It was early afternoon when I finally left Nature’s gift to
cleanliness and aching muscles. Biking was great. A lot of it was
downhill. The North Entrance to Yellowstone was absolutely gorgeous.
Shoshone Canyon was on the East Entrance, the Tetons Mountains were
part of the South Entrance, and now, in the north, I was biking
through the Gallatin Mountain Range. There were hardly any cars to
tarnish the fabulous beauty, and, the icing on the cake, so to speak,
was that I was traveling on a newly paved highway. The road was cut
straight through the towering, snowcapped Gallatin Mountains. These
mountains sent chills up and down my spine.
I felt emotions I had never felt before. Whatever it was that I was
feeling, it made me cry. I didn’t cry, but I couldn’t help it. There I
was, bicycling down the highway in the midst of all the beauty,
weeping as I went. I forced myself to think unpleasant thoughts to
keep from totally breaking down. I was by no means sad. I was very,
very, happy. These highly charged feelings wavered from weak to strong
as I biked down the highway. By the time I came upon a man and his
wife, I felt pretty normal. They motioned for me to come in and see
them. I obliged. They were clearing the lot next to their trailer.
They were about to take a break from digging in the hot sun anyway,
and I guess they figured I needed a break too. The couple was in the
first stage of building a house (up until then I hadn’t seen any
houses). After I drank ice tea and ate some of their cheese and
crackers, they gave me their Bozeman, Montana address and told me to
stop over for a shower and a real meal. I thanked them, but I knew I
wouldn’t take them up on their offer because their house was east of
where I was traveling and I had a hard time biking in the opposite
direction from where I wanted to go. I was really glad to have made
their acquaintance though, and I would be wise to remember their
Last night it rained, so I took shelter in a large culvert. It was
more of a tunnel than a culvert. It was used for cows to cross from
one pasture to another without trampling in front of unsuspecting
motorists. It worked at keeping the rain off my head too, even if it
did lack in the aesthetic appeal department.
I’m sitting in a little Bozeman restaurant, finishing up my coffee,
donut and journal entry. I just want to end this entry by
acknowledging, once again, that I really enjoyed bicycling in
Yellowstone, especially when it came to camping alone at night. For
this reason, it is quite a bring down to be traveling in the midst of
civilization’s fences and private property. I am very eager to get
back to the National Parks where I can continue to co-exist with nature.