American Apples

“Have you seen the Geyser before?” He asks

“Yes, yesterday evening” I reply

“Ah, I saw the eruption earlier today. Are you from around here?” He askes again, moving a little closer to me.  

“No, I’m from Canada, I camped at Lewis Lake, you?”

“I’m from Montana, I stayed here last night” he says, gesturing in the general direction of the Old Faithful visitor center.

His name is Dallas, and he isn’t originally from Montana. It’s almost undetectable but he has a slight twang and that Cowboy-esk American accent slips out on some words. He’s wearing cowboy boots under his Carharts and a baseball cap with mountains on it. Shocks of dark, unbrushed hair fall out from under the cap. He hasn’t shaved today…or maybe for a few days? He slept in his car last night, in the Old Faithful parking lot and to be honest, I’m jealous. I had to drive 45 minutes to get here this morning and would have much rather stayed in the parking lot last night than the cold and snowy campground at Lewis Lake 44 kms away.

It’s relatively early and pretty cold out, due to the time and the temperature there are only a few other tourists mingling around waiting to see the eruption, they are in pairs or small groups. We are the only two who are here on our own and we more or less have the viewing platform to ourselves, I’m enjoying the company. I’m pacing as I eat my oatmeal because I’m cold. I have thin shoes on and my feet are pretty sure that the temperature is hovering around zero. We chat as I eat and we wait for Old Faithful to make her next debut. We talk about Banff, Jasper, Glacier and Montana… “Gods Country” he calls it, referring to Montana. I shoot him a side eyed questioning look but I don’t argue, it really is a beautiful state. One I would gladly go back to.

The geyser gurgles…. nothing big yet. He mocks a few other tourists who OOOOH and AAHHH at the small eruption. I grin and go back to my oatmeal.

“Not the most appetizing today” I say, glancing down at the bowl of oatmeal in my hands.

“I had oatmeal as well, with brown sugar, walnuts and honey. I can grab you some honey if you want to make yours taste better…” he offers.

“I’m ok…I just need to add more apples next time, mine is brown sugar and dehydrated apples…with cinnamon” I turn down the offer.

“Why dehydrated?” He enquires.

I explain that the border doesn’t allow most fruit over but since mine was all dehydrated I think they let it slide. I also haven’t had a chance to get groceries in a while so I have no fresh fruit.

It’s at that moment that the geyser erupts. It’s a powerful display of seismic activity and I dutifully snap some pictures. Old Faithful continues for a few minutes…you can only take so many pictures of water so I grab my coffee and continue talking to Dallas. We chat about Grizzlies, bear spray, camping and kayaking. He suggests I wash my dishes in the visitor centre… he suggest that I just “Do what you want (to a point) and ask forgiveness later”.  

The show is over, Old Faithful has done her duty and I take his advice, cleaning my coffee and oatmeal cups out in the washroom. When I’m finished with the dishes I see him again…tinkering with the radiator of the beat up car he drove here.

“Left the truck at home, this thing gets better mileage. But I’m not sure if she’ll make it back...” He explains as he pours water into the radiator.

I wish him a safe drive home and he tells me to be safe on my hike.

I do the Purple Mountain hike. It’s 5 Km of steady climb to the top of a hill (not a mountain). I’m awarded with beautiful views of the Madison, Gibbon and Firehole Rivers and the vast and changing landscape of Yellowstone. It’s a good hike but I’m hungry and I want to get to a few more hikes or walks in today. I run down … or kinda jog down with my heavy hiking boots on.

I reach the road after the hike and walk towards the jeep, thinking that I’ll reward myself with a fruit bar I have stored in the cooler. I’m craving something fresh but the bar will have to do. And that’s when I see it…a piece of paper of some sort sitting on the Jeep…did I get a ticket??

I get closer and see that it’s not a ticket, it’s a note, held down by an apple.

It’s from Dallas.

Underneath the largest Honey Crisp apple that I have ever seen, on a yellow lined piece of paper, in quick but neat penmanship a note reads

“Try a NON Dehydrated form of a USA Apple.

Delicious!

-          Dallas”

I take a refreshing bite of the apple, it’s exactly what I was craving. And I smile.

I guess he got the radiator figured out.