Anniversary Trip
A drive through the Tetons and Yellowstone to Chico Hot Springs in Montana to celebrate
When we married in 1979, we walked deep into the forest with our immediate family and a few facilitating friends. We said our vows to each other at the base of a giant hemlock at Alan Seegar Natural Area in Rothrock State Forest. It was a Quaker wedding, so no officiant, just an official photographer, Dan Brody, who had us pose by the stream under the rhododendron canopy. Frank Savoldi played classical guitar, Terry Walker popped champagne bottles, and Moira Weldon passed stuffed mushrooms after the ceremony. We both had both our parents there with us, and even Nanny Sara, John’s maternal grandmother, made the trek over a log bridge, quite a feat for her at 90+.
Each year, we commemorate the event with a memorable trip or walk in the forest. This year, since we are out in Wyoming, we ventured north to Chico Hot Springs in Pray, Montana, driving through both Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks to get there directly. We picnicked along Lake Yellowstone, sitting on rocks at the water's edge. If you have driven through the parks, you know to carry your own lunch, if possible, so you don’t have to spend $10 for a Nathan’s hot dog. Our turkey, pesto, and roasted pepper sandwiches were perfect to keep us rolling along.
We arrived at Chico just before 4 pm and checked into our room, which was next to the stables with horses for trail rides. We explored our zone and discovered beautiful gardens and a geothermal-heated greenhouse that produces food for the kitchen year-round. The pear tree was loaded, and the drops on the ground were unbruised, so we sampled the sweet, delicious fruit. It was not a surprise that the soup on the menu that evening was a Pear and Melon Gazpacho.
Our next stop was the famous pools, accessed by winding through the corridors of the 125-year-old hotel. There were lots of folks already in both the large pool, which was 102 degrees, and the smaller pool, a couple of degrees hotter, since that was where the hot water came in, at full torrent. Since almost everyone in both pools was ignoring the sign that read “no drinks in the pool”, we joined the crowd and ordered a beer and a margarita at the poolside window to the bar and slipped into the warm water. Bobbing along the edge, where I could barely stand on my tiptoes, we met fellow, mellow soakers, and we all enjoyed the sun slipping over the yardarm.
We were not able to get a dinner reservation in the dining room until 9 o’clock, but the friendly front desk attendant, Riley, let us know of another option. We could dine at the bar in the lounge behind the dining room with no wait. The bartenders were cordial, and the wine list was extensive. We settled in with a glass of wine and chatted with a woman on the next barstool who was a regular.
John ordered the bison tenderloin, and I had a small beef filet topped with crab in a Bearnaise sauce. Both were delicious, though I would have gladly traded my out-of-season asparagus (though it was perfectly cooked) for the sauteed squash that accompanied John’s dinner. A festive salad of mixed greens, dried cherries, walnuts, and smoked goat cheese arrived first and we enjoyed that while we waited. There was no room for dessert, but we did finish the homemade demi-baguette with whipped butter.
The pools are open until 11 pm, but I was too tired for it. John walked up and said the pool was crowded but very festive.
The next day, we prowled around the garden again before heading to the pool, this time with coffee cups in hand. It was calm and bright in the morning, and John enjoyed lounging before we had to launch out toward home. After our soak, which meant that we were missing breakfast, we walked through the gardens again, chatting with the young farmers who were picking up the pears to go to the kitchen. They gave us a bag of them to take home, and Iris will be very pleased to see that, since pear is her favorite fruit. We sat in the shade and finished the last of our sandwiches from home before leaving.
We drove along the Yellowstone River toward the park again and stopped to watch some elk going in for a soak. Other cars were stopped along the road to enjoy the peaceful scene. We traveled through the northwest corner of the park to get to the town of West Yellowstone, Montana, where we exited the park and stopped to share an affogato for the road. The combination of espresso and vanilla ice cream was the best of two worlds.
Taking the fast road home through Idaho, we were back in familiar territory before too long and realized that it was dinner time. We stopped at Jimmy Kimmel’s South Fork Lodge fly shop to see if we could dine at the lodge, but the answer was no—guests only or by reservation. We continued on the Swan Valley, where we had our official anniversary dinner at the Snake River Roadhouse, one of our favorite spots. We had an enjoyable time there, John opting for the elk-filled ravioli in a rosy cream sauce. I had the nearly unpronounceable Empanadarogie, an empanada and pierogi mash-up that was quite delicious. They were served with a huckleberry dipping sauce, but the elk and potato filling was so tasty that I didn’t want to mask it. I also ordered a wedge salad that didn’t disappoint.
We are not big dessert eaters, so we were surprised when our server delivered a pair of mini cheesecakes decorated with strawberries and said that Rose sent them to us. That’s a good daughter and son-in-law, Stephen, since they also picked up our dinner check. Surprise!
It was a happy ending to our getaway, and we were home in time to see the nearly full blood moon rising over the canyon. We celebrated well on this 46th anniversary!
wow, what a cool sojourn to celebrate a mighty fine milestone! Yum and fun. Long may you run and write and eat and be silly and celebratory, dear ones!!
Delightful travel story.
Happy Anniversary! 💖