An ad infinitum judgment of isolation is pinned to the town by the immutable saw-toothed ridges of the Absaroka and Beartooth Mountain ranges. As I step outside the truck to see the town from the proper height, the eclipse from a large tree envelops me in its satiny cold field.  A puff of wind pushes strands of hair into chapstick. Clawing to locate and extract them, I step from the shadow into the light. Cars stowed on concrete porches, lower story windows boarded against a late afternoon sky alternating between aureate October lightness and winter gloom shedding snow like a strip tease, make for an ambiguous sense of place.

Lamps in upper story windows toss beacons of welcome. But the one sound – sips and sighs of intact blankets of smoke hanging above each chimney as they’re forced to separate and dissipate, arrests any notion of coziness. Make no mistake, winter here is serious and it’ll not stand for an outsider’s romanticized projection of it upon a town it’s preparing to overtake. It stamps the ground with a suffocating updraft; a demand for respect.

No faces have shown themselves and as I begin in earnest to discover one, I wonder if the 2^nd coming hasn’t occurred during my drive from Cody, Wyoming leaving me the only hapless soul in town. There is but one road into Cooke City, Montana from the outside world.  The wildness of Yellowstone’s Super Caldera lies on the other side. This is the end of the road. As I glance over a shoulder to see my exit darkening, I feel simultaneously favored and cursed by the chimerical scene before me.

Cooke City, Montana

I consider the effort to clamor into the Cooke City General Store for food (do boarded windows have adequate finger/footholds?) and try to imagine the eventuality of being eye level with 2^nd story windows, elevated there by a platform of snow. Like lying on your back, head dangling from the edge of a bed while pretending the floor is the ceiling, the ceiling the floor, it’s a strangely appealing, altered perspective.

Cooke City, Montana has done with its remote birthright what it could. First mining, then Yellowstone National Park. Originally named Shoo-Fly, the mining town was renamed in 1880 in an attempt to flatter a Northern Pacific Railroad executive into putting a stop there. Coming over BearTooth Pass at 10,974 feet on Highway 212 out of Red Lodge, Montana or Dead Indian Pass, 8,066 feet on the Chief Joseph Highway out of Cody with views of the Absaroka’s Pilot and Index Peaks (11,708 & 11,313 feet)  should have given the townspeople clues as to the outcome of their flattery – no way, no how. In 1877 this country helped hide the Nez Perce Chief Joseph and his 800 or so band of hold-outs from General Howard’s 2,000 strong Calvary for three months. Railroads don’t go where outnumbered bands of undersupplied men on horseback can elude a United States army for months.

Cooke City has a year-round population approximating 100. Three hundred cavort on the one paved street in the summer months of July and August. Even though it’s considered Yellowstone’s Northeast entrance gateway community, Silver Gate, a few miles past Cooke City, actually claims the ranger station.

Take note, if you’ve not entered the Park through this least-traveled entrance, you’re missing a lot more than a momentary gut-check about the 2^nd coming. Yellowstone’s wildness is epitomized by this small community and the drive to get here.

Snow poles stand alert and ready.

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“It charmed me, intrigued me, seduced me so completely and in such a way that memories of it result in the kind of longing normally reserved for the best fruit pie of your life.”  This journal entry was made after my first encounter with Yellowstone in 2003. The best fruit pie of your life is a powerful memory; one that will be difficult to surpass. Or forget. If your visions of sugarplums are instead bodacious double crust fruit pies, you’ll understand. If not, pity.

Just in case the first paragraph gravely misdirected you, this post is about Yellowstone,  and sadly, not fruit pies.

I’m not the only one infatuated with Yellowstone and the surrounding area. Some famous people whose opinions really count, feel the same. President Theodore Roosevelt called the stretch of highway between Cody, Wyoming and the East Gate of Yellowstone National Park “the fifty most beautiful miles in America”.

Named the Scenic Byway of Highway 20, aka the Wapiti Valley, the road is wedged into a valley shaped by the flow of the Shoshone River. The swath of wildness is charged with history and scenery. The Buffalo Bill Dam/Reservoir and Buffalo Bill State Park were worth the drive alone.

Buffalo Bill Reservoir

Nothing mechanical could capture what I saw with my own eyes. I didn’t try to create art from art, but rather to simply document I’d actually been there. Sometimes point and shoot is all you need do.  Things like this burn into your memory and you may forget when it happened but you never forget that it did.

The East entrance‘s ranger station was built in 1934 but visitors staying in Cody, Wyoming had been entering the Park for years prior (Yellowstone was designated a National Park in 1872).

Cody was established in 1896 by wild west showman, William F. Cody, “Buffalo Bill” along with a group of investors from Buffalo, New York and Sheridan, Wyoming. They realized the potential for tourism since Yellowstone was only 50 miles west. Burlington Northern Railroad reinforced (and rewarded) the tourism dream when they completed a line into Cody in 1901.

Instead of the railroad, I drove. The round trip of 100 miles to Yellowstone from Cody and back took 7 hours. That should tell you that either I drive really, really slow, or there was a lot to see. Given that I’ve had a speeding ticket in almost every state I’ve driven, the latter is the best guess.

These guys did their part to make sure no one was in a hurry.

American Bison

For more information on Yellowstone, check out these links:

Yellowstone’s Original Entrance

Official Yellowstone National Park Site

Lodges of East Yellowstone

Buffalo Bill Cody Scenic Byway

** The East entrance closes from early November to sometime in April because of snow. Be sure to do your homework before heading there in the winter.

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Moorcroft, Wyoming emerged out of the black just as my desperate quest to find a place to sleep birthed the recollection of Peter Fonda’s movie Race With The Devil.  My adamancy to never own an RV is derived solely from the impact this movie made on my pre-teen brain.

I’m still searching for a place to safely catch some ZZZ’s because according to the map, Devils Tower is “nearby”. If you should decide to see Devils Tower, take a peek at the map of Wyoming, realize there’s only 400,000 people in the entirety of the square vastness and don’t make the same assumption about lodging I did. And don’t worry about the movie and the whole Devils Tower thing; it was filmed in South Texas.

Beautiful until you think about those poor schmucks in the RV.

The Cozy Motel’s sign was half lit but the gravel parking area was packed with good ole boy pickup trucks – a sight that put me at ease. At least if some creepy-motel-located-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-Jason-scene occurred, my screams would be heard.

I walked into the “office”, rang the bell and an older lady and a boy about 5 came out of a back room (they’ve recently become fodder in my novel plotting mind). “Looks like you’re busy tonight, do you have a room?” “Got one left,,,,,,, railroaders”. To which I didn’t bother replying as I didn’t feel any reply required. But the humorous thought, “railroad convention?” ran through my mind. “We only take cash. The room is $40″. Not a problem. My husband had threatened my future solo road trip privileges if I went below $200 cash at any point of the trip. I had been compliant and pulled out the cash. “You’re in number 11 on the end. We only got 11 rooms. The railroaders don’t like number 11.”

The boy’s face had been marble the whole while but I was certain some reaction to the woman’s statement had caused something to twitch. Did his upper lip move or was it some shift in those shifty little eyes? I checked up just as I opened my mouth to ask why. Too late. Again my imagination was off like horses out the gate of the Kentucky Derby.

The Cozy Motel at sunrise the next day. See the "No" vacancy? I had indeed taken the last room the night before.

I pulled the truck over to number 11 and began unloading. I’d just walked through the door and dropped the first of my loads of crap that I faithfully hauled out of the truck every night, when a train went by. Thunder, whistle, thunder, whistle, shhchhshhchh on the tracks. I laughed out loud and ran back outside to see it swishing by on the track parallel to the motel, close enough to touch. Okay, well, not close enough to touch, but close enough. I hadn’t crossed the track since it ran parallel – stay with me here, and since it was pitch black, I hadn’t seen it. The resting railroaders didn’t like ole number 11 because it was the closest room to the track!

By the time the 3rd train came by the unloading was complete. I called my husband howling laughter at the 4th train passing, holding the phone up so he could hear the whistle. He predicted a total of 6 trains for the evening and I went to shower. I counted 2 while in the shower and over the course of the rest of the restless night, 10 of them jingled my weird and wacky dreams. I was up and out of there just before sunrise and had a fantastic day despite the lingering lack-of-sleep dreams. Devils Tower was stunning in the morning light.

Devils Tower National Monument, Wyoming.

Before you read on, I must add the Cozy Motel is one of the reasons I love seeing what lies in-between the sterile and stamped out larger cities and towns on the American map. Motels are still worthy considerations for lodging if you want an experience. Then again, I have nothing against the knowns the chains offer. I stay at both.

Post Script from Journal: “Other than the trains, the room has been my favorite; the extremely low cost of course being a factor along with the story worthiness of my experience here. In addition to that the room was large as there was only one bed and the tiny bathroom was all white and brand new, and the carpet was clean. The railroaders were a quiet bunch; most of them were gone when I walked out to the truck at sunrise. The heat didn’t work well but after a sprint to the truck in the middle of the night for my emergency quilt, that problem was solved. It was 14 degrees this morning.  Ahhhh…. WYOMING.”

Road Trip Locator: Devils Tower is in Northeastern Wyoming between Gillette and Sundance, approximately 35 miles North of Interstate 90 (from Moorcroft which is where you’ll exit and turn North of I-90).

With names like Wind River Gear, Stewarts Trap Line Gallery, Tukadeka Traders, and Whiskey Mountain Tackle you get the idea quickly Dubois is all about the outdoors with its own brand of rough and a unique version of western.

Despite the French ending (bois) and the fact other Wyoming names are pronounced with the French pronunciation, you would be wrong to assume that Dubois is “Do-bwa.”  It’s “Do-boys”. Once you get that name down, next is Togwotee Pass, the 9,658 feet high mountain pass North of Dubois in the Absarokas. It’s “Toe-go-tee” – say it fast and run it together.

So what do you do in Dubois, Wyoming other than stand around with your mouth agape rotating in a 360 to take in the red and gray sand castle mesas, the lack of national chains and the Jackalope big enough to attempt an 8 second ride on? (has a saddle just in case you’re inclined).

Dubois Jackalope Advertisement

First, you eat. The Cowboy Cafe‘s breakfast will take you way past lunch. But if you need a refuel or dessert (doesn’t everybody want dessert after breakfast, or is it just me?), head to the Dubois Drug Store & Soda Fountain for a huckleberry shake or one of their home baked yummies.

Then you hike, fish, and explore.

• The Dubois Museum presents stories of the area from the celebrated tie-hack, to the ranchers, outlaws and Native Americans who converged here. A tie-hack was a logger (most of Scandinavian descent) who hacked or shaped the logs into railroad ties.

• Togwotee Trail. It’s not really a “trail.” It’s an overview of the neighboring landscape and features. If you want to do some planning ahead of time, check out a virtual tour: here.

Despite the fact I was just in Dubois mid-September, I didn't get a great pic. I knew I had this one somewhere. It's film. Darn good thing Photoshop hasn't done away with its Dust & Scratches filter. And don't hold my feet to the fire regarding exactly where around Dubois this was taken. Somewhere in the vicinity will have to be good enough this time. Sometimes, good enough, is enough. I love that saying.

• The Badlands Interpretive Trail.  The colorful badlands form a mesmerizing landscape to explore or just view from your car. A colloquial cowboy term for a land so rough it can’t be ridden through, badlands are formed by water carving its way through soft layers of clay, silt and sandstone. The trail offers three hiking tours ranging from a short stroll to a two-hour hike. It’s located 2 miles north of Dubois on the Horse Creek Road.

• Find the Sheepeater Indians petroglyphs near Torrey Lake (south of town).  A gravel road takes off from Highway 287 just a few miles southeast of Dubois (Trail Lake Road/Forest Service Road 411) and winds
  

  Courtesy of Flickr member:Wyoming99!, Van Hayes

  through glacial moraines to several lake trailheads. You’re specifically looking for the Lake Louise trailhead. You can fish the lakes (with a Wyoming license – see Whiskey Mountain Tackle about one).

• Check out the north end of the Wind River Valley by taking Horse Creek Road/Forest Service Road 285 (the turn-off is in town) to Double Cabin trailhead in the Shoshone National Forest. At the very least drive as long as you’ve got time.

• If you can’t find part (or even one) of the largest Bighorn Sheep herd in North America, head to the Bighorn Sheep Interpretive Center for the stuffed version.

• Union Pass: A gravel road leads up the pass providing access to expansive meadows, spectacular views of the Teton, Wind River and Absaroka mountains, and the headwaters of three great North American rivers: the Colorado, the Mississippi, and the Columbia.  Directions: 10 miles northwest of Dubois on U.S. Highway 287. Turn at Union Pass Road.

• If you’ve got half a day, take the 4.8 mile round-trip hike to Upper and Lower Jade Lakes. The Jade Lake’s trailhead is adjacent to Brooks Lake Campground. Just after coming off Togwotee Pass look for the Brooks Lake Recreation Area access road (quite a bit north of Dubois).

And about that Jackalope?  You can’t drive out of town without a stop at the Exxon station, some photos, and chocolate.

Seeing is Believing... I told you the first photo was just an advertisement. You didn't believe me?!

There's aren't many states better suited for an all-American road trip, than Wyoming. Not much is traversed via interstate highway, so many of the towns are isolated and brandish scads of character.

Where is Dubois? It’s north and west of the center of the state. From Jackson (actually Moran Junction) take highway 26/287 East (you’ll see a sign). It’s about an hour drive.  From Lander, take 26/287 West. It’s about the same distance…’bout an hour down the road ya see?