It's safe to say they're more island people than mountain people.
As soon as they arrived, we eagerly whisked them from the airport to one of our favorite restaurants, 3 Bar, to split the Hogs and Heifers Family Style Meal.
Only it turns out that they don't like barbecue sauce. That never occurred to me when I envisioned them enjoying a mouth-watering welcome-to-Montana meal.
Let's just say we had plenty of leftovers, and I did enjoy them over the next few days.
The concert in the park that evening was country and western, perhaps the only musical genre they despise more than death-metal opera, and that would be a toss-up as to which would win. They did appreciate that White Claw Seltzer was among the offerings at the beer trailer.
I actually assumed that booth represented Lone Peak Brewery, but apparently Covid-19 shutdowns created financial and marital problems for the owners, who closed what I thought was a very popular Big Sky venue beside the Country Store.
We had learned a few days earlier that Choppers, our favorite restaurant for burgers in Big Sky, had also bit the dust. I think Covid-19 shutdowns played a part, but I also blame the weekly farmers market that took up the curved driveway and parking spaces in front of their large storefront, with many food trucks selling competing meals, including huge burgers.
In any case, the morning after the concert we decided to drive out to Yellowstone National Park, because seeing animals was a high priority for Karen. While we had seen wild animals recently in Big Sky, sightings aren't as predictable as Old Faithful, and we only had a day and a half left on their stay.
I think a high priority for Randy would have been to see Ka'anapali Beach, but that remained in Hawaii.
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| While a quick glance makes this look like a beach, it's actually a paint pot. |
We made it about twenty minutes into the park from the West Gate before we hit a traffic jam on the two-lane road.
While we rested beside a lovely river as we crawled forward, everyone but me was probably thinking how much it reminded them of taking the 405 into downtown Los Angeles. Traffic similar to Sepulveda between Redondo and El Segundo during rush hour that Randy fights most weekdays (and Julie fought for years) would have felt like a breeze.
We finally reached the source of the problem about a half hour later, a bison herd which by the time we reached it had migrated off the road. While I saw them fine as we slowly went past, in retrospect that might have been the highlight of this road trip for them.
On the bright side, obviously Yellowstone National Park is not only open but attracting throngs of visitors after dire reports of the national park being devastated in the fear-mongering media.
Ready for a break, we soon got off the road to view some paint pots, where oozing mud bubbles to the surface and for some reason makes beautiful ponds. It isn't hard to imagine dinosaurs wandering around, occasionally getting boiled when they step in the wrong spot.
There were some small geysers in view, so Karen and Randy decided they had no interest in going to see Old Faithful. We were only a couple of miles away by that point, so against objections I finished driving to the parking lot, which looked pretty close to full.
We needed the restrooms anyway, but went into the general store, it was so packed that avid-shopper Karen looked at the lines and said no way.
There was road construction ahead on the loop road going deeper into the park, and everyone but me was ready to drive back to Big Sky for lunch.
On the way, I went more slowly by a bison posing by the side of the road, and Julie got a nice photo through the window.
We skipped the souvenir shops in West Yellowstone that touted $9.99 sweatshirts, and more regrettably, in retrospect, we didn't seek an open restaurant, though admittedly the only one we've sampled in West Yellowstone serves barbecue.
We headed to the patio at the Bunker Bar at the Big Sky Golf Course, another favorite haunt, but with the Professional Bull Riding Circuit in town and what looked like possibly a golf tournament filling the course, there were no tables to be had.
This turned out to be, as the local paper predicted, the busiest week of the year, and unfortunately the worst time for Karen and Randy to visit.
Between restaurants closed for lunch and crowds, there was no place to go for lunch where we could expect food in a reasonable timeframe, so we headed home for snacks to hold us over until 3 PM when some other restaurants would open.
I personally had some of the delicious St. Louis style ribs leftover from 3 Bar, so I enjoyed a delicious lunch so large that I didn't have dinner that evening.
We planned to try Copper at the Wilson Hotel for dinner, but they didn't have White Claw as their menu promised, so after considering an old favorite, River House Grille (also barbecue and no White Claw), we opted for Tips Up, where the menu is limited but sufficient for our needs.
We thought about trying Bunker Bar for lunch before heading to the airport, but we decided to go to Sidewinders in Bozeman instead. I cannot recommend it, as the food was okay but nothing special in my opinion. Worse yet, no White Claw. And like everywhere else during their stay, it was crowded.
However, we did score an outdoor, balcony table at this sports bar and enjoyed the company.
They opted out of the whirlwind tour of Bozeman, a modern old west town as I suggested, and made it to the airport with time to spare. They lived to travel another day, but we were sorry we had failed to show them the best of Big Sky, but that's just how the chips fell this time.
Of course, as Karen pointed out after reading the first draft of this post, the main goal of visiting friends is spending time together. Karen and Randy are kind, bright people, with great senses of humor, as evidenced by the fact that they tolerate us.
They're generous to a fault, only allowing us to pick up the tab on the first meal and leaving big cash tips at every meal for often stunned waitstaff.
We shared lots of laughs, and they even tolerated my poor efforts to strum cowboy chords on my guitar and sing, as I do most afternoons no matter who is around....which may account for us having few visitors! As John Lennon sang about an otherwise unrelated topic (and in a much better voice than my own), "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
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