Two weeks in Wyoming ending in the great Oyster Ridge Music Festival

This is Wyoming every direction you look as long as you aren't on I-80 or behind a camper in Yellowstone

On the way back from Yellowstone, Mitch, Janet, Sophia and I stopped for some pizza at Studebaker's in Montpelier, Idaho and caught an opening weekend showing of Harry Potter.  As a town situated in the lonesome part of the crowded West, Montpelier numbers among that distinguished municipal fraternity for the victims of crimes by Butch Cassidy for which he was never caught.  In 1896 Butch and his Wild Bunch robbed the Bank of Montpelier and lit off for the hills on horse.  Strangely, the sheriff grabbed his gun and pursued on bicycle.  He never caught up to them.  The Bank of Montpelier had the last laugh however, as they still serve the financial needs of the good citizens of Bear Lake County and no doubt they helped erect the historical signage on Washington Street about the heist.

The sky is incredible in Wyoming, especially west of Jeffrey City on SR 287/789

The next morning, my crew set out for two weeks in Wyoming.  Our first week we collected seeds for the Lander office of the Bureau of Land Management.  We drove around a lot, and we saw a lot of sky, hills, antelope, sage grouse and sagebrush.  It is some of the least traveled country of the lower 48.  On our way out to a collection site, we drove past a place called Lost Cabin---named after a Scottish settler presumed to be lost by the Shoshone after he set up shop in a place they saw no reason to ever live in.  Beyond that lay a fracking area, where ConocoPhilips kindly alerted us of the possibility of lethal levels of Hydrogen Sulfide gas.

After traversing to the remote side of all that, I pleasantly collected seeds and gazed out over the "range," and I tried to figure out how it was that I came to be in the windswept, forlorn heart of Wyoming combing the ground for the seeds of specific ground-hugging plants.  The answer was never made clear.  Although recently I took stock again as I sat in Morton, WA trying desperately to find a reason not to pursue a career as a middle school English teacher in some destitute school district.  I guess moments of life-course lucidity happen from time to time, and the perspective that they grant usually leads to thoughts such as "Oh gaawdd, this is not what I signed up for!"  Considering I signed up for the UCC to schlep chainsaws through blizzard and bear den, things seem to be unfolding in my best interest.  And should I hazard to divine what slouching heathen of a situation approaches to be confronted the next time I audit my life, I find the prospect slightly less dreadful when I remember I no longer collect seeds of obscure plants in central Wyoming.

We surveyed the River for possible swimming holes as we hadn't showered in a week

 The weekend after Lander, we checked out the Popo Agie River in Sinks Canyon.  I've never seen anything like it.  The river crashes along before it flows into the ground: the Sinks.  A quarter mile later, it reappears out of the rock: the Rise.  It's a big river, and it does not go through a tunnel.  It literally flows through rock.  At the Rise there are trout who try to swim upriver but cannot because they are unable to swim upstream through rock.  Oddly enough, they are not allowed to be fished, but they can be fed, so they have become real tubbers while waiting patiently for the rock to somehow disappear so that they might continue upriver.

The Sinks: where the river either drops down through Limestone bedrock or gets swallowed whole by a gargantuan sedentary terrestrial whale.

Our second week we again worked for the BLM, but this time in the fabulous town of Kemmerer (like Jimmer, or dimmer).  We again picked seeds.  The following weekend was the Oyster Ridge Music Festival, so I was able to stay and do fun things too.  Kemmerer is already notable as the location of the original JC Penney, and the museum/home of James Cash himself.  Apart from that Oyster Ridge is free.. and in Wyoming, a music festival is a guaranteed Big Deal.. and on top of that a free one with affordable food and beverage?  Yet Kemmerer is a small town, so even during it's big weekend, events were low key.

A charming house in Kemmerer, Wyoming, where all the houses are in a neighborhood, and there is only one neighborhood.

The view of the tracks from under the bridge.

 During acts we had already seen, we adventured around the town.  I don't understand how America developed her romantic fascination with trains, bridges and the hobo lifestyle, but I'm a sucker for that sort of sentimentalism. Relaxing under the bridge in Kemmerer was a highlight of my summer.

Sunset on the cargo train