dormant outside the tent, puddles of
rain on the black leather seat.
Looking over the foreign sur-
rounds, I fished out a sealed can of
mandarine segments from Mavis’
side, pried open the top and plunged
a fork into its cool contents, and took a
large mouthful of the refreshing fruit.
Strolling to the southern banks of
Lake Lewis (within Yellowstone NP) I
splashed the icy water to my face and
gazed across the glassy surface. No
sign of a park ranger back at camp, I
dismantled the tent and loaded up the
bike. Back on the road, Mavis and I
slithered through Yellowstone Nation-
al Park in the early morning light.
The day was overcast, scattered
drizzle making it difficult to gain en-
thusiasm for Yellowstone. Passing
the famed “Geyser basin”, I indulged
the tourist within and walked out to
a steaming Prussian blue pond. With
a limited capacity to mingle with RV
tourists, I resumed position atop Ma-
vis and continued out of the park to
West Yellowstone.
To the bemusement of a few French
tourists, I pulled up in the town of
West Yellowstone. Drenched head
to toe, ripped off my helmet and
ducked for cover under the easement
of a country store, as an isolated hail
storm passed over.
Grabbing a piping hot espresso, the
warmth slowly permeated through
the paper cup and thawed the numb
in my fingers. My mesh riding gloves
truly needed an upgrade, despite
proving their worth thus far…
Leaving West Yellowstone with a
constant vertical ocean falling from
above, I asked myself “why it’d taken
nearly four months to purchase all
TRAVERSE 44
weather riding gloves!?”
The difference between blistering
cold, numb fingers and warm and
dry cannot be described, only expe-
rienced first hand. We raced towards
Missoula, Montana, making peace
with the landscape, the climate chang-
es it threw at us and the ever greater
distance between Denver and Mavis’
rear wheel.
An unseasonal warm spell wel-
comed Mavis and I in Missoula, as too
my cousin Max, out from New York for
study. Max cooked up a storm upon
arrival that evening and entertained
me for a solid, unexpected week. We
explored the town and surrounds, in-
cluding the beautiful Snake River and
a few “locals only” swimming holes.
Having left Denver and a professed
love affair in tears within my arms,
my heart deviated from the road less