We went to bed just after midnight. At around 3:00 we were awakened by the haunting sound of coyotes howling in the distance, probably from a fresh kill. We got up at 5:45, packed up camp and headed to Old Faithful.
Fingers of steam escaped from cracks in the ground, rising through the crisp air. And as the geyser blew, the morning sun imparted a halo-like glow to the mist.
Only a handful of others were up in the freezing cold at this ungodly hour, and I can only assume that this normally bustling tourist attraction is far more majestic in the morning silence than the crowded afternoon.