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Mountain Men & Curve Cowboys
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Wyoming, The Big Sky
Don Bouchard
05/01/2006
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Photography by Don Bouchard
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Wyoming—97,100 square miles. 27,000 miles of paved and maintained roads. There
are a mere 374 stoplights in the entire state, and there I sat on my black and
chrome Harley ElectraGlide Classic in downtown Jackson waiting for one of them
to turn green. In that moment, looking around, the buildings, the road, the
traffic, the tourists, the civilization—all just seemed to fade away. I could
feel a part of the early frontier, as written about by Pulitzer Prize–winning
author A.B. “Bud” Guthrie, come to life. With little effort, I imagined this
spot as it was 173 years ago—a valley, nestled among some of the most glorious,
snow-capped, and rugged mountains on earth. Some spots simply transcend what we
humans do to them and manage to retain their own essential character. Jackson
Hole, The Grand Tetons, Yellowstone—these places are some of those few special
spots. I could easily imagine myself in the company of Jedediah Smith, William
Sublette, David Jackson, and Jim Bridger—on my way to the 1832 Rendezvous, just
up the valley from here. Rendezvous: a gathering of the tribes; where mountain
men, Indians, trappers, scouts, and traders gathered each year to ride, swap
stories, trade goods, eat, drink, dance, party, and fight in the glorious
wilderness that was, and still is, northwestern Wyoming.
 Pounding the pavement to the Curve Cowboy Reunion. (Click image to enlarge)
While my imagining
was a distant trip in time, it was truly not far off the mark in any other
detail. I was on the road, in the final few miles of the 1700-mile trek from
Texas to a Rendezvous of a modern sort—the Curve Cowboy Reunion 2005.
Curve Cowboy Reunion (CCR) is a charitable and educational organization that
originally came together from the BMW Luxury Touring Group internet mailing
list. Each year, at the end of August, CCR is held in a different and
awe-inspiring location, situated in the heart of prime motorcycle riding
country. This time, the venerable Jackson Lake Lodge in the heart of Grand Teton
National Park was hosting CCR, and I just could not resist the invitation to
attend and experience thoroughly the spectacular roads and wilderness of
Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks. Just to
get out there.
 Wide open spaces are guarded by the Grand Tetons. (Click image to enlarge)
Though still strongly oriented to the big Beemer LT,
CCR is open-minded enough to accept all riders—even a confirmed Harley guy. So,
here I was, headed for a week of riding, swapping stories, trading goods,
eating, drinking, dancing, and partying, like the Rendezvous of decades past. I
didn’t expect the CCR crowd to do much fighting.
 Mammouth Hot Springs, Wyo. (Click image to enlarge)
The logistics of attending
the weeklong CCR functionally dictate day rides from the central home base. This
is a very different experience from my usual motorcycle trip, which typically
consists of planned stops each night at various places along a loop from start
to finish. I was concerned that the former arrangement could quickly cause me to
tire of the few access roads linking the lodge to the surrounding area.
Not
to worry! Though I covered some of the roads 20 or more times, it never seemed
that way. The constantly varying light, temperature, wildlife, and companionship
transformed each trip into a unique and memorable ride. This type of motorcycle
adventure allows one to thoroughly explore and truly appreciate an area in a way
that simply passing through it doesn’t allow. And, of course, there is no
packing and unpacking each day! It was, after 35 years of riding loops, a new
experience for me, but one that I will return to regularly now that I have
discovered it.
 Ox Bow moose. (Click image to enlarge)
The Grand Tetons are young, rugged, sharp-edged and steeply
peaked mountains—not old, round, and gentle slopes. They cut into the air,
challenging the sky with their beautiful and unmistakable shapes, regardless of
whether the heavens around them are clear, deep blue or a stormy maelstrom of
gray and black. They abruptly rise from the flat and lush grasslands to lofty,
snow-capped heights without the softening touch of gentle foothills. Painted
with a master’s palette knife, not a soft watercolor brush, they reach out and
grab your eye, holding it possessively, demanding your attention and
appreciation. As I rode north from Jackson to the lodge, the late afternoon sun
silhouetted the western horizon, dramatically emphasizing the contrasting
textures and colors of the warm green pine forests and sprawling yellow prairie
meadows against the cool bluish purple mountains’ majesty of the Grand Tetons.
My late afternoon arrival following a long day did not deter me from
immediately venturing out from my spacious and comfortable accommodations. I
semi-unpacked the bike, leaving my riding clothes, fold-up camp lounger, and
photography equipment aboard, and rode south to the Snake River access just as
the sun set behind the peaks with a scant few wispy pink clouds. Being so near
to mountains so tall affords a long and lingering window to enjoy the soft, warm
light of the gloaming. I passed the last of a cadre of photographers on their
way out as I rode in. Once at the beaver ponds, I had the place to myself.
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