Ashton Idaho, reached by driving past astonishing golden fields that ripple and fold in either direction as far as the eye can see. The stubble of wheat glisten in the afternoon sun, the view interrupted only by towering stacks of baled hay and an occasional farm or silo.
Overnight in Ashton we stayed at our first RV Park, and it was a fine experience.
Three other RVs had staked out the far corners of the park, leaving a dozen or more empty spots to choose from. It was quiet.
We ended the night watching Badlands, a 1973 film with Martin Sheen and Sissey Spacek playing young lovers on a cross country killing spree that ended in Montana. Sweet dreams.
The next morning, a steady cold rain was falling when we pulled out of Ashton. Ahead, more farms, then a sharp right led us east, back toward Wyoming. The pewter sky dropped lower and more rain pelted the windshield. We’re going way off the beaten track to Cave Falls, a National Forest Service campground on the Belcher River. From there, we’ll hike back into Yellowstone National Park.
Unsurprisingly, there is not a soul at the campsite. The river is a stone’s throw away from our van and it is majestic, pouring out from the wilderness at a fast pace, gurgling, almost menacing, as it rushes past.
As I observe the churning waters, I'm glad that we have decided not to try to ford any rivers on our hiking trip into Yellowstone.
Watch and listen to the river here.
Listen as Johnny Cash & Lynn Anderson tear it up.
Where we are today.