Yellowstone National Park

Despite my eagerness for the upcoming week of national park loitering, I couldn't help but cling to my hotel bed when I woke up in a hotel. Clean sheets. Air conditioning. My back wasn't sticking to a wrestling mat that has been serving as padding in the back of my car. I don't have open my car door to spit out my toothpaste. I'm not just going to crawl over and into the front seats, slip on my shoes, start up the car and go. Loving traveling like this doesn't have to also mean I don't appreciate a good night's sleep. This was the first full sized bed I'd had to myself in what felt like weeks and I was in no rush to leave it. I wasn't crammed in a infant sized cot or fighting for sheets with a drunk friend, or wrestling the night in the oppressive heat in the back of my car, sleeping on the slightest incline, which is just enough to keep me awake. Those nights of trying anything to fall asleep were anything but rare. Melatonin, Nyquil, wandering up and down the aisles of a 24 hour Wal-Mart hoping to either find something I forgot I needed. No, this was a bed and it was all mine, in all its bleached and sterile glory. And if it wasn't for mediocre but free breakfast awaiting me downstairs, perhaps I never would have left. But I did.

After stuffing my face with as much complimentary and tasteless bacon, cereal and coffee as possible (in a dining room that looked something like a senior center Bingo arena) I loaded into my car, wishing I could stay another day.

Driving through Big Horn Park and Shoshone it was on to Yellowstone for two days of exploration.





Upon arriving at Yellowstone, I wanted to be nervous about the thought of being mauled by wildlife, but this windown ornament prevented that from happening. And I was confused by the fact that this was supposed to be hung from my rearview mirror, as I'm uncertain as to what that would accomplish.




He didn't gore anyone. He just sat there.


For hours I drove around the park, camera in hand, snapping photo after photo. Hundreds of blurred, dull, and crooked pictures. And while they vast majority are impressively unimpressive, what I do have is a collection of pictorial moments that I can flip through to piece together the time I spent here. And that has been a struggle every step of the way these last few weeks: how can I experience this in a way that I remember it. How can I hold on to this? There's no picture that can capture the fog that swept into Yellowstone the afternoon that I got there. Or the stillness of the whole place upon waking there the following morning. There are no words that will convey the freedom of driving around for countless hours with no point other than seeing things I've never seen before. And in typical me-fasion, I drove around all day, exploring, hiking, and snapping photos putting off dealing with where I would sleep that night. So when sunset came and there was nothing to be seen, I pulled into the oasis at the center of Yellowstone - a semi-LOST community of posh hotels, white tablecloth restaurants, and bars occupied by khakis-clad babyboomers, all framed by freshly mowed, green grass.

Parking in front of the most expensive hotel I could find, I went into the lobby and, after making my way past various Judge Smails types, inquired about nightly rates at the front counter. The fact that a cabin with no bathroom fetched $90 didn't even matter as there were no units available. I was informed that all of Yellowstone was booked up.

Walking out to the hotel, I worked over some numbers in my head, knowing the nearest Wal-Mart was 50 miles away and over the mountains, not to mention in the wrong direction. Getting to the parking lot, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly my car matched the rest of the parking lot. So, I got in, slipped of my shoes, crawled in the back, and went to sleep.