Mile: 1,905
As many of my days begin on this leg of the trip, I’m headed west. On cloud nine from catching my two biggest rainbows to date on my 5 wt fly rod, I pull out of Boysen State Park and get Pearl humming down the asphalt again. Thinking about the $9 day use fee that I paid to fish the state park and smiling because even though I only stayed at the park for maybe a half a day I took from it memories that were worth an amount that made the cost laughable.
Half an hour later I was headed into higher countryside entering into the Wind River Reservation just west of Shoshoni, WY. Passing fields of cattle and sheep my mind drifted off imagining what it would be like to live the life of these Wyoming farmers. Cruising through the rolling plains of central Wyoming before you hit the foothills that welcome you to the Bridger-Teton National Forest, there is some truly beautiful farm land. It is so far removed from what I’ve known growing up outside of Little Rock somewhere between a city boy and country bumpkin. That of course is from an Arkansan’s perspective and I’m sure that anyone from Chicago or New York or the like would laugh at the thought of me calling myself a city boy. But when I consider growing up in Mabelvale, moving from Little Rock, then to Dallas and back again, I have such a fraction of an idea of what the life of a Wyoming rancher would be. The next twenty or so miles my thoughts are moving in and out of imaging what that would entail.
Those thoughts are interrupted when I realize that Pearl is seriously struggling. I’m not use to her slow goin’ way of getting me places quite yet, ‘tis the way of a 4-cylinder front wheel drive loaded down work van made for European roadways. But this was worse than normal. I was pushing the pedal down something serious and she would jump from cruising in 3rd gear down to 2nd and humming at 6,000 RPM to try and break the 55 mph threshold. I toy with the gas pedal a few times to make sure she was responding correctly and everything seemed to be checking out, she just couldn’t cruise up and over 55 mph. I came to a stop on the side of the road and as I put it in park I realize I have an audience. Three pairs of eyes are watching me as they eat their lunch. I smile and they stand there, straight faced, not changing their expressions in the slightest. They don’t even stop chewing. I frown at them. Nothing. I make a crazy face trying to get anything out of them. Nothing. These three sheep are not amused as they stand right on the other side of the fence watching me. Behind them was a several thousand acre meadow but they were there waiting for a show. I open the door and immediately understand why Pearl is having such a hard time. A 30 mph Wyoming prairie wind is trying to shove me back down the road from the way I came. I laugh at how strong it is, and it’s not gusts of 30 mph it’s a solid consistent 30 mph wall of wind. I look over and think that I see a smile creep up the side of the sheep’s faces as if they are taking joy from me getting a taste of their every day wind. I get back in Pearl and start my slow climb back to 50 mph and accept that in her mind, she’s going 80, which would be cooking. So I accept this pace and remind myself that she is the Black Pearl, and sailing ships don’t fly, they cruise. So, as the occasional car would come up and pass me, I happily cruised my way on to Dubois.
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