Bubbling in Bozeman and freezing in Grand Teton
Extremes of experience are a norm on camping trips
Writers are curious people, and most of these interests end up in the work. Crocheting a baby cap for a new granddaughter with alpaca fiber yarn purchased from a farm in Bozeman, Montana, I developed an obsessive interest in alpacas. Through ordering the yarn direct from the farm, I became enamored with the animals. They reminded me of curly poodles with soulful eyes. Alpacas are intelligent, social, and naturally gentle and interactive with humans from domestication millennia ago in the Andes. Their wool is some of the softest and warmest on the planet.
At the time of the trip, I was close to finished with a romance novel centered around a fictional alpaca farm based on the one from whence I’d ordered the yarn. Since Bozeman, the site of the farm, was close to one of the Yellowstone gates, I asked Mike if we could go out through that exit and spend a night there. The next day, we’d visit the farm that had inspired the idea for Somewhere in Montana (written under my romance pen name, Toby Jane.)
Mike rolled his eyes but agreed to the side trip; he made reservations for us in Bozeman at a hot springs attraction with nine different natural geothermal pools. After boondock camping with limited showers, we were more than ready for a luxurious hot water wallow.
We left Yellowstone regretfully, after six days in the park, with the sense that we’d had an overview of the immense place—the broad brushstrokes. As we exited, the weather shifted suddenly from nineties and sunny, to chill wind and gathering clouds.
By the time we reached Bozeman, Montana, a two hour drive along the scenic Madison River, rain pelted the rig heavily and the wipers could hardly keep up.
