Sunday 20th August 2017

Time to move on.

We check mails before six to find that the hotel in Livingston said that the camera had not been handed in there. THe one final place we could try was the restaurant where we had early dinner when we arrived on Friday. It did not open until 11, but we could try earlier when they would be preparing to open.

For breakfast we were treated to biscuits and gravy, something to avoid, but thankfully there was other stuff to eat so we could avoid the soggy biscuits, which really are just scones without the fruit. At least the coffee is good.

The TV has the weather Channel on again, and the possible hurricane was nearer landfall, and the madness surrounding the eclipse was reaching its pinnacle, with more tales of traffic jams, empty gas stations and people cashing in on the eclipse by Air B&B owners and airlines increasing prices by several hundred percent. But then isn’t that what the capitalist system thrives upon: supply and demand?

And then it was time to pack, load the car and say goodbye to the hotel. It might have been a chain, but did just what we wanted, and had a good free internet connection. Being back online was very pleasing.

We drive back over to Main Street, which was blocked off for some kind of custom car meet. I was tempted to go along once we had been to the restaurant, but more photographs taking to be sorted and edited? My heart wasn’t in it, so after checking with the restaurant, no camera had been found or handed in, we could program the sat nav for Cody.

An hour and a half blast up the interstate, back past Livingston, through bone dry undulating countryside, with the railroad tracks beside us. I cruise us along at 60 to 70 mph, meaning most other vehicles were overtaking us, especially when huge trucks go by is always interesting.

I had seen one of the towns we were going to go pass was called Big Timber, my interest was piqued. So we swing by once we reach the town. Big Timber is a collection of old buildings, and two gas stations, scattered along the old main road. Good times left many years ago, but a wooden gift shop lingers on, all outside were wrought iron garden ornaments. We don’t stop.

But we do stop at the second gas station for coffee. I go into the gas station and find it is also a huge gift shop, with three aisles of guns. Hundreds, or at least dozens, of rifles. Not what I wanted, really. So I look in the gift shop, hoping to find some things for friends back home. But it is packed with things like dolls dressing in fake indian clothes, really tacky looky things.

I get two cups of coffee and a packet of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Large ones, but once I was back in the car, they were nearly melted. And how sweet? Chocolate and peanut butter make something sweet; who'd have thought it?

When we are back on the road, the sat nav changed its mind about the route, so half an hour later we were turning off, heading for a town with the unlikely name of Joliet. All the way since leaving Yellowstone, our way had followed the Yellowstone River, so had seen it grow from a tumbling stream, crashing over rocks and falling from the heights of the park, and down onto the plains, where it took water from other rivers and streams, and now was a wide meandering river, where people fished, or boated. But now we finally turned away from it, and took to the hills.

But unlike a week back when we crossed hour after hour of passing through scrub, this time we went through a long river valley, following a tributary of the Yellowstone, the Clarke Fork, which again went from a meandering river, and got smaller and faster as the ground rose. On either side of the road, rich farmland went by, all made green by the water from the river.

The higher the road and land went, the smaller the river got, and the dryer the land became, until all there was was a dried riverbed with a few scattered trees marking where the stream might flow again if the rain were to fall again.

The road ran for miles, barely turning left or right, and with a speed limit of 70 mph, a thrill to drive along.

We pass into the beartooth mountains, looking no different from the land we had passed through for the last half hour, but the rocks all around might contain dinosaur bones. All waiting to be discovered.

We come to a junction, so stop to top up the Mustang, and Jools goes into the gas station to buy ice creams. We had planned to eat them driving, but found once we had left that the cones had partly melted already. So, in order not to be covered in melted ice cream, we had to stop on the side of the road, and poor jools had the most melted one, and she ended up with chocolate stained hands and face.

After cleaning up, we carry in, with just an hour to go to Cody. The road now ran dead straight for mile after mile, the sun beat down and with the air so dry, my eyes began to really dry out. So, Jools took over the driving, and i could rake more notice of the landscape in the distance as the land rose into dry buttes, maybe a thousand feet above the plain we were driving over. They were scarred with eons of water running down them, carving channels and gullies. The road went to a vanishing point, and shimmered with a mirage, it was hard to judge distances and what might be happening away up front.

Finally, the road dropped down into Cody, and the road widened out, and began to be lined with houses and businesses. Before long a strip mall formed, with hotels, shops and bars appearing, some with unnaturally green grass outside.

I had imagined Cody being lined up along a main street, with bars and restaurants, people wandering along dressed in faux cowboy garb. But in fact the main road is a four lane highway, with an overtaking lane in the middle, so five lanes, and passes through several denser areas, only slightly denser than others. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the town has no real centre, and our hotel is right at the edge of the town, opposite the rodeo stadium.

It was half two, and eighty five degrees and feels hot. Jools checks us in, while I look where the road leads on past the hotel, to a steep sided valley which in time would rise towards Yellowstone park again.

The hotel is grand, and has nice art and objects placed with care through it, long corridors are broken up with some dried flowers, or a picture of Buffalo Bill’s touring company, a huge photograph.

The room is large, has two queen sized beds, a large TV, separate bathroom and a desk. We put on the air con and lay on the bed to cool down.

An hour later we go out for an early dinner, a quick internet search had revealed that Bubba’s Bar-b-cue to be the best in town, and being the quiet period of the day, we set off for the half mile drive to the restaurant. As expected, just a couple of booths were occupied, and we are shown to another, given a menu, all full of meaty goodies. I choose the combo; has ribs, brisket and pulled pork, all smothered with sauce and spices.

It fills us up, and I guess the beer/cider we had, coupled with the long hours spent driving in the sunshine and heat meant that when we got back to the hotel, we laid on the bed to rest, and closed our eyes whilst the radio played out of the computer.

We slept.