
Greater Yellowstone, Wyoming
The Long Walk
We went back for them. The goats had been the high point of the morning, and after we’d made it down to Red Lodge for lunch — and the best sticky toffee pudding I’ve had anywhere — we drove back up over the pass to see whether they were still around.
They were, or one of them was. This is the younger billy again, east of the boulders where we’d found the group earlier, out on the edge of the ridge where the ground drops away hard. Twin Lakes sits in the valley behind him, a long way down.
The wind up there was ferocious. We were dressed for summer in Yellowstone and this is not that; at elevation, with that much wind, it was genuinely uncomfortable to stand in, and you could watch it drag at what was left of his winter coat as he walked into it.
We followed him until he went over the ridge and out of sight. Then we ranged out for a while looking for the rest of the group. We both swore we could hear a young goat bleating somewhere below us. We never found them.
Two frames, stitched by hand.
Nikon Z 7II · Sigma 150-500mm · 200mm · f/5.3 · 1/500 sec · ISO 64
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Frame 6 of 81





