Today, I drove from Laramie, Wyoming, through the Tetons, and then through Yellowstone. I can honestly say that this is the most beautiful terrain I've ever seen. I would like it more if it were not trying to kill me. More on that later.
I encountered one of the coolest towns I've ever been in: Dubuois, Wyoming. While stopping at a convenience store there, the following conversation occurred:
Man Behind The Counter: *On the telephone* Well, just lock the door and don't let the dogs out.
Me: I'd like this Cherry Coke Zero please.
Man Behind The Counter: *On the telephone* I have to go. *click* Sorry. That was my wife. There's a grizzly bear in our backyard.
Me: Uhh....
Man Behind The Counter: It's fine. Fish and Game are already over there. I don't know why everyone gets all worked up. Just don't go outside.
Me: Yeah, tell me about it.
I thought about offering to go wrestle the bear, but the proper authorities seemed to have the situation in hand. And then I was distracted by this:
That's right ladies and gentlemen. Branden Bell rides THE WORLD'S LARGEST JACKALOPE!
After this stop, I continued on through northern Wyoming and into the Tetons. There was lots of road construction, which gave me time to prove that snow is alive and well up here at a gazillion feet above sea level.
I have been as high as 9,000 feet and change above altitude. Currently, I think I'm at about 7,000 feet. Slight headache, although if that's from the altitude or from 13 hours of driving is debatable. Anyway, back to our story.
As I'm entering Teton National Park, I start to wonder. I don't remember this being on the route when I google mapped my trip. As a matter of fact, I specifically remember telling people I would NOT be able to go through Teton National Park because I didn't have time. And yet, here I was, the GPS assuring me that this was the fastest route. It turned out to be worth it, because it was beautiful.
After the Tetons, I proceeded directly into Yellowstone National Park. I knew this was DEFINITELY not part of the plan. I was supposed to hook around Yellowstone on the interstate, check into my hotel (which was just north of Yellowstone) and then go explore. I cast a suspicious look at the innocent-looking GPS and muttered under my breath. It whistled innocently.
The approach into Yellowstone can be best summed up by one phrase:
FUCKING TERRIFYING.
For those of you know me best, I have two crippling fears: snakes and heights. It was the latter that was my problem. The southern entrance into Yellowstone is one of those winding roads cut into the face of a mountain, in defiance of God's will, that has no shoulder and then falls into a thousand foot abyss. And this goes on FOR MILES.
(A brief interlude as I describe what it feels like to be afraid of heights: you feel an actual gravitation pull towards the ledge. A moment's lapse, a second of inattention, and that black hole of a void will pull you over in a second.)
I'm sure the views were spectacular. I wouldn't know. My eyes were locked on the road, my lips praying for a tunnel vision that would eliminate the yawning chasms from my periphery. I could have taken some pictures, I guess, but I was too busy 1) murmuring harsh expletives under my breath, and 2) trying to control my breathing. I alternated between the two; when one failed me, I picked up the other one.
FINALLY, got to some level, non-homicidal parts of Yellowstone, which were real pretty. Unfortunately, a lot of the roads are under construction, so there's a lot of sitting in your car as one lane of traffic goes by.
Which brings me to near-death experience #2: Buffalo. Allow me to explain. Shortly before entering Yellowstone, I purchased some Buffalo jerky. I'd never had it before, and it turned out to be delicious. Fast forward an hour and a half. I am driving through Yellowstone, and I see a lone buffalo walking towards the road. Perfect, I think to myself. I will wait here until it gets real close to the road, then creep up in the car, snap an up-close photo, and drive off. So there I waited, with all the patience of a National Geographic photographer, calmly doing the trigonometry between the great beast, the road, and the car. Finally, it was time to move. I got close, and snapped this picture.
At which the buffalo turned towards me, sniffed once, and charged.
Now, I don't know what they're teaching children about buffalo in school these days, but lesson number one should be that they are fucking FAST. Luckily, the Death Machine has some pick up, and I managed to survive getting mauled. Later, I developed a theory that the buffalo had smelt the jerky in the car, and recognizing me as a flesh-eater, decided to exact vengeance.
Which is why when I approached this massive herd of them, I crept by, trying to look inconspicuous with the windows rolled up, and hoped that the APB hadn't reached them yet.
I then passed by the mud volcanoes, which smelled awful, but I took some pictures anyway.
Did you all know that Yellowstone is actually a supervolcano? True story. It erupts every so million years and basically obliterates all life on the planet. This is the reason for Old Faithful, the hot springs, and Chinese food.
I then went to go take some pictures of a waterfall, but, again, the fear of heights got to me. Desperately clinging the railing the whole way down, I basically got this picture before scurrying back up the steps. I hope you fuckers are grateful that I put myself in peril for you.
I finally exited the park and was a scant five miles away from my hotel when, upon exiting Yellowstone, I realized, was just the same as entering it:
FUCKING TERRIFYING
Again with the shoulderless roads cut into the sides of mountains. Again, I muttered curses, tried to control my breathing, as gravity attempted to pull me again and again into oblivion. I finally made it to my hotel, where the internet sucks, so now I am at a small cafe sitting on a patio. I'm exhausted, and ready to get up early to go see some cool stuff before heading through Montana and into Spokane, WA.
Now all I need to do is find another way into Yellowstone.
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