MOTORCYCLE MEMOIRS

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Yellowstone - Charged at by Wild Buffalo, Lived to Tell the Tale

With no way forward or back and completely exposed, things got a little dicey when the head bull (…yes, the one in this photo that is bigger than any of the vehicles) decided he didn't like my motorcycle!

It was July 31st and I already had a day on my bike that any rider would put on their top-10-best-ever-list having ridden the spectacular twisties of Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (WYO 296) and the famous the Beartooth Pass Highway (US route 212) into the Northeast Gate of Yellowstone National Park. It was now at 5:43pm as I was riding into Yellowstone’s Lamar Valley, a route I loved to take because it is home to the largest free-ranging wild bison herd in the United States, numbering 4800, and one is guaranteed to see bison (also called buffalo), sometimes even near the road. Today would absolutely not disappoint!

As I got my first glimpses of the rather large herd of buffalo, which was still several miles away, it quickly became evident that this time through Yellowstone was going to be different. Cars often slow to see the wild bison but on this day everything had come to a total stop with about 100 cars in each direction (which I have come to call “Yellowstone gridlock”).

A huge 2000 lbs bull (…that one in the first photo) had blocked the roadway and was not moving. With my destination for the night being 40 minutes away in Cooke City, Montana and there being no other route (unless I wanted to take a 4+ hour detour), I decided I had no choice but to wait it out. Little did I know that I was about to have one of the most thrilling, adrenaline filled hours of my life - my own up-close-and-personal episode of Wild Kingdom.

It quickly became evident that the SUV sized bull blocking the road ahead was the leader (also called the Control Animal) and he was blocking the road so the herd could cross back and forth - he was NOT moving. Seeing that the herd was crossing back and forth between cars up ahead, I pulled my motorcycle to within 6 inches of the Chevy Suburban in front of me and I got off my bike to asked the guy behind me to please pull up to my rear tire to close the 8 foot gap so as not to encourage the herd to cross behind me. I was after all completely exposed and, unlike everyone inside their cars, I did not have the protection of 4000 lbs of metal. I should also mention that Yellowstone warns visitors to stay at least 25 yards away from the buffalo, especially in mating season (July/August - oops!), when they are more aggressive.

For reasons I cannot understand, the guy behind me did not pull up and sure enough within 2 minutes a bull came strolling toward the road eyeing the opening behind my motorcycle. I immediately started recording while this massive animal passed within inches of my rear tire (video below) and I cringed as passenger in the vehicle behind me screamed “selfie”.

As the bull walked away, I was thinking that I had just experienced one of the biggest adrenaline rushes of my life, but it turned out that things were just getting started.

Almost 50 minutes had passed and it was 6:30pm. The lead bull had moved into the pasture beside the road ahead but so much of the herd was still blocking traffic that not a single car had been able to move. I had taken extensive video and photos but as the thrill of the situation wore off my impatience grew so, with a combination of a little courage and a lot of naivety, I decided to try and slowly weave my way down the road in hopes of getting past the gridlock.

Everything was going fine until I made it in front of the final car blocking my lane. Although the opposing lane was still blocked a hundred cars deep, I had an open lane in front of me and began to slowly accelerate when the huge lead bull swung his head around toward me, jumped back onto the road and began to charge straight at me!

I barely had enough time to stop and the bull and I were face to face, his front hooves at my front tire and his nose at my windshield, our faces less than 3 feet apart. He let out a loud growl and suddenly two of his henchmen bulls started charging at me from either side, simultaneous stopping with their heads 1 foot from mine on either side of me. Within a matter of a few seconds I was surrounded. I didn’t need to be a buffalo whisperer to know that things could get ugly.

I froze and kept my eyes down. I could hear the gasps and “oh my God!” coming from the open widows of the cars in the opposing lane and then, everything went silent and I felt like I was in suspended reality. I slowing lowered my head in submission, didn’t otherwise move and waited.

It felt like time stood still as the next 30 seconds passed. I remember thinking, “funny they don’t smell bad” and “wow, I can just reach out and touch these guys”. Then, as quickly as it began, the lead bull let our another roar and, with the timing of synchronized swimmers, all 3 turned in unison and slowing walked away. I gave it a moment, but I somehow knew I had been given permission to pass, and ever so slowly move down the road where the lead bull had now cleared the way.

“What a rush”, I thought as I passed the remaining herd and began down the now open road only to go around a bend to find a lone bull charging at a white car who was driving in reverse in an attempt to get away from him. I suppose it was the sound of my motorcycle that caught the bull’s attention and caused him to decided I was the bigger threat as he abandoned the car and started toward me.

This time I had more warning, I stoped, put my kickstand down, leaving my bike running to simulate a growling sound, jumped off and started filming (video below). As he got closer he slowed down and eventually moved to the opposing lane where he strolled by. I would later learn that when a buffalo’s tale is wagging they are angry and aggressive, as this dude apparently was.

Still wired with adrenaline when I pulled into The Alpine Motel in Cooke City, I blurted out my adventure to the first human I saw, the motel owner.

All photographs on this website are the exclusive property of Giselle Briden and may not be copied or reproduced in any form without her express written consent.