Category: travel

About two years ago, the Hubners sat around at Christmas time and came up with the audacious plan that we should all go to Yellowstone. Together. As a family. I was pregnant with E, so of course I was all in. Little did I know that once I had a baby, my brain would completely rewire itself, and even the simplest of trips (say, to the grocery store) would send my anxiety wrought mind into five levels of despair. Needless to say, as the Yellowstone trip got closer, the word panic was an understatement.

But closer it came, and after spending about 3 weeks packing (Do we have diapers? Yes. Wait… do we have diapers? Yes.), the day finally came to embark on the 10+ hour road trip to the first national park with my newly christened 11 month old. Of course he was sick, because we exist in a state of perpetual illness. But I hit up the doctor, and we left with antibiotics for yet another ear infection, steroids for croup/stridor, and well wishes for a safe journey. And at about 5:30 a.m., we met up with the rest of the Hubner clan and the journey began.

Watch out for rattlesnake bites, bad water, and dysentery.

I did my best to prepare enough ways to keep a baby entertained on the road. I knew he’d sleep at least 4-5 hours of it, which is killer. But the awake times… oh, the awake times. What can you do to keep a new walker happy in a car seat for that long? My solution was Target and boat loads of snacks. I hit it up the dollar section before we left and bought a toy for each hour of the trip. Plus, I had puffs, rice cakes, snack bars, yogurt melts, applesauce pouches — you name it. And, of course, frequent stops. My plan worked for about 11.5 hours. I was so proud of my boy. Then, about 20 minutes from Old Faithful Inn, shit hit the fan. E was over it. Over the toys, the snacks, the car. He screamed until we stopped and got him out of his car seat at which point the tears immediately stopped. I was fried, but of course, we still had a whole car full of crap to unload and a pack-and-play to set up. Woof. Needless to say, bedtime for baby couldn’t have come soon enough. Thankfully, he was so tired he didn’t really care that he was in a new place and slept like a champ. Even when we had to open the heavy ass historic door that came with some sort of ancient blacksmith-ed metal lever that sounded like we were breaking out of a dungeon cell every time we went in or out of our room.

Old Faithful Inn was amazing. A huge log lodge with views of Old Faithful and a cellist that played music every night. The highlight was when she played the theme song from Last of the Mohicans. It seemed so right. Or it could have been the beer(s) talking. Regardless, sitting in that amazing three story lodge, listening to music echo off the century old pine while the baby slept just a few feet away in our room was magical.

Walking with daddy around Old Faithful Inn.

On our first day there we decided to skip riding in the car and instead do some hiking right out the backdoor in the Upper Geyser Basin. There was stinky steam, gushing water, and colorful pools. A true Yellowstone experience. Peter did the awesome daddy thing and threw E in the kid backpack and trekked around with 21 pounds of boy for about 3 miles. E talked, fussed when Peter would stop walking, and eventually took a nap in the pack. While E was sleeping, we came across a bison in the middle of the path. The whole gang had to take a huge detour around him, which seemed pretty lame at the time. However, later in the trip we heard that an Australian man was gored by a bison just off a path near Old Faithful Inn the same day we were hiking, and we’re pretty sure the one we avoided was the culprit. After that story we felt pretty good about our choice to make the big loop around him.

Hiking pro(s).

The next few days were spent exploring, eating dirt/playing with rocks and napping, in that order. We saw tons of beauty and bison (the boy thought they were hilarious), and the E child even had his first graham crackers down by the river while the rest of the gang dined on camp hot dogs.

Graham crackers down by the river.

On Wednesday, we packed up and journeyed even farther north to Mammoth Hot Springs where we had reserved cabins. The drive there was ridiculous, simply because we saw half a dozen bears (and baby bears!), each of which came with their own personal traffic jam. That’s one of the crazy things about Yellowstone. You always know when there’s a cool animal sighting because half the park gathers on the side of the road and the other half drives 2 miles an hour with their billion dollar cameras hanging out the window. It’s probably a good thing because I’m the world’s worst at spotting wildlife. If life were truly like the Hunger Games, I’d die first.

Mammoth was awesome because we had porches with a view of the mountainside (and sadly, also a construction site. whatever.). The babies ran in and out of our rooms and in the grass, while we’d cook dinner and s’mores. After we got the kids to bed, we sit out and chat, drink beers, and listen to music. It was almost like vacations of old. But with a baby monitor sitting right next to me.

The days at Mammoth were spent doing more hiking and sightseeing, including a trip to Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, which is truly one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Peter braved all the stairs and switchbacks with E on his back, and the boy enjoyed watching waterfalls and playing with pine cones and sticks I’d hand him as we walked along.

Geyser!

Our last night in Yellowstone was a bit waterlogged, but we made hot dogs and sat out on the porch anyway, all while trying to convince a 2-year-old that stepping in puddles wearing only socks was a bad idea (adults lost). After putting the babies to sleep and doing whatever packing we could, we once again sat out in the cold, bundled in jackets and blankets, drinking beers and rehashing our favorite parts of the trip.

My favorite part. Grand Canyon of Yellowstone.

The next morning, the gang split up. The Texas Hubners hung back and did a little more sightseeing, while the Denver Hubners got their butts up super early and started the journey home. Part of me was sad we didn’t hang with the rest, and the other part of me knew we were on the clock. And sure enough, after 10 hours of fairly smooth sailing, E lost his mind. It was right around Fort Collins when things started to get dicey, and they really fell apart in Loveland. E was SCREAMING bloody murder, and nothing Peter or I could do would help. Eventually he fell asleep, but he was so sad about the car ride he was actually crying with his eyes closed. It was truly one of the more pathetic things I’ve ever seen.

So, here’s what I learned about doing 12 hours on the road with your baby:

1. Know their limits. Some babies can handle more than others in terms of travel. Push things as far as you feel comfortable with, and then stop. That being said…

2. Babies are tougher than you think. You’ve got your schedule and you just know they won’t handle being off a schedule. In a new place. Full of strange and wonderful things. And then they do. Beautifully.

3. Let them explore and take part in the adventure. Baby hasn’t taken a bath in three days? Meh. Fell down 30 times today trying to scale the stairs in a century old log cabin? NBD. Just ate a crap ton of dirt with that graham cracker? Oh well. They’re on vacation, too. Let them live a little.

Needless to say, we had a fantastic time. Yes, there were meltdowns and missed bedtimes. Naps were had in backpacks and lunch was sometimes WAY too late. But, we went on vacation. Together. As a family. E had his first graham crackers, grilled cheese, and cherries. He saw bison, played with his cousins, relocated every rock, stick, and pine needle in the park, and climbed as many stairs as we would let him do. And me? I tackled a long ass road trip with a toddler — like a boss. So bring it, summer. The Hubners are headed outdoors. Because guess what? I’m not afraid anymore.

The Hubners in Yellowstone. A family portrait.