After crashing out the evening in Red Lodge, MT, Ken and I woke to scale the Bear Tooth Highway.  The Bear Tooth isn’t so much a highway as a winding slab of asphalt whose foray above the tree line gives one the sense of being completely alone. 

Of course, you’re not alone.  You’re never alone.  Construction crews ensure that.  The BTH closes down in the winter and is likely overwhelmed with traffic in the summer.  Yet the heavy winter snowfalls mean that the highway demands annual construction attention.  And that attention most likely takes place during the shoulder seasons of May and September.  Which means our 90 minute cruise between the peaks became a 3 hour slog through the mountains.  Beautiful nonetheless.

Up to this point on the trip, I’d seen a grand total of three buffalo.    They were at Wind Cave N.P., SD.  Driving through, I passed a sign stating that buffalo were dangerous and folks should stay away, and as if right on cue, the three buffalo were standing right next to the sign.   I figured I wanted more; what’s the point of taking a picture of three buffalo when there’s so many more out there, right?  But 2/3rds of the way through my trip, those were the only ones I’d seen, and now I was beginning to regret my decision to pass them up. 

Until Yellowstone.

There were herds of them.     At our first sighting, we stopped and took pictures, listen to them snort, watch them roll in the mud and do whatever it is that buffalo do.   Afterwards, I jumped back in the passenger’s seat glowing from a mixture of exhilaration and relief.   That’s when Ken tapped me on my shoulder and pointed out my side window.   Not twenty feet away was this huge beast coming up over a small hill and staring right at us.  So I did what you’d expect…I panicked and demanded that Ken turn on the car and get us the eff out of there.   Ken, recognizing that he was on the safe side of the car, decided instead to lean over and take a bunch of pictures.   It wasn’t until later on, when I saw one lazily cross directly in front of an enormous RV that I realized they’re more used to us then most visitors to the park are of them. 

I swear he was looking right at us.  I swear.

Though for the most part outstanding, Yellowstone is somewhat of a mixed bag.  It has to be one of the most beautiful and interesting places on Earth.   It’s also a huge park with 35 mile an hour two lanes chocked full of Winnebagos and with critical road closings during the shoulder season.  Its sheer size and pristine nature limit the hotels in the area, which means your room could be a hundred miles away. 

 Our first stop at Yellowstone may have been the most interesting.   Mammoth Falls is like Carlsbad Caverns turned inside out.  From the pictures, I expected this to be a small series of delicate calcium formations that could fit in my bedroom.  It’s not; it’s a whole freak’n hill.  There are so many elements to Mammoth Falls that it’s hard to describe.  On the front side, there’s the huge series of cascading, calcium steps that dried up decades ago; On top, there’s a series of small, flat top, white lakes that just ooze calm; and on the back-end is a healthy size waterfall where the lakes drain out.     

Due to an unfortunate road closure, we had to make a giant inverted “C” to make it over to Old Faithful.  This added an additional forty miles to an already forty mile trek.   Ken performed a minor miracle by zipping around all the Winnebagos to land us at Old Faithful precisely four minutes before eruption.  By then a huge crowd had gathered on the seats; we scrambled for an open space.  The geyser hissed, snarled, and growled; a couple of spurts up and then boom, off she went.    I thought Old Faithful would touch the sky, but it wasn’t nearly as high as I imagined. 

Old Faithful may be the park’s crown jewel, but in many ways the geyser basin surrounding it is more impressive.  I knew going in that Yellowstone had the highest concentration of geothermic activity in the world, but I figured it would be all spread out so that you’d have to drive or hike to it.  However, just to the north is this walkable trail (on boardwalks because the ground is dangerously thin) full of geysers and mineral pools, hundreds of them and in all shapes, colors, and sizes.  Some of the geysers are substantially larger that Old Faithful, though just not as regular.  And unlike Old Faithful, the trail lets you get right up to many of them, where the mists of steam and smell of sulfur hit you right into the face.    

That evening we headed down to Jackson Hole, WY, to look for a place for the night.  After finding a pad, we hit this Million Dollar Cowboy Bar right across from the downtown square.  Ken seemed to like it, declaring it “Gawdy in all the places that it should be Gawdy.”  To me, the place was a bit too precious and yuppiefied for NW Wyoming.  That said, the most interesting thing about the place was the bar, which had a series of break-your-ass horse saddles for seats.

 
Yay, my tripod worked.  Normally, I just get a string of lights when I take pictures at night.