Hey there fart farmers! Not a whole lot to report from the Sasquatch side.
Spent the morning in Leadville yesterday shopping at the antique mall. We picked up a couple of epic pieces before we hit the road for Wyoming. After that, I spent the entire day behind the wheel torturing Buns with music and my my usual idiocy. Buns was getting grumpy around sunset, longing for some din-din and seepy time. So, being the incredibly reliable and visually tantalizing beast of a husband that I am, I used my keen sense of direction (and the teepee icons on the Road Atlas) to hunt down a suitable campground to bed down for the night.
We landed at the Flaming Gorge Reservoir. We decided that since the camping spot was a slab of asphalt, we would sleep in the metal wagon. After a ton of rearranging and some extremely satisfying pancakes, we were ready to call it a night. After another night of flopping and twitching, Sasquatch bathed for the first time in a shower stall that more closely resembled a serial killers photo booth. Breakfast, coffee, and back on the road.
Wyoming, for the most part, is a pretty unappealing place to be. But after the thousand hour drive through the barren wasteland of sage brush and handlebar mustaches, we made it to the Bridger-Teton National Forest. Stopped at McDonald's in Jackson to use the Wifi in order to write this entry that will only end in the brutal massacre of the readers' brain cells. But hey, that was well worth the food poisoning that will inevitably plague my innards once we are hundreds of miles from civilization.
Next stop Yellowstone.