I haven't seen Bob Bauer in about 20 years. The last time I'm sure I saw him was at Dick Dillof's place in Paradise Valley. I may have seen him at Al and Emily's house in Helena about 17 years ago. However, Bob's zest for life has not faded in my mind.
I first met Bob on a river trip 26 years ago. I was living in a shack on a dead end jeep road outside Whitefish. Bob was to join a troop of outdoor types including myself, Dick Garvey, Dick Dillof, Craig, Brad, Doc Stein and others for one of the infamous Missouri / Marias river trips through the Missouri breaks orchestrated by Railroad Dick Garvey. I had the privilege of having Bob as my only passenger in my jeep pickup that had around 250,000 miles. I immediately sensed a colorful character and and a piercing mind that tolerated no BS in his presence. Any form of arrogance or pomposity wilted by mere proximity to Bob.
But my favorite memory of Bob has taken on the mythological proportions of my young years.
About 25 years ago my friend Robin Thomas came for a visit from Tennessee via Amtrak. Robin was a fine musician and wit. Robin was killed in a car accident about 17 years ago. That leaves only Dick Dillof and myself as witnesses to this memory.
Robin, Dick and myself left Dick's caboose in Paradise Valley and drove to a rundown apartment in Livingston where Bob was staying. We found Bob in the bathtub . The three of us sat back on the back legs of straight chairs and had a cheerful discussion regarding I remember not what through the open bathroom door. Next we watched as Bob put on some of his finest for our excursion. Dick already had on a preposterous cowboy getup including woolen poncho (Latin style) and a silk scarf tied around his neck to an impossibly tight degree. And what occasion would bring young bachelors to such a point? Why, Singles Night at the IGA food store outside Bozeman, of course.
The store was on some highway outside of town. There we found lots of young men and quite a few women. I guess this was the 80's version of internet dating. Everyone was a bit nervous. After a bit of doddling, Dick, Robin and myself found that we were without the pleasure of Bob's company. However, fairly quickly Bob's famous laugh permeated the building. After persuing this auditory clue we found Bob in the back of the store ensconced between the pickles and the red meat. He was in one of two lines of alternating male and female participants in a potato passing race!
At the moment I saw Bob he was trying to pass a potato from under his chin to a very buxom woman. It was his earnestness and bravado that stands out in my memory.
I live in central Alaska on a homestead of my making. I've lived in Alaska for most of the years since I've last seen Bob. In his youth, Bob spent a summer on the Noatak river in N. W. Alaska with his parents who were expert wildlife photographers. He and I talked of paddling the Noatak but it never happened. I paddled the Noatak two summers ago with a Canadian friend. While fishing for grayling on an unnamed tributary I built a small rock cairn in Bob's memory not knowing the last day of his earth walk was near at hand. I imagine Bob's spirit watching over that country -- some of the wildest in the world. A landscape very suited to his nature.
-Mark Taylor, Fairbanks Alaska, September 2010
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| Mark enjoying a moosehead |
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