Yellowstone NP to Livingston MT
Sunday August 13, 2017
(~100 miles)

Oh f*** no, I did NOT just hit a buffalo!

This was one of the two thoughts I remember having as I was squashed forward into the bike’s instrument panel and windshield. The other was a confused string of rally-juice-fueled thought regarding the bike getting damaged, all the work I had just done to it to prepare for this trip, and whether I’d be able to finish out the rally. What a friggin inconvenience!

I got up from the weeds on the right side of the road, as people parked across the street walked toward me saying something that I couldn’t hear. I had to get my helmet and ear plugs off, which I somehow managed to do.

“Did you just hit that buffalo with your bike?”, someone asked.

“Yeah I sure did,” I replied.

“Holy shit.”

The bison I had struck was nowhere to be seen now. Adrenaline was flowing and my mind was still trying to wrap itself around what just happened. My right hand and thigh hurt vaguely but other than that, I wasn’t detecting any pain or problems moving around. I looked over my helmet and saw no scratches or dents, which was a good sign I hadn’t hit my head.

The bike was lying on its right side still in the right lane of the road, with the headlight and instrument panel still illuminated. There were plastic bits and parts in the road and hanging off the bike, and I surmised pretty quickly that I would not be riding away from this spot. I think I asked somebody to help me stand the bike up, but that I ended up doing it myself utilizing the adrenaline in my system. I moved it to the side of the road and it could barely steer, confirming my diagnosis that the rally and riding were ending here. I flicked on the hazard lights.

I checked for cell service to call my wife, but there was none, and some of the people gathered around confirmed that there wasn’t any close by either. One woman who said she was from Mammoth Springs MT (I think) was especially nice, telling me she was glad I was okay and that it didn’t go worse.  Her companion was still in the car and offered to go fetch a park ranger from somewhere two miles or so up the road. I readily agreed to this since I didn’t know what else to do… I had no easy way to contact anybody.

I got out my LED flashlight from the tank bag and began collecting some of the pieces and parts of my bike lying about, as I continued to converse with the folks who had stopped to help out. I needed something to do, to regain some semblance of control of the situation, though I know I had no control at this point. My hand was starting to swell and hurt a bit more, and I was pretty sure something was broken.

People mentioned that some bison were still close by just off the road, and we could hear them grunting and gurgling at each other a few dozen yards off the road. Apparently it was the rutting season and I may have interrupted one of the bulls wooing his ladies. Shining our flashlights out into the brush illuminated their shapes and some of their eyes. Someone told me their eyes don’t reflect car headlights, but I later learned that they do but it rarely happens due to their lowered head position. New people kept coming along the road and then stopping to ask what it happened, and then staring at me unbelieving when I said I just hit a bison on my motorcycle. The nice lady from Mammoth Springs gave me a hug I think.

The ranger, named Tyler, showed up after some amount of time, parked behind my bike with lights flashing to offer some protection (there were no shoulders here), and began to direct some of the traffic onward, and to help me figure out what to do. I told him I did not need an ambulance, but I wanted to call my wife.  He told me he’d take me up the road to get cell service in a little bit, but first we needed to take care of the scene and arrange for a tow truck since it could take awhile for them to get there.

He made it clear that we were far from help of most kinds, and I began to understand just how long of a night this was going to be. The nearest medical facility of any size was in Livingston Montana, a solid two hour drive from the site of the crash. Yellowstone Park Service Stations was the only tow company allowed in the park, and they would probably only be able to take me to the park border at the town of Gardiner, so I would have to find another tow from there.

This was getting complicated and I was exhausted, but there was nothing to do but deal with it. Tyler was a huge help, advising that he had found in these situations that it was best to just think one step at a time rather than get overwhelmed at the situation. Focus first on the tow out of the park. Then on the second tow to Livingston. Then deal with the medical care, and then get to the hotel. All logical thinking like I might normally do, but very hard to focus when adrenaline is blocking rational thought.

He took some pictures of the bike (as did I, though they don’t show the more damaged right side) and filled out an accident report for me, since I was unable to write. I described what happened best as I could figure. Since I hit the bison in the hindquarters while he was facing the right side of the road, I can only assume that he started moving pretty quickly when I struck him, since I did not go flying over him (far as I know) and the bike slid out forward in the same lane on its right side, essentially a low side crash.

The entire nose and front right section of the bike was smashed in, which seemed consistent with hitting the animal while swerving left. I honestly can’t recall if I had any time to apply the brakes before I hit. I’m not sure what trajectory my body took to get from the bike into the weeds,  though I know I slid on my right thigh since there were some abrasions over the pocket where my wallet was. One thing I knew is that I was extremely lucky tonight.

Another rally rider, whom I had met back at the hotel, happened by at one point and I asked him to call the rallymaster when he had a signal to let him know that Rider 13 was out of the rally due to an animal crash. He acknowledged and continued on his way.

The ranger confirmed that oncoming headlights are often the cause of animal strikes in the park, as the animal tends to be in the opposite lane from the people looking at it. So an oncoming vehicle like me is somewhat blinded and distracted by the headlights, and can’t see what is in their own lane. He continued to direct additional traffic on by as we waited for another ranger to show up to help move the bike down the road about a hundred yards to a trailhead pull-off. The bike would not start but the lights were working and the wheels were turning once I got it into neutral. The handlebars had very little room for steering so it was a tough job for the second ranger to push the heavy ST up the slightly inclined road to safety, even after I removed the luggage to Tyler’s SUV, and he had to rest a couple of times.

With the bike safely off the road, Tyler now took me back up the road to his bunkhouse parking lot at what was apparently once a buffalo ranch. They had a cell booster on their Internet service that worked with Verizon (only), and I was able to get a signal to call Char.  I explained what had happened and what the current plan was to get to Livingston. I asked her to do some research on the town and find out what she could about hotels, taxis, and U-Haul rentals for getting the bike home. I would call her back as soon as I could but I needed to call AMA next.

I called AMA roadside assistance and explained my situation, including the fact that I only had temporary cell service and would have to go back to the scene of the crash very shortly. The woman was helpful and told me she get right back to me after gathering some info and seeing what resources were in the area to dispatch to get me from Gardiner to Livingston.

Char texted me some names of hotels, tow companies, and taxi services and I mentioned Whistler Towing to the AMA lady when she called back in a few minutes to tell me she was still trying to locate a tow company. I also made a call to the rallymaster, Justin, to let him know what happened and that I was out of the rally.

Tyler, who is also a paramedic, splinted my hand at this point to help alleviate some of the pain and keep it still. He spotted the tow truck from the park going by on the road and we had to go back down to the bike at this point. As helpful as he meant to be, the tow truck driver apparently had never towed a motorcycle before and was unfamiliar with the winch trolley mechanism that would lock in the front wheel and tow the bike up the bed of the truck. I had read of similar such horror stories online and was keeping very close to the bike. On the first attempt he failed to insert a second steel pin in the trolley and the bike started to come out and roll back down the bed before I grabbed it and hit the front brake, which luckily still worked. I exchanged an exasperated glance with Tyler, but kept my mouth shut. We helped him figure out how to lock the wheel in and we finally got the bike up on the truck and strapped down properly, using the soft straps I carry in my tool kit.

Here is the Google street view of the approximate spot of the crash, best that I can tell, in the direction I was heading (only of course it was pitch black with about a dozen sets of headlights pointing at me). If you spin the view around, you can see the curve I had just come out of. Click forward on the road to see the pull-out where we pushed the bike. Zoom out to see the location on the map.

I bid Tyler goodbye at this point and thanked him profusely for all his help. I chatted with the tow truck driver for the next hour plus it took us to get out of the park, through the north entrance and into Gardiner MT. We saw deer and elk crossing or close by the road at a few points and my mind wandered to envision another animal strike while already being towed!

As we neared the town, my cell phone began to ring and AMA was on the line with Ken, the owner of Whistler Towing from Livingston. Ken turned out to be yet another super helpful and friendly soul – he had nothing but concern for my predicament and told me he’d be able to help me get around Livingston for the next day or so if needed, utilizing his trucks, and that he’d store my bike at his facility at no charge until I had a plan to get it home. His driver had just arrived in Gardiner and was waiting for us, so the timing worked out pretty well as we were just five miles away.

Levi, the Whistler driver, had a motorcycle trailer, which was much easier to work with. The three of us got the bike off the first truck bed and onto the trailer in fairly short order, and Levi expertly strapped the bike down. We had another hour and change to go until Livingston, and while I chatted off and on with Levi, I found myself dozing off as exhaustion from the long day and adrenaline started to catch up with me.

Levi took me to the Livingston Medical Center emergency care, where a helpful security guard helped carry in my motorcycle luggage. It was around 03:00 on Sunday morning when we arrived at the hospital –  the crash had occurred close to 21:30 the previous night, about 5.5 hours ago.

The ER was a ghost town and I received a lot of attention from the entire staff, getting checked in, settling up the tow bill, and then getting my hand examined by the doctor on duty. She agreed with Tyler’s diagnosis of a boxer fracture, and send for the radiologist who lived locally.

While I waited, I got online with my phone and booked a room for Sunday night at the local Comfort Inn using my hotel points. I then called the hotel, explained everything that it happened to me, and asked if I could do an early check-in this morning after I finished up at the hospital, to which they graciously agreed. That was one less thing on my mind, I now had shelter arranged. I tried calling the local taxi service, but only got an answering machine. Their website said they only worked early morning hours by prior appointment.

The radiologist took some X-rays and confirmed the fracture of my fifth metacarpal. The doc explained that usually this type of break simply requires a splint and will heal on its own, but that I should follow up with an orthopedist when I return home. I received a fresh splint (not as good as Tyler’s) and declined the offered prescription of a narcotic-based painkiller, as the pain wasn’t too bad, especially when in the splint.

I asked if anyone had ideas on how I could get to the hotel. Once they confirmed there were no taxis available, the radiologist Dana agreed to drive me to the hotel on his way home… yet more western hospitality!  He helped me load my luggage and got me to the hotel by around 04:00, where I checked in, cleaned up, and fell into bed after sending Char one last text to let her know I had made it to a hotel safely at last.