Jackson Hole, Bryce Canyon, Zion, and Las Vegas 2012 - Day 2

The family in downtown Jackson, WY

 Our first day on the road led us to Dillon, MT.  We arrived just after 11:00 PM, and as we made our way down the empty, dark streets, following the signs for the KOA, which is tucked behind small houses in a rural part of town, the thought crossed my mind that perhaps my phone’s GPS was leading us somewhere creepy, where there would be a Charles Manson-like cult hiding in the bushes, waiting to murder us.  And then write things on the wall with our blood.  Why my mind instantly jumps to those kinds of scenarios, I do not know.  Needless to say, I was wrong; the signs led us to a quiet little KOA - free from murderous cults.  We were exhausted, you know, from all the napping we did earlier.

This morning, after depleting the entire town of their fuel, we headed south.  The drive to Jackson Hole took less than 5 hours, and we had a great time together.  I thought I would try my luck at taking a shower while driving down I-15 at 70 mph.  I’ve never experienced that feeling before.  It was nerve-racking; every bump (and there were many) had me convinced that I was about to crash through the shower door, like Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker extraordinaire.  I cut myself shaving (obviously), and if I were to have put on lipstick, it would’ve been an exact reenactment of that scene in Airplane.  I made sandwiches for lunch.  That was fun.  I found that if I positioned myself like a heavy metal guitarist, arranging my feet approximately 3 feet apart—my right leg slightly bent with my back leg fully extended—I could maintain enough balance to make a decent sandwich.  We still look like a bunch of drunks when we're walking in the RV, but eventually we'll get the hang of it.

As we passed another RV, we noticed the passengers carefully buckled up, secure in their seats, staring straight ahead, all safe and stuff.  Leah said, "look how they wear their seatbelts.  Isn't that cute?  And lame?"  Sometimes I think we are setting a bad example for our children. 

We arrived in Jackson at 1:15 and my mom was waiting for us at the Virginian Lodge.  Mom is spending the summer here, visiting my uncle Tom and his wife Kris.  My family has made the Virginian their hotel of choice for almost 40 years. It’s where we stayed 3 years ago (see 2009’s blog).  The Virginian has an RV park so we reserved a spot for 2 nights.  While Kenny and Leah set up camp (is that what you call it?  I’m still not hip to RV lingo), Chad and I walked a mile down the road to pick up our rental car.  I have a tip for you if you work for a modeling agency and are searching for THE most beautiful person in America, perhaps the world:  His name is Pasha and he works at Dollar Rent A Car in Jackson Hole, WY.  No joke.  (Chad agrees, so stop fussing about what he’ll think of this blog.)  Anyway, if you find yourself in Jackson, it's worth popping in and gawking at him.  We were asked if we’d like to upgrade, for a mere $10 per day, to a luxury car, loaded with 2 DVD players, air conditioning, leather/heated seats, and XM radio.  “No thanks,” we said.  Well, the Suburban that had been reserved for us had it all anyway.  For the price we were originally quoted.  Please hold while I add this atrocity to my growing list of things that really tick me off………..

We went downtown for some shopping.  As much as I love Jackson Hole, downtown Jackson has a surplus of overpriced        t-shirts and magnets.  That’s what we looked at for about 2 hours.  But I did find this adorable hat.  I think it will go with a number of pieces in my wardrobe. 

My mom had made reservations for us to eat at Bar J Chuckwagon in Wilson.  We met Tom and Kris at 6:30 for a chuckwagon supper followed by a western stage show.  We arrived to a full parking lot and a throng of people waiting in line.  We followed Tom and Kris straight through the crowd, to an attendant sitting at a counter.  We picked up our tickets and walked—right passed hundreds of people—to an empty table right next to the stage.  I found out Tom and Kris have known the owners for years and were able to get us some of the best seats in the house.  Bar J Chuckwagon is only open Memorial Day through Labor Day and in that time, 75,000 – 85,000 people come through their doors to enjoy their show.  They perform 7 days a week for 4 months and this dinner show is worth every cent. 

We sat down at our rustic table, and after a cowboy gave us warm welcome, and instructions on how to dish up (they can serve up to 750 people in 25 minutes – this place is a well-oiled machine), he did something very uncommon in venues that cater to tourists:  he took off his cowboy hat, and asked us to bow our heads and say grace.  They worked hard to recreate the menu from the 1800’s that camp cooks would serve cattle ranchers throughout the west, and the food was delicious.  The big difference being that we were served meat as the main course, and actual cowboys ate red beans.  Food and beverages were served on tin tableware and it was delicious.

A chuckwagon supper, just (sorta) like the cowboys used to eat!

Once dinner was over, one of the band members took the stage and talked a little about a cowboy’s way of life.  He gave us lessons on how the cattle drives worked in the 1800’s, how the beef industry works, and how REAL cowboy coffee used to be made (think: horseshoes and eggs).  Then a 5-man band , named The Bar J Wranglers, performed a western show  in which their talent rivals that of some of the most popular country-western talent out there.  They were hilarious, and gifted, and when they played some of the old country songs I was raised on, I got a little tear in my eye.

We’re all back in the RV now.  Kids are tucked in, Leah and Kenny are asleep in their room and Chad is patiently waiting for me to finish so we can turn this kitchen table into our bed (I love this thing).
Something about Wyoming makes me wish I were a cowgirl.

“I wanna drink my java from an old tin can
While the moon comes shinin' high
I wanna hear the call of a whippoorwill
I wanna hear those coyote cry. “

- Hank Snow (sung tonight by the Bar J Wranglers)

-The Niemeyers