Rick decided to leave a little earlier this morning to watch the herd of elk he now called “his.” I swear, if he could have carried one home and tied it to the trailer, he would have. The door slammed at 6:30, and that was my wake-up call.

I figured I would dive right into writing Day 2, but my head wasn’t having it. Sneezing, coughing, watery eyes—the whole allergy parade rolled into town. Instead of being productive, I curled up with my phone and played games, glancing at the clock every so often, waiting for Rick to come back.

I had a tube of cinnamon rolls calling my name from the fridge, and I thought how nice it would be to surprise him with something warm and gooey fresh out of the oven. The only problem? I had never lit the oven before and wasn’t about to blow up the camper learning how. So, cereal it was. And wouldn’t you know it—just as I took that first spoonful, in walked Rick.

He must have read my mind, because the first thing he did was show me how to light the pilot light. I slid those cinnamon rolls in faster than you could say “Pillsbury,” and soon the whole place smelled like heaven. Of course, I had my share for breakfast, too—I’m not one to let Rick hog the good stuff.

Fueled up, we hopped in the truck and headed toward West Yellowstone. By lunchtime, we found ourselves at the Old Town Café. And let me tell you, they didn’t mess around with portions. I ordered a classic clubhouse sandwich, and I swear the turkey and ham alone weighed a pound. It was stacked so high I couldn’t get my mouth around it, and you all know the size of my mouth. Rick went with the chef’s salad, and his bowl looked like it had been meant for a family of four. Neither of us stood a chance of finishing our meals.

Afterward, Rick ducked into a grocery store for antihistamines. Both of our noses were staging a rebellion, and something had to give. With meds in hand, we decided to take the scenic way home. Over Dunraven Pass, down to Tower, and looping back to camp along the same stretch we had traveled the day before.

This time there were no fires smoldering along the ridges—looked like the crews had gotten them under control overnight. Instead, the scenery was pure Yellowstone magic: sweeping valleys, jagged peaks, and clouds that played peekaboo with the sun. It should have been the perfect afternoon.

But by the time we rolled back to camp, both of us felt like limp dishrags. Sinuses stuffed, throats scratchy, energy gone. Dinner plans? Forget it. The only thing on the menu that night was antihistamines and an early bedtime.

Yellowstone day 3 September 23, 2025

Yellowstone Day 2 September 22, 2025