Into the zone of death: 4 days spent deep in Idaho’s remote Yellowstone backcountry

Before we entered the zone of death, we were warned by the Ranger.

The so-called zone of death in Idaho is one of the less visited parts of the park.

It is rugged and remote, with no roads, a place where the trail can grow faint and there is a waterfall just around the corner. Most people don't camp there overnight. You can get away with murder there, according to rumors.

The majority of the park is located in Wyoming.

There is a small slice of the park in Idaho. It is overshadowed by the more popular waterfalls, rivers and geysers located close by in the Wyoming section of the park.

It is a wild place in the American West.

Most of the wilderness is the same as it was when the park was established, except for a few changes. That is unusual. It is possible to experience what people saw 150 years ago and know that it is largely the same.

We were warned by another Ranger that the Robinson Creek Trail in Idaho could be difficult to follow due to the lack of traffic. Rangers had a hard time finding the Robinson Creek campsite when they traveled that way to clear trails.

The sound was perfect.

Earlier this month, I set out with a journalist from Idaho to leave the crowds behind and go into the wilderness. We wanted to see a side of the park that few tourists see, and we were going to finish our trip in Idaho.

We traveled a total of 52 miles in less than 72 hours.

Day 1, Wyoming: A gushing geyser and a long slog over the Continental Divide

A lot of planning went into our hike, which we staged as a sort of thru-hike rather than an out-and-back or looping trip. We applied for the required permits months in advance of our departure. We practiced packing in and packing out everything we needed. The night before we started backpacking, we parked our vehicle at the Bechler Ranger Station.

Early on our first morning, we drove the other vehicle into the West entrance of the park. When we stopped at Old Faithful, we knew it wouldn't erupt for more than an hour. We left our vehicle at the Lone Star Trailhead and began walking south, carrying our bear spray and 35 to 40 pound packs.

We followed the Firehole River for a couple of miles, swatting away the first of thousands of mosquitoes.

A small group of hikers were waiting for us at the Lone Star Geyser.

The Lone Star geyser erupts about once every three hours. Old Faithful erupts within about 90 minutes.

Lone Star is not as popular as Old Faithful because it is far away from the road and takes a long time between eruptions.

The trip was off to a good start.

Lone Star Geyser waslching a melange of steam, sulfur and hot water after a child yelled out, "You're just in time"

Lone Star was in full eruption within 15 minutes of us arriving.

It was time to hit the trail and climb toward the Continental Divide. The waters that flow to the Pacific Ocean from the waters that flow to the Gulf of Mexico are separated from each other by the Continental Divide. The Continental Divide can be thought of as an invisible line, where if a rain falls on one side, it will go to the Pacific Ocean and if it falls on the other side, it will go to the Gulf of Mexico.

We hiked uphill through the hottest part of the day on one of the hottest days of the summer, moving slowly under heavy packs before the trail leveled off and then turned downhill.

I was exhausted and my shoulders were burning when I reached the first campsite.

After neither of us ate a full dinner, we slung our heaviest pack high up a tree to lighten our loads and headed out on a hike. After the extra mission brought our mileage up to 20 miles, we were able to confirm the location of one of the highlights of the trip, a backcountry hot spring.

Day 2, Wyoming: A magical backcountry hot spring, big river crossings and an unrelenting thunderstorm

There is no sign pointing to Mr. Bubbles hot springs, even though the secret is out.

There is a fork at a point along the Bechler River Trail. There is a sign pointing to different destinations. A spur trail that looks like a place to rest horses is one of the options. The steam from the geyser basin can be seen if you follow it for half a mile. Continue walking until you reach Mr. Bubbles, a large swimming pool-sized hot spring where cold waters from a nearby creek mix with a bubbling geothermal feature.

It's legal to soak in Mr. Bubbles in the cold waters of the creek that mix with the hot water in the geysers.

On our second day on the trail, it was cloudy with a threat of rain. We soaked in the warm waters of Mr. Bubbles for about an hour. We felt the ground at the bottom of the pool shift as we waded up to the bubbling water at the center.

The steam rose from the hotter nearby geothermal features. The warm waters of an alien planet made us feel like we had left civilization behind.

We knew we needed to get moving after a long day in the wilderness. We knew we would have at least three river crossing on the Bechler River Trail.

There was a bonus river crossing for us.

Many of the bridges on the trail are strategically placed logs that span the gaps or large stones to allow a hiker to stay dry. When there was no bridge, log or stone path, we had to wade across the river.

The first crossing made it easier to get into it. The bridge over the creek had washed out. We unbuckled the straps on our packs and waded across the 40-foot creek after taking our boots off. It was barely knee-deep and not as cold as we were warned to expect.

As we crossed, we felt renewed.

The river crossing became bigger and burlier because of the bad weather. The water reached the top of our thighs when we crossed the Bechler River.

thunderclaps boomed and lighting flickered overhead as a cool rain began to fall. The canyon section of our hike was full of leafy vegetation that soaked us as we hiked. We passed by scenic landmarks during the four hours we were in the storm. We lingered just long enough to take a few photos of the waterfall and complain about how quickly our Gore-Tex boots became wet.

We consulted our map every hour and it seemed like we still had a long way to go.

After smelling smoke, I saw a group of horses tied to a hitching post just off the trail. A group of cowboys are starting a multi-day horseback trip through the Bechler Meadow.

I called out in a cheerful voice that the weather was lovely.

One of the cowboys asked if he could join them and warm up.

There was a big fire in their camp.

I would like to thank you. "We'll be right up."

We were standing next to the fire and our pants and boots were starting to dry out. The man on the horseback trip identified himself as a Ukrainian minister and told us that he believed in the goodness of people. The man said that members of Russian churches immediately donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to help the people of Ukraine. He told us to have faith in the ability of people to do good.

Sufficiently warm and full of a new optimism for life, we thanked our cowboy hosts, wished them luck on their adventure, and jumped back on the trail to finish the rest of our hike in the rain.

After about half an hour, we encountered the remaining members of the cowboy posse at our final river crossing.

Two cowboys and a team of animals crossed the river on horseback as we stood on the opposite riverbank. The water never rose above the horses knees, making the crossing easy to navigate. The water rose above the horses' knees and touched their bellies as they neared us.

The cowboy began to complain about being wet and cold after we exchanged greetings.

The river was not as wet as we were about to be.

The cowboy asked, "You're crossing here?"

Our campsite was on the other side of the river, so we nodded and said so. The cowboys left us behind, with the first cowboy saying he would keep his ears open for high-pitched screaming.

It's great.

We were intimidated by the depth of the water and had to wade across. A precarious log that was balanced too delicately over deeper, fast moving water was the first thing that Druzin set out to do. After he noticed the danger, he backed off the log.

We regrouped and went back to the spot where the cold cowboys and their horses had just crossed the river. We waded into the water with our packs over our heads in order to keep them dry. The riverbed wasn't too slippery and the water reached the top of our thighs but it was calm. We walked across before we were aware of it.

On our second day, it took 16 miles to get to camp, and the mosquitoes set upon us right away. I knew my clothes and boots wouldn't dry until the sun came out, because I was cold and wet. The sleeping pad was ruined by the rain. When I pulled off the whiskey in camp, my self pity stopped.

I perked up just before crawling into my tent, knowing that the next day would be fatal.

What is the zone of death?