bright side of the road
If I had to pick, Saturday would be my favorite day of the road trip, beginning with the town of Greybull, Wyoming that looked so like I imagined a small western town might,
and we continued on in the early hour past the Bureau of Reclamation on our way to a trading post,
with horns, of course,
and a welcome to the Land of Buffalo Bill at Our Place,
where we ate crispy hash browns and eggs with tomatillo sauce and bits of pork, and thick, smoky bacon and biscuits and gravy besides.
There was a persuasive woman carrying a basket of poppies around, and we showed our support for vets, (she instructed us to carry the red flowers with us around town).
Kat is standing here in front of a fireworks outlet, which seems like a great idea to build next to the daily rodeo center,
in Cody, Wyoming, the “Rodeo Capital of the World.”
We drove on past blue-green water, slowing down after two days of chasing the light down the highway,
startled by a Yellowstone covered in snow,
but most surprised to see a bison walking down the middle of the road. (This is the most powerful argument I can imagine for sharing the road.)
We saw bison later that day, too, but instead of the hooves clacking in a jaunty walk down the yellow line, this one was much more interested in eating grass.
Yellowstone holds incredible beauty,
and thermal energy.
We arrived near Old Faithful to be told we had one minute before the next eruption,
so we ran to join the crowd soon gasping as the heat curled away from the vertical geyser (the timing between each eruption is lengthening, apparently, which park attendants suggest may be yet another indication of climate change).
From Yellowstone, we drove through the Grand Tetons,
that amaze with their beauty, too.
And we pulled into the Jackson sunshine, to Snake River Brewing Co. for local beer,
and then margaritas, Yucatan pork, and chile relleno at the outdoor patio at Pica’s, where we overheard a fantastically encouraging (and heated) conversation between a tableful of collegiate guys discussing the merits of dairy; “It’s whole milk or no milk, John.”
And we returned to watch an equally impressive sunset from our cabin porch at Spring Creek Ranch (I highly recommend these accommodations a few hundred feet above Jackson Hole),
And the mountains were waiting for us in the morning, pulling us reluctantly from Wyoming and into Idaho, Montana, and Washington…