This was the first day on the trip that I didn’t take any pictures. We woke up to find our entire world hard frozen again, our breath quite visible as we dug out mittens and scraped car windshields.
I left my friends, who were going to visit the canyon and then head north to Great Falls where their plane home to Atlanta awaited them, and headed south to Fishing Bridge, then east around the north end of Lake Yellowstone and up over Sylvan Pass out of the park. Unfortunately, I was driving under the influence of a migraine (two things I’d rather not have inherited from my father — migraines and extreme myopia), and my main purpose was to get to the nearest city, find myself a motel, and hole up for the afternoon until I was human again. Which is basically what I did.
I got as far as Cody, Wyoming, and arrived there about noon. Bought myself a Sunday paper, found myself a nice little cabin that looked, as I remember, rather like the auto camp in It Happened One Night only with its own bathroom, closed the curtains, dumped the paper on the table, and went fetal for several hours.
Late that afternoon, I ventured out to find food and a large glass of caffeine (Mountain Dew, if I remember correctly), then, feeling better, I began my new Sunday routine of cleaning out and reorganizing the car, then read the paper (a Casper Star-Tribune), watched a little football, and went right back to sleep early.
Probably the least exciting day of the trip so far, but then when I travel for long periods of time, I really do need some downtime. I could have done without the migraine forcing it, though.
The next day was much nicer and more interesting, I promise…