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Dave wakes up early today, okay, Jack wakes up early…so thus, Dad wakes up early today. As the ladies and babe snooze, the boys knock out about 4 loads of laundry and catch up on the local campground vibe. He chats with our camp mates, a couple traveling the same way we have. The husband describes the same drive we took yesterday in a very different way…apparently his wife (in their words) bawled the whole drive up, in fear of their lives. Dave’s comment was…how would you like to be that poor guy for those 4 hours?
So apparently the next leg of our journey is on hold. The pass to Yellowstone is closed due to snow. We decide that we should head to Cody, just up the road, and wait it out for the night. We call the KOA and reserve our campsite. Then an hour later, the pass is open. We decide to play it by ear. We pull out of town and on to Cody.
We pass our Cody campsite on the way in to town and it looks less than exciting. Picture barren grassland, a few rental bicycles rattling against each other and a lone swing blowing in the wind. Guess we’ll brave the pass. After all, it is beautiful and sunny in Wild Bill’s town. We pass the museum of firearms, which is surprisingly impressive. Probably not a good idea to expose Jack to the whole concept of firearms and explosives just yet, we think and roll on. He did buy a cowboy “gum” in South Dakota and claims he’s going to “power” you.
It becomes apparent that Cody was the last town before the great pass, as we begin another series of switchbacks. It is beautiful land. You can imagine the sights and sounds of a great cattle drive. Up, up we go, until those grasslands are merely a backdrop, thousands of feet below us. It is looking gloomy ahead, yet we trudge on. Soon it is snowing. At first a little, and then a lot.
Dave and I laugh to ourselves. It reminds us of the time we were in Hawaii for our honeymoon. We were on the island of Lanai, where we had rented a jeep to explore the island. We took a trail that was to lead us to a site of reverence for the island people- where they had stacked stone upon stone to honor their ancestors. Now, all that remained of those people were their stacks of stone, as they too had passed on. We came across those stacks on the side of the road. We stopped and snapped pictures of each other in this ancient burial ground. We walked around and soaked it in. Then we headed on in the jeep, only to discover the real and much larger site described to us. It seemed that we had photographed the many towers made by visiting tourists. When we stopped and played in the patches of snow yesterday and thought, who will believe this…we had no idea of what today had to offer.
By the time we enter the northeast entrance of Yellowstone, the snow is falling gently. It is supposed to be a short 26 miles to Fishing Bridge- the site of our campsite. It takes over an hour as we drive through a full on blizzard. The visibility is so bad that we can barely see the road in front of us. We are surrounded by a gray fog and a white blanket of snow in the 20 feet that surrounds us. I just miss catching a picture of the “icy roads” sign buried in a snow drift. It struck us as very comical at the time. Somehow, our fearless drive leads us to safety as we come upon Yellowstone Lake- we’re almost there. If I hadn’t seen the map, I would have thought we were on the Atlantic Ocean. Yellowstone Lake is 20 miles one way and 14 the other. Its deepest point is 430 feet! On the average it is 140 feet deep and the trout in it only inhibit the top 60 feet as nothing really lives below that to sustain them. Dark murky waves break upon the black muddy shore. All I can think is, “Ok. I’m not really getting this whole Yellowstone thing?” We’ve entered into the brink of…
Oh, awesome…here’s our campground! We pull into Fishing Lake RV park, where the sign says “hard side campers only, this is bear country!” Um…don’t bears, like, maul people over potato chips? Dave goes inside to check in. I notice the showers and laundry are here at the entrance and there isn’t a campsite in sight. The snow continues to fall. Dave returns, noting that you have to pay to use the showers and yes, these are the only ones on the campground. The Cody KOA is starting to sound pretty good.
We drive a few short miles down the road to our campsite, which is quite tight. I marvel as Dave backs into our site like a pro. We open the side window, so he can yell out to me if our slide out hits the RV next to us while I open it. We have a whole foot of clearance, so no worries. There are about fifteen of us 35 to 40’ motorhomes sandwiched together in our little area. Gotta love the great outdoors.
I make dinner and the kids run outside to play in the snow with Dad. They build a full sized snowman with pine cone eyes, a carrot nose and a Twizzler mouth. They name him Fredrick Douglas McButtons. Ok…how many kids can say they built a snowman on their summer vacation? I guess it was worth driving in a snow blizzard uphill both ways!
Sidenotes: “Some things that I don’t want to forget”
Some things just don’t fit neatly into an entry, but I don’t want to forget about them. Random things…like the fact that my entire upper body had been covered in a rash since about Wisconsin. At first, I diagnosed myself with chickenpox. Dave howled at that one, since I’ve misdiagnosed these children with chickenpox so many times that I probably hold some underground record at the pediatrician’s office. Benedryl and Aveeno provide no relief, though I have noticed it spreading, flaring up and itching during long hauls on the road with my offspring. All I can come up with is that I’m allergic to my children.
Or when, in the late evening, Tatum, who was completely asleep on the top bunk, took a wrong turn and came flying out of bed and hit the bed with a thunk. She whimpered a little and then fell back asleep. Or how she wants to know what to dream about every night and how everything can be turned into a song.
Or how Carter is obsessed with either breaking out the door and/or opening the lid to the toilet. He also loves to chew on our shoes and electrical cords. Sometimes, I think he’s part puppy, then I look back at him in his carseat going down the road and he flashes that sweet little smile. His pink cheeks, sparkling eyes and tuft of a curl on his head are nothing short of cherub in my book.
Or how Hannah swiped Dave’s book and decided to read if for herself. How she has no idea how important she is to helping keep our crazy little family in order. Or how she pretended not to get a couple of the PG jokes I cringed at in the RV movie that I insisted we watch last night.
Or how we’ve photographed Jack throwing a temper tantrum in just about every state and at every monument along the way. Or the fact that he just can’t resist playing in the snow every 30 minutes and then crys when his hands get cold and screams to go back inside.
I’m amazed at what a fearless leader Dave is. We’d still be lollygagging (a Dave word) somewhere in South Dakota if it weren’t for him. He didn’t even blink an eye when we hit that snowstorm. Or how he knows just what to pull over for- and when a little retail therapy will cure our grumpyness.
So apparently the next leg of our journey is on hold. The pass to Yellowstone is closed due to snow. We decide that we should head to Cody, just up the road, and wait it out for the night. We call the KOA and reserve our campsite. Then an hour later, the pass is open. We decide to play it by ear. We pull out of town and on to Cody.
We pass our Cody campsite on the way in to town and it looks less than exciting. Picture barren grassland, a few rental bicycles rattling against each other and a lone swing blowing in the wind. Guess we’ll brave the pass. After all, it is beautiful and sunny in Wild Bill’s town. We pass the museum of firearms, which is surprisingly impressive. Probably not a good idea to expose Jack to the whole concept of firearms and explosives just yet, we think and roll on. He did buy a cowboy “gum” in South Dakota and claims he’s going to “power” you.
It becomes apparent that Cody was the last town before the great pass, as we begin another series of switchbacks. It is beautiful land. You can imagine the sights and sounds of a great cattle drive. Up, up we go, until those grasslands are merely a backdrop, thousands of feet below us. It is looking gloomy ahead, yet we trudge on. Soon it is snowing. At first a little, and then a lot.
Dave and I laugh to ourselves. It reminds us of the time we were in Hawaii for our honeymoon. We were on the island of Lanai, where we had rented a jeep to explore the island. We took a trail that was to lead us to a site of reverence for the island people- where they had stacked stone upon stone to honor their ancestors. Now, all that remained of those people were their stacks of stone, as they too had passed on. We came across those stacks on the side of the road. We stopped and snapped pictures of each other in this ancient burial ground. We walked around and soaked it in. Then we headed on in the jeep, only to discover the real and much larger site described to us. It seemed that we had photographed the many towers made by visiting tourists. When we stopped and played in the patches of snow yesterday and thought, who will believe this…we had no idea of what today had to offer.
By the time we enter the northeast entrance of Yellowstone, the snow is falling gently. It is supposed to be a short 26 miles to Fishing Bridge- the site of our campsite. It takes over an hour as we drive through a full on blizzard. The visibility is so bad that we can barely see the road in front of us. We are surrounded by a gray fog and a white blanket of snow in the 20 feet that surrounds us. I just miss catching a picture of the “icy roads” sign buried in a snow drift. It struck us as very comical at the time. Somehow, our fearless drive leads us to safety as we come upon Yellowstone Lake- we’re almost there. If I hadn’t seen the map, I would have thought we were on the Atlantic Ocean. Yellowstone Lake is 20 miles one way and 14 the other. Its deepest point is 430 feet! On the average it is 140 feet deep and the trout in it only inhibit the top 60 feet as nothing really lives below that to sustain them. Dark murky waves break upon the black muddy shore. All I can think is, “Ok. I’m not really getting this whole Yellowstone thing?” We’ve entered into the brink of…
Oh, awesome…here’s our campground! We pull into Fishing Lake RV park, where the sign says “hard side campers only, this is bear country!” Um…don’t bears, like, maul people over potato chips? Dave goes inside to check in. I notice the showers and laundry are here at the entrance and there isn’t a campsite in sight. The snow continues to fall. Dave returns, noting that you have to pay to use the showers and yes, these are the only ones on the campground. The Cody KOA is starting to sound pretty good.
We drive a few short miles down the road to our campsite, which is quite tight. I marvel as Dave backs into our site like a pro. We open the side window, so he can yell out to me if our slide out hits the RV next to us while I open it. We have a whole foot of clearance, so no worries. There are about fifteen of us 35 to 40’ motorhomes sandwiched together in our little area. Gotta love the great outdoors.
I make dinner and the kids run outside to play in the snow with Dad. They build a full sized snowman with pine cone eyes, a carrot nose and a Twizzler mouth. They name him Fredrick Douglas McButtons. Ok…how many kids can say they built a snowman on their summer vacation? I guess it was worth driving in a snow blizzard uphill both ways!
Sidenotes: “Some things that I don’t want to forget”
Some things just don’t fit neatly into an entry, but I don’t want to forget about them. Random things…like the fact that my entire upper body had been covered in a rash since about Wisconsin. At first, I diagnosed myself with chickenpox. Dave howled at that one, since I’ve misdiagnosed these children with chickenpox so many times that I probably hold some underground record at the pediatrician’s office. Benedryl and Aveeno provide no relief, though I have noticed it spreading, flaring up and itching during long hauls on the road with my offspring. All I can come up with is that I’m allergic to my children.
Or when, in the late evening, Tatum, who was completely asleep on the top bunk, took a wrong turn and came flying out of bed and hit the bed with a thunk. She whimpered a little and then fell back asleep. Or how she wants to know what to dream about every night and how everything can be turned into a song.
Or how Carter is obsessed with either breaking out the door and/or opening the lid to the toilet. He also loves to chew on our shoes and electrical cords. Sometimes, I think he’s part puppy, then I look back at him in his carseat going down the road and he flashes that sweet little smile. His pink cheeks, sparkling eyes and tuft of a curl on his head are nothing short of cherub in my book.
Or how Hannah swiped Dave’s book and decided to read if for herself. How she has no idea how important she is to helping keep our crazy little family in order. Or how she pretended not to get a couple of the PG jokes I cringed at in the RV movie that I insisted we watch last night.
Or how we’ve photographed Jack throwing a temper tantrum in just about every state and at every monument along the way. Or the fact that he just can’t resist playing in the snow every 30 minutes and then crys when his hands get cold and screams to go back inside.
I’m amazed at what a fearless leader Dave is. We’d still be lollygagging (a Dave word) somewhere in South Dakota if it weren’t for him. He didn’t even blink an eye when we hit that snowstorm. Or how he knows just what to pull over for- and when a little retail therapy will cure our grumpyness.
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