Just over the ridges on either side of camp, the bull elk shouted their intentions and warnings to each other. A better way to awaken as the first light of morning sifted into the air, I cannot think of.
Their calls didn't last very long in our neck of the woods, but I was glad of their portent of a new season and hopefully, fresh perspective.
After a hearty breakfast of whatever we could scrounge up from the grocery bags scattered throughout the truck and breaking camp, we headed down the hill to check out Tower Falls in peace, with neither cars nor crowds.
Little Kota, Ryan's younger son, loves waterfalls, so he was eager to make the quick walk down the hill to get closer.
Unfortunately, there had been a washout of the trail the previous spring and the approach to the falls' bottom was inaccessible. Our intended way blocked, we chose to go down to the side of Yellowstone River. Jerusha led the way down, excited to be by as large a body of moving water as she has ever encountered.
We enjoyed the time by the river, scoping out the runs and holes. There are some future days at that river, and any time there will be well-spent even if there is no fishing involved.