No bison dropped by for breakfast this morning. After a quick cup of coffee, another MRE toast and jam breakfast, I packed up, then started rolling east. Shortly after leaving the campground I came up over a small rise and had to quickly hit the brakes. A dozen or so bison were just standing in the road. They weren't going anywhere, or even eating. Just standing there blocking the road. There's not a whole hell of a lot you can do in that situation. The ditches on both sides of the road prevented me from going off-road. My little "Meep Meep" horn didn't seem to impress them whatsoever. Even that guaranteed cow mover, the old "rev it up to 7,000 rpm" manuever was unleashed, but nothing would budge those brainless beasts. Much to my embarrasment, the rescue came in the form of a Highway Hilton! Seeing my dilemna, they went around me, then slowly drove right through the herd. Needless to say, I remained glued to their rear bumper. That land yacht parted those hoof-burgers like the Red Sea. Bison seem to move only for something bigger than them or something with sharp teeth. Just before leaving the park I stopped for gas at Yellowstone Lake again (50.7 MPG), then headed out the East Entrance. Next on the agenda was a stop in Cody for the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, followed by simply cruising across Wyoming until dark.
The Yellowstone East entrance (or exit, in my case) goes through the Sylvan pass. Before long I found myself stopped behind a line of about 20 cars, a tour bus, a couple of trucks, and a dozen or so Highway Hiltons. They were all held up waiting for the "guide" vehicle to return. Seems we were facing about 17 miles of one way travel on bad asphalt, dirt, gravel, etc. Following that bunch for 17 miles was not an appealing scenario, so I slowly rode past the caravan to the front. You wouldn't believe some of the angry stares! Most folks don't realize the dust that they kick up. Hell, I didn't used to notice either driving my car. It didn't seem all that important until I started breathing other people's dust. After a 15 or 20 minute wait the guide vehicle arrived, and my "off-road" formal education began. I quickly learned that whether you are in gravel, dirt, or a combination of the two, the trick is to ride in tire tracks whenever available. Crossing from 1 track to the other can be a little iffy, but as long as you are under about 35 MPH or so, control is not a problem. Going faster than that was not an option, since it's probably a moving violation to pass an escort vehicle. With the exception of a couple of driveways, I've never ridden on dirt or gravel, so it was good learning experience for me. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
That entire 17 mile stretch was being upgraded. Frankly, I don't see how they ever keep it open. All along the pass there were spectacular displays of Mother Nature's power. There were sections that were washed away, and sections that were going to wash away. There were many areas where they weren't working yet where you could see water cascading off the mountain like small waterfalls down onto the roadway. Probably a few years of that and they will end up replacing those sections too! There were a few spots where it looked like the river itself was actually being re-routed to prevent future erosion damage. In addition to the major work, there's the task of repairing pot holes and surface damage that's uncovered every year when the snow is scraped off. Looks like lifetime employment to me. My concentration was too focused on my dirt riding to really enjoy the scenery, but what I did see was impressive. Yellowstone borders the Shoshone National Forest. Once there, the roads improved dramatically, and I was able to divert some of my attention from the road to the stunning scenery. There were some spots where I rounded a curve and came upon rock formations that were beyond description. The sun was too high for decent lighting, so the camera stayed in the bag. You'll have to go see it yourselves. It's definitely a place to spend a week or two camping and hiking. Wyoming in early June was beautiful. Not only do you get the stunning rock scenery, but everything else is a lush green. It probably gets brown and ugly later on like my own Hayward Hills. The SF Bay Area has a 3 or 4 month period during and after the winter rains where everything is lush green, then the rest of the year is brown, yellow, and ugly (IMHO).
Arriving in Cody I was more than ready for a break. My intention was to spend about an hour in the Buffalo Bill Museum. Wrong! I'd never been there before, so I had no idea how extensive it was. My boss had returned from a vacation trip a few years back with stories of a museum in Cody that had a fantastic gun display, but I never imagined this! Let me tell you, that museum is "gun nut heaven"!! They have every firearm imagineable on display. You name it, they probably have it. Matchlocks, Flintlocks, Wheelocks, Gatling Guns, Harquebus's, Blunderbus's, derringers, revolvers, old guns, new guns, machine guns, gun factory machines, just about everything ever made that is worth displaying. All of them in excellent shape, with many captions and stories. Also on display was much of the factory equipment used to make guns, and just about every form of ammunition ever devised. And that's just the gun section of the museum. There was also a large Native American display with artifacts and art from the various Plains Indian tribes, numerous displays of 19th century daily life, a large section devoted to the life and times of William Cody (Buffalo Bill), and the Whitney Gallery of Western Art. What a fascinating place. It pained me to leave after only a couple of hours. They can count on my return. Next time I'll be armed with a dozen rolls of high speed film and a whole day to devote!
While getting myself back together to leave, the belt section of my leather chaps came off. My waistline seemed the same, so it must have been the workmanship. After securing my trusty steed in front of the local trading post (Walmart), I purchased some safety pins and a couple of T-shirts (to delay laundry day a bit more). Next time my travel gear will include a small sewing kit. Live and learn! I continued East on Hiway 14/16, gassed up in Greybull (36.9 MPG) and kept on rolling. From Greybull to Dayton is a long uphill stretch, so I gassed up again in Dayton (41.4 MPG), then headed down to Sheridan, where I transfered to I-90. The entire ride on I-90 was uneventful all the way to Gillette. The miles roll by quickly at sustained speeds in the high 80's. There was quite a bit of headwind, and the skys were ominous looking in my rear view mirror, but fairly clear ahead. The miles were taking their toll on me, and since it was getting dark as I pulled into Gillette, my urge to camp was gone. Old Vader had run full gallup on the last stretch, and his fuel consumption proved it (28.9 MPG). We both deserved a motel! Two days of camping had given me an urge for a gourmet meal, so I headed for the Pizza Hut right across the parking lot. It was Friday night and the joint was hopping. Service was a bit slow, but this was more than compensated for by the friendly, lovely waitress. My beer and salad were half gone when the waitress came over and apologized for the delay. They were out of the small crusts, so she said she would bring a medium for the same price. Since it was taking so long, she also brought me a half pitcher of suds "on the house" to make up for it. Not wanting to offend any local customs, I finished everything. Feeling stuffed, and with a slight buzz, I floated back to the motel. After an hour or so of TV, and a few minutes with the maps, I drifted off to sleep.
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