I woke up to Alex shaking my shoulder. To be honest, I had been awake for a while, watching him pack up through the slits in my eyelids, savoring the last moments on the comfy couch and hoping he would give up and decide to ride into Yellowstone with me.
"Kyle, I'm leaving."
I acted surprised and followed him into the kitchen and out the door helping him carry a few of his items to be strapped onto the bike. We hugged and smiled.
"It's been a good trip, man. Tell Alyse I said hi. Ride safe. I'll see you in Chicago."
"I look forward to it. Call me if you need anything."
And with that, I watched Alex complete one last karate-kick-my-legs-are-too-short motorcycle mount and ride off down the alleyway behind the house. Goodbye wasn't too hard, and I knew I would see him again in Chicago. He was doing the right thing and I admired him for it.
I went back in the house and munched on a bowl of cereal while I sat examining a map trying to determine my route into Yellowstone. It didn't take long for me to pack up (I've had a few days of practice) and soon I was riding out the same alley Alex had exited on about an hour before.
I stopped at a gas station to fill-up and tried to call my friends about a meeting place and time in the park. No luck. A pair of Harley riders down from Canada occupied the pump next to mine. They came over to ask about my travels. They were nice and after chatting about routes and roads they returned to their hogs where I overheard them discussing the days ride. I wanted to turn to Alex and ask him his opinion for the day's route. A brief moment of fear was overcome by feelings of excitement at being alone in a strange place free to explore, free to make wrong turns, and free to embellish my stories. I was the lone perpetrator of all the day had to offer.
Back on the road I exercised my freedom and made a last second decision to turn east heading toward the Beartooth mountains. This would allow me to ride highway 212 from Red Lodge to Cooke City over the Beartooth pass. From there, I could enter the park at the northeast entrance and hopefully by that time receive word from my friends on where to meet.
The ride was both beautiful and challenging, and I was careful how I navigated the tight, mountain turns with a worn back tire. The road led me past some spectacular mountain viewpoints and eventually to the treeless tundra surrounding the summit. Road construction slowed my decent and I arrived in Cooke City staring at some potential rain.
I entered the park with rain gear on and soon encountered all three of the things that caused me to dislike my time in Yellowstone: rain, road construction, and miles of tourist traffic. The ride west to Mammoth Springs was wet, slow, and void of any of the magnificent scenery that I had found so captivating during my time in the other parks to date (and even on the ride in).
I finally arrived in Mammoth Springs with the trip odometer reading 11346 miles and managed to meet up with my friends Emily and Liz before the sky let loose again. We found refuge under a store awning and stood huddled together eating the bread, cheese, cherries, and apricots that they had brought from Washington.
The rain eventually passed, and we went our in search of a campsite for the night. We decided that leaving the park would be our best option for vacant, cheap, tourist-free camping and we exited through the north entrance all piled into Emily's little Toyota.
A few miles down a bumpy, gravel road (that made me thankful I had left my motorcycle back at Mammoth) we came across an ideal spot on a lake, surrounded by mountains, and with plenty of firewood to get a roaring blaze started. We settled in, set up the tent, and Liz began making homemade tortillas while Emily and I gathered wood for the fire. The evening was fun and we enjoyed the company of two on Liz/Emily's friends that made the drive down from Colville, WA and would be joining us over the next few days.
We sat around the fire and talked through the essentials: books, travel, and fruit. Great stuff!
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