Amid the pounding rain, crashing waves, and the very real thought that the boat may not resurface after the next plunge, it was there that he rode out the hurricane.

I think in many ways I grew up that day. As much as I had (and still have) a whole lot of kid left in me, I remember realizing that I wanted to be him someday. That I wanted to tell epic stories that no one would believe, but they knew were true simply based on the look in my eyes as I told it. I wanted to be a man. I wanted to be a Kaul. I wanted to live a story worth telling.

My grandpa may no longer be alive, but my father is just like him, and I'd like to think myself much like my father. It's because of that heritage that so much of my grandpa continues to live on in me, and with each adventure I pursue, it's like I'm bringing a little part of him back. In many ways, the life I find myself living today is the direct result of a story heard by a boy 11 years ago, told by a man he knew first as his grandpa, and second his hero.

I can't wait to tell him my stories someday. 

Speaking of stories, let's get back to this one. And my "Uncle Dan".

He has a strong build, someone who I imagine probably played linebacker in high school, with welcoming eyes, and a big smile. He wore a white beard that wrapped his chin from ear to ear, and spoke in a way that reminded me of my grandpa. I don't know what it is exactly, but there's something recognizable in every Kaul I've ever met. Sometimes its a look, sometimes a mannerism, but with my Uncle Dan, it was the way that, from the moment he sat down with me, he began telling stories. Here I was meeting a distant relative who I was familiar to by last name only, and it was like I had known him my entire life. With stories ranging from the history of Livingston to long ago memories of my grandpa, 40 minutes passed before I had even thought to check the time. The only reason I even considered leaving was because Yellowstone was calling, and he assured me his stories were nothing compared to the ones I'd experience myself. Of course, I wasn't allowed to leave without a promise to stop by his house the following morning for breakfast before continuing westard. I happily, humbly accepted, as my protests that he was being too nice were only met with a big laugh and strong handshake.

I'm lucky to have met another man, and story, worth living up to.

Yellowstone.


I'm struck with the realization that there are places on Earth that cannot, and probably should not, be described with words. Yellowstone, more than any place I've ever been to, is one of those places. Yet here I am with a blog, pictures, and a desire to make a fool out of myself by trying.

Here goes nothing.

After about an hour-long drive south from Livingston through the mountains, I found myself at the gates to the park, which literally is a giant stone gate that looks like it's straight out of Jurassic Park.

Yellowstone itself is the crater of a still-active supervolcano, a massive remnant from an eruption that undoubtedly changed the world when it last went off hundreds of thousands of years ago. Nearly 40 miles across in every direction, the road follows the rim of the crater in a circle through the park, with attractions like Old Faithful and the Yellowstone Falls along the way. The crater is so big that there are several different landscapes found within, from rolling prairies where buffalo herds still roam, to mountains blanketed in pines, to a canyon whose views and grandeur rival that of it's big brother the Grand Canyon.

the canyon, easily one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen

Yellowstone Falls - massive and breathtaking

Compare this to the last picture for size. See those people on the right? 

As I drove, I became more aware of the sky than I ever have before. It was a different kind of blue, like one I had never seen before, creating a magnificent background for the rolling plains filled with animals below. One of my favorite places to go hiking back in Wisconsin is Lapham Peak, a beautiful wooded trail system carved out of the forest, highlighted by a giant wooden tower at the top of a hill. The views from the top are incredible, but I always remember being slightly disappointed, as even on the clearest of days, a thin layer of yellowish smog hovered around the horizon line in every direction. This coming from a state known for its clean air. Yellowstone has none of that. The smokey lens created by highways, industry, and the constant need for power, is replaced by a sky whose color has inspired generations of artists to try and capture it, whether by painting or poem.

female Elk

Buffalo roaming the plains

as I was taking pictures of Yellowstone Lake, this guy snuck up on me from the side

 I was almost glad that it wasn't an entirely clear day, as the clouds created a perfect contrast against the steel blue backdrop. Each one drew itself across the landscape with their shadow, as if themselves artists, hoping to capture the imagination of a young child looking up, and for the very first time realizing the sky was filled not with clouds, but with teddy bears and princess castles.

Further on down the road, I caught sight of a giant plume of white smoke off in the distance through the forest. Seeing as I was driving on top of a volcano the size of Rhode Island, a small part of me worried that something bad was about to happen, but a much bigger part of me stomped on the gas pedal, eager to see what was going on.

As I crested the top of the next hill, the land leveled out into a giant field, with a panoramic view of Yellowstone Lake sprawled out in front of me. Across the lake I found the source of my curiosity, a forest fire eating it's way through a field of pine trees. Any fire started naturally within Yellowstone is allowed to run it's course without interruption, as long as no lives are threatened. The result was a relatively small fire, but the corresponding view was nothing short of incredible.

I could have photographed this for hours

Throughout other parts of the park, there were noticeable sections of the forest that had been burned through recently, with blackened trees standing as mighty tombstones marking the forest that once was, while new pines just a few feet tall were working their way up from the forest floor. And it was while I was driving through these scarred forests that I remember having a very peculiar thought. In the Christian world, a lot is made of the term "common creator". We say that because we ourselves, and the world around us, were all created by the same God, it's natural to assume similarities would exist across all aspects of creation. For me, that similarity was no more profound than when I realized humans and forest fires are a lot a like. 

I swear this will make sense.

Forest fires themselves are like what so many of us experience in life, events that forever change who we are. But just as in life, they come in two very distinct forms:

The "fires" that show us our need for God, and the "fires" that allow us to grow through God. 

The forest fire started because of carelessness on a camper's part, is like the challenge we face living in a sinful world. The situation was entirely avoidable had we only taken a different approach, but instead we give in to temptation, and are left with a damaging impact. Yet these fires are rarely contained just to the forest. Because of being typically started in campgrounds or on hikes, they start closer to civilization, and often spread to other people's homes and property. Rarely do our decisions affect our lives alone, as we often find those around us, those we hold closest to our hearts, hurt as a result. That one little spark that we thought we could just kick some dirt over, soon became an inferno as a result of our apathy. It's a fire like this that cannot be put out on it's own. Before the damage becomes too great, it demands intervention to save those otherwise doomed to see their lives end up in flames. 

Anyone else like the idea of Jesus as a firefighter?

Then there's the second type of forest fire, the one started by a strike of lightning in a thunderstorm. These fires often come out of nowhere, and become seemingly too big to handle before we know it. These are like the times God tests us. In a flash, our lives go up in flames, and we scramble to figure out what to do. Whether it's a collapsed lung, a freak accident, or getting your car window smashed in, the initial reaction is always one of painful shock, and the realization that, no matter what happens, things will never be the same. But that's not the end of the story. While those trees that burn will forever wear the scars of the fire they endured, new growth will soon emerge, eventually feeding off the ashes of the previous fire to grow even taller than those before. This is the challenge set before us by God. Life will never be easy, perfect, or go just as we planned. We will experience events that will forever change us, challenge us, and leave lasting scars. But it's from those scars that we learn and grow. They are a reminder of the pain endured, the struggles that were encountered, but as with anything God has a hand in, they also stand as a testament to His love and grace. The thing about scars is they are a result of pain that was, not pain that is. He has placed within each one of us the ability to withstand such hardships, and overcome. While others may view scars as a chance to empathize with what once happened, I view mine as proof that I've been made stronger to handle what's to come.

In the same way that steel finds its strength through fire, my once brittle faith has, through fire, been forged into the faith of a man of God growing ever stronger. 

I've got the scars to prove it. 

-Alex