The storm continues wildly all night long. Our tent is hit by gusts of wind from every direction, as if the storm can’t make up its mind which way to go.

In the morning we pack everything up wet, pile in the car, and get on the muddy road. Once we go over Red Rock Pass, the road is flanked by mansions on either side all the way to Clark Lake, where we see a flock of pelicans spiraling overhead.

In West Yellowstone we take refuge in the Riverside Café for breakfast. The storm shows no sign of letting up. West Yellowstone is a town made up almost entirely of motels, so we go looking for a room. We get just as tired doing this as we might have hiking, and end up next door to the place we had breakfast.

Holed up in our room, we turn on the Olympic coverage and peek out the door now and then. The storm always looks different, pouring for awhile, then blowing, but always looking like a storm. We sneak out for a salad and groceries once, then snuggle up again. It seems like a good time for our second night indoors this month.