Cross Country Trip, Day 6: Big Sky to Helena

Today was not a good day, at least according to the map. Planning a long vacation to a place you’ve never been months in advance—what could go wrong? Well…

Yesterday we exited west of the park, sneaked into Montana, and stayed in Big Sky. But we still needed to finish our park adventures and then head back north again. The better plan would have been to stay on the east side of the park and then go north, but that’s not what happened. A gentleman I met on the elevator reminded me of why I planned it that way, though. We stayed in a mountain inn with complimentary breakfast for $99. Dwellings closer to the park charge upwards of $300 or more a night.

Montana is unbelievably picturesque. To quote Norman Maclean, “A river runs through it.” Mountains, pines, and lush grasses are cut with sparkling, gurgling water. Anglers abound. (If I use that word for fly fishermen, does it make me athletic?)

Back in the park, traffic is heavy. Every time anyone spots an animal, everyone comes to a standstill so people can grab their cameras and snap pictures. Rubes, all of them. Look, a bison!

The park rangers are not happy with the arrangement and shoo us along as if we live nearby and can see the sights anytime we want. Next time it happens, I’m going to show them the bunk bed pictures and try to buy more time with sympathy.

*Side note: most of Yellowstone is without cell phone service. Being nearly a Luddite, this doesn’t bother me, but I’m wondering if the teenagers in the park are having withdrawal. Possible symptoms may include waking up to the beauty around you, talking to people standing inches away, and thumb spasms from lack of texting.

The park makes up for their lack of phones by posting signs warning you of your impending doom.

Signs not included in montage: “Beware of Armed Badgers” and “Beavers Wearing Crips Colors Are Extremely Hostile and Misunderstood.” Yellowstone is a tough place.

There was even a handicapped accessible sign here:

Their definition of accessible scares me.

This is the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, complete with waterfalls.

We also saw a mud volcano. It smelled like sulfur. This was probably my favorite part of the park, and it was slightly less crowded. (People, people everywhere. Oh, the humanity.)

We exited north through Mammoth and Hot Springs which also serves as the park’s headquarters. It was huge and interesting, but of course we had no time to explore. There were also these guys.

Supper was in Livingston, Montana.

Such a cute town. Some towns have a vibe, and this was one. The people were friendly, the town full of charm and character. Interestingly, they get less snow than surrounding communities because they’re nestled between two mountains. They get lots of wind for the same reason.

Tomorrow we arrive in Glacier. We’re all sharing a room again. There’s no television or internet, but our daughter’s been practicing her interpretive dancing skills, and we brought Old Maid and Go Fish. Should be fun.

Cross Country Trip, Day 5: Jackson Hole to Big Sky

Last night I learned the meaning of true fear; it’s flipping from back to front like a dying fish, trying to get a foothold on a rickety bunk bed in the darkness. I developed a fit of fear-induced giggles. My husband didn’t. Perhaps it was fortuitous that the men and women decided to separate for the day.

The men took off in search of manly pursuits.

The women took a stagecoach and went shopping. It was just like the days of yore if yore included calling each other on cell phones to reconnoiter after our adventures.

Reluctantly we left the spectacular beauty of the Tetons behind. Time is our enemy on this vacation. In order to see as much as possible, we’re blurring through scenes in a day that might take a lifetime to explore.  Still, there’s no time for melancholy because this waits at the end of the road:

 

Yellowstone stretches over two million acres. It could fit the states of Rhode Island and Delaware and still have room to spare. There are five entrances. We came at it from the south and were greeted by a canyon, and then this.

Important things to know about Old Faithful:

It’s the most popular attraction in the park. Read: CROWDED. This is not the place for solitude and ponderous reflection. This is the place for elbows out and fight face on.

As soon as a geyser goes off, people begin claiming their space for the next one. There are some benches. Get there early to grab a good one.

There’s traffic, a lot of traffic. Drive time takes longer because you’ll get stuck.

Old Faithful isn’t the only geyser. There are tons of them, bubbling and brewing, spitting up water, steam, and ash. People get burned. Shoes melt. It’s different and beautiful and a little spooky.

Speaking of danger, caution signs about the abundance of wildlife abound, as they did in Grand Teton. Despite road signs warning of moose and bear, we’ve seen nothing but some elk. I’m beginning to think the park is a wildlife tease.

 

In addition to the signs warning about being gored by bison, eaten by bears and wolves, and having your face melted off by a geyser, there are signs warning of a mass norovirus outbreak in the park. So far Yellowstone is an anxiety attack waiting to happen.

Supper was pizza. You know you’ve been eating too much when pizza seems like a light meal.

The pizza place was located here.

And now a word about Montana.

Perhaps one of my favorite parts of being a writer is eating Oreos for breakfast and wearing my pajamas all day is writing about places I want to go but have never been. To date I’ve written more than a dozen books set in Montana using a lot of research and a little imagination. And now I’m here! I’ve secretly been more exited about this than anything except maybe Alaska.

It’s as beautiful as I thought it would be, maybe more. And guess what? Montana didn’t let us down:

 

Our first grizzly sighting! Thanks, Montana!

Cross Country Trip, Day 4: Casper to Jackson Hole

Our hotel in Casper didn’t have breakfast, so we came here:

Sometimes there are restaurants that make you believe you’d be willing to drive cross-country just to visit again. Eggington’s is one of those.

The cowboy skillet was…there are no words to describe how good it was. The orange juice was fresh-squeezed. Fresh-squeezed, people! In the middle of Wyoming. It’s a blessed time to be alive.  They had free samples of their brownies. They were outstanding, but I refrained from buying one; this is my version of self-control.

We all agreed that Casper is a delightful city. As we arrived for breakfast, they were preparing for a parade. I can’t say the parade was for us, but the timing was certainly coincidental.

Next we headed due west toward the Grand Tetons. What is the logical thing to do after eating a huge breakfast? If you’re a Gray, the answer is to find a milkshake place you read about in a guidebook. We tried two different places before giving up. Driving fruitlessly around the desert made us feel like this:

Here’s a view from a rest area, one of only a few in the area. Handy tip to future travelers: build up your bladder endurance. For as far as the eye can see, there is only desert, brush, and pronghorns. Occasionally a tiny house or trailer dots the landscape, but it’s as if the locals put their money into land, equipment, and livestock instead of dwellings.

Eventually we begin to see the snowcapped mountains of our destination. As we grow closer to these, a curious thing happens. The land becomes spotted with crystalline lakes. Blotches of green begin to dot the landscape again, providing a lush oasis in the midst of so much brown.

As the drive stretches with no milkshakes in sight, I begin to regret the brownie I didn’t buy. This is what I get for trying to diet on vacation.

The closer we get to Jackson Hole and the Tetons, the more the wealth is on display. Here there are businesses, and they’re open. Houses begin to resemble resorts. Paint isn’t crumbling. Buildings aren’t condemned. This morning we stopped in the middle of nowhere to inquire about milkshakes from a woman whose teeth and features showed obvious meth abuse. The “town” was a few blocks worth of ruined dreams. Now everything is streamlined to look like one big log cabin and the stores could dress people in coordinating cowboy paraphernalia like Lloyd and Harry from Dumb &Dumber.

 That brings up an important point: Jackson Hole is expensive. I don’t usually talk much about the places we stay because they’re usually run-of-the-mill hotel chains I’ve located on Hotwire. I love Hotwire and use it often. (This is not a paid endorsement.) But sometimes not even Hotwire can find me a deal, especially in a place like the Grand Tetons. My philosophy is to stay cheap and eat well, which is how we ended up like this.

Being almost 40 and sleeping in a bunk bed with your parents: priceless. Especially if it means being able to see views like these:

Supper was a special treat.

We took in a real live cowboy chuck wagon show.

Why is it that cowboys—the quintessential American icon of masculinity—are such exquisite singers and dancers? Tomorrow we’ll finish the Tetons and head north to Yellowstone, and we’d better see a bear. Or else.