Visiting Yellowstone

The sun rose, bright and early, and straight into my window. I woke up, snapped this picture, and then went back to sleep for another hour before heading into town. I stopped at the first place that offered trail rides, and signed up for a two hour ride in Gallatin National Forest, which is right there next to Yellowstone. I had a bit of time to kill before I needed to head up to the ranch, Specimen Creek Ranch, so I walked around the little town of Gardiner, Montana, that sits right at the northern (original) entrance to Yellowstone. There was a saddlery, ready to outfit all the cowboys and cowgirls. And I don't mean tourists. I mean rodeo performers and working cowpokes. It made me wish I was still on the equestrian team at St. Mary's and doing western events (which I never actually got to do) because I would have been able to put together a divine outfit. I settled for the one piece of western gear that I have wanted for years: boots. Not touristy boots. But working girl boots: decorative and functional. Nothing made me happier than, about forty-five minutes later, to walk through mud and horse manure to hop on a horse and break them in. The cowboy who helped me mount even complimented them.

We rode up into the mountains along narrow trails, and I had to swallow my fear of heights more than once.

I brought up the rear, behind our guide and a family of four, with two daughters who were on horses for the first time. Although the father had apparently ridden before, their horses took shameless advantage of inexperienced riders, eating along the way, and stopping whenever they felt like it, so it was slow going up the mountain. I enjoyed the view, and didn't mind as long as I was on a horse. "This isn't your first time on a horse," the cowboy had observed, which tickled me. I'm no expert, but I can at least mount and keep control of a dude horse. And keep my horse from eating, thanks to threats of having to clean all the tack at camp. I kept my heels down, and admired my boots a little vainly while I rode. Mostly, though, I just enjoyed feeling the rhythm of the horse beneath me as we went up and down, and hatched schemes of going in with my sisters to buy a horse.

As you can see, we had some fabulous views. Babe was a pretty good horse, although she kept turning to look at me like she wanted to bite me for not letting her eat.

After my ride, I headed down into the park to visit Mammoth Hot Springs. A picture is worth a thousand words, so here are a few thousand words for you.

I started to drive up to Old Faithful, which was about 50 miles away. Then I realized that 50 miles through Yellowstone is more like a 2 hour drive. Each way. And I realized that more than anything else, I wanted to experience Yellowstone with Dear Husband. I called him, and told him that I wanted to leave the area, and what did he think about me heading up to Philipsburg that night.  Looking at the map, he warned that I would be driving through treacherous mountains after dark.  Weighing my options, I decided I should spend an extra day in the Seattle area, to allow more time for visiting a friend and hitting the tourist spots. So, I headed out to Helena, Montana, for the night.

This morning, I got up and hit the road for Seattle, stopping in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho for lunch.  Other than that, it was only stops for gas and potty breaks, and I got into Everett, Washington just before seven.  My hotel here has a kitchenette, so I made up a bowl of rice, sausage, peppers, and onions, and am currently preparing to drink copious amounts of coffee to go to a ridiculously late showing of Harry Potter 7.  In other words, today was less than exciting. Tomorrow: Whidbey Island.