Bighorn National Forest, WO - Bozeman, MT

The drive from Bighorn over to Bozeman was easy but a little slow. 

The Crazy Mountains and Yellowstone funneled me in.

I don’t know what I was expecting (I was told it’s like Amarillo), but Bozeman was a pleasant surprise. 

It’s a bit of a college town mixed with a ski town. There’s little boutique shops, some touristy nonsense, but then real manufacturing as well.

I spend most of the afternoon narrowly convincing myself that guitars will return less than a high-dividend Vanguard fund over the next 10-15 years.

In other words, I had to force myself to leave the guitar store.

I checked in to the public swimming pool 30 minutes before it closed and tried not to touch the wall or the bottom. I’ve been needing a workout and sitting in the car isn’t cutting it for physical activity. 

For a small town, they are the biggest rule followers I think I’ve ever experienced in mass. Multiple people have quoted health and safety codes as excuses for performing otherwise innocuous actions... like getting a new coffee mug instead of reusing the one I had been drinking out of. 

I get the reasoning, and wouldn’t have questioned it had it just been stated as “I’ll just get you a fresh one.” For some reason “Ehhh, health and safety wouldn’t like that. I’ll get you a new one” just feels... fascist?

Something about a used, beat up pair of work boots costing $250 instead of $300 makes me warm and fuzzy.

It’s probably branding.

Laying in the park with Rodney, I decide we should find somewhere to stay the night. 

After a quick look on the bat-phone, we decide that Hyalite is the place to be. 

After driving 30 minutes outside of town, we come to realize that we are not the only ones who feel that way. 

I should have known when 20 cars passed us, leaving the park with sullen faces. But I was optimistic. Maybe they were just here for the day? Oh, good, more spots opening up!

Nope.

Full.
It's a shame, because it's beautiful.

After feeling sorry for ourselves for a minute or two, Rodney reminds me that you can camp anywhere in a National Forest.
Free!

So I pull off onto a dirt road and start climbing. We pass 2 cars that are setting up just off the road, and keep going another mile, leaving one open pull-off between us and "the others".
We choose a spot overlooking the canyon.

I build a fire and Rodney wanders a little too far off. I don’t know what he finds, but when I call him back, he has a look that says “I’m sleeping in the truck tonight”. 

Fair enough. But I'm not. 

Whatever was eaten just outside our campsite left little tufts of hair decorating its rather large bones. I figure lightning doesn’t strike twice, build a fire to ward off evil demons, and get to bed.