WYOMING - in a word, awesome!

To me, the Grand Tetons were like mountains in a German fairy tale, or the jagged, impossibly tall peaks in a vampire movie.  The highest point of our trip was in Wyoming, crossing the continental divide at 10,000 feet.

In the Shoshone Indian reservation the landscape turned Martian–red, rocky and deserted.  At one point a sheriff driving a pickup truck stopped to make sure we were ok.  That night we slept in the basement of the church in Crowheart, a tiny place boasting the church, a store, and a school.  Looking in the church’s guest book we discovered that other cross country bicyclists had stayed there over the past year!

In Hiland Wyoming, population 10, we were invited to pitch our tent behind the store/restaurant, as a storm was blowing up.  So, we spent the night in the good company of horses, geese, and several cowboys who lived in trailers behind the store.  Bob, the proprietor, had handwritten sayings of Jefferson and other freedom fighters and stuffed rattlesnakes posed in striking position decorating the store’s interior.

In Gurnsey a chubby, joking man in overalls named Richard asked us to take shelter in his shop trailer.  We’d met him, his wife and neighbors at a Mexican restaurant, where he’d held forth with many funny stories, laughing more than anyone else.  The next morning he told us, “my bull’s in the neighbor’s pasture, so I’ve got to go mend fence.”

Hang in there, lots more Wyoming soon!