I awoke at 7 o’clock Tuesday morning when the large family of baboons inhabiting the room next to mine began to stir. A passing train on the nearby tracks cemented the deal. I rolled out of bed to check my email and discover that my server went down and took 3 or 4 sites with it, including this one. A frantic hour later I was able to relax and begin looking at rooms only to find that this is Yellowstone’s busy season and vacancies are unheard of in the only nearby city, West Yellowstone (motto: “We’re west of Yellowstone”). Since I do have a tent and sleeping bag, I very briefly flirted with camping in one of the park’s numerous campgrounds, but quickly nixed that idea when I recalled how I’ve felt at the end of each day’s drive. Cody, Wyoming it is.

It was a gray and chilly 68 degrees when I loaded my truck. I filled my tank and headed north, nursing a large cup of nearly undrinkable gas station coffee. Cheyenne and civilization fell behind me.

Distances expand in the west. 50 miles becomes a hiccup. 300, your goal before lunch. At one point I wondered why every one of the few cars in front of me was exiting and then saw the sign informing, “Next Rest Area: 128 miles.” I don’t care if you gotta go or not, you’d better shake something out.

^ Don’t you wish traffic was like this everywhere?

There were few farms and fewer towns out there; the soil turned light-brown and flinty and jagged rocks stuck from the earth. I crossed bridge after bridge proclaiming “Elk Horn Creek”, “Little Bear Creek”, “Horse Creek.” They were all dry, their sandy bottoms exposed. My vista was scrub trees and fences.

The land began to contour.

Southern Wyoming is craggy and desolate but it has an odd rugged beauty, like a well-worn leather wallet, or Sarah Jessica Parker.

Further north it turns mountainous and into what you think of as typically “Wyoming” topography. The final 200 miles passed on two-lane roads through one-horse towns. “Welcome to Hiland. Pop 10.” I was headed north and distant mountains began to frame my view on the left, to the west. Then I drove into them.

A large dust cloud greeted me as I pulled into Cody in mid-afternoon and every local car was covered with a thin gray veil of the stuff. But there is a Super Wal-Mart, so that’s a plus.

Disclaimer: I tried hard to replicate the scale that I was seeing with my camera. However, the resulting pictures seem impotent at best and insulting at worst. Also, I’m not an expert but I don’t think that the recommended shooting position is stick-your-camera-out-the-window-and-hit-the-shutter-button-three-or-four-times-while-keeping-your-eyes-trained-on-the-horse-trailer-barreling-towards-you.

^ Agoraphobics need not apply

^ I’m not sure if this was Heath Ledger or Jake Gyllenhaal. Actually, I guess it wasn’t Heath.

(Too soon?)

^ I guess people live here. I don’t know why.

^ You see that Low Fuel light blinking here and you are screwed, my friend.