A Big Bad American Road Trip

All good things must come to an end. For me, this trip, and for you, the chance to read about it. With a car full of soup, peanut butter, and unforgettable memories we were ready to make our journey back to South Carolina, but there was still enough room for a few more between the inflatable mattress and the guitar in the boot.

Our first stop as a trio was a cabin at Teton Valley Resort in Idaho. After a good night's sleep, we hiked along the wildflower dotted trail to Ski Lake. Seeing the serene mountain lake helped us forget almost completely about our former travel companions, whoever they were.

That afternoon, we got our first taste of Grand Teton National Park. French trappers, in their usual crass manner, named the three epic peaks “Les Trois Tetons,” or “The Three Breasts.” The tallest of the three is The Grand Teton, which translates as “the big tit,” though when I arrived they had to quickly rename it "la deuxième Grand Teton" (the second biggest tit).

After one more night at the "resort," we big adieu to the other campers and drove past the big tit again into Yellowstone National Park. Arguably America's most talked-about national park, it's a land full of dodgy geysers, stinky gas, and wild animals - much like the pub on a Friday night back home.

Due to the park's understandable attitude towards dogs (one sharp pull and your best friend is boiled), we took it in turns to get our first taste of hot springs at the West Thumb of Yellowstone Lake, while one of us waited with Bagel. Fortunately for him, he was allowed to join us for the next stop, Old Faithful. The world famous geyser gets its name from the predictable rate at which it blows its top. Bagel noted that it was more of a sputter than an explosion and gave it a 7/10 (needs improvement).

That evening, we set up camp next to a river in Big Sky, Montana. It was surprisingly freeing, until darkness came. While having a wee in the middle of the night, I convinced myself that a bear was prowling around outside to swipe my manhood as I peed through the tent door (facing outwards). I survived the night, but in the morning we did see a bear enjoying fisticuffs with a dead tree. Imagine what he would have done to my private parts!

Our final Yellowstone stop was Mammoth. While Shelby bought postcards, I noticed a group of teenagers harassing and cornering a pika (an adorable little fluff ball). What berks go to Yellowstone to upset animals? Rather than confronting the most dangerous animals in the park (who all had mullets for some reason), I found their teacher and grassed on them. Snitches get stitches? Snitches get back in the car and drive off more like.

Happy at fulfilling my duty of protecting the animals, we kept driving away from the busy national park and arrived at Beartooth Pass. The most incredible stretch of road I've seen since hitting the M5 at rush hour. Alpine lakes, glacier melt, massive mountains, rolling hills, wildflowers, and barely another soul. It was paradise.

This idyllic setting was juxtaposed with the interstate into Billings, Montana on the other side, where we narrowly avoided debris while driving through 90mph winds to get to our Airbnb. It felt a bit like an apocalyptic wasteland compared to where we had been, although they did have Chipotle.

We moseyed on down to our next stop: glamping on a horse ranch near Buffalo, Wyoming, where moths the size of small birds shared the tent, before driving back to Custer State Park for one least glimpse. This time, we managed to see four old men's heads graffitied into a lovely mountain and said goodbye once more to South Dakota. Due to imperfect conditions (slightly overcast), we booked a last minute Airbnb that night on a woman's farm in Minnesota, which she had dedicated to fairies, including a fairy walk that wasn't at all sinister.

To avoid being transformed into sprites, we went to Madison, Wisconsin, for a stay in the most relaxing Airbnb of the trip so far, owned by a very welcoming former professional juggler. The guesthouse used to be her practice room, which explained the high ceilings with dents in.

After throwing a selection of household objects at our host that she seamlessly caught and threw in the air, we set off for Chi-Town to enjoy a couple of days of pizza bigger than my head (which is saying something), lovely walks along the city's riverwalk, and the buzz of a big city. They were alright sometimes, I suppose.

Then, as if by magic, we were home. It was over in a flash.

Like John Steinbeck and Jack Kerouac, our adventure will be remembered for eternity in words. I can only hope that children will also study my great text to learn about life in America in 2021.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

The End.