Coronaroadtrip

I made a brief stop in Pinedale this morning to see if I could rent a can of bear spray since my planned hike today was supposed to be in a much less popular spot. The staff there told me about the recent wind storms that leveled hundreds of trees along all the trails I’d picked just outside of town. As an alternative, they recommended a day hike outside Cora that runs along a lake to a natural bridge.

Wyoming is, so far, safe from the devastating wildfires that were burning in Colorado when I planned this route and the fires now burning huge swaths of the Pacific Coast. But even at this distance, the haze is increasing.

Working Monday through Wednesday this week at a motel in “downtown” Pinedale, the largest metropolis I’ve ever been to which doesn’t have any stoplights. Elevation 7,182 feet; population 1,878.

So I’ve been on the road long enough to have run out of clothes.

This late at night I had the whole place to myself, but I felt like I was being watched.

Between shifts on a long day at the Pinedale Office, I went on a scenic drive up the mountain to catch sunset in the haze.

And on the way back, I grabbed a steak salad for dinner at a local brewery — with a huge side of tater tots, because I am an adult.

The rule is that — even mid-adventure — you go to the carwash if the dead bug guts start attracting flies.

I heard a rumor that the fallen tree debris along the Pole Creek Trailhead had been partially cleared, at least as far as one can get in a a short evening hike. I went out to Sacred Rim after a long day at the office — before coming back to pack up to leave in the morning. The smoke has gotten a lot thicker.

For the first time in over a week and a half, today involves seeing another human on purpose. My hiking buddy for the day is also my host for the weekend, though this is his only free day, so I woke up early to book it through Yellowstone into Montana, whereupon we went back into the park to try for a hike, despite the atmosphere.

In the surreal morning, I could not tell the difference between fog, mist over rivers, steam from thermal vents and geysers, and wildfire smoke from not only the intensifying Pacific Northwest fires but also the Lone Star Fire currently burning in central Yellowstone. Each in excessive measure, likely. I only stopped at the Grand Prismatic Spring boardwalk on the way through, but very little was visible.

After meeting up in Livingston, Montana for breakfast and a stroll through this lovely little town, Joe and I headed back into the park for the meadow hike through the Lamar River Valley.

The smoke lifted slightly through the afternoon but settled back in as event approached, bringing another hauntingly orange sunset.

Joe worked this afternoon, so we started the day with a trip to a coffee shop that makes the most incredible breakfast sandwich — they take something akin to the innards of a breakfast burrito, press them in a waffle maker, and shove it into a bagel. Then we hit up the Pine Creek trail to the falls.

Back in town, he headed off to work and I started looking at my assortment of flagged hikes, off-road routes, and waypoints. He recommended exploring the Gallatin National Forest down by Big Sky, and I happened to find an intriguing squiggle on a Forestry Service Motor Vehicle Use Map leading to a really awesome looking hike. (George’s method for finding interesting drives is looking for squiggles on MVUMs; it works.)

US 191 from Bozeman to Big Sky was gorgeous. The steep, shelf-road of unpaved washboard was very slippery, despite 4WD, and dumped me out onto what — for me — straddled the line between overland and off-road. Not substantially aggressive nor clearance-challenging, but still very rocky. But I made it, far later than I had intended to.

Also, for the first time in all my travels — in my haste, I brought my backpack but neglected to pack the camera into it. So I stooped to taking photos with my telephone. I will say, a Google 2 Pixel weighs a lot less than a Nikon D7500 with several lenses.

The ascent, at speed, was an absolute ass-kicking, but the payoff at the cabin was amazing. I want to come back one day, stay in this cabin (if I can figure out how), and bring my real camera along.

Dragged Joe on another hike this morning before his shift — a recommendation from his fly fishing shop. After another waffle-pressed everything-breakfast bagel, of course. It was much colder today, with constant threat of rain, but the smoke has largely lifted. So today’s grey skies smelled sweet of mountain rain, which I count as a lovely improvement.

My company is remote, but technically based in Bozeman. I had thought we had a storage and hardware testing suite in an office park somewhere listed as our official headquarters, but it’s actually just a mailbox.