Backcountry Kayaking Adventure in Yellowstone
This September, I joined the Yellowstone Theological Institute for a three-day,
two-night backcountry camping expedition deep in Yellowstone National Park.
Our journey began on the calm waters of Lewis Lake, where we packed our kayaks
with all the gear and provisions, we would need for the days ahead.
On the first day, we paddled 6.87 miles across the beautiful Lewis Lake and as far
as we could up the Lewis River until the water level forced us to climb out of our
boats and line our kayaks by foot. The transition from open lake to quiet river felt
like crossing into a more secret part of the park—remote, wild, and still.
As the river widened again, we emerged onto the vast expanse of Shoshone Lake,
one of the largest backcountry lakes in the continental United States. Accessible
only by foot or paddle, it felt entirely untouched. The stillness of the water
mirrored the endless sky, broken only by the dip of paddles and the occasional call
of a duck or bird that calls Yellowstone home.
After more than six hours of moving across the lake and up the river, we set up a
welcomed and comfortable camp for the night. We cooked simple meals over
backpacking stoves and shared stories under a canopy of stars.
Over the course of our three days, we explored the hidden corners of the lake,
hiked short trails along the shore, and enjoyed moments of solitude and reflection
that are rare in daily life. On the final day, we retraced our route back through the
Lewis River and across Lewis Lake, our kayaks gliding easily now with the current
and wind at our backs.
This journey was both a physical adventure and a spiritual retreat—an
unforgettable experience of community, wonder, and renewal in one of the most
wild and beautiful places in Yellowstone.
Finding God in the Stillness of Backcountry Kayaking
As I paddled deep into the backcountry, away from the noise and rush of everyday
life, something sacred happened. The still waters, the towering trees reflected like a
painting on the surface, and the distant call of a loon created a cathedral far greaterthan anything built by human hands. Out there, in the quiet, my heart became still
enough to hear God’s whisper.
Backcountry kayaking strips away distractions. Each stroke of the paddle is simple
and purposeful—a rhythm that clears my mind and makes room for prayer. I find
myself talking to God not with rehearsed words, but with an open heart—thanking
Him for the sunrise, for the breeze on my face, for the gift of being alive and
present in this moment. The solitude allows me to be fully attentive to His
presence, reminding me that He is not distant, but as close as the water beneath my
kayak.
Out on the water, I saw creation as God intended it—untouched, wild, and
breathtaking. The beauty and complexity of nature reflect His creativity and care,
and I am reminded that the same God who carved these shorelines and painted
these skies also shaped me. Being surrounded by such majesty fills me with awe
and deepens my trust in His power and goodness.
This backcountry kayaking adventure renewed my spirit. It reminded me that God
is not only found in church pews or written words, but also in the rustle of pine
needles, the sparkle of sunlight on ripples, and the silence that holds me as I drift.
Out there, I didn’t just see His creation—I felt His nearness.
Being in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park with other believers is
more than just a wilderness adventure—it is a sacred encounter. Surrounded by
rolling hills, pristine rivers, and the quiet majesty of untouched creation, I felt a
profound affirmation of my faith. The sheer beauty and complexity of nature speak
to the intentionality of a Creator who not only formed the universe but also formed
me—with purpose and love.
In those moments, away from distractions, I was reminded that I was created not
just to exist, but to enjoy the Creator and the masterpiece He’s made. Sharing that
experience with fellow believers deepened the sense of awe and gratitude.
Together, we reflected on the truth that this world isn’t random—it’s a reflection of
divine artistry. The fellowship, the silence, the stars above—all echoed the reality
of a God who is both powerful and personal.Meeting God on the Water
Each time I slipped my paddle into the still waters of the backcountry, I felt like I
was entering holy ground. The noise of life faded behind me with every stroke of
the paddle, and the world became quiet enough for me to hear God’s voice. Out
there, surrounded by untouched beauty, I was reminded that His presence is not
confined to buildings or schedules—He is here, woven into every ripple, every
breeze, every beam of sunlight filtering through the trees.
As I glided across glassy lakes or wound through narrow, hidden channels, my soul
began to settle. The rhythm of paddling became a kind of prayer, a wordless
conversation between my heart and my Creator. I found myself whispering
thanks—for the gift of this place, for the strength in my arms, for the wonder of
simply being alive in His creation. In the solitude, I was not alone. I felt held,
known, and deeply loved.
Nature has a way of revealing God’s character—His majesty in the mountains, His
peace in the still waters, His faithfulness in the rising sun. Being out there
reminded me that the same God who shaped these vast wild places is also shaping
me. When I drift and rest, I sense His Spirit settling over me like the calm that
comes over the water when the wind stops. It is in these quiet, hidden places that I
feel closest to Him.
This backcountry kayak trip wasn’t just an adventure for me—it was a way to
worship. It’s where my soul breathes deeply and where I am reminded that God is
not distant. He is here, surrounding me in beauty, whispering in the stillness, and
calling me closer to Himself.
Getting to this event took me through five states—Arizona, Nevada, Utah, Idaho,
and Wyoming—and a one-way 1,000-mile road trip. I gave a lot of thought to what
God has in store for all of us on this water adventure. Then, on the way home, I
had more time to reflect on what I experienced in Yellowstone.
Main Takeaways
Solitude is good—for a brief time.On day two of our adventure, after setting up camp on a beautiful bluff on the
Shoshone Lake shore, the itinerary was to hike or kayak to a thermal area for some
added adventure. Out of the eight friends who were part of our crew, seven went to
the thermals. One stayed behind to rest. That one person was me. For the first few
minutes, I was good with being alone in the backcountry. Then I started to think
about being alone in bear country. So, you guessed it—I carried my bear spray
canister everywhere.
Then I heard voices off the lake and immediately my “bear fears” retreated.
Life lesson learned: Together we are better.
Back across Lewis Lake.
On our way back to the boat dock and our goal of getting back to terra firma, one
of our crew noticed that his kayak was filling up with water. Our guide had him
pull his kayak over in the river and flipped the kayak upside down to drain all
of the water but crossing the lake with winds picking up gave Dakotah a greater
challenge. With about a mile of paddling to go, Dakotah’s kayak began to fill up
with water again. He had two options: paddle faster or get out and swim. He chose
the first and just made it to shore, with the winds whipping the waves with greater
force than any of us wanted.
Life lesson learned: Stay in a group and keep paddling.
Seeing It Differently
On our first morning, coffee still warming our hands, our guide led us down to the
quiet shore of Shoshone. The lake was perfectly still, like glass, and the world
seemed to pause with us. Eight of us stood there, side by side, gazing out across the
water and wondering what might come next.
Then Vern broke the silence with a simple question:
“What do you see?”
One by one, people began to answer—trees stretching skyward, shifting cloud
formations, tiny pebbles scattered along the shore, bugs skimming across the
water’s surface. Each person noticed something different, something uniquely their
own in that moment.And as they spoke, I realized I was seeing something deeper. For me, that moment
changed everything. Yellowstone National Park will never look the same to me
again. Just as hiking through the Grand Canyon reshaped the way I see that place,
this quiet morning reshaped the way I see Yellowstone.
So when Vern turned to me and asked, “What do you see, Steve?” I could only
say: I see Yellowstone from a completely different perspective—and I know I will
never see it the same way again.
Life lesson: Sometimes you have to look beyond the surface to truly understand
what’s in front of you.
Everything about this 21.4- mile adventure was life-giving and lesson-learning.
Thank you, Vern Streeter and YTI, for another adventure by choice.
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