As Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford from Park & Rec once so eloquently put it, “treat yo’self!”
When I was in Montana, I did just that. I tasted heaven when I went to the factory that makes the most delicious ice cream I’ve ever tasted and I relaxed while soaking in the open-air mineral hot springs at Chico. And tell you what, it felt glorious.
The day started as an unplanned adventure/exploration and quickly turned into indulgence after indulgence.
While driving through town, we saw the distinctive turquoise stripe with red cursive type on white of a Wilcoxson’s Ice Cream truck — the same Wilcoxon’s that works hard to maintain it’s mystique. We quickly made the decision to follow it.
Wilcoxon’s is famous for being off the grid. They don’t do interviews. They don’t openly publish or advertise their address. They keep to themselves and let their cool, creamy, and delicious product do the talking and marketing for them.
All along the main drag, for mile after mile, we followed the truck with excitement and baited breath to see where it would turn to return to the unmarked and elusive factory from whence it came. When the blinker went on and the truck finally turned, we were heartbroken. It hadn’t gone back to the factory, but stopped at a gas station.
We dejectedly turned around and began to retrace our steps. The others I was traveling with were serious about finding this ice cream factory. Through the side streets in a small Montana city we drove and drove, until looking down through an alley, a glimpse was had of a turquoise stripe painted at the base of a brick building painted white. We jumped out of the car and hurriedly strode down the alley. And there it was. Wilcoxson’s Ice Cream.
We walked into the front office door. It was immediately clear that they get very few outside visitors. They don’t offer tours. They don’t advertise where they are. They don’t want to be found or bothered. The employee who greeted us was initially confused at our intrusion, but once we explained that we were here because we love the ice cream and have for years, she laughed at our tenacity and determination to find the place. After a brief chat, we left them to their peace and quiet.
While there was no fresh ice cream to be had at the actual factory where it was made (it’s just not Wilcoxson’s style to encourage people to come looking for it), we drove down the street to a local hamburger joint and grabbed a soft serve ice cream cone with none other than Wilcoxson’s Ice Cream — as close to the source as possible. Thick and creamy, sweet and simple, cool and delicious — their soft serve ice cream is hands down the best I’ve ever had — but take that with a grain of salt since it was also the first ice cream my little gnome-self had ever had.
Once the ice cream was happily sitting in our bellies, our day continued to Chico Hot Springs. All that I had heard about it from the second home-owners in Jackson led me to believe that it was going to be ultra luxurious and divine. Now, I’m not saying that it wasn’t a fantastic place, I’m just saying She said that there are nicer springs out there (like Pagosa or Glenwood).
Chico is a cute resort with a fittingly rustic feel, seeing as it’s in Montana. We wandered around the hotel, my companions wanted to see if and how it had changed over the years. After we were done exploring, we snuck our way into the pool area that is meant/intended for guests only. The Chico pools are just that — pools fed and filled by a natural mineral spring. The larger of the two pools is warm and looks like a swimming pool while the small pool is hot and looks like a big jacuzzi. We sat for a bit on the pool edge and dangled our feet in, letting them soak. It was absolutely delightful. After a trip filled with hiking and foot abuse, it felt heavenly to take a load off and truly let them relax. Feeling weightless in the hot water, letting the minerals magically rejuvenate and energize was just what the gnome ordered.
Since we snuck in, we didn’t stay too long. One the drive back to Bozeman, my little gnome eyes had to fight to stay awake to see the beautiful and open scenery flying by. I lost the battle.
Today, I indulged. Today, I treated myself. Today, I bought what Donna and Tom have been selling for years. And I intend to do so again.
In general, travel is treating oneself, but I often forget in my hurry to see and do everything that sometimes I need to remind myself to slow down and stop to smell the Tulips, or taste the local specialty of fried snails, or participate in the local traditions and staples. And that’s exactly what I did on my weekend in Montana.