Originally our plan was to spend a third night in Yellowstone and drive straight to Lake Tahoe early the next morning. That’s a 12-and-a-half hour drive, without stops. As fun as that drive sounds, we decided that we had seen enough of the stones in Yellowstone and started venturing southwest to at least make a dent in this mammoth of a drive. We left Yellowstone with heavy hearts since we never managed to spot, attack, and feast on a Grizzly bear. I’m still keeping my fingers crossed for our time in Yosemite.

Just south of Yellowstone is another park called Teton National Park. Its known for its ridiculously majestic mountain range; I think its name was actually derived from the mountains’ resemblance to pointy boobs, actually. The main reason we stopped here in particular was that Camo Dave, Nasty Nas, Roach, and Brickface wanted to get some fishing time in. ZZTop and I know practically nothing about the craft of fishing so we kept busy while the rest of the gang stood shoreside. How did we keep busy? Well I have failed to mention this so far, but before we all embarked on this trip, we invested in a 40-pound dumbbell to be delivered to Vanderbilt. So we can remain super yoked obviously. Zach and I took it down to the shore with us and I’m sure we looked absolutely ridiculous. While Brickface cast his rod in the water over and over again, repeatedly coming back fish-less, Zach and I were going HAM with the dumbell, hitting all the important muscle groups. Throngs of people across the stream watched us wondering what in the world was going on. Getting jacked as hell next to a stream, that’s what.

Anyway, the fishing conditions were very poor, apparently. So we needed to drive elsewhere along the Snake River for seafood. Before that trek though, we stopped into the Teton National Park restaurant. It was the first time we had “eaten out” since the RV trip began and I wanted to cry. Not just because it was good. It was crazy good. The fish & chips and the hummus were all so on-point. The reason I was welling up with tears is because, literally, I had not eaten anything besides low-grade burgers, hot dogs, and turkey sandwiches in several days. I forgot what other food tasted like and sometimes wondered if it really existed out there. After food we snapped a quick pic and were on our way:

The fishing spot further down Wyoming was also a dud. Something about water moving too quickly I think. Zach and I passed out in the RV while the rest of the gang toiled away fruitlessly in the rain. We eventually gave up on earning our own fish that day and started focusing on where we were going to sleep. We found a fancy, shmancy RV resort called “Village of Trees” situated just outside of Declo, Idaho. We looked it up and Declo actually means “Bumfuck” in German.

Along our way there we had an important stop to make, we just didn’t know it. Have you guys ever become peeved that your ice cream scoops are just too spherical? Is it too much to ask for just a little asymmetry when I’m eating my dairy sweets? For this random Idahoan gas station, it wasn’t too much to ask:

Finally. An opportunity to quickly and efficiently calculate the volume of my ice cream without factoring in pi. As delicious and ground-breaking as it appeared, I decided to forego it and got some 32-oz cans of Miller Lite instead cause I love getting drunk around only guys. We attempted to do just that as we arrived in Declo.

Let me tell you about this place “Village of Trees”, its freaking incredible. It touts itself as an RV “resort” and it really deserves that title. I felt as pampered as you possibly could be in an RV park. Upon our arrival, they set us up with our very own patch of grass, equipped with our personal supply of water and electrical power. Pretty standard stuff, but this is where things get hardcore. Before the campground workers departed, they left us with a menu with which we could order food by phone with free delivery. Essentially dope room service, but for an RV. So we ordered 2 large pizzas, and while we waited the fishing gang went to a nearby lake to try their luck for a third time. The lake turned out to have no water in it though so the amateurs had a surprisingly tough time catching fish. When they came back as failures, the pizza arrived at our door soon after. I have had my fair share of RV park pizza, as much as the next guy, but this was definitely the best I’ve ever had. A lotta cheese, a lotta love. I went to sleep on the kitchen set with pizza in my stomach, Miller lite in my liver, love in my heart, and dreams of my journey to ragin’ Lake Tahoe the next day.