16. On to Casper

Mile: 1,734

I rolled out of Grey Reef Access Area just outside of Alcova, WY after some breakfast tacos consisting of fried squash, bacon, jalapeños, onion, egg, and salsa. Brian, a guy I had met the day before, and I sat on the bank of the Platt watching an eighteen plus inch brown trout sip stoneflies off the top of the water as they drifted over him. Choosing this one and not that one, it was fascinating so see this brown pick and choose. It was as if the two seconds from seeing the fly to it floating overhead he analyzed it, read the ingredients on the label, checked to see if that specific stonefly fit his diet or not. If it did, he’d rise up effortlessly and Jonah it. If it did not meet his diet restrictions, he would let it drift on by disappearing downstream. Brian and I were touching on the high points of our conversation the night before which encompassed politics, religion, relationship with family and the relationships that make us who we are, passions, fears, and more. It’s truly amazing what a fire and a late night with an open sky of a million nightlights can bring out. We were strangers earlier the day before and now we knew more about each other than some of our relatives and we definitely did not shy away from the “taboo” topics. It was a great conversation where we challenged each other and allowed ourselves to be challenged. A true deep conversation. The best kind in my opinion. The kinds of conversations that truly matter. 

Once breakfast was down I was on the road again. I cranked up my stereo on ole Pearl, which means the left speaker because for some reason the right speaker has a mind of it’s own and decided it was tired of blasting tunes. The sound of the up beat cruise music hit my ears. The song was no accident. It is the song I often crank up when I leave my short term homes and hit the road again. The Night Game was singing their sound Back In The Van, so appropriate, I know. And ole Pearl started to have her breakfast, she was eating the open road and wanting more. On to Casper. I had been told to hit up HQ BBQ just outside of Casper and that I did. A sandwich taller than my beer stood proud and at attention in front of me. Almost like a man who has small-man syndrome would stand in front of a 6’5” football player - chest out, shoulders back, trying to look bigger than he actually was. I grabbed him smashing his shoulders down into his feet and maxed the size of my mouth in order to get my teeth over the outer edges of this monster. So good. Twenty minutes later I was leaning back apologizing to my gut and high-fiving my tastebuds. 

I headed into Casper needed to take care of some essentials. I needed to buy a couple bike tire tubes, do some laundry, have a stripped bolt on my door loosened so I could get in and fix the “KAAAAWWWAAANNNNKKK” sound my unlocking actuator was still making, pick up some more duct tape for my window, and get a massage. Yes, a massage. If you haven’t had a full body massage, you are missing out. My back had some knots in it that must have tied by an Eagle Scout because they were painfully tight and not going away. I think it had something to do with flyfishing nine out of the last fourteen days. I’m not sure that being turned up to the highest setting of tenseness ready to set the hook at any second for hours on end, day after day, is good for relaxing your muscles. After going to the most sketchy massage place I’ve ever been to, I mean, it is Casper, WY, during a global pandemic, and I’m trying to get a “day-of” appointment...I’ll take what I can get. I took care of my loud unlocking noise. Hey, did you know that doors are hollow so the window can roll down inside of them? Ha! Yeah, that makes total sense. Especially after you cram the old actuator inside that empty space to problem solve thinking that you are a genius but later realize your window will only roll half way down. Crazy sound fixed. Window rolling down issue created. Geez, freaking ridiculous. I’ll fix it later, just add it to the list. 

During my time in Casper I came upon a farmers market and picked up my groceries while meeting some really cool people. They told me where I should park the van that night on the edge of town and also told me of some places I needed to fish when I made it up to Yellowstone. Such nice people. It’s amazing how excited people get when they hear that you’re living your dream and fishing through the west. I’ve found most people want to make your trip a little bit better by telling you which hole in the wall place to go, stream to fish, or path to take. 

One lady I met while at Hobby Lobby mentioned something that made me think she was a believer. So I asked. Sure enough, she loved Jesus and had moved to Casper because she felt God was leading her there to serve him in some way. We spoke for an hour in the fabric section after I had found my bug netting I was going to use for the back of the van. I had been killing caddis flies for the last 96 hours as they kept popping up out of nowhere. They were courtesy of my first night camping along the Platte and cooking with my back doors open after dark. It’s amazing how many caddis flies can hide in the corners of your vehicle. I still have one surface every four or five hours up onto the dash from his hiding place. But anyway, it was such a blessing to run into another Christ follower and talk about how good our God is and that He is faithful even when we fall short. 

The next morning I took care of some more to-dos, which of course is to go into the fly shop and talk fishing, what’s hot, where I should head to next, you know, the typical lies of fishermen. But on a serious note, it’s been amazing how helpful fly shop workers and just random fishermen along the way have been when it comes to pointing out where I should go and what they recommend throwing when I get there. I’m not saying they are giving me their top producing deep hole they take their kiddos to but they at least get me going in the right direction. 

Back on the road again headed for the Bighorn! I rolled out as the sun was setting, not quite sure of where I was going to call home that night. But that’s part of the beauty of it. In life, you don’t have to have an exact itinerary and keep to that itinerary. You can leave some things up to a suggestion of a stranger or overhearing some bar talk. Life’s an adventure, let your hair down and go live it from time to time. So off I went, “Thanks Casper...stay golden Ponyboy.” I say as I roll my driver window halfway down and cruise out of town.