Wednesday was our last full day in Yellowstone. Tuesday had
been very busy so no one minded sleeping in a bit. I went running; I had been
kept so busy I hadn’t had a chance to do so earlier. I did find my performance
was somewhat impacted by the altitude and I only ran about half my usual
mileage. It was the only time I noticed the effect of the thin air, but 7,700
feet was about 7,000 feet higher than I had spent most of my life, so I wasn’t
too surprised. I ran along the shore of Lake Yellowstone and found the General
Store, the first place I found where one could buy groceries, albeit from a
limited supply. The smoke from the forest fires was fairly thick that morning
and most of the lake disappeared after one gazed out more than half a mile.
No vacation would be complete without having Rosie on a
horse. She wanted to go riding every day but there were no riding stables that
were convenient to where we were staying. We found one near Canyon Village and
made reservations a few days earlier for her to take a ride shortly after noon.
So after dawdling over a late breakfast we headed up the “Bison Parkway” for
our morning bison jam.
There was time before her ride to take a bridge over the
Yellowstone River. We wanted to see the upper and lower falls from the east side
of the gorge. It was worth the excursion; there was plenty to see from this side
too.
The horse ranch was easy to find. We were told some years
back there had been a hotel on the spot. Apparently the ground had shifted so
many times that eventually the hotel was just torn down. Stables seemed a far
more appropriate use for the land. There were twenty or so others who had also
come for a horse ride. Rosie, who had recently returned from Florida where she
spent five days riding on horses bareback with Margo, was a bit disappointed by
the required Western riding style. In addition the horses never galloped and
went in a line, head to rear, at something resembling an amble, if horses can
amble. The ride lasted an hour long. Terri and I hadn’t signed up. Terri has
passed her horse riding years, and they only make me saddle sore. So during the
hour we went back toward the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone, west side this time,
and took in a few of the views we had missed two days earlier.
Rosie arrived back promptly an hour later. I will say they had very attractive and well-groomed horses and Rosie seemed please with her horse (Stacey) and left her somewhat reluctantly. Not to worry, the next riders were waiting at the gate to take their place.
Our big excursion for the day was to go to Roosevelt Lodge
on the north side of the park for a combination stagecoach ride and cowboy
cookout. We didn’t need to show up until 3:40. To kill time we planned to make
a stop at Tower Falls. And to get there we had to proceed north through Canyon
Village again and over the mountain road from hell. Only for some reason it
didn’t seem as fearsome to me that day. I was a bit nervous thinking we might
have to drive this road home in the dark. Our cowboy cookout was not supposed to
end until near dusk, and we were more than an hour’s driving time from our
cabin. Terri expressed no nervousness and volunteered to drive both directions.
Our first attempt to find Tower Falls failed. We found a
big store with a full parking lot that was also full of things to buy, including
ice cream. But we saw no obvious signs to any falls and sure didn’t see any
from the roadways. So we continued on until we hit the Roosevelt Lodge. Clearly
we had missed it so we retraced our route. There was a road opposite the store
that we climbed, but this was just a campground. So that store must be it. We
pulled in and walked down a path a few hundred feet. There it was: Tower Falls.
We had seen plenty of falls by this point and this one was not overwhelming, but
certainly nice to look at.
There seemed to be time to take a steep trail down by the river for a closer look. Terri opted out; she and Rosie elected to shop in the store instead. I went down to the riverbed but found the trail from there to the base of the falls closed. Even so it was lovely to be down by the stream. The few others who ventured down that way seemed to think so too, and I observed a few wading into the creek.
Timing was perfect for an ice cream cone for each of us before we had to skedaddle back to the ranch. On the few miles between the places, you pass underneath a very high and sheer cliff that was really amazing. Unfortunately there was no place to stop to grab a picture.
Our tickets said to be at Roosevelt Lodge by 3:40. We
didn’t want the stagecoach to leave without us so we arrived a few minutes
early. What a waste of our time! All that work to get there and then sit there
in the heat because apparently the event didn’t actually start until 4 PM. And
it was hot for Wyoming, temperatures felt in the mid to upper 80s. The dry heat
and some shade made it bearable. Fortunately we were getting wise on Wyoming
weather at this point, and dressed light.
We could see our “stagecoaches”. Two of them were
actual stagecoaches. The rest of them, that is the ones actually carrying
passengers were faux stagecoaches, with rubber wheels and covered in vinyl.
Before we could board we had to listen to twenty minutes of jabber from a fellow
from Texas about our little trip. We learned it would be dusty and it would be a
good time to use a handkerchief around our noses (we hadn’t brought any). The
location of our cookout was only a mile or so away. Fortunately our stagecoach
was not motorized: they brought out real horses to carry us there and back. We
didn’t actually leave until close to 4:30 PM.
We were in the last coach and the leader was right about one thing: it was a dusty ride. Being the last coach we got most of the dust. We sat in the back row. It was quite a hop into the coach itself. Fortunately some steps assisted in getting us into our seats. A good natured guy from Michigan led our particular stage coach and amused us, or tried to anyhow, with lots of bad jokes. We passed over two roads to get to our campout and stopped traffic for a while, eventually arriving at Pleasant Valley.
Pleasant Valley had also hosted a hotel a century or so
back. It must not have proved financially viable because it certainly wasn’t
there. It looked pleasant enough for me. There was a large established picnic
area with a huge grilling area and plenty of picnic tables under a large open
roof. The steaks we were promised were grilling as we arrived. Apparently dinner
would not be long in coming.
The leader fancied himself something of a guitar player and singer. He took a spot next to some sound equipment and tried to entertain us with some old west and patriotic songs. It was very cheesy and campy, not to mention incredibly wholesome. But we enjoyed it anyhow, even if his sound system was overmodulated and his voice was pretty scratchy. Terri had a sixth sense of when the serving line would open, and we managed to be in the first dozen to get our grub. Some of the participants (a couple hundred) had come to the dinner by horse. There were two sets of hitching posts, one for the stagecoach horses, and the others for the rest. Rosie, when she wasn’t otherwise engaged (which was most of the time) could be found petting and talking to the horses. We were advised not to make any loud noises or it might startle the horses.
We were told recent stories of bears and bison coming down
to visit during the dinner hour that nearly caused major problems. But aside
from a family of prong horn deer in the distance on our way out we saw few wild
mammals, and certainly nothing that would intimidate us.
One of the features of the cookout was “Cowboy Coffee”. Hours earlier (reputedly) the old cowboy had come out to make the coffee on an open campfire. They knew it was ready when the horseshoe was thrown in and the horseshoe floated to the top. I didn’t drink any but reputedly it makes espresso seem kind of weak. The coffee was cooked over the only open campfire we saw in Yellowstone, since all fires had been banned. We assumed this one had a waiver. The steaks were cooked over large propane fed grills.
The grub was pretty good and there was plenty of it, and I
even had some seconds. Aside from the steaks there was also potato salad,
coleslaw, cowboy beans, mixed veggies, and huge apple crisps to enjoy with
dinner. When the overmodulated music from our leader was off we could enjoy the
cooling air, hear the neighs of horses in the background, and look out over
another lovely pristine vista.
I discovered it is not a good idea to wear sandals in a
dusty place. Between the cookout and the hiking my legs were covered with dust
and dirt. A little stream came through the middle of the picnic grounds, and I
regressed to my childhood and stuck my filthy feet into the stream. They
didn’t get much cleaner, but it sure felt nice.
Twilight was coming. The cookout was pretty much a science this late in the season, so everything got put away and we were back in our stagecoaches and heading back to the lodge as the sun began to set, again at the last stagecoach. It was our last full day at Yellowstone, but it had been a good one. Surely nothing would happen to put a damper on our vacation, which had already been cut short one day! It didn’t get much better than this.
But when we got back to the lodge Terri made the mistake of
jumping out of the stagecoach instead of waiting for the ladder. As you know her
knees are not good. She jumped, her right knee gave way under her and oops, it
was sprained. We helped her hobble back to our car. She insisted she could drive
and drove us all the way back to our cabin. We actually made it over the
fearsome mountains in the twilight while we could still see, but it was dark
when we reached our cabin. It was clear at this point she was one hurting lady,
although we were hoping her injury wasn’t too bad.
So Rosie and I did most of our preliminary packing. Those of us who could took showers. It was actually my second shower of the day. I was so grimy with dust that I felt it was essential. Neither Terri nor I slept much that night. She was in a lot of pain and wasn’t sleeping in her usual positions. Her constant tossing and turning in turn kept me awake. I wasn’t wild about the double bed anyhow. We had booked a room in Jackson the following night with a larger bed, and I was looking forward to having more space for sleeping, and hopefully a bed partner who would be not quite so restless.