The ride out of Montana was difficult, like most rides in that difficult State. 55 miles, all uphill, in unceasing wind.
Goodbye Montana: cold, pretty and cruel!
Thankfully, Wyoming gave me a warmer welcome and I rode into Yellowstone under a cloudless blue sky.
There are a lot of buffalo in Yellowstone. They're as common as insects. The landscape is so huge that the buffalo appear tiny milling around upon it. Like giant brown ants, or fleas on a shaggy dog.
Tourists love buffalo and nearly equal them in number. Earlier today, a buffalo was walking along the road and a tourist was following slowly alongside it in a car, filming. This caused a long backup in traffic. I managed to reach the car filming, but there was no way to go around. There was a gap between the car and the buffalo, about 7 feet, and I attempted to squeeze between them. The buffalo didn't want me that close and trotted faster to keep ahead. I sped up to get past it, and the buffalo went faster. Meanwhile, the car is keeping pace with us, so I'm wedged between the car and a galloping buffalo with only a couple feet of space on either side. We all keep stubbornly speeding up until finally the buffalo breaks off to the right, the car slows down, and I win!
Call me He Who Rides With the Buffalo.
In the picture below, there's a cave with bones scattered on the floor and some kind of white handprint marking...home of the Bigfoot?
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