That one time where we accidentally drove to winter

It's been quite a couple of days, friends. So we went to Yellowstone on Sunday -- really beautiful, well worth the price of admission. Waterfalls and steaming slopes of hot spring-laden rock and herds of bison and elk wandering about.

Then, we left the park.

(Dramatic pauses for a reason)

We took US 212 out of the park, the far northeast entrance - the one going the way we were headed. I didn't notice till we were well en route the map's note about how the road is closed in the winter. This may seem irrelevant as it was August 31st but living in the shadow of the Cascades and Olympics, I know this is not generally a good sign and that winter is more of an elevation difference than a season in the West. I didn't think too much of it, though, and figured we'd be fine. Well, we were, but that's probably because EPH was driving and he is much less inclined to panic. We were cruising along, headed up a series of switchbacks through what the map told us is known as Beartooth Pass. (At the time I hypothesized that this was due to the jagged silhouette of the mountain but now I wonder if people get stuck and eaten up there) As we climbed, I was a little nervous about the extremity of the switchbacks, as well as the odd tendency to NOT put guardrails next to sheer drops. But it was beautiful so I tried to not worry, and EPH was driving slowly to keep me calm. Early on we noticed that there was snow at the top of the mountain - again, very far up so didn't dwell on it. But then the snow got closer...and closer...and the GPS elevation told us we were passing 10,000 feet and suddenly the snow was along the road and the "fog" was extremely dense and the ground all around was covered in thick frost. Keep in mind we're still on extreme switchbacks and we're in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal at all - rural Montana. This is how survival movies start, amirite?

Then it got scarier -- we had to go DOWN the other side. Still switchbacks, only now we notice the road surface itself is, uh, shiny. So we're going down twisty windy roads, on the side of a mountain, on ice-covered roads. We're going super slow and I'm praying every prayer I know while mentally alternating with swearing a blue streak, and we're hoping that a) we stay on the road and b) nobody comes along behind us and can't slow down in time and we both go off the mountain.

Needless to say, since I'm typing this we clearly survived, but in my head I was definitely running through the various provisions and blankets in the truck and thinking I might actually have to use them. Scary. Pro tip - AVOID BEARTOOTH PASS if driving in/out of Yellowstone!!!

Just inside the western edge of North Dakota.

Not long after, though, we encountered more bison - these were just roaming free near a rest stop. Amazing.

So, that was Sunday. Monday we got to Fargo, which was surprisingly adorable, and where we had a fantastic dinner in a place called the Beefsteak Club. Check it out if, for some odd reason, you are in Fargo. The next morning EPH hopped a flight off to work, and I drove on. My adventures, such as they are, in the next post.

Homer lost patience with this road trip business and spent some time sulking.