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Megaera's first WorldCon, not to mention the annual trip to Yellowstone, Post #1
Well. What a trip. In every sense of the word. I was gone 2 1/2 weeks, so I'll write it up a couple of days at a time in multiple posts.
I just drove 1350 miles in three days, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The reason I'm telling you this is so that you'll understand if this sounds like my brain is still rather fogged.
So. July 28th. After several days of dithering around and packing and so forth and so on, I hit the road at about eight in the morning, which was a good start. The first day of the drive to Yellowstone (where else, natch?) is always a long one, and, these days, a very familiar one. It's 480 miles to Missoula, Montana, which is the most convenient stopping point (I'd prefer to drive slightly less than that in one day, but there is basically nothing between Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and Missoula, a distance of over 100 miles). It was an uneventful day except for my excitement, and except for the fact that I managed to get from Puyallup to Coeur d’Alene, a distance of almost 350 miles, on 9.2 gallons of gas. I’ve always known that my little Ford Focus gets better mileage than the EPA thinks it does, but over 36 MPG as compared to the 32 on the highway the EPA has assigned to it was a very nice bonus, especially these days.
The next morning I proceeded on, to quote William Clark, who passed through not far where I was a little over 200 years ago, and was making lovely time about halfway between Deer Lodge and Butte when a six-point (at least six-point, I wasn’t exactly counting) buck leaped out onto the highway about fifty yards in front of my bumper – and stopped. I did manage not to hit him or run off the road, and he did get moving again, but the adrenaline lasted me about fifty miles. Giggling uncontrollably and hyperventilating were the least of it. I’d just gotten started on this trip, darnit! I didn’t want to have it end on the second day. Let alone have that lovely buck’s death on my conscience.
I arrived in Bozeman around lunchtime, and after picnicking in my car I went to Montana State University, where I had a bunch of references to look up and material I wanted to look at (all in the rare book room, unavailable via interlibrary loan) for George’s book. I had a very productive afternoon, found some first person accounts that I hadn’t known existed in addition to the other stuff, and enjoyed myself very much (yes, I’m odd that way – sue me).
M’s flight was due at Gallatin Field at 6:30 that evening, so when the library closed I went to find it, which wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I ended up in a residential area of Belgrade (the suburb of Bozeman where the airport is located) asking a very nice gentleman where to find what turned out to be a very nondescript-looking small airport. On the outside. On the inside it’s all very new-looking and gorgeous, including the more-than-lifesized bronze bear staring directly at where the passengers emerge.
M was on time, and so was her luggage, and we had a lovely reunion. Then we drove 30 miles east to Livingston, preparatory to heading to Yellowstone (hereafter designated The Park [g]) the next morning.
More in the next post.
I just drove 1350 miles in three days, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The reason I'm telling you this is so that you'll understand if this sounds like my brain is still rather fogged.
So. July 28th. After several days of dithering around and packing and so forth and so on, I hit the road at about eight in the morning, which was a good start. The first day of the drive to Yellowstone (where else, natch?) is always a long one, and, these days, a very familiar one. It's 480 miles to Missoula, Montana, which is the most convenient stopping point (I'd prefer to drive slightly less than that in one day, but there is basically nothing between Coeur d'Alene, Idaho and Missoula, a distance of over 100 miles). It was an uneventful day except for my excitement, and except for the fact that I managed to get from Puyallup to Coeur d’Alene, a distance of almost 350 miles, on 9.2 gallons of gas. I’ve always known that my little Ford Focus gets better mileage than the EPA thinks it does, but over 36 MPG as compared to the 32 on the highway the EPA has assigned to it was a very nice bonus, especially these days.
The next morning I proceeded on, to quote William Clark, who passed through not far where I was a little over 200 years ago, and was making lovely time about halfway between Deer Lodge and Butte when a six-point (at least six-point, I wasn’t exactly counting) buck leaped out onto the highway about fifty yards in front of my bumper – and stopped. I did manage not to hit him or run off the road, and he did get moving again, but the adrenaline lasted me about fifty miles. Giggling uncontrollably and hyperventilating were the least of it. I’d just gotten started on this trip, darnit! I didn’t want to have it end on the second day. Let alone have that lovely buck’s death on my conscience.
I arrived in Bozeman around lunchtime, and after picnicking in my car I went to Montana State University, where I had a bunch of references to look up and material I wanted to look at (all in the rare book room, unavailable via interlibrary loan) for George’s book. I had a very productive afternoon, found some first person accounts that I hadn’t known existed in addition to the other stuff, and enjoyed myself very much (yes, I’m odd that way – sue me).
M’s flight was due at Gallatin Field at 6:30 that evening, so when the library closed I went to find it, which wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I ended up in a residential area of Belgrade (the suburb of Bozeman where the airport is located) asking a very nice gentleman where to find what turned out to be a very nondescript-looking small airport. On the outside. On the inside it’s all very new-looking and gorgeous, including the more-than-lifesized bronze bear staring directly at where the passengers emerge.
M was on time, and so was her luggage, and we had a lovely reunion. Then we drove 30 miles east to Livingston, preparatory to heading to Yellowstone (hereafter designated The Park [g]) the next morning.
More in the next post.