On our drive back to the campsite, James put on his “Best of Country” mix and Chris was delighted, admitting his secret passion for country music. The boy from Nebraska and the boy from southern Connecticut sang sentimental duets and harmonies to Conway Twitty, Roger Miller, John Denver, and the Everly brothers the rest of the way home.
We decided that night to fish for dinner, three of us having brought our fly-fishing poles. Matthew, Conner, and I went down to the lake at sunset, determined to “be men” and catch and cook our own meal. Unfortunately, we looked more like the Three Stooges. First, none of us had actually used our poles before and had no idea how to secure a fly on the line. Then, though we did our best to imitate “A River Runs Through It,” each of us mumbling, “eleven o’clock, one o’clock,” we spent far more time having to untangle our fishing lines from each other’s then actually ever getting a fly in the water. Finally, Matthew hooked Conner twice, rather than a fish, then broke his pole on a rock. We grumbled our way back to the campsite, admitting when we got there, “It’s pasta night again, boys.”
Day Five’s highlights included having to save James when he got excited and started following a Mama Bear and her cubs, and then later playing, “Where’s James?’ rather than “Where’s Waldo?” when James decided to run ahead down a mountain and flash his bottom at us while hiding behind various trees. We cooked that night together while singing along to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.”
Chris’s last day was marked with a beautiful morning hike up to Artist’s Point in Yellowstone and an afternoon trip to the Grand Tetons. In the mountains we walked to Taggart Lake and sat and talked, then had to laugh when we realized it was already seven o’clock at night. We headed back to Moose Junction and, after getting lost while singing to “Millennium Funk Party,” ate baby-back ribs at Dornan’s, the outdoor steakhouse, and watched the moon rise over the mountains.
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