After all brothers were sold on the idea of taking a “cheap” trip to Yellowstone, Dad smiled in glee as his many calls into his new BFF at the Three Bear Lodge confirmed each boy had paid their due and it looked official. Mind you, what originally was pitched as a $90 trip quickly escalated into a $169 trip and that was before departure.
By a miracle of the Lord and at the grace of humanity, every son pulled through, including the ever-estranged brother Frederick! Each boy stepped onto the Suburban wagon heading north. By the stars aligning to see this mark in history, storytellers the world over knew that there would be a gem of a story or two to share after this journey was over.
There isn’t a Mogle on this side of the Sanpitch river that can hold back their tongue. We share what’s on our mind. Father Grant will curse this ingrained trait ‘til his last day on this cold earth-- especially after making this trip.
Each son seemed to lay claim to an unwritten “3 hours to rant about having to pay more” rule, that took aim at Dad’s truth bending sales pitch to get each one of us on the journey. I sat in the back seat and literally saw a few of the last remaining blonde hairs on his head turn white in a matter of seconds. Poor ‘ol Pops!
What each Mogle wife will be surprised to hear and may very well not believe is that no gas was passed until crossing the Wyoming border. The son of the birthright; the eldest would be the first to crack. At that point it was war. Alan King may still be searching for the source of tainted death in his Suburban. This is how a lot of vehicles end up on a sales lot a week or two after such trips. The source cannot be found, therefore never removed.
Our arrival into Yellowstone was greeted by an international snowmobiling crowd participating in a world snowmobiling there in west Yellowstone. We watched some of the relay races and watched intently, wondering how the hell they weren’t losing control coming into the corner near us after topping out around 70+mph coming down the straightway into the turn. Crazy!
After that, we headed back to our lodge and went out for dinner there at the Three Bear restaurant. People would uncomfortably peer over our direction as I’m sure they could hear us talking out loud, jovially expressing ourselves in that Sanpete-ish, Mogle manner that each one of us boys had mastered by the age of 3—no holds barred and complete disregard for the people around us.
After dinner, we would then find our escape in the hot tub. Dad joined. Fred did not. Dad takes up valuable real estate in these moments because they fuel his stories for the next year to come with Kent Dyreng and others. The hot tub trip would not leave him with scarce material.
After letting the pores open and the muscles relax, the “ants in the pants” each one of us have would soon find a way to step out of contentment. Mark laid the dare --
“Matt, run outside and roll around in the snow and come jump back in!”
“Okay, older brother Mark! I will not let you down! I will take the dare!”
I could only hope it would be that simple. I opened the door, peered down at what looked to be a nice blanket of the soft, white stuff, took a step and leaped out like I was jumping in bed after a long day. I hit the snow…but it wasn’t snow. It was ice. I rolled to my back and was stabbed repeatedly by the jags and shards of frozen snow. I let out a scream that could have been mistaken for Michael Jackson at the moment of his trademark crotch-grab move. It was pain…it was a lot of pain.
I ran back inside, jumped in the tub and looked to notice I was bleeding on my arm and parts of my back. It pays to be a damn show off. BUT, it wouldn’t end there.
What many of us in the family are beginning to realize is that Paul actually is the one who likes to take it to a “Ho nutha Level!” And he did just that.
John gave Paul the challenge to press his hams against the window. He didn’t even hesitate and nudged aside that conscious part of the brain that warns us of humiliation. He had his butt pressed against the window as soon as his brain finished interpreting the challenge.
I couldn’t let it end there. I returned the ham press in the other window, but with a more impressive marking. Again, Paul took it to the HNL (Ho Nutha Level) and had to try and regain popularity. He dropped the backside of his drawers and decided to press it against the window in the door.
Mind you, to achieve such feat, he would have to jump, stick his butt out and then recover for a landing. He did all but the last. On the way down, his rear caught the door handle and nearly knocked him flat. Classic!
The next day, we awoke, had breakfast and headed in to catch our tour coach at 8am.
The trip through the park was amazing. I was surprised to learn Yellowstone is one of very few natural eco systems, meaning man has no control over the growth or decline of the park. Mother Nature controls the energy and life there.
Even the fire from years back was conducted and controlled by nature. When the military was pulled in, they weren’t brought in to try and extinguish the fire but rather protect it from expanding outside of the park boundaries.
The growth from the fire is noticeable. Young trees are beginning to lay their stake both in the ground and the sky as they stand near the horizon now. Once the trees are full grown, I’m sure it will be hard to see the sky in some places—they are just that thick.
Our first encounter with mammal life were the elk roaming the bed of the river within the first 3 miles of coming into the park. We saw a couple bulls (not too big) and several dozen cows, all lazily napping and lounging around.
Aside from food and water, staying near the river is actually a safe zone for them as to protect them from wolves. Wolves will not follow them into the cold waters.
We saw bison, coyotes and bald eagles as well. Fred also spotted a mountain goat, with very much the same look and shape as a big patch of snow (cough-hint-cough), high on the rock ledges. Aside from that, we didn’t see much else.
The hot pots were cool
After making several stops along the way, mostly to look at different hot pot locations, we finally arrived at Old Faithful. Dad joked with the other passengers on the coach with us that this was “the farewell tour and his boys were going to tie a rope around his ankles and lower him down into Old Faithful.” That seemed to get everyone’s goat and they laughed. They didn’t know he was serious. Neither did we. Lol, okay, I’m kidding.
I’ve gotta be honest. Old Faithful was a bit of a letdown. I was expecting a lot more. I’m aware the circumstances weren’t the best though. It was overcast, cold and all of those elements made it hard to see the water when it sprayed out. All we saw was steam.
Hey, atleast Mark was excited—much like a 10 year old girl meeting Miley Cyrus for the first time.
This trip is one for the ages. It was an epic journey—definitely a lot of fun. Through blood and tears, John and Fred have grown closer and, overall, we all did.
Until next time!
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