"Lewis & Clark Expedition" - Pacific Northwest
	Day 2:  Sunday, May 12, 2002

Well, it was a day.  The alarm sounded at 5:35 am, and I was up with the rooster, chickens, and any other bird (domestic or otherwise) that would dare stir at this hour.  Of course, I was the only one in the room who was so well suited.  It took a bit longer for the rest of the cadre to get to the point of tossing stuff into bags (and I am no longer tote bag material, finally!), and after topping off the gas tank and loading up on Pepsi, we were off.

A half-hour into the departure landed us in Shoshone, which was an adorable little town, complete with the 7:02 am freight train rumbling through town on this Mother's Day.  The town had a historic (or call it "rustic") feel to it, complete with the brick court house (built in 1904), and Fire Station No. 1 (although I suspect there is only one... and the fire engines inside were definitely classic vehicles).  And once the train was clear of the train crossing (call it 7:04 am), we, too, were rumbling down the asphalt track of the highway.

We were now a ways off from the next stop, but in between here and there stood scenery.  Green scenery and mountains.  Nothing particularly significant toward furthering my existence as a duck, of course, but it was scenery.  (Well, if you'd call a greener version of Nevada scenery, anyway.)  We arrive at Craters of the Moon about 8:15 am.  We were immediately reminded that we should take only pictures, and leave only footprints.  After passing through the main gate and finding no one there to collect the $5 admission fee, but the gates were open, so we felt welcome.  We ventured forward.

Coming to Inferno Cone, I decided to drag the travel party on a hike to the top with me, which limited results, of course.  The cone itself stood at an elevation of 6,181 feet.  Winded; there was nothing audible but the wind and panting of having to climb the cone -- but the views were pleasant (here and here).  I managed to finally get up there, but not without feeling parched.  (I could have really used some Chap-Stick on the bill right about then, or the cool water of a a snow-melt fed creek.)  The only problem there was, of course, getting back.  (The fact we appeared to be the only car in the park, aside from a few campers, was really cool.)

After that wander, we stopped in Arco.  I was enchanted by the motel's sign that doesn't apparently ever see a 'no vacancy' situation (powered by an extension cord), and by the very inviting town welcome sign.  They also seemed a bit focused on telling people to go 15 MPH everywhere (except where posted), and we saw there were 25 MPH signs on -- literally -- every street we saw.  The local high school seniors apparently, as much as possible, seem to like getting involved with exterior decorating.  And, we paused at the stop-light to look to where we've been, and where we were about to go.

And we went, with the next destination of Idaho Falls.  After some post-adolescent reminiscent wander down memory lane (or more accurately, West 33rd South), we passed by New Sweden School No. 2, no longer functioning, obviously.  We wandered around a bit, finding both a favorite of having tin roofs versus composite or shake, and for others, for living more like gophers than people.  We headed over to the falls (the town's name sake), to look at water going from above to below, and then to see if I couldn't feed a few ducks (and more), just for fun.  Even if the locals tended to stare, and another woman said I looked "too fat" to be a duck; hmmph.  (That didn't go as well at first, given a grandfather electing to walk his grand-daughter right through my photo shoot.)

We popped into the Grand Teton Mall.  It seems the boy's grandparents and father, at one time, farmed that land.  As near as I could gather from various tales, the Orange Julius stand is where the farm house once stood.  So, I figured I should go pay a visit.  Of course, it's Sunday, it's a fairly religious little town, and no one was open before noon.  But once both hands touched 12, a little shopping took place before setting foot back to the road.

Back on the road.  Considering the next stop was Yellowstone, and because my grasp of geography was about as strong as it is of physics, I was surprised to find we were in Montana instead of Wyoming (and that Montana pride means shooting up the sign).  I was equally surprised to find a right-foot shoe, given my theory and experience has, until today, been that only left shoes get lost.  10 minutes later led us to West Yellowstone (Montana), which had a nice view of the mountains.  All this, and big enough of a place to have an IMAX theater.  It's not showing prime movies, but it's an IMAX.

We got into Jellystone National Park being lightened by $20 by an overly chatty clerk.  (She'd mentioned there's road work, even today being a Sunday; the boy responded with "It's a sickness, ain't it?" -- she didn't get it), and drove to the first sight to see. We started with a camera-shy bison, but others proved to be warmer to the tourists.  Shifting gears, we bothered the antelope for a moment before heading on to something a little hotter.

What I was expecting by that statement, and what I saw, was both a disappointment, and quite odorous (sulfur, to be exact).  Hot springs.  Some of them just sat and steamed, others just steamed, one spurted like bubbles in paint.  As we walked, we found a spurting spring, a shooting spring, and eventually, Old Faithful.  Which would have been even better had we been 5 minutes earlier, and we'd seen it closer than 100 yards, but by the same virtue, there were fewer crowds being this far away.

We circled around Old Faithful, and found we're less impressed with bison at this point, but still snapped a picture, just in case someone ever asked to see them.  We got through the construction the overly helpful gatekeeper mentioned (15-20 miles at 25 MPH), and got back into Montana; weird state line lines through the park, apparently.  After cutting through Gardiner (another smallish town with a cute frontage area and less impressive other streets), we were on our way to Livingston to get gas, Pepsi, and get onto I-90 toward Billings.  (Had the boy not been in such haste, we'd have probably seen more than just the gas station.)

The drive itself was marked with both greats views of the Montana mountains, but an alarming number of bugs dying on the windshield as well.  We pulled into Billings at 8:24 pm, and yes Virginia, the sun was still up... astounding.  After checking into the Motel 6, conveniently (?) located adjacent to an "Adult Books" establishment, we popped into Applebee's for dinner.  The boy tried to have a bacon cheeseburger, but the enchanting Lee imparted the sad tale of being out of bacon.  In an act of sheer blasphemy, the tubby boy ordered a basket of chicken fingers.  (There is at least two things wrong with that description, but they were tasty.)  Lee, courteous without over-doing it, was left two Frank U.S. Tour pens along with a smiley face drawn on the receipt.  (She earned it, to be sure.)  And we headed back to the hotel, all travel companions collapsed after showering (which did not happen too soon, believe me), and I got left up to bang out yet another of my own updates.  Phooey -- but off to North Dakota tomorrow, and more Frank pens to give out (14 distributed today)...