Wyoming, land of buffalos. Also, land of no cell service, no wifi, windy two lane highways and construction zones, but mostly buffalos. We drove from Yampa River State Park to Cody and ended up in a crappy KOA. Usually, I avoid these places because they are crowded with families, a pool full of kid pee and what I like to call a "pass the mustard" kind of camping spot. In other words, you can open up the window and ask your neighbor to pass the mustard 'cause you're so close.
See...
Not exactly wilderness camping but we needed wifi and a shower. Another reason not to visit Cody is that it's the home of Buffalo Bill. So every single place in town has his name plastered on it which makes you think of the Beatles song. all. day. long. "Hey Buffalo Bill, what did you kill, Buffalo Bill." And, yes, I now know it's Bungalow Bill but that did not stop me from having this in my head the entire time. It was also super dusty here so when we took a quick trip to Yellowstone and left the windows open we came back to find the inside of the Bambi, and our computer coated in a fine dust.
Speaking of Yellowstone, we drove in the first day just to have lunch there. As I was slathering mayonnaise on a couple of slices of bread, I looked up and saw this:
Yep, that close. I immediately put our picnic table between this guy and me. Fred grabbed his sandwich 'cause well it was lunch time. There is just something about a buffalo's eyes. They say "I could kill you if I wanted, but I'm just too tired".
Fred and I have been to Yellowstone twice before so this time we tried to avoid the hoards of tourists at the most visited spots. So, sorry no shots of Old Faithful or Mammoth Hot Springs, 'cause those places are crowded with tourists and screaming kids with melting ice cream cones and crazy people trying to get a shot of a moose or a their family way too close to a bubbling mud pot.
After skipping the family pancake breakfast and the Sunday prayer service at the KOA, we left for Red Lodge, Montana for one of the best camping spots we have been to.
This place was so serene, right along the Rock Creek River it was like the anti-KOA. We are here for one reason only, the Beartooth Highway. After the Million Dollar Highway in Colorado I had my misgivings about high altitude, near death drives but up we went because the Beartooth is considered one of the most spectacular drives in America.
We took part of the Beartooth first without the Bambi just to do a reconnaissance mission and it seemed fine at first since Montana has chosen to build these cute but helpful little highway features I like to call guard rails. Nevertheless, it was still a sweaty underarm inducing drive up to the summit complete with hairpin curves, mile long drop-offs, and Fred stopping in the middle of road every few minutes to gaze through the windshield because he thought he had found our target bird, a rosy black finch.
As we approached the summit, it also started to rain. Hard. Then it started to hail. Hard. It looked like this.
Also lightning but I couldn't get a photo of that because it was very, very important that I worry about Fred staying on the road and not sliding off into icy nothingness. He loved it 'cause the man is a machine and can drive anywhere, anytime. Oh, is that a little birdie on that icy patch off to side? Quick, slam on the breaks!
Then, outta nowhere it clears and you get Julie Andrews views like this. That little pointy thing in the back is someones's idea of what a bear's tooth looks like from a distance. Which is really the only way you want to see a bear's tooth if you think about it.
Yeah, nothing says enjoy our quaint little scenic tourist highway more than a sign like this.
Typical hair pin curve, there were about 45 of these.
That's me at the summit looking for interesting rocks to bring home. That's the pile I wanted to put in the truck but Fred made me whittle it down to two.
These little alpine flowers covered the meadows. They would last about 15 seconds in Austin before being roasted to a crisp.
Sure the scenery is great but try drivin' this road with an RV while marmots dart across the road and your husband looks out the driver's window for finches on sharp curves.
Yea! That's a black rosy finch. He hangs out on patches of snow and picks off the insects. New bird for me and most importantly Fred. Was he worth a 2,000 mile drive and a near death drive up a mountain. Hell, yeah.
That evening we celebrated our new bird with a bottle of wine, but then we celebrate every evening that way. We relaxed and then went in to Red Lodge for what was maybe the worst Mexican food meal this side of the Rio Grande. Don't know what the hell we were thinking getting Mexican food in Montana. Never again.
Tomorrow we head over the Beartooth Mountain pass towing the Bambi and head to Yellowstone to camp for two nights. Wish us luck.
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