Thwarted

I was determined to go to Yellowstone National Park for the first time. Frankly, I had never wanted to go due to the crowds. But my husband, Rob, drove through the park in late July without seeing a single car at the entrance (due to the pandemic), so I figured visiting the day after Labor Day would be perfect. Only, it wasn’t.

We had just been sweltering in 102-degree heat the day before we left for Cody, Wyoming, but then the weather turned. Our day at Yellowstone would now include snow, ice and temperatures in the teens. Each of us had brought a moderately warm fleece, but we hadn’t packed jackets or gloves since a heat wave had been predicted during our 4,000-mile extravaganza.

We awoke in Cody to a crisp, sunny day: cold, but perfect. We were on the road by 6 a.m. since it took an hour-and-a-half to reach the east entrance. We also had reserved a motel room in Idaho that we wanted to reach before dark. Soon we approached a sign that indicated every entrance to the park was closed. A bright, funky car was pulled over just beyond the sign and I got out to talk with the driver. When he rolled down the window, glints of silver reflected off the sun into my eyes: his face and ears were covered in piercings.

I asked him what he proposed to do considering the sign’s blatant refusal to accommodate our collective plans. From his internet browsing, he believed the entrance might open within the hour. We decided to chance it: if the entrance opened we’d enjoy Yellowstone and exit the other side; if it didn’t, we’d drive all the way back and find a route around the entire south end of the park and up into Idaho.

As I drove through Buffalo Bill State Park near the east entrance, the view was gorgeous, but the roads were slick and, in parts, blanketed with snow. Only a few cars had passed before ours, so the thrill of beauty was mixed with the angst of tension.

When we reached the entrance, about ten vehicles idled there, passengers ever hopeful. I got out and spoke with about half of them, getting a feel for their expectations. Everyone thought the snow plows were on their way and would clear a path for us. A lot of the people had rooms back in Cody and could simply wait all day if they felt so inclined. As we didn’t have that luxury, we decided to leave. If we got back to the original sign and it read “open” we would go back, having wasted only three hours of our day.

But all the entrances were still closed when we reached the sign. Our new route included going through a mountain pass, unless it was closed, so I relinquished the wheel to Rob, who tends to be calm in dire situations.

It was snowing in earnest by the time we reached the mountain pass gate. We were pleasantly surprised that it was still open. A pickup sped ahead of us, which made me feel less alone on the road. As we climbed in elevation a full blizzard enveloped the car. We were soon driving in whiteout conditions, barely able to see ten feet in front of us. The narrow, winding road had no shoulders on which to pull over and we now imagined hitting that same speeding truck broadside if it spun out on the slippery pass. Yet there was nowhere to go but forward.

That’s how life is sometimes – we’re forced to move ahead, even when we’re terrified to do so.

My husband’s expert driving got us through and down the other side of the mountain in less than two hours at which point we encountered sunny skies and barely a dusting of snow on the ground.

Afterwards we turned to one another and simultaneously said: Did that really just happen? It was as if there had never been a blizzard at all.

True, we had been thwarted from experiencing Yellowstone, but we both felt grateful to be alive and well and moving forward.

Photos © Sondra Sula.

Take a walk with me by reading my most recent daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.

If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.