After getting settled in Neihart, the rest of my Sunday evening (and some of my night) was spent glued to my phone and laptop, watching from a distance as the wildfire situation back in my home territory rapidly descended into a hellscape crisis featuring hot temperatures, big winds, evacuation orders issued for five communities, a mass communications outage caused by fire damage to the critical fibre optic line, and highways blocked by flames, culminating with emergency airlift flights by multiple airlines and military Hercules at midnight. I had to pull myself away from the real-life drama if I was going to get any sleep. |
I rolled out of Neihart while the highway was still in the shade of the steep, tree-covered slopes, and continued south past Showdown ski area on the 89, planning to steal an hour's worth of miles before a breakfast stop in White Sulphur Springs. Heartbreak awaited: My destination café was unexpectedly closed today. I carried on through town, noticing distinctly that my pancakeless had evoked a sudden sense of rudderlessness, i.e. I am completely lost in life, and after pulling over once more to re-check Google Maps for other breakfast options, I gave up, and found my way to the left turn to continue southbound on Highway 89, resigned to hunger until I could stumble across something else. But then, out the corner of my eye, I spotted the pickup truck that 20 minutes ago had pulled onto the highway ahead of me, having turned out of a property marked "Stone Temple Ranch," and which I had followed into town, now parked at a coffee/food trailer on the inside corner of the intersection. Having stared at the back of these two cowboys' heads for a dozen miles on the highway, I whipped a U-turn and decided to try their go-to place, with hopes of maybe a real-life Yellowstone character encounter. (Not really, just some basic G'mornins, but a great burrito & cappuccino later, and I'd forgotten all about that flapjack fantasy.)
Onward south, I had scouted some gravel travel for the day, beginning at the small town of Ringling, where the 89 bends off left at about 45-degrees, but a rural gravel road continuing due south had caught my eye on the map. As it turned out, I got a little more than I anticipated, beginning with 2nd/3rd-gear farm roads, which later devolved into mostly 1st-gear winding mountain road with ruts. I saw no-one, but for two different barbed-wire fence-builders and a 20-ton haul truck (surprise!) full of gravel, as I found my way SW to the ghost town of Maudlow, where I then got onto the more established gravel Dry Creek Road which took me south to Belgrade, emerging back into civilization unexpectedly at Montana's busiest airport.
It was a hot one, and as I continued south on the 191, following the Gallatin River to Big Sky, all the way I wanted to dunk my buff in the river, and was on the lookout for a pullout with shade, but never found one. Big Sky itself felt completely overrun with development, and the associated traffic and construction. I hemhorraged time while searching for some cool-down shade for Badger's fuel tank, then going off-highway up into Big Sky village looking for another gas station (no), and then talking to the roofers when they called from home. I ended up back at the Conoco station at the highway, where I crammed Badger against the front of the building for some shade, changed out of two sweat-soaked shirts for one dry one, and ate today's ice cream bar, before eventually cracking my gas cap and refilling.
Next stop was Yellowstone National Park, which I entered from the West Yellowstone entrance at the Montana/Wyoming border, traversing west past Old Faithful to West Thumb, then down and out the south park gate. My Yellowstone three words? "Not worth it." The roads were good, but not great, and spoiled by bumper-to-bumper traffic in both directions. The scenery, meh, was nothing better than other days spent off the interstate. I guess it did have geysers.
Traffic thankfully lightened as I continued south towards Jackson Hole (which I learned is the valley), and I was treated to the jaw-dropping scenery of Grand Teton (the mountain) in the Teton Range (the mountain range) inside Grand Teton National Park (the national park) on a bluebird afternoon, which elicited in-helmet whoops of approval. I soaked it all in from the saddle, as the unobstructed road and the view just seemed to keep on coming, eventually stopping for a photo at one of the many turnouts.
Arriving in the Jackson (the city) amidst some tourist bustle, I felt very sorry for my earbud-less self being denied my long-awaited entrance song, but I hummed the tune and sang myself all the lyrics I could remember anyway. With this arrival, I'm now 4-for-4 on my reservations -- but I would spend the evening taking a match to the rest of my plans. | |
Day total: 527 km, 9h30m Trip total: 2,980 km | Start: Neihart, MT. End: Jackson Hole, WY. Soundtrack: Muffled Badger noises. |