Speaking of the Dog Days of August

I am about to get on a bus tonight. Yep, I'm going Greyhound, taking The Dog, as they say, for a rather epic little journey of 1,729 miles, from Kerrville, TX, to "the Bozone," Bozeman, MT. That would be "Big Sky Country," Montana.

For $79, me and my two bags are carried for 44 hours up the length of the Great Plains, San Angelo by midnight, Amarillo by morning, then veering north by northwest toward Raton Pass, gateway to the Epic West, past Pike's Peak, and up the Front Range to a longish layover and dinner the next evening in downtown Denver, then on through the SECOND night across/up nearly empty Wyoming, coming from the south into Cheyenne and departing to the north above Sheridan to the foot of that grassy knoll at Little Big Horn and then even more westerly into Billings and a final bus transfer (of about six) to cross the braided Yellowstone River a few times, and at last drop down over Bozeman Pass into the Zone, an attractive and intact yet freshly-franchised waystation of civilization along I-90.

From I-10 to I-90, now that has to be a ride.

So I'll be out there for 44 hours and my measly $79 (and screw your high gas prices), practicing what I preach. Getting moving but treading lightly. Not hounding the ground with a Hummer when a humble seat on The Dog will do.

And remember, it's WHERE you ride that counts, the journey AND where you get to. In a week, I'll be hiking the high and mighty mountains of the Gallatins and the Absarokas and the Yellowstone. Man on the land as I was meant to be.

Cheers all, and... happy trails.