Day 10

Day 10 was a ride over to Yellowstone. I was heading home now, heading back east. But I had Yellowstone, the Bighorns and Custer State Park to stop in at on the way.

I was up and out of the AirBnB place early. I snuck out unseen and unheard. It was a bit chilly, down in the 50s, but lots of sun. Worked myself down to Hamilton and wasted too much time on a so-so breakfast. The ride was down the flatlands with the mountains to my west, working down 93 and the minor roads to it's east when I could.

I'm difficult to please sometimes. I look at those mountains and think there must be bigger mountains in the world. Are these good mountains? I bet there are better. Grass is greener elsewhere. More is better. I need to get over that stuff. But I was thoroughly enjoying the day, don't get me wrong.

The all of a sudden I was climbing up Lost Trail Pass. Well, that was a welcome surprise, I didn't realize I'd be gaining elevation today. It was just a real nice smooth pull up there. Good pavement and fun turns. At the top there was a rest area and a pickup with three smiling dogs in the back. You can always tell loved family dogs who most likely are allowed on the couch. I chatted with them for a while. Then the family that owned them came by and we chatted a while.

From there I started heading due east, towards home, on 43. Here was a higher plateau with wide open spaces. mountains in the distance. Really some of the most beautiful land I saw.

I ran into the Big Hole National Monument up there. I didn't know that was a thing. I should really know more about history, and where it happened. Apparently as the US Govt was relocating the Native Americans some Nez Peirce camped here for a rest. They were attacked in a pre-dawn raid. Down in the valley you can see teepee poles where the camp was. I could almost picture the raid. It was a bit moving, and a stunning view at the same time.

From this vantage point you can visualize the general progress of the Battle of the Big Hole, but at a distance from the fear and chaos of its hand-to-hand combat. The landscape has changed little since the morning of August 9, 1877. This lush river valley was a place familiar to the Nez Perce. The exhausted Nez Perce assumed they could rest here safely for several days. Tipi poles mark their campsite.
 
Col. John Gibbon launched a pre-dawn surprise attack on the camp (blue arrows), killing between 60 and 90 Nez Perce men, women, and children. The warriors were able to regroup, counterattack, and besiege Gibbon's men in a pine thicket the families escaped (red arrows). The army's casualties were 31 soldiers killed and 39 wounded. Although the Nez Perce staved off disaster, this battle made clear that their safety was still in question.

I stop a lot. I think I've mentioned that before. As I pulled out of the breakdown lane after taking some pictures an HD guy started to overtake me and when he got next to me he made sure he got a thumbs up from me to make sure I was OK. Later on he and I were pulled off at the same time, he was part of a group of 6 that each traveled at their own pace, with a chase vehicle in the form of a newer Camaro SS with a Kendon trailer and a big 5 gallon fuel jug strapped to it.

Later in the day while I was pulled over that Camaro stopped to see if I was OK. Older guys, skinny, long white beards, few teeth and big smiles. Told them I was OK and they tore off, clearly loving the power of the car.

I barely consider myself a motorcyclist. I mean, clearly I'm obsessed with the bike and riding. But I'm not looking for a club to be a member of, let alone to conform to. And I'm really about the exploring and riding more than the motorcycle itself, if that makes sense. But at any rate, we all do look after each other, and I do like that aspect.

But later in the day I was pulled off, listening to some Osprey back in this marsh and trying to spot them with my binoculars. And damn if my friends in the Camaro didn't come tearing down the road, at darn near triple-digit speeds, clearly still enjoying the car's power. I gave them a thumbs up. Crap. Know what else a thumbs-up looks like? Hitchhikers thumb. I know better, always use the OK sign.

And sure enough the Camaro does a u-turn to help me out. I explained, they didn't mind. Especially since it gave him an excuse to stomp on the gas peddle again, and he tore off back down the road with a bit of squeal from the tires.

As I was getting closer to Yellowstone I ran into Earthquake Lake. In 1959 an earthquake caused a landslide that buried a bunch of campers and blocked a river, forming a new lake. There were a lot of informational signs and a visitor center. But, as it seems to go, I was running late and needed to keep moving.

Tragedy Strikes
 
In the early morning, when mist rises from the water, the skeletal trees that loom from Earthquake Lake appear ghostly. They're just a hint of the strange world below, where scattered relics along the lake bottom tell a story of terror and loss: picnic tables, crushed cars, toys, fishing gear.. .all abandoned during a few tragic hours in August of 1959.
 
The Campground was Full
 
Even though it was a Monday; the eight official campsites at Rock Creek Campground filled early the afternoon of August 17. By evening, those who arrived had to settle for "unofficial" sites further up or downriver. Still, the mood was cheerful—it was a beautiful moonlit night.
 
At 11:37 p.m., the shaking began. Some thought it was marauding beats, but those who looked outside realized something bigger was going on. Trees swayed and cracked. Rocks jumped into the air. Loose boulders began to bounce down from above.
 
A few minutes later came a hellish roar. For those camped closest to the canyon mouth, was the last sound they ever heard as millions on tons of rocks and debris smashed across their campsites. Just upstream, the roar was accompanied by a hurricane-force wind and a wall of muddy water that swept away vehicles, tents, and people.
 
The campers had been savaged by three separate dramatic events: first, the largest earthquake in the Rocky Mountains; shortly after that, an 8O-million-ton landslide; and then the rising water.
 
Nineteen people were buried outright by the slide, their bodies never found. a total of twenty-eight people died as a result of the earthquake. More than two hundred others were eventually rescued.
 
Survivors
 
Bill Conley and his brother were asleep in a station wagon, with their aunt and uncle in a camp trailer nearby, when the landslide swept past. Awakened by the roar, they stumbled out to the choking smell of dust. Their campsite had been spared, but other nearby sites were crushed. As the minutes ticked by, other campers congregated near their vehicle. Eventually, the group helped transport the wounded east, to an evacuation point.
 
"We had just got to sleep when we were awakened by a tremendous roar. I could hear trees splitting and falling. It got terribly quiet, and then the screams began." -- Bill Conley

I've been to Yellowstone several times. It really was just a scheduled stop-over on the way home, not actually a destination. To enjoy Yellowstone you need to get off the pavement, you can hike 50 yards down any trail and be in wilderness, away from the throng. But the roads are all throng.

It was getting late when I got to the Yellowstone gate, and camp was still 50 miles away. I made a couple stops for views, but really just pressed on. I stopped at Old Faithful just to grab some vittles. A couple bottles of beer, some cheese, a salty snack, a hummus/chip snack thing. I expected to be financially abused at the cash register, given I was at a tourist trap many miles from any alternative store. But no, the whole thing cost about what it would at home. Well darn it, look at that, the Park Service was doing me right. Good on my government.

Checking into camp is a whole procedure that involves lengthy lectures about bears and food storage rules, and the signing of legal documents. I had a tent site without a level spot, I'll never understand that. But I setup the best I could, then settled at my picnic table in the dark with my vittles and phone. And I had full 4G cell services. Seemed odd to me, but I suppose I was in a park, not in the wilderness. So I munched and posted some witty comments to Facebook and Googled "Bear Attacks In Yellowstone Campgrounds". There really weren't any, and I slept soundly without fear.

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