Staycationing in Yellowstone

we broke the hammock
we broke the hammock

We got lucky. Deep Woods shot his elk on opening day. opened up our fall schedule in a way we’ve never been privy to before.

i’ve been desperate to get the wee peeps to Yellowstone this season. We never made it last year and it didn’t sit well with me.

we packed up our camping-touring gear, and pushed off for adventure. the only plan we had was to soak in the Boiling River. all the other calls were audibles.

and it happened that:

we had the most incredible fall weather and turn-of-the-aspens you could imagine.

Deep Woods and i were completely overwhelmed with our initial out-of-the-truck experience. overwhelmed enough that we shot out of the park, ordered a pizza to go, and hightailed to the high mountains of the Gallatin National Forest. we camped miles away from the nearest people and listened to the elk bugle all night long. and Squawking Buffalo and Crit did their fair share of bugling too. you may find it difficult to believe they called a couple of elk in within 60 yards. more difficult to believe if you have no idea what that even means.

we took our time in the morning. and lalley-gagged about while we waited for the sun to unburden all the surfaces from the tension of the frost. meal prep and camp break-down and entertaining the tribe. reminded us both of the life we once lived. and we were happy to be reliving it.

we nailed the rest of the trip. ducking out of crowds to experience the wonders alone together with 100’s of others. wee peeps walked miles and miles, soaked in the Boiling River, saw why it’s called Yellowstone, watched Old Faithful erupt, and stayed up late giggling together in the tent.

Deep Woods and i reflected and recollected life along the banks of the Madison 11 years prior. when we first came to know each other. where we first exchanged stories and learned of each others’ bounced and drifted pasts.

we all breathed a collective sighing-exhale as we caught sight of the Moose Willow Ranch, on our way HOME. we left the wilds of Yellowstone, with its jam-packed boardwalks and selfie sticks, and ipads and tablets, and asian tour buses carrying folk adorned in fashion that fascinated me more than the bubbling mud pots, and bison taking up the road, and the buzzing lights of the “comfort station” we were camped in front of, and the squeek-squeek-squeek of the fella who took 43 minutes to blow up his air mattress with a foot pump in the site behind us, and the car alarms that went off morning and night…and we returned to the edge of the wilderness. where we live together in isolation. where the view is as spectacular, and the silence is rather deafening.