Leaving Glacier and deciding on a route south thru the vastness that is Montana is no easy task. After much deliberation, and Jessica's fierce opposition (missing Missoula), we decide to skip doubling back on our tracks and embark on another long day of driving for Yellowstone's west entrance on the Wyoming and Idaho border. So what's become very apparent during our travels is that actually getting on the road can sometimes be the hardest thing. We fall victim to Brownies, the amazing little organic handmade bakery/deli at Glacier's east exit. After a couple of huckleberry coffee fill-ups, a pound of ground coffee to go, and a monster brownie and apple strawberry turnover (remember, it's a big state!) we realize that the skies have turned ominous and we better boogie outta there!We skip the main interstate and stick to the little two-lane highway that meanders through the magical rolling hills of the Blackfeet Nation. With Jessica playing a great DJ we enjoy the miles, jealously watching horses and hawks play and hunt amidst the Great Plains. Whenever we get tired of watching them, the Rockies flank us to our starboard and we are comforted by the fact that we will soon feel their embrace again.
Watching the beautiful scenery on the little back roads also means having to nervously watch the gas gage—even though a town may show up in the atlas, it doesn't guarantee that you'll find something for the tank. Thankfully the small town of Choteau has what we need, gas and ice. It also has what we don't need: a shake down from the local cops. Somehow we illegally backed out of a parking spot and onto the only road in town?? Perhaps the California plates had something to do with it but...
As we get back up to speed the terrain changes. We start thru the Gates of the Mountains Wilderness and we pick up the Missouri River, one of America's greatest waterways. What we haven't mentioned is that ever since coming down onto the Columbia River we've traced many of the steps of Lewis and Clark. Historical markers litter the roadside with stories of their travels. I can only imagine what the west looked like rugged and untouched in their day. Magical I'm sure...
Any well thought out day of driving has a stop thru a cool or quaint town and Bozeman happens to be that town today. We're impressed with it's downtown area, the old town feel with the progressive ambiance. After sharing a loaded burger, steak sandwich, and a few local IPA's at Bacchus Pub, we head out of town as the sun sets for the final stretch to Yellowstone. Jessica feels, in her words, "refreshed." Her silly smile tells me she's buzzed. The road is dark and winding, we feel like around any corner there could be grizzlies or elk, but what we find at the entrance is sad and representative of what the major national parks like Yosemite and Yellowstone have become. It feels like a cross between Reno and the Golden Gate Bridge toll plaza. As we pass thru, we slide our NP pass, pull the slot arm hoping to get a secluded camping spot away from the RV's (that may outnumber both trees and wildlife in the park) but alas we bunk out and end up at Madison Campground, a small city in it's own right. It's amazing that in a campground where perhaps a couple thousand people may be staying, only a few small fires are going at 10:30pm. We quickly set up camp, which we've mastered, and Jessica sets off for her nightly ritual of girly things that I don't understand. : )
Twenty minutes go by and things seem very wrong, Jessica is usually back by now looking fresh-faced and ready to cuddle, but tonight she doesn't return and Ophie and I start to panic considering the restroom that she went to was only three sites away. I run back and forth between the two closest restrooms, looking in both the women's and men's rooms, calling her name with no answer or trace. Panic sets in and I start off across the huge campground, calling her name at the top of my lungs with no regard for anyone or anything. Finally, about a half a mile away Ophie and I find Jessica, lost and crying, having conceded to sleep in a heated bathroom she found. We walk back, happy to be together and hoping that tomorrow will hold better fortunes. She's going to kill me for telling this story!!
—Patrick
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