We had a 75 mile day planned along 287 to Dubois (pronounced doo-boys). We gained more than a thousand feet of altittude, but I barely noticed with the road rolling over climbs and decsents all day.
Lush green grass and brush ran along the red stone cliffs, some reaching over 200 feet high. Every so often a ranch would sit tucked in by the hillside and i wondered what life must be like in such a beautiful yet remote area.
About 2 or 3 miles before the junction if route 26 I encountered a steep downhill, the road twisting through the most alien terrain I have seen. Red and biege bolder with green tint spilled along the hillside and into a canyon below. The road slightly elevated, snaked through the boulder beds almost appearing to hover. I raced down road with a quick feeling of disconnect, as though I could have been travling on a different planet.
The hills became more subtle as I reached Dubois, another small town with a look left over from the frontier days, timber framed stores, wooden sidewalks and old neon marquees. A man in a vest and sleeves sat at an upright piano outside one store playing rags. Men eating at a local estaurant donned long moustache reaching down to their jowls.
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