Musings from the Road Episode #3

8/18

 

We arrived at the Virginian RV Park about 1500 for our stay in Jackson, Wyoming.  The last time we were here, many years ago, the town carried the name Jackson Hole.  I’m curious as to why the powers that be changed the name, and amused that the residents and businesses have ignored the change.  One wonders how the town council, state legislature, or whomever, arrived at the decision.  Did they think more people would visit if it weren’t a Hole?  It seems to me that this blurs the history of the place, not that I know what its history is.  It would have been fascinating to be in the audience during the debate.

 

On our way from Rawlins, I began to pay some visual attention to the hamlets popping up along the highway.  It became immediately clear that there was no — repeat no — zoning at all.  I’m not sure there was any attempt at laying out what one would call ‘lots’ on which to build.  Unlike areas I’m used to, the homes were constructed at any angle that (I assume) provided the least earth-wise resistance to construction.  There was no attempt at placing houses in a linear alignment with their neighbors, nor was there any attempt to set them at ninety-degree angles, like a corner where roads meet.  Instead, they are oriented in a complex of buildings that appear completely random.  However, enough space seemed to be allotted to provide access to each of them.  There’s a certain freedom in that I suppose.  

 

Another thing I noted along our trek is the number of clusters of derelict vehicles in fields.  There must be so much space in a given property that a significant area can be used to store non-functioning equipment.  I guess when one owns land measured in square miles rather than square feet, one can be cavalier about its use.  Perhaps placing the junkyard along the road invites folks to come in and buy something.  

 

US-191, our route up to Jackson, took us through a valley defined by the Hoback River.  Prior to reaching the valley I’d spotted a sign identifying the entrance to the Hoback Ranch.  For miles both before and after the entrance we’d been seeing a uniquely designed fence line which did not disappear until we entered the narrow valley and were then paralleling the river.  Conifer covered mountains rose steeply on either side of us on the winding road, majestic in the gentle rain.  At one point we passed about half-a-mile of blackened trees lining a steep slope as far up as I could see.  Thinking about the danger of future mudslides, I said “I hope the roots survived.” I found out later that the dominant Conifer at this altitude is the Lodgepole Pine which requires heat in order for its cones to open and dispense seed.  I hope now it wasn’t too much heat.

 

When we cleared the river valley, driving by the hamlet of — you guessed it — Hoback! the land opened up to smaller ranches nestled along what was now the Snake River.  By then we were only about twenty miles from Jackson, and that proximity probably had a lot to do with the increased density.  We were used to seeing small herds of beef and sheep along the way so when we approached a herd of forty or so animals, I didn’t pay much attention — until we got closer.  They were Llamas!  We were treated to two more herds on our way by.  

 

 

8/19

 

Rain, rain go away!!  I feel like a slug saying that but this is the first full day of our stay and it’s cold and rainy!  It was cold and rainy when we arrived yesterday!  Do the rain gods not understand that we have only today and tomorrow to explore this majestic country!  Rant over. 

 

We spent the day doing laundry, restocking our provisions, and finding a dentist.  A tooth had begun to make itself unpleasantly known just as we left Rawlins.  I attributed it to some debris lodged among the many little crevices in my lower front teeth and figured I’d use one of my GUM picks to dislodge it.  When the opportunity arose, I worked the area thoroughly with no immediate relief.  The sensitivity to touch wasn’t bad, so I figured I’d wait until we’d settled in Eugene for our stay to take care of it.  This morning biting into a banana was excruciating so I knew something had to change.  I asked the all-knowing Google for a list of dentists in Jackson (Hole) and started calling.  I got a hit on the fourth call, an appointment with Aspen Dental at 1400 today.  We went on a short excursion to the Craig Thomas Visitors Center just inside Grand Teton NP.  

 

Noting the traffic heading away from the park as we headed toward it, I became concerned about timing.  When 1230 rolled around I decided to call Carol to hurry her up.  My phone wouldn’t work in the building, apparently one needs to be on some list or something to get phone service. I tried texting and it couldn’t send.  I stepped outside the building and tried texting and once I got far enough outside the texts got sent.  The problem was that Carol was inside and I was fairly confident that she couldn’t receive them.  The last text I sent told her I was going to wait in The Hulk.  At 1245 I received a text from her saying she was going to wait in The Hulk.  

 

It all turned out okay then, except I had the wrong address for the dentist!  We got to the wrong address in plenty of time though.  The confused receptionist noted I was on her ‘call if cancellation’ list, but there weren’t any.  We finally figured out which dentist it was, just a few hundred yards away and on the other side of the absurdly busy Broadway. We got into the office a few minutes before 1400. A young woman came out to the reception desk, handed me a clipboard with the standard ‘tell me your medical history’ questions then said they were just finishing lunch and would be with me shortly.  I’ve already gotten way deeper into this than I intended.  Shortened story: infection in the tooth, antibiotics prescribed, taken before bed as indicated.  I slept well.  

Short addition.  Magpies are everywhere in Jackson.  I took a photo of one.

Before settling in for the evening, we spent about an hour in a used and rare bookstore.  I looked for November Girl, a photo essay I'd seen probably fifty years ago.  No dice.  I'll keep looking.

 

 

8/20

 

I woke this morning with almost zero pain in that tooth.  Ain’t drugs grand!  

 

After a cool and cloudy morning, the sun decided to make an extended appearance.  A definite mood changer.  We spiffed up Mocking Jay then took off for the park.  Our intent was to, drive the park loop and stop at as many turnouts as we wanted to.  As the sun burned off more and more of the cloud cover, the magnificent Grand Tetons began to appear, stepping out of their hiding places bit-by-bit until they were on display in beautiful detail.  The clarity of detail, the snowfields, the massive vertical walls, the craggy silhouettes against the clearing sky, all of it made me want to just sit and stare.  Made me want to watch the changes caused by the shifting light.  It was hypnotic.   

 

The loop through the park covered nearly a hundred miles and with many stops took about five hours.  After that full day, there was nothing left for it but to drink wine and play scrabble, so we did.  I won … finally.  Carol’s been beating me the entire trip.  That’s probably the reason you haven’t heard about our games before now.

 

 

8/21

 

We woke to a crisp, sunny morning. Outside temp, 36 degrees.  Inside temp, 68 thanks to Mocking Jay’s furnace.  We will be securing our gear, emptying tanks, and hitting the road as soon as we finish our morning coffee.  Next stop Boise, Idaho.  Marnie, the recipient of the family heirloom cradle that has occupied our back seat since it was delivered to New Paltz, invited us to spend the night so I had cancelled our campsite reservation at Caldwell RV Campground, about thirty miles beyond Boise.  

 

The trip through the mountains was stunning!  I kept casting longing looks at the various pullouts along the route, but kept driving so that we’d arrive at Marnie and Norman’s.  The trip home, with no visits with friends and no specific points of interest to occupy us, will be slower with more stops for photo ops.

 

Other than the scenery on the way, the trip was uneventful, no near empty fuel tank to contend with.  One of our fuel stops included lunch in an actual restaurant, the rest just gas up and use the facilities then back on the highway.  

 

Since I hadn’t seen Marnie since 1959 when we briefly dated, we had a lot to catch up on.  The afternoon catching up continued into evening at a nice restaurant courtesy of Marnie and Norman. 

 

8/22

 

 We slept in a four-poster canopied bed uninterrupted by sounds of campground activity outside, and woke to a quiet house — until I tried to unlock the front door and woke Gus, their dog.  When Marnie and Norm were fully awake, we combined fruit from our fridge with fruit from their fridge, added toast and Norm’s excellent brewed coffee and sat down to a pre-travel breakfast.  Afterward, they toured Mocking Jay then we said our good-byes and saddled up for Eugene, Oregon, the last leg of our westward adventure.  

 

When we delivered the cradle, Marnie explained that it had been occupied, in turn, by her and her five siblings.  I don’t remember who in her family built it or how many other ancestors and/or descendants had spent time in it, but it now has a home in Boise, Idaho with Marnie, Norm, Gus the dog, Cary Grant the cat, four tortoises whose names I didn’t catch, and several goldfish swimming in a pond in the meditation garden.