Theodore Roosevelt National Park
Guess who is coming for dinner
Gerry sleeps lightly and hears well.. “Dave, there is something outside the tent ”I carefully looked out the tent flap. Gerry had heard a 2000 pound buffalo. The tender grass where we put our tent was on the menu. We froze in the tent, our hearts racing. Not only the enormous size, but the sound of the buffalo eating was paralyzing. “Whoosh, chomp, whoosh, chomp,”as he grazed directly towards the tent. All the warnings raced through my head. They are wild, dangerous and run 3 times faster than humans. Our plan was don’t move. The buffalo munched by the side of the tent, then moved to the front . All Gerry could say was, “I.’m scared.” The chomping moved to the other side of the tent, then slowly away. We fled to the car, cold, but safe. We stayed in the car for about an hour.. Feeling safe, we moved the tent to the bare ground next to the car. Snorting, whooshing, chomping continued through the night. The rest of the night was serene. The buffalo ate and slept at a safe distance. Wild horses also grazed near by. Lesson learned? Don’t put the tent up next to the salad bar.
Idaho City- almost the capital of Idaho.
We stopped at Idaho City, population 465, 36 slow mountain miles drive from Boise. The miners settled there in the 1860's. We went looking for local color and found Hansen’s bar. My feeling is no matter how worn the patrons look, they still have a story. Customers wound around the V shaped bar. We found stools in the end. I noticed pets were allowed. A wrinkled faced round dog poked his head from behind the bar and jammed it against my leg. Rosie’s wide pink collar sported 2 plastic wands that thrust forward past her ears. Rosie’s owner, Ken said she is blind and the wands help keep Rosie from bumping into stuff. Ken got the idea from a local bet. Ken told us a little about the town. “Almost the capital of Idaho.” The woman bartender occasionally did some pirouettes, I assumed for our entertainment. Another dog extended himself up next to Gerry and gave her a doggie stare. Gerry said, “Is this a pit bull?” The younger bearded man next to Ken who drummed the bar with his carpenter’s pencil to nonexistent music said “Yep. Pit bulls get a bad rap- they’re only as mean or gentle as their owners. That dog only hates cats. I been to court 5 times. The way I see it, my licensed dog kills unlicensed cats. I should get a medal or somethin’”We finished our beers. We left, my theory intact. There is always a story.
Gerry sleeps lightly and hears well.. “Dave, there is something outside the tent ”I carefully looked out the tent flap. Gerry had heard a 2000 pound buffalo. The tender grass where we put our tent was on the menu. We froze in the tent, our hearts racing. Not only the enormous size, but the sound of the buffalo eating was paralyzing. “Whoosh, chomp, whoosh, chomp,”as he grazed directly towards the tent. All the warnings raced through my head. They are wild, dangerous and run 3 times faster than humans. Our plan was don’t move. The buffalo munched by the side of the tent, then moved to the front . All Gerry could say was, “I.’m scared.” The chomping moved to the other side of the tent, then slowly away. We fled to the car, cold, but safe. We stayed in the car for about an hour.. Feeling safe, we moved the tent to the bare ground next to the car. Snorting, whooshing, chomping continued through the night. The rest of the night was serene. The buffalo ate and slept at a safe distance. Wild horses also grazed near by. Lesson learned? Don’t put the tent up next to the salad bar.
Idaho City- almost the capital of Idaho.
We stopped at Idaho City, population 465, 36 slow mountain miles drive from Boise. The miners settled there in the 1860's. We went looking for local color and found Hansen’s bar. My feeling is no matter how worn the patrons look, they still have a story. Customers wound around the V shaped bar. We found stools in the end. I noticed pets were allowed. A wrinkled faced round dog poked his head from behind the bar and jammed it against my leg. Rosie’s wide pink collar sported 2 plastic wands that thrust forward past her ears. Rosie’s owner, Ken said she is blind and the wands help keep Rosie from bumping into stuff. Ken got the idea from a local bet. Ken told us a little about the town. “Almost the capital of Idaho.” The woman bartender occasionally did some pirouettes, I assumed for our entertainment. Another dog extended himself up next to Gerry and gave her a doggie stare. Gerry said, “Is this a pit bull?” The younger bearded man next to Ken who drummed the bar with his carpenter’s pencil to nonexistent music said “Yep. Pit bulls get a bad rap- they’re only as mean or gentle as their owners. That dog only hates cats. I been to court 5 times. The way I see it, my licensed dog kills unlicensed cats. I should get a medal or somethin’”We finished our beers. We left, my theory intact. There is always a story.