August 11 - August 12, 2005 Sheridan

I started out this morning really excited about having an entire day to explore Wyoming. Unfortunately, the person working behind the desk at the motel gave me horrible directions that took me west into Yellowstone instead of southeast. Although it was probably the most beautiful drive yet, it was not without stress.
I pretty much knew what I was getting myself into, but for some reason it took me 90 minutes to come to grips with the fact that I was now practically in Idaho again.
This tunnel was pretty trippy both times I drove through it.
It's pretty crazy how all of these images could potentially be postcards from the American frontier or something. I don't know, I'm not a fucking postcard creator or designer.
These were taken while driving along the side of Buffalo Bill State Park, and the body of water is the Buffalo Bill Reservoir, which accounts for an overwhelming majority of the park.
You can tell it's a large reservoir because it's in every picture.
This is all while traveling west on US-14 / US -16 / US-20.
When I finally arrived at Yellowstone, I said to myself, "Hmm...That's odd. I'm pretty sure this huge national park was to the west of where I stayed last night. Maybe I really am going in the wrong direction. I drove through for a few minutes, and then decided to turn around. I'd rather waste my day at Little Bighorn than in Yellowstone.
Here I am, driving back east along US-14 / US-16 / US-20.
If this sign is any indication, I'm getting closer...
And this photograph indicates that I don't know how to work a camera. At all!
Holy fuck. Where else do you see mountains like this anywhere else in the country? I implore you to answer me that question.
Look at them. Towering over us, mocking our tiny stature. While you're in the passenger seat of your honey's foreign sedan, those giant rocks have been bathed in sunlight for generations. They'll still be there, beautiful and young, when you're dead and rotting in the ground.
Magnificant!

Around every corner, a new surprise. A new place to explore.

Isn't that a quote from the theme song to the old television program Reading Rainbow? It sure as hell sounds like it.

Okay Evan. You dig the scenery. I get it now.
Just beyond Greybull (where police officers greet out of state cars with a friendly wave from their patrol cars as they clock you speeding), I stopped in Shell, Wyoming to see the waterfall.
The town of Shell has an estimated population of 50. I took classes in college with three times as many people in one room as there are in the entire town of Shell.
Their waterfall sure is more beautiful than anything I've ever seen on a college campus, though.
Then it's back on the road, soda pop firmly in hand, lousy indie rock blaring on the stereo.
I always feared I was on the precipice of something, like I was about to drive off the side of the planet and fall into space.
And then, inexplicably, it became a bit cloudy.
This is the first of many pictures detailing my afternoon walking around Little Bighorn. It was a spooky experience. Walking alone down trails in the middle of nowhere, where headstones marking the graves of fallen soldiers are sometimes right in the middle of the path, and rattlesnakes could be lurking in the underbrush. I've never experienced truer silence.
This is the Little Bighorn National Cemetery. It's enormous.
To get to Little Bighorn, I had to drive north into Montana again. This was taken on the return trip south.
And voila! I'm back in Wyoming, and on my way to Sheridan. While in town, I ate horrible fast food, felt ill, regaled some bikers with my acoustic guitar, and watched the weather reports talking about tornados in Billings. I've always wanted to see a tornado from a safe distance, but luckily I was not in Billings on that particular night.