I had the best time at the Toad Hall Manor B&B in Butte. It didn't feel like a hotel at all. More like staying with a friend's parents. I got cocktails and dinner and we talked for hours until I could hardly keep my eyes open and went to sleep. After another rich breakfast I left towards southeast. Montana is probably the most "Western" state I've seen so far. Well, Houston Airport doesn't count. And I mean real, authentic Western. It made me want to swap my bike for a horse for a few times. It's so incredibly wide. There seems to be so much space. It's not the "in your face" beauty of California or Idaho. It's more humble and quiet, a little rough around the edges and completely unpretentious and authentic.
I liked the speed limit and all traffic sings. There weren't that many and the speed limit was usually 70 to 75 mph. Not a different limit for every type o road or curve. It was like "Don't go faster than this. However, you might want to go slower if the conditions require it." Common sense driving. Though that's easy in a state with only a few cars and roads that go either straight on for hours or have a few nice and easy turns. And most of the time you can see miles ahead.
Eventually I reached Wyoming and, Yellowstone. It's huge and pretty and reminded me a lot of the Lüneburger Heide in Germany. Apart from the mountains in the background. Riverbeds, canyons, lots of small trees, dead trees, too, but they fit in well with the whole scenery. And hot springs. White ground with turquoise colored pools, copper stains and the steam coming out of the earth everywhere. And then the "big one", "Old Faithful". We waited an hour until it showed. A few splashes at first, until they became bigger and then we got the whole show. Lasted 3 minutes. I'm not going to write down any of the analogies that came to mind while I was watching this. Together with hundreds of other tourists. Too easy.
And off we all went. I drove towards south and finally reached the Grand Teton National Park. I had seen pictures of the lake and the mountains. But I was not prepared for what I was about to see. I turned around a corner and there they were. I stopped to take a picture but couldn't. I just stood there. Stunned. Silent. Overwhelmed by the sight. I had seen similar mountains in the Alpes, Mt. Cook in New Zealand, Sierra Nevada in Spain. But here were four Mt. Cooks in a row. Partly covered with snow. Teased by a group of perky clouds and all of them reflecting perfectly on the otherwise deep blue surface of the lake.
Again, it's not that the sight was unfamiliar. It's just the sheer size and accumulation of those sights that takes your breath away. I don't think that there are enough or good enough words to describe what I felt when I looked at those mountains. Well, I had tears running down my cheeks. Something that usually happens during Puccini operas :-).
Now I'm about to sleep after a dinner with a lovely Texan couple (god, I love hanging out with people who are so much taller than me). They had been all through the US with their motorcycle and now they'd tow their Harley behind their RV and take her for shorter tours. I was going to take a picture of the sunset but this is as far I got before I had to escape in order not to be eaten alive by Mosquitos. Even they are really mellow here. I killed three of them while they were taking their time settling in on my legs before biting me.
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