For the last ten years, Tiffany has been cutting articles out of a variety of outdoorsy magazines like "Outside", "Backpacker", and "Hoofin' it" and filing them with a 3-hole punch into a binder. At last, on this trip she has had a chance to prove wrong my assertions that she's the granola equivalent of a coupon-cutting housewife. thanks to her diligent dewey decimalism, we found out about a place in wyoming called Bighorn. For all i know, everyone else has heard of this place already but according to Tiffany's sources, it is often overlooked due to it's proximity to Yellowstone and Glacier.
(picture: if you look closely you can see the rig nestled amongst the horse trailers)


Travis, if you're out there, forgive me for this, but we drug the airstream up a 7% grade (had to pull over and vent the engine after the wiper fluid started boiling and spraying out of the wipers) and through the woods on a trail fit more for horses than trailers. Once we started we had to keep going because there sure wasn't any place to turn around. Eventually we made it to the trail head and after some deep-breathing exercises got ourselves ready for a hike up into the mountains.



The bighorn landscape varied from rugged stone outcroppings to western mountain streams and meadows. Nala frolicked appropriately. I hauled the cheese disposal up the trail and Tiff reminded me that we would have never been here if not for her binder.

From here we headed into Bozeman for some hotel pool action. Bozeman's got plenty of style and some good eating. The locals all look like they just wound down from a tough shoot for the patagonia catalog. Sasha loved the hotel and after a night of wandering downtown, Tiff and I found her so asleep on the hotel bed that she didn't realize we'd come home.