>Casper Wyoming

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Today is a day off. We rise late and exercise. John shoots hoops in Pioneer Park with homeless men as an audience. I paddle in the hotel pool and then the jacuzzi. We are both getting soft and I can’t kid myself that this is exercise. Which miserable admission does not keep me from taking from the big Hampton breakfast one biscuit and sausage patty sandwich for the road.


We say goodbye to those snow covered mountains as we head East to the Wyoming border.


Those massive cliffs of colored rock begin.


If Tom Rea were with us he could tell us where the chartreuse green comes from.


Little America has spiffed up since we crossed the country in the 70’s and 80’s. Now they advertise 24 marble bathrooms. Truckers have spiffed up too, I guess.


It’s surprising what kind of photos the driver can take going 80 on an interstate.




Wind breaks appear, as well as signs indicating that sometimes this major interstate will just be closed for weather. What do you do then?


Trains, long and often and I feel compelled to try to document every one.



If the sun was out it might be more beautiful than we could bear.



This buckled formation looked scalloped at the bottom


and sometimes you can hear the groan of when it all shifted.



We are following the Mormon Trail, in reverse. Picture those wagons.


Not that you can see the sun to know where you are headed, but we turn North from Rawlins. Galia and Alan and I were here years ago to visit the prison which has become a museum. All of a sudden, flashing lights? We are pulled over for speeding. John passed a car going 82 in a 65 zone. I am resigned. John is pissed off, at himself of course. Officer Davis ambles back after the usual interval and let’s us go. I’m sure John hasn’t had a speeding ticket in 25 years. Thank you Officer Davis.


And look at the North Platte River, filling up its banks.








These are out pals Tom and Barb Rea and this is their really great house. You would be surprised how many rooms are in this house. Don and Edith have driven down from Sheridan. Tom and John are friends from Williams College. Barba and I met when she and Tom were dating, and she and I fell in love in Jeremiah Johnson Hot Springs on the Idaho-Montana border. Was that 1977?

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