Our road trip continued from central Utah to West Yellowstone, Montana, with little effort and no stress whatsoever. The car was plugging along at a tidy 29 miles to the gallon. Not too shabby, for the ol’ Saab.
Chuck-a-what?
We stopped for lunch with Marla’s mother, Margaret, in Salt Lake City. She introduced me to the scary sounding Chuck-A-Rama restaurant, an all-you-can eat joint that had me conjuring visions of beef slabs and squealing pigs.
The no-meat-eater in me was pleasantly surprised (and secretly relieved) to walk into a lovely dining room with a fresh, almost formal aesthetic. As expected, the buffet offered a cornucopia of food, both meat and veggie based. It was more than my eyes could take in, but I found my way to the bountiful salad bar and then over to the hard-to-resist mac ‘n cheese.
After a pleasant reunion with Grandmother Margaret, we took our stuffed-to-the-gills selves back to the car. Interstate 15 and a seven-hour drive lay ahead.
08-08-08
The journey north was mellow. Marla and I listened to a book on tape while the kids watched “The Princess Bride” for the 236th time. The scenery flattened out and led us into Idaho’s spud country. The car droned on, and we finally arrived in West Yellowstone around 7 p.m. on 08-08-08.
Our home for the next five days would be the quaint Rustic Wagon RV Campground and Cabins. We were greeted enthusiastically by Dorit, a German expat who runs the facilities with her cowboy husband, Tom. We got the grand tour, then dragged our stuff from the car.
I have yet to mention the trunk of my car … and how much stuff we crammed within. Here’s a fun inventory:
- Luggage for four people (this included two larger bags (adults) and two smaller kid duffels);
- Two coolers (one small and one large);
- Two camping chairs;
- Extra bedding and several heavy fleece pullovers;
- Snacks for 100 days, at least;
- Gifts for the Utah crowd;
- Emergency kit for the car (Fixit Flat and bungee cords in case we had to strap kid to roof);
- More snacks;
- My backpack.
Our tidy little cabin offered more amenties than any KOA campground (our other option):
- Two bedrooms with a queen-size bed in each;
- A small bathroom with shower (and plenty of hot water);
- Tiny kitchen (in second bedroom);
- Microwave and all the pots, pans, plates, cups and utensils we could use;
- Full-size refrigerator;
- Full-size propane grill with extra burner;
- Oh my, a television! (Say it ain’t so!) To our credit, this device got very little action during our stay.
There were also laundry facilities and extra bathrooms and showers, should the cabin get cramped. Marla sent Sandy out on an S.O.S. mission when we realized there was no corkscrew to open the wine. Sacre bleu! But Dorit came through and a crisis was averted.
Welcome, now pay up
On our first night in West Yellowstone (not to be confused with the park itself), we ventured out for a bite to eat. Weary from the road, nobody wanted to entertain thoughts of cooking on our lovely propane grill. The small town beckoned . . . but we were in for a shock.
The sidewalk scene was thick with tourists in cheap cowboy chic. There were lines outside many restaurants, but we had a recommendation from our cabin managers and bypassed much of the masses. We soon discovered that the steakhouse, however, offered little for me to eat … and the prices were out of control. One Harley-Davidson rider and his wife scoffed at the 5-ounce ribeye: $32. He did the math and discovered a regular-size steak would set him back $100 or more. Keep in mind, this is Land o’ Beef, people!! I saw more steer than I could count on my way into Montana.
Marla figured the prices were inflated for European travelers and their high-value euros. Drat them. I saw a sign on the street for a four-piece chicken dinner, couple of sides: $18.95. Buyer beware! We were suddenly glad we had a plan to cook at the cabin and picnic in the park.
We found the fantastic Wild West Pizzeria on the far-east corner of town. It was a lively scene and had just what we wanted: comfort food, fast.
After learning the town was not receiving its NBC feed, we abandoned hope of watching the opening ceremonies from Beijing and headed to bed. The next day would bring some surprises inside (and outside) the park.
Turn the page: Mountain Men, hot pots and cowboys
