Perfect Yellowstone

I'd fallen in love with Montana, so it was very difficult to leave after spending only two days there. However the journey seemed to have taken on a life of it's own and going back, or around in circles just felt - wrong. Until I got to Yellowstone National Park anyway.

Heading south from Hungry Horse, I stopped in Missoula to try to pick up some replacement parts for the bike. No luck - the dealer told me there are only one million people in the entire state so I'd be lucky to get parts until Salt Lake City, in Utah. I had to take the Interstate for sixty miles or so, and it was getting late when I rode into Helena, the state capital, so I spent the night there. It was wet and so windy that I put the bike on the centre stand, and removed the panniers to be certain there was no repeat bike-tipping incident.

The next day couldn't have been more different - almost as if the weather gods had suddenly realised it was August, the sky was blue and the sun baked the land around Helena. It was still windy, and the blustery conditions and glare made for difficult riding. The long straight roads didn't help either.

Heading south through massive ranches, I was reminded of Alberta just before I crossed into the States. Each ranch had "goalpost" gates, normally with the name of the ranch and maybe a set of moose antlers for adornment. As far as I could see, the gates framed roads that led off into nowhere. I guess there must be buildings out there somewhere...

Surrounding the ranches were mountains and sky. I wondered idly how long it took folks to visit their neighbours. Every so often I'd pass through a small town, and one of them called Ennis looked just like it could have been the set of a Spaghetti Western.

Entering Madison County, I stopped briefly at Earthquake Lake, which was formed when a quake in 1959 dammed the river. All the surrounding trees were dead on the hillsides, and some dead trees still protruded above the lake.

From there it was a short hop to Yellowstone National Park. I'd always assumed Yellowstone was in Wyoming, but four of the entrances to the park are in Montana. Yellowstone made it easier to forget I was leaving Montana - by the time I passed the "entering Wyoming" sign I was too busy gawking at the park to notice really.

I had been riding a while so I figured I would head for Old Faithful - being arguably the most famous thing in the USA let alone Yellowstone - before finding a campsite for the night. This turned out to be more difficult than I thought. One thing that amazed me about Yellowstone is that there is just so much to see. You can be riding along and suddenly chance upon Elk, or a fabulous geyser plateau, or a stunning waterfall. I'd stopped to take pictures of all the aforementioned things when I suddenly realised I was being tailed.

The car had been following me for a little while, and was quite close so as a courtesy - I was only doing about 40mph - I pulled in to a layby to let him pass. He followed me into the layby. So I pulled out again and he followed me back out. Uh oh. My paranoia was tempered by the fact that it was an older couple in the car, and try as I might I couldn't envision being mugged by pensioners.

I was wondering what to do when a little grey animal ran across the road in front of me. I slowed down and stopped where it had run into the long grass, and sure enough he was sat there looking at me. I thought it was a coyote pup, but it turned out to be a silver fox cub. As we checked each other out, the car rolled up and a guy leaned out.

"Where are you from?"
"England mate"
"We're from Narfuk"
"I can tell"

They pulled into a layby just up the road, and after watching the little fox play with the long grass, completely happy to be about 10 feet from me and the bike, I thought I ought to go and say hello. It turned out the old boy had seen my registration plate, and told his wife he had to follow me to find out who I was! I felt guilty for not stopping sooner. The couple had rented a car and were doing one huge circular trip from Washington state, top marks to them. I hope I'm still doing road trips when I reach their age.

I got to Old Faithful at about 4.30pm, and the geyser was estimated to next be going off at about 5.23pm. It would have been stupid to stand around in a t-shirt and shorts in that baking heat, so for me dressed in heavy, lined waterproof bike gear I needed ice cream.

So it was that I spent a pleasant half hour eating ice cream and waiting for the world's most famous geyser to put on a show. Like all decent gigs, there was the hype, the build up, all too brief a performance and then I was filing to the car park with hundreds of other people. Personally I think the great Geysir in Iceland - the geyser which gives all others the name - is much better. Still the ice cream was good :)

I found a campsite for the night, and after pitching my tent and cooking I decided to go and listen to the park ranger do a talk on Wolves, my favourite animal. The talk lasted an hour, during which the stars gradually came into view, prompting some coyotes off in the distance to start howling. It was a fantastic end to a great day. My iPod randomly selected "A day without rain" before I got into my sleeping bag, and that made me smile.

After a cold night I decided to stay in the park and do a circuit of the main roads. The weather was even better than the previous day, hot and with a nice breeze in place of the high winds. I toured around at a leisurely pace and stopped to photograph as much as I could, but it was hot work in all my gear and I went through all two litres of water in my Camelbak and was still gasping for a drink in the afternoon.

It was during the afternoon that I became very glad that I hadn't bought a bike in the States as I'd originally planned. Red 5's registration plate proved to be a huge talking point and I was answering peoples' questions wherever I stopped. At least when folks are asking they are not assuming I'm Australian, nor Swedish as one chap in Alaska surmised, from seeing the cross of St George on my bike!

At Tower Falls I bumped into the Norfolk couple again, and they told me they were headed to Grand Teton the next day, so I said I'd see them there!

I registered for a campsite near the south entrance of Yellowstone and when I got back to the bike there was a crowd around it, a bunch of guys and girls from Massachusetts who ride but have never ridden outside their home State. They described me as inspirational, which made me blush.

Personally, after several thousand miles of bum ache I was starting to hanker after one of those huge Harleys with the sofa-like seats. That is until I nearly collected one in a corner, even with my horribly squared off and in need of replacement tyres. Those things just don't seem to turn!

I was woken at dawn by a noise I can only describe as a cross between a heavy iron door with rusty hinges, and someone tuning a set of bagpipes. As far as I am aware it was a bull Elk, at least there were Elk wandering through my campsite when I got out of the tent.

For some reason the day's riding was hard, the heat seemed to drain my energy, and I found myself constantly yawning. Again I drained my water supply quickly. After passing the Teton Range, I stopped for lunch in Jackson Hole, which will mean more to snowboarders (Ali) than other people. Getting off the bike I felt the tickle of an insect around my neck, and moved to open my collar for it to get out. It turned out to be a wasp, which stung me on the chest in spite of my helpfulness, the ungrateful sod.

After a coffee to wake me up, I passed down the Snake River valley, mile after mile of white water. It was an effort to stop from turning back to Jackson to try to hire a kayak. I'd been promising myself a paddle on this trip, and had missed out in Alaska due to the cost. Maybe I'll organise something for the Colorado River...

The ranches in Wyoming seem much smaller and fancier than those in Montana. The gates are posher, and you can easily see the whole ranch as you ride past. At one point I passed a "dude ranch" - I had no idea what that was all about and I wasn't stopping around to find out, either.

Having run out of water, the dust devils being whipped up as I crossed into Idaho seemed to sear into my skin, leaving me dry lipped, tired and low on enthusiasm. I was also low on fuel, so decided to call it a night - at 3pm - in Montpelier, Idaho. Hopefully tomorrow I will get to the great Salt Lake in Utah.

Having just eaten the worst Chinese meal I've ever had the misfortune to consume, I'm left with a fortune cookie:

"Your path may be difficult, but will be rewarding"

Does that refer to my roadtrip, or the inevitable bathroom visit? ;)

Frase.

P.S. lots more pictures at my Smugmug site