July already? Half the year gone? Whoa.
Due to the charming lack of internet connections, this may not get posted until next week. We did drive 20 miles down the road to get decent cell phone coverage in order to conduct some family business.
Everything in Yellowstone is miles apart. Doesn’t look too far on a map, but the speed limit is 45 mph and you usually end up driving slower than that due to other tourists and “animal jams.” We’ve thought about just pulling over and staring with binoculars into the distance to see how many other souls might join us. Heh, heh. Wouldn’t be surprised if many have already tried that.
We have become quite the wildlife sleuths. Being in the right place at the right time takes on a new meaning. You have to keep a sharp eye out and be prepared to stop quickly as you round a bend and see others staring into the bushes or out on the hillside. We have spotted a wolf, several bears, many bison, pronghorn antelope, and elk, including one bull with a great rack. Manskills saw a fox, he thinks, cross the road in front of us. The incredible scenery, awesome geysers and boiling pots, and wildlife truly make Yellowstone magnificent.
The only creatures that we don’t appreciate are the tiny, winged variety. Mosquitoes are insidious, blood-thirsty, cretan, egg-sucking sons of a one-eyed sheep (part of that curse is thanks to Twain—I don’t have anything against sheep, but I like the curse). They have evolved into hideous tormentors that manage to bite through my socks and jeans. I think God put them on the planet to keep us humble. Otherwise, they are totally worthless.
The Divine Miss M continues to be an intrepid traveler. She has adjusted and seems to enjoy her platform bed in the car. It helps that Manskills leaves her window partly open at times—she’s in doggie heaven with all those new smells wafting in. She managed to bark her head off at bison and elk (just big dogs to her), but, fortunately, the animals seemed to be oblivious. She probably sounded like a gnat to them.
When we were in West Yellowstone I took Maggie on her daily constitutional in a big field behind our car. After she deposited her gift, I seriously considered leaving it in place. I had forgotten to bring a doggie sack and after all, it was a big field. However, I looked up and noticed that she had chosen her spot right behind the local police station. Thanks, Maggie. I reluctantly walked back to the car to retrieve said sack and collect her gift. If it hadn’t been located behind the police station, would I have bothered? Probably—no. I am a bad person.
We have had a couple of adventures on the same high mountain road here. Two days ago we were driving along among snow-laden peaks. It had been extremely windy during the drive—to the point that so much dust was kicked up from an extensive burn area, that it almost looked like another fire brewing. It felt like the wind that precedes a huge thunderstorm. We rounded a bend and had to stop behind a string of cars. Looking ahead, we spied two trees that had come down in the wind and were blocking the two-lane road. A bunch of guys got out and managed to heave the smaller tree to the side of the road. The bigger one—a 50-foot lodgepole pine—wouldn’t budge. Someone attached a strong strap to a pick-up truck and to the tree and he pulled the monster until it cleared one lane. The tree refused to move after that. So, with some guys directing traffic, we used the one lane to take turns going around the tree. Distances on roads are so far in the park that none of the 50 or so cars on either side of the tree wanted to turn around and go back the way they had come and then detour hours to get to their original destinations. We saw quite a few other downed trees on our way back to the Box.
We traveled on the same road yesterday and discovered the same “bear jam” that we had seen previously. Hordes of people stop on narrow roads to gawk. The park rangers are usually on hand to direct traffic and keep anyone from becoming dinner. So, as we waited to pass, Manskills suggested (easier to blame him) that I get out and take a picture. Taking my life in my hands (there were still cars passing), I crossed the road and stepped off the pavement planning to walk toward the furry guy. The space was very narrow and slippery, so what did I do, but take a near face-plant on the slope. I had visions of sliding down the slope to become said dinner. I actually was more worried about the rangers chastising me for being an idiot—which would have been well-deserved. A kindly Good Samaritan helped me back up on my feet (no easy task) and then I had to re-cross the road and literally run to catch up with my ride which had since proceeded on. Thanks, Manskills. Fortunately, the only thing injured was my dignity.
Regarding the license plate saga—we actually did spy Delaware and Connecticut! Believe it or not—we also saw Hawaii—two times! Of course, at least one of the HI licenses was on a rental car. No, I don’t have ESP, but I overheard the driver talking to someone about finding certain controls on the vehicle and joking about having to return it to Hawaii. Still counts. So, we are left with little Rhode Island—not called the smallest state for nothing. Hopefully, one of its 100 citizens will find his or her way to Glacier NP. Or maybe we can contact a rental agency…
No comments:
Post a Comment