Mile: 1,948
Rolling into Dubois, WY gives you a warm feeling. It’s a small town where you can tell real quick that if something is going to be happening on a Friday night, it’ll happen on that main strip. “This has a cowboy feel to it” I thought as I slowed down to the 25 mph speed limit. Little did I know just how right I was with that thought and how 24 hours later I’d be in the thick of it.
I passed the main drag and the two banks in town. The Dollar General came and went on my right along with gas stations sitting directly across the road from each other like two farmers who had a property line dispute forty years ago and come out to sit on their front porches just to glare across the road at one another. A few other little buildings which made you question whether they were an old house that was turned into a little shop or if the old man inside just refused to move after they widened the road twenty years ago. And that was it. I was on the other side of town. Pulling over I got my phone out and started looking at a couple of the apps I use to help me decide where to park Pearl and call home each night. I found a well reviewed RV camp ground right up the road a bit and decided that’d be my backup if I couldn’t find a free place close. Turning around I headed back into town.
The sun had set on the town but there were still some rays igniting the mountainside on the south side of town. Pulling the van over I hopped out still barefoot from taking my wet Chacos off courtesy of the “Public Access” sign a few miles before town. How can you pass up a chance a throw the van in park and wade into God’s country while tempting a trout or two? Impossible, at least for me. So I put socks and shoes on to appease whatever stores I found my way into. I needed to buy bear spray. I was entering grizzly country and that meant time to get serious about safety in the woods. Although, I wouldn’t have hated having a can on me when I ran face to face into that big bull moose near Telephone Lake a week earlier. And black bears can be dangerous but they are mostly scaredy cats. Grizzlies on the other hand, just the name “grizzly” brings a serious tone to a conversation. So, bear spray and I wanted a map with public access points along the Wind River that flows along the highway for miles before and after town.
Every shop I passed had the “Closed” sign hanging in the window. “Apparently this is a ‘get it before 5pm’ town” I said to myself strolling down the main drag. “Oooooo...hot pizza and a cold beer...” I said out loud like someone had just asked me what I would choose if I could eat anything in the world right then. But the sign “Noon Rock Pizza” hanging out front of the building one block up had brought forth such a response. I don’t know what it is about hot pizza and a cold beer that makes it the perfect meal after being out in the woods or traipsin’ through river water for a few days, but it just is. There’s nothing better than crunching down on golden brown crust with a bubbling layer of cheese and pepperoni grease that slightly burns the roof of your mouth when you bite into it. The sweetness of the warm pineapple juice offset by the kick in the mouth jalapeño slice that just made contact with your tongue, mmmmmm....yes please. Then to wash it down with a cold soothing brew...yeah...that’s where it’s at after a few days of roughing it.
I’m realizing many of the simple pleasures in life while on this adventure that in the past have gone unnoticed in the past. One such realization smacked me in the face the moment I sat down at the bar in this pizza joint in Dubois, WY. A smile crept over my face as I sat there resting my tired back, sore shoulder, and feet that were in pretty bad shape having waded in water in my chacos for so many days the last few weeks that the wet straps were rubbing my feet raw. I was about to sit there, tell this nice lady what I wanted to eat and drink, and without moving a muscle, it would be set down for me to consume. Yes, I realize I am paying money for this but, when you go a while where if you want to eat, you have to make it. If you want something tasty and hot then you have to cook it. If you’re thirsty, you have to pour it. If you’re cold, you have to add another log to the fire or go get your own jacket. After doing this for a few weeks the simple pleasure of someone else making a hot meal and setting it down in front of you is quite sublime.
So as I smile like a goober I bite into this piping hot slice of heaven. “You ok?” I look up to see the waitress standing there looking at me with her head cocked to the side slightly. “Haha, yes, thank you. Just enjoying the simple things in life.” I say between chews. I eat all I can and sit back happily holding onto my beer just observing all that was going on in this little pizza joint. You had the locals, which were all in uniforms taking orders, bussing tables, filling glasses, working as fast as they could move. Then you had the tourists, reaching for another hot slice, raising their hand to make another order of cold ones for the table, laughing with their kids while dad told a joke. It’s unique to sit back and observe the performance on the stage happening in front of you. Too often people desire to be the main act themselves always pushing to be at the front of the stage never realizing that there are other acts going on around them. It is not only a benefit to the observer to understand that they are not the main character of the play but also to the other actors. When you sit back and observe you can focus in on the youngest boys face at the table of six and see the longing in his eyes for the table to listen to his comment or to laugh at his joke. You can focus in on the frantic movements of a waitress and read the stress on her face that says, “I’m new, I’ve messed up two orders tonight, I have five people waiting on something from me, I forgot to put in an order for a pizza to go and they just got here to pick it up, and I still don’t know how to work the computer check out system.” You can focus in on the joy in the eyes of the couple holding hands on either side of their pizza softly laughing at something said as they forget that they are in a crowded restaurant. Observing allows you see things you can’t notice if you are wrestling to be the lead role on a stage you think proceeds your every step so that you are always front and center. It gives you the power to give the floor to a little boy to tell his story, or to say an encouraging word to the scrambling waitress, or to smile and share the joy of others as they find joy in the little things. It’s a blessing to all involved to observe.
Before paying my tab I ask my waitress where I can buy a can of bear spray at that hour. She draws the corners of her mouth out wide in a less than hopeful expression. “Everything closes around five or six here...ummmm...let me think on it.” as she fills a glass from the tap and disappears into one of the sitting areas. A few moments later she comes back behind the bar, “Ok, so I texted my friend who manages the fly shop and he might be able to get you one since he has a key to the place.” “Wow, ok thanks!” I pipe back as she darts back into the kitchen. I guess that’s a great thing about small towns is that if you know the right people you can still get what you need even after closing hours. I finish my beer and slide my card across the bar so I can pay for this hot meal and cold beer appearing in front of me effortlessly. A few moments later she resurfaces, runs my card, and hands me the receipt to sign, “I’m sorry, he said they are out of bear spray at the shop. But he said to try the outdoor store right next to them tomorrow.” “Hey, I appreciate you trying.” I say as I turn to go.
I drive a few miles out of town and turn down what is labeled as an old forest road. Following it’s dips and twists for a mile I come to a ranch entrance. “Crap.” I say above Eddie Vedder streaming my Spotify over the left speaker. Looking back at the map I see where the road continues to national forest land if I can go around the left side, so I continue on past some cabins and stables. I turn down the hill to the left on the old dirt road and pass a little log cabin. It was dark out there and I was wanting to get away from this ranch sooner rather than later. “SSSSSSSSSSSSHHHhhhhhh” I come to a sliding stop on the gravel. The road just disappeared into a river standing before me. “Come on!” I say looking back at my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed a turn. Nope. That was the way to the National Forest land. I sat there looking for a road bed under the water, but it’s not there. Or at least it’s not in the first twelve inches of water and despite Pearl being named after a ship I’m not ready to take her into the deep water just yet. I turn around and head back out to the main highway. Letting go a sigh of defeat I roll back towards town and towards the RV campsite. I needed to go into town anyway tomorrow for bear spray, the map, and probably my standard stop in to the local fly shop. It was late and dark so I decided the RV park would be the easiest route. Pulling in I made a lap and on my second lap a lady approached me. “Hey, can I help you?” She asked. “Yeah I’m trying to find a spot for my van,” I responded. “Go right over there to the back and you can pull in those trees anywhere. There’s a river back there as well, feel free to go as far as that. Ohh and that will be $25.” She informed me. Everything she said up until that last part sounded great. “Ok thanks,” I said getting some cash out. Hey, at least I was in for the night and in the back corner away from the rest of the people. Getting settled in I found where a couple others had built a fire in a fire pit and had yet to put it out. I pulled out my ukulele and let it sing as I looked up at the fiery bright milky way. What a way to end a day. And to wake up on a river with mountains in the background wasn’t bad either. Taking it easy the next morning I made some breakfast tacos that would’ve made Madison Gardner proud, a maker legend of the breakfast taco.
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