Inca and I have finally landed in Montana, and it's great to know that I won't be staring at miles of pavement again for sometime.
My travels first took me to Bend, OR where I reunited with my Linfield Ladies to dance a storm up in a Sunriver living room and reminisce about our younger, wilder college days. Hard to believe that I'm heading back to just that...college days. It was great to see everyone though, as I won't be seeing a few of the girls again until this coming summer.
From there Inca and I set off for Boise, ID. Now I've been on some remote roads in my life, but this "highway" to Boise from Bend takes the cake. Not counting the two suicide coyotes that came barreling across the highway it was literally just Inca and I for miles and miles. I took to waving at cars when they drove by, so glad to see another sign of life. In this void of humanity my cell phone stopped working for three straight hours...even the clock. Due to a miscalculation at the state line while adjusting the time, I was left not knowing exactly what time it was. The radio faded away into static leaving just me and the road. Trust me when I say I thought of each and everyone of you...in detail. Remembering all of our crazy times, and regretting that for now at least, memories of you is all I'll have for awhile. I finally pulled into Boise where I got sheltered by a dear friend Julie Peterson who I grew up with. We lived in the same house growing up and she was a month younger then I was.
Late the next evening I rolled into Jackson. I stayed with my friends the Perimans in Grand Teton National Park and dared the hotub with them in -19 degree weather. The stars were brilliant though and there is something divine about lounging in near boiling water while your hair freezes solid. Early in the morning the Perimans, their daughter, and my godson bustled off to school and work while Inca and I lounged about their beautiful home enjoying tea and the incredible scenery. The Tetons are literally in their back yard and I'd forgotten how fiercely beautiful they were. If you haven't visited the Grand Tetons, it is a vacation must.
Inca and I then set off for Dubois, WY (home of my sis), or as I like to call it Du-Bwaw. Dubois is an all american, small cowboy town. I was greeted by a herd of deer who were grazing on the city's welcome sign and the grass around it. The town is home to about 1,000 people. The livestock and tumbleweeds make up the majoriy of the population. This is horse country. I've lived in the "big city" long enough now that I could see the town through tourist eyes. Although I grew up in similar towns I had forgotten what small towns really were like. Molly treated me to a trip to her bar, where everyone knew her name, and I soon knew everyone elses. The next day we went out to lunch at her friend's restaurant, and a handful of the people I had met the night before were there too. We saw the town plumber who informed Molly that her sink was fixed. She had mentioned to him in passing at the bar that it was under the weather, and sometime while she was not home, he walked into her of course unlocked home and repaired it. Creepy to my city friends...a day in the life of a Du-bwa-ian. I stayed a week enjoying our nightly trips to the bar and my talks with cowboys. And yes...if you ask what they do they'll say, "I'm a cowboy". It was great to remember that towns like this exist. The only negative part of the trip was Molly and I's attempted walk with our dogs. Dubois rests in the heart of Badland country. Steep, barren hills with eroding hillsides flank the town and it was over several of these hills, that my darling dog decided to run in hot pursuit of a herd of deer and some low flying ravens. This was one of those moments in life that you realize you are not as fit as you think you are (ie, you're late for your connecting flight and realize you have to briskly run several gates away and the effort nearly kills you). I thought I was going to lose a lung chasing that dog. She was literally AT LEAST a mile away going mock five. I was trying to stumble my way through crusty snow to some high ground, where maybe one of my frantic whistle beeps or electronic collar zings could reach her. Lucky for me Molly was there too as I could not scream Inca's name any longer. Molly yelled for her, I whistled, we both prayed and cursed. Over the horizon she went and she was....gone. I kept trudging forward, beeping and beeping the stupid whistle and finally she came sprinting down off a plateau top to our right. Straight as an arrow she flew to my side, effectively saving her from any beating I had dreamed up. Stupid dog. How I love her.
Several toasts, and country songs later, Inca and I made our way to Missoula, where I now lay in bed typing this note. The snow that was here when I arrived has vanished but the weatherman is hopeful that a white christmas is in the mix. Fingers crossed. So for now my journey is on pause and I can start to prepare for the real journey...the one this blog is about.
Happy Holidays!
Meg & Inca
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