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The trip to Whistler, Part Deux...


I have, once again, been less than current in my reporting... Having left the East Coast on 28 September, much has transpired. It's been a remarkable journey. I pissed off the edge of the Wall, I slept in a sky cell, I fought with the hill tribes... so many adventures, so much to be thankful for.


I did detour from my westward route to venture north to Helena, MT. The picture above is the memorial to the First Special Service Force in the town square. If you don't know by now, but wish to know the relevance to my interest in the FSSF, I encourage you to navigate my site to either buy ( https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0C9SHK2V1?ref_=dbs_m_mng_rwt_calw_tpbk_0&storeType=ebooks in its current form...or wait until ~ 31 October for its successor Rosehips in June as published by Defiance Press) or navigate to https://www.authormikebennett.com/post/chapter-one-of-book-7-moths-to-the-flame-origin-of-the-warlock and read the text pertaining to FSSF.

No travel journal about Yellowstone is complete without a pic of Old Faithful, one of many geological wonders featured at the park. OF was just a little late for its hourly eruption, but it did indeed do its thing, as witnessed by a hundred or so faithful observers.


I drove the required mileage circumventing the park, and I'll drop a few pics documenting such. My general feeling was one of awe and thanks to Teddy Roosevelt who felt a need to preserve this space so generations could reap the bounty of seeing its splendor in pristine form.


I saw several magnificent waterfalls, buffaloes roaming and purple mountains exhibiting their abundant majesty. In short, as a writer, I can say only that the entire park leaves one grasping for words and kicking oneself for not having gone to see it earlier. Was it worth dragging the Warlock's Lair some 2300 miles to observe firsthand? In a word or two, as I'm trying to stretch a bit: yes.



So, above is a waterfall on the Gibbon River, maybe 'the' waterfall. The night before, I, quite stupidly perhaps, decided to do the Infantry thing and camp under a tarp and in a bag rated for 40 degrees when the temperature plunged to 25 degrees. It sucked. When I was young, I would say, 'travel light, freeze at night' -- and I would say that with a much younger man's bravado. Now, I can only say, 'if you're gonna be stupid, you gotta be tough'.

To the right was the result of driving another windy 30-35 miles to get to 'The Towers'. This is not available after 15 October as the park rangers close down the road for the Winter. So, I snuck this wonder in with days to spare-- the weather (although cold at night as previously sniveled) was fantastic 60-65 degrees F in the daytime.


I did much hiking to get around, and it was peaceful-- pretty small crowds this time of year, even as it was Columbus Day.

Great hikes!


So...two days later...


I landed in Squamish, a sea town enroute to Whistler, maybe 50 kms to go. I rucked this MF, and there were snot bubbles as a result. Remember what I always say, 'If you're gonna be stupid, you gotta be tough, Joe Dolio'...


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