Day three

Leslie and I woke up in the darkness. My cough wasn't getting any better and she thought we had better do something. We found a local Walmart on the new ipad and it was one of those supercenters that is open all night. We got back into our car in the cold pre dawn hour and made our way to the cavernous megastore.

Walmart is one of my favorite places for people watching but Leslie sort of ixnayed my thoughts about bringing my camera inside to capture the local fauna. The people that work there were not exactly beaten down, maybe a better characterization would be just accepting of the bottom rung that life had left them on its ladder. Certain employees might have had a hard time functioning in the world at large but Walmart gave them a wonderful opportunity to have a job that fit their particular skill set. A great way for Americans to send their money back to China, with maybe a few stops in between in the deep south.

We got our cough syrup and a new 4 gig sdcard for the nikon. Got searched on the way out by the old guy that thought we might have a stolen cd in the bottom of our sack. Eventually we made our way back to downtown Cody. The Irma, Buffalo Bill's Hotel and named for his daughter, was as quaint and charming as ever. Marlboro men, hunters and packer types, all with their wrangler jeans and idiosyncratic style of baseball caps all chowed down under the ornate tin ceiling. With their butch swagger these guys would have fit in perfectly fine down on Christopher Street. Our waitress had a long beautiful mane and all the personality of a fence post, having heard it all and seen it all before. I read the local paper; a fisherman had disappeared on a local river fork, his car and possessions waiting on the bank for him never to return. Would have to bet that you have to score another one for the local grizzly bear population, the ursidae knocking out the humans at a record rate this year. We would try our utmost not to become a statistic. And we stayed on our toes the entire week. The pancakes and food at the Irma didn't quite match up to memory but I suppose even Buffalo Bill can have an off day now and then.

After checking out of the hotel we drove over to the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, the object of the whole side trip. The Museum is in reality a combination of six museums, the Whitney Gallery of Western Art, the Plains Indian Museum, Buffalo Bill Museum, Remington Gun Museum and the Draper Museum of Natural History. The latter was built since my last visit. The Whitney is a fantastic museum, with Remington's studio on display. The last time I was there W.H.D. Koerner's studio was also displayed and I missed it this trip. The museum has marvelous canvasses by Bierstadt and Moran, N.C. Wyeth and Alexander Proctor and reaches into the present with work by people like Bill Schenck and William Matthews. Joseph Henry Sharp's cabin is now set up in the garden. If you love American and western art, find a reason to visit this museum.

I found the Plains Indian Museum equally compelling and visually stimulating. War bonnets, parfleches, beadwork and every other conceivable article from the wonderful northern tribes. I read a beautiful chant from a Fox warrior about facing danger and death.

The gun museum wasn't really my thing. The Draper is in a beautiful building, some of the dioramas and layout were substandard but it was interesting from an educational standpoint.  We spent about four or five hours at the facility and it is highly recommended. Great exhibit on old time cowboy and cowgirl apparel and finery.

We drove back on the scenic highway 20. It would be a long commute back to our home base in Jackson. The day was sunny and the midday sky was beautiful. We passed this packer on the side of the road.  One thing we found was that every day was special and with the different light, every day was different. We could even notice the differences in the trees day by day.

What I hadn't figured was that most of yesterday's snow in the pass had now melted and all those beautiful shots I had planned to take were now gone with the wind. Sylvan Lake had completely changed its character. You have to shoot it when you see it.

We drove around the gorgeous and expansive Yellowstone Lake, the largest lake at altitude in the lower 48. We saw this gent painting on the shoreline and stopped to take a picture. A bald eagle soared overhead.

We stopped at Lewis Falls on the way back to take a short walk and stretch our legs. It is like a scene from the movie"How the west was won" or an old Hamm's Beer commercial.

Somewhere along the way we saw this coyote hunting and catching himself a snack. He was magnificent with a bushy tail and thick coat. We saw an emaciated coyote later on in the Lamar Valley and know that this guy was living the high life. Wondered if he could be a wolf as he was so much bigger than the other guy but I think that his ears are too pointy. Maybe a vulcan wolf?

We followed the Snake River back past the Tetons and of course had to stop a half dozen times to take pictures again. The view to the left with the long shelf reminded me of a painting by Maynard Dixon.

The tetons were starting to catch the last rays of the evening sun and were on their way to their own Maxfield Parrish impression.  To the east the Gros Ventre refused to be left out of the dance.

I think that it is impossible for any artist, photographer or simple lover of nature not to be transfixed by the immortal beauty of these peaks. I had to stop every time I drove by the jagged mountains.

We got back to Jackson in darkness and set out for a bite to eat. We walked around the square and looked at windows and menus and finally settled on a place called Trio. Trio is an award winning restaurant started by a couple chefs who used to work nearby at the Snake River Grill.

Any how we walk in and the attractive hostess engages us in a conversation that goes something like this: Two please. Do you have a reservation? Do we need one? On a friday night at 6:30 you are asking me if you need a reservation. Are you kidding? Okay, we'll go somewhere else. Thanks. I didn't tell you I wouldn't seat you. This way please. 


We sort of walked behind her shaking our heads, not sure why we needed the rather public and pointless lesson. The menu was interesting and we ordered appetizers. I had a nice salad that was comprised of pears, endive, candied walnuts, point reyes bleu cheese and a honey walnut vinaigrette. Leslie had a marvelous and beautifully presented plate of Smoked Trout and Beets made up of roasted beets, micro greens, herbed goat cheese and a toasted pumpkin seed vinaigrette. It was just amazing, both to the palette and visually. If I could figure out how to get the pictures of her phone I would post a picture.

I had a glass of the fleur de carneros pinot noir. Leslie had one of their magical cocktails, an agave margarita I think. We ordered our entrees off the adventurous menu. I had a truffled calzone made with house-made truffled ricotta, sautéed spinach, parmesan and shaved crimini mushrooms. Leslie had the Elk Bolognese, braised north american elk, pappardelle pasta and parmesan reggiano.

I loved my calzone. The luscious truffle smell overpowered the table. Crust was perfect and I am a miserable whiner about such things. Asked for and received a bit of crushed red pepper and I was set. Could have used a touch more garlic but why be picky? Leslie's pappardelle was less great, decent but a bit chintzy with the game. About fifteen minutes into our entree she mentioned to our server that she had never received the second drink she had ordered, a kumquat margarita. The server said that they were out of kumquats. Les said "Fair enough, I had said that if they were out to bring me a blood orange margarita." Could they not have informed us? It was then that an icy wall clanged down between the staff and the customer. The tall waiter tossed his blow dryed hair back and we were dismissed for speaking up. We were treated diffidently for the rest of our evening and ended up skipping dessert and getting the hell out of there.

Which leads me to my topic de jour. Leslie worked in a great french restaurant, I have eaten in good restaurants since childhood. One would think that restaurants would try to please their customers, to give them common courtesy and the benefit of the doubt in close calls, to try to make them happy if they are not complete assholes. However what I have found is that in very trendy spots and chi chi upscale joints, the inverse is often true, the customer is expected to toe the line and submit to the kind of crap and punishment that we ultimately had to dodge with the hostess and the wait staff. Fine dining should not have to be an exercise in S&M. We are so precious and you are so lucky to be eating at our establishment that we will see how much crap we can dish out before you either piss all over yourself or leave in the remote chance that you still have any self respect.


Trio was good, so good in fact that I would love to go back. It would be even better without the bit of attitude.