Old Faithful

Old Faithful is, if nothing else, faithful. After a few teasing spurts, the iconic geyser of Yellowstone Park erupted, a thousand shutters clicked, the small crowd cheered, and all was well with the world. Old Faithful, as it had since 1870, delivered.

I had always wanted to see Old Faithful. It's on my bucket list of Great American Sites. I've seen the Grand Canyon, which was grand, and Zion National Park and the Redwoods. 

The remaining big deal is Mount Rushmore. I've heard that it's kind of small, but I don't know about that. Most people are surprised by how big Stone Mountain is, but size is relative in oh so many ways.

Old Faithful, that wonder of natural wonders, is surrounded by concrete and benches. The visitor's center is big, and new, and glassy. There are a few hotels, and a massive gift shop that's full of exactly what you would expect.

I guess icons need all the support system. After all, the tourists on the busses who push and shove to take pictures of water squirting up into the air must stand somewhere. 

And if you're going to take a genuine Yellowstone shot glass with a wolf on it back to the other side of the world, you might as well buy it from the locals.

Don't get me wrong: Old Faithful Village isn't a commercialized island in the middle of the Aspens; it's all quite neat and clean and orderly. The National Park Service doesn't mess around.

As for Old Faithful, things remain the same: build up a head of steam, blow it off, and then settle back down. It's the way it should be, and you don't need a t shirt with a buffalo on it to appreciate it.

Yellowstone and the wildlife

Rule one: if you really want to see wildlife in Yellowstone Park pay a few bucks and get a naturalist and wildlife photographer to take you on a day-long tour. 

His name was Adam Brubaker. We left the hotel at 7 am, returned at six tonight, and saw wondrous things in Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks.

Moose, wolves, deer, bison, pronghorns, more bison, elk oh my. Wonderful photographs by Rebecca and good ones by me. The scenery was spectacular, the weather ideal, and the whole experience will be a lifetime of memories.

More to come.

Big Sky Country

Rebecca and I agree: there's a reason they call it Big Sky Country. But to get to Big Sky Country (which is actually Montana, I know, but we're not there and the big sky doesn't stop at the state line,) you have to drive through the Bee Hive State.
Hands up, class! How many of you knew Utah was the Bee Hive State, and how many know why?
It was the perfect combination of factors: Rebecca won two round trip tickets on Southwest Airlines, Mark has a convention in Las Vegas, and Mark had never been to the Grand Tetons, Yellowstone Park or Wyoming or Montana.
We're off on another.
The crowded but on-time airline didn't lose our luggage and we made it to Salt Lake City. Then we drove for 4 1/2 hours to Jackson, Wyoming, through some of the most beautiful country in the US.
The pictures tell the story, even the part about the Wyoming State Trooper who gave Mark a warning about going over the 55 mph speed limit.
I was relieved this morning to see that not only does the Albertson's next door to the hotel have a Starbuck's (roughing it has its limits,) but also sells bear spray. If they are selling that stuff in the supermarkets, then a prudent person might pay heed to bear warnings, should they not?

Polynesian night on the Paul Gauguin

About the Tango on the beach

We are compelled by a fit of honesty to report that we never did the tango on the beach. There are three reasons:

First, we never learned how to tango. We watched a YouTube video that showed the basic steps, and we both admit that the basics are simple. And we did a few steps in the living room before we left, but our stomping around scared the dog so we stopped. 

Second, there never was the right beach at the right time. Sure, French Polynesia is awash in beaches, and we were on a couple for more than a few minutes. However, the times we had any significant beach time we were without music. It just didn't seem right to ask new friends to hum a few bars of a tango while we skidded through the sand. Some things are hard to explain to new acquaintances. 

Third, if the mood was right and the music was handy, getting to the beach wasn't possible. You see, the Paul Gauguin, nimble in shallow water as it is, doesn't dock at ports of call. One gets to shore by tender. Certainly the Paul Gauguin is famous for meeting every need, but we never thought that their generosity extended to a special tender trip to shore so we could tango in the moonlight. 

But we DID tango in the stateroom and in the hallway outside the gift shop. And it was nighttime when we did it. And it was on our anniversary.

Close enough.

Home again

It's not going to be easy to decompress after 8 days in French Polynesia, although the trip home certainly did its part.

It's not easy getting to and from Papeete. We flew from Atlanta to Los Angeles, had a 7 hour layover, and then flew on to Tahiti. It was a long trip, but the excitement of what was ahead certainly lessened the rigors of tourist class seats on Delta (not awful; we spent a few extra dollars for Economy Comfort,) and on Air Tahiti Nui (tiny seats, 8 hours.)

The trip home was the same but with longer waits in between.

After disembarking the Paul Gauguin at noon, we were taken on a 3 hour tours of Tahiti. At 3 we got into our room at the InterContinental where we repacked with emphasis on the Air Tahiti Nui weight restrictions. (Air Tahiti Nui is serious about not going over weight requirements. They even have limits on the weight of carry-on luggage.)

We left Papeete at midnight, arrived in LA at 10 AM, checked into the Sheraton, slept, watched part of a football game, ate dinner, then went back to the airport for the last leg. The flight left at 10:45 PM and we got to Atlanta at 6 AM. Home, kiss the dog, sleep in your own bed for 6 hours, and now begin to come back to life.

What day is this again?

In a day or so we'll reflect on the trip, showcase Rebecca's photographs, and give you the details on how to book this trip for yourself. Which you should do.

Right now, however, Mark's going to get another cup of coffee.

Moorea at sunset December 13, 2013