Rising into the clouds as we ascended the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway, the cool of the air resonantly causes me to appreciate my aspirations. White mists kissing the mountainsides and sweet cool rain as we enter Cooke City Montana. I know this experience just by itself is a delight to Michael's florida eyes. We haven't made it into Yellowstone yet, but today, the mountain canyon aired wonder of Cooke City is enough for him.
In the morning, we wade through a stream of motorcycles (it's bike week in Sturgis)to gain entry to the park, and then a short drive to our first hike - Trout Lake. It's only a mile in, and yet with the altitude, old fat lady is at once having great difficulty acclimating to the altitude. I struggle & strain to get my fat blobbed body moving but with awe-inspiring reward.
Wildly enervated after the hike, we're all primed to kiss Yellowstone good morning with fervor, and head over to Tower Fall. Sparkling in morning sunlight and international viewers, Michael, Boo and I smiled, waved and then headed for points south - gotta set camp and do it quick! I theorized that it would be raining by 1pm and I wasn't off by much.
We ventured through Hayden Valley, perusing the herd of buffers (bison)and we were able to glom on to one of the last campsites at Lewis Lake before the afternoon rains set it. During our entire visit this seemed a steady weather pattern - beautiful mornings, then afternoon rains.
All at once, Michael became "camp handy", while I fixed a couple of chianti coolers, he wanted to cook, in a flash this handsome man became an expert in carrie's famous hearty chili and we gorged ourselves in wine spritzing chili camp bliss. No stars though, stars at night under the campfire never happened for us, even with the full moon looming, we had no starry nights.
I told Michael that 1872 Graffiti was the only reason that the Canyon was famous and lead him up to Artist Point for the spectacular view of the Lower Falls - I think it was the first "wow" we got out of him :) Boo and Michael took the trail to the brink o'da falls, this was something that Old Fat Lady clearly couldn't do, I hadn't been able to catch my breath yet, elevation 7700ft. Michael hated the sulphur caldron & the mudpots - too stinky, lol.
I suppose it was a bit selfish of me, but we spent most of the rest of our days feasting on Lake Yellowstone - with hikes around Storm Point, Elephant Back Trail, even a trip to the lake after sunset to catch the full moon rise - which was lost in cloud cover. But Yellowstone Lake is like the essence of who I am somehow, a high mountain sensitive water being - ever playful, ever changing. Not a person at all, and yet it personifies my gentle heart.
Old Faithful was our last full day of fun, Michael and I sat anticipating the Giant Spouting while Boo took a 7 mile hike to Mallard Lake. Having had enough of the "lame boiling water" as the boy in front of us had commented to his mom, Michael too opted for lunch rather than an extended Geyser walking tour. Boo cracked his ankle on his hike (he's better now) and then a torrential rainstorm sank Michael's tent, furthering our impetus to head homewards.
Overall, I'd say that Old Fat Lady had a great time with her pals, and yet, my sleeping difficulties, and the wholly excruciating fibromyalgia pains lead me to wonder if I'll ever wriggle & writhe inside a tent again.
