I'm operating under the assumption that nothing I type here is a secret. Make it known if I am mistaken.
I sat in my office last Tuesday thinking how badly I needed to get out and realized the coming weekend was the last before my children's summers would end and school would begin. I considered several locations within a 6 hour drive, but the weather forecast in the south looked terrible. I began pricing flights for Thursday finding some ridiculous last minute airfares. However, one destination was mildly offensive as opposed to fucking expensive - Bozeman.
Hmmmm.
Yellowstone.
After struggling with the idea of such a spontaneous trip on Tuesday night, I finally got the courage to book flights Wednesday morning. It was set. We would fly out Thursday evening, spend 4 hours in a hotel in Livingston, and be in the park by 6:45 to wait in line for a campsite to become available for the weekend. Unfortunately my middle child was booked and couldn't join us.
It all went to plan.
After finding some obnoxious road construction in the park Friday morning, we headed to the backcountry to get away from the crowds. Our first day hike was the Beaver Ponds loop.
It felt so good to be back in the park. I love this place.
A nasty storm passed just to the north with lightening popping in the distance. We were fortunate to stay safe and dry.
I love this place.
Because we camped at Mammoth, we were close to civilization.
We woke up to cold temperatures that felt wonderful to a misplaced family from Lowsyanna.
We slept in a bit and played cards in the tent.
We headed east for some short hikes in the morning.
We saw our first bear here. It saw us first and hauled ass down the trail.
Saturday afternoon we hiked the Hellroaring Creek trail.
There are some places I've been to that so deeply engrain themselves into my brain that I will likely never forget them. This is one of those places. Since hiking here last year, I can still recall the details - switchbacks, wildflowers, wildlife, smells, sounds.....
I love this place.
The fishings is always an afterthought on trips like this, but I did pack a rod. Last year we visited during runoff, and I had no luck. This year our visit was later in the year, and water levels were much better. As much as I love fishing for trout, I rarely get the opportunity. Having no clue where to start, I tied on a wet and fished it for a little while.
No luck.
I fished a floating ant pattern for a little while.
No luck.
With only a short period left to fish, I looked at my box and thought to myself - "Bob White don't fail me now."
And of course I caught my first fish in the park. I hooked a second but it didn't stay on.
We packed up and were about to hike back to the car when my son shouted "bear!" A mother black bear and two cubs were about 40 yards away and walking straight at us. Our hearts pounded, we made our presence known and eased out of her way as she eventually crossed the creek behind us without incident.
I love this place.
And I should kick my own ass if I ever hesitate at opportunities to visit amazing places and spend time with my kids away from our hectic lives at home.
