Swimming from Yellowstone to Denver video clip 😀
After weeks of guests and laughter filling the van, Finn and I were suddenly flying solo. It felt a bit odd at first, like showing up at a party with only your dog as a plus-one. But Finn didn’t seem to mind. He was thrilled to have my undivided attention, but let’s be honest—he definitely doesn’t prefer it that way! But, we set off, the two of us, with one clear goal: water. Each day’s itinerary revolved around finding lakes, rivers, and reservoirs where Finn could swim, and I could marvel at his doggy paddle skills while secretly wishing I had half his energy.
Our first major stop was Jackson Lake in the Grand Tetons, a place so breathtaking I half expected to find it on the cover of one of those glossy calendars titled “Places You’ll Never See in Real Life.” But there we were, paddling the lake in my trusty kayak, exploring all the nooks and crannies the shoreline had to offer. Finn took every opportunity to careen head first into the water, leaving me to wonder if Golden Retrievers were bred with otters. It was peaceful, it was stunning, and it was the perfect way to start this new solo leg of the trip.
In Alpine, Wyoming, I stumbled upon a reservoir that turned into an unexpected highlight of the journey. There, Finn and I met a wonderful German couple and their dog, who are living in a rig so enormous it might have had its own postal code. Finn immediately fell in love with their dog, JD, and even more so with the idea of living in a vehicle that had space and air conditioning. He spent every morning parked outside their door, waiting for it to open so he could defect to the other side.
Finn, ever the enthusiastic swim coach, took it upon himself to teach his new best friend DJ the rescue pup, the art of aquatic excellence. DJ, bless his webbed feet, hadn’t quite figured out that he was built for water sports. What followed was a hilarious game of monkey-see, monkey-do as Finn galloped into the water with DJ hot on his tail, each splash bigger than the last. DJ didn’t so much swim as he… flailed. But credit where it’s due—the effort was there.
As the humans stood chatting on the beach about life, politics and camping, the Finn sprinted full throttle into the water, only to emerge moments later, soaked to the bone and proudly shaking off the evidence all over us – DJ dubiously pulling up the rear. It was equal parts exhausting and endearing, though not ideal for Shevanigans’ cleanliness. By day three, the interior had enough sand and wet fur to qualify as its own mobile beach. While DJ never quite mastered the backstroke—or any stroke, really—he did discover the joy of outrunning Finn on the shoreline, smugly proving that speed on land was his true superpower. Finn, for his part, seemed delighted to have a water buddy, even if DJ’s technique could only be described as “enthusiastic chaos.” By the end of it, both pups were happily exhausted, and I was left wondering if Shevanigans would ever dry out.
Olaf, when informed of my fondness for good German bread, kindly shared his treasure map of German bakeries across the U.S., ensuring my future travels would be carb-filled and delightful. We stayed longer than planned, soaking in the stillness, the company and the reservoir views, but our Colorado deadline was looming.
Onward to Soda Lake, a spot so picturesque I half expected it to come with a Bob Ross voiceover. The wild horses that came to drink there were majestic, and I was fully prepared to soak in the serenity—until Finn decided to assert his dominance. Barking furiously, he managed to chase away the entire herd, effectively turning a serene moment into a canine-claimed territory. Still, with the lake reflecting the sunset on Shevanigans who bathed in the golden light, it was easy to forgive him. Morning light brough more horses and while packing up, a moment involving two deer locked in a head-butting contest. The younguns, with their antlers clashing like knights in armor also seemed to be trying out their new-found headgear. Finn, to his credit, sat quietly and let them duke it out, proving that he is at least smart enough to know not every confrontation requires his intervention.
Flaming Gorge was next. Embarking on this Scenic Byway is like flipping through Earth’s most dramatic photo album. This 150-mile route along the eastern edge of the Uinta Mountains and the southern rim of Flaming Gorge Reservoir offers a masterclass in geological storytelling. As you drive, the landscape transforms from rugged alpine forests to a brilliantly colored 91-mile reservoir nestled within a dramatic river gorge. Roadside signs provide impromptu geology lessons, revealing that the rocks around you have been through more upheavals than a soap opera character and it might be one of the coolest places I’ve ever been. One sign casually informs you that the high ridge, at whatever feet above sea level, once housed strange sea monsters. Today, any prehistoric marine reptile would have to question their choice of location. “Ah, lovely cliffs, but where’s the water?” The park itself is a marvel—geology, geography, and history wrapped up in a dramatic canyon and lake combo. And the stars! I’ve never seen a sky like that. I spent the night gazing and pointing out the Milky Way to a very disinterested Finn.
Despite the beauty and endless distractions, Denver was waiting. Finn and I reluctantly left behind the lakes, cliffs, and reservoirs, knowing that even more adventures lay ahead. Solo travel has a different vibe, but with Finn as my co-pilot, every day felt like a new chapter in the best kind of book: one you can’t wait to keep writing.
See you in Colorado!
Sheilagh, Finnigan and Shevanigans