Goodbye Old Paint

My original plan, after leaving Jackson was to return to Sheridan, WY, await two of Patti Atkins's friends to arrive in July, and lead a Croning Ceremony for Patti. Unfortunately, I was spent and could only invision myself heading home to Maine. Waiting two more weeks was unthinkable at this time. Patti was disappointed but said she understood my decision. So on June 26th, or so (time and dates eluded me on the road), I left Gerry Amadon and Patti Reilly's lovely home that sits beneath the Tetons in Wilson, Wy and Gayle and Lenny Francis headed north for their home in Billings, MT.

I headed northeast, through Togwotee Pass, southeastward through Dubois, Lander, and Rawlins to Interstate 80, just west of Laramie, WY. I had the Wind River Range to my right until Lander. I stopped at a prairie museum, which had a great collection of stone artifacts - my heart sang. There were great outcroppings of red rock formations along the way (see above). Just west of Laramie, in the Medicine Bow Mtns., I camped at a state park and slept among the rock people, that surrounded the camps. I expected to see a Mountain Lion; didn't even hear one. The next morning light had a pink cast, being reflected off the families of rock. I stopped at a pawn shop the next day and admired his rock collection. The shop keeper asked, "Are you a rockie?" I said yes to what I think he meant to be a rock enthusiast. He told me explicit directions of where to find what he called pebble agate. I acted like I knew what that was, to prove my rockie status. My friend in Sheridan had shown me a boulder in her garden by that name. As I drove east looking for the summit of Beaver Ridge (there were so many ridges how would I know) and a sign that would read something like Canadasis. This was after many, many miles of driving through desolate, sage covered dirt cattle ranges. I began to think I'd been hoodwinked (where'd that saying come from?), when, sure enough there to my left was a wooden sign pointing to Cadice Lake. I was to look for a "stream" that ran under the road. Well, the road was dirt, the stream was a gutter, the lake was a nearly dried up water hole, and the agates that were supposed to be lining the road, right there, seemed invisible. I picked up what I thought might be nearly formed agates. They didn't look at all like pebbles. But, I saw more antelope and horses; and I made it back to the main road without being stampeded by cattle, bitten by a rattler, or lassooed by a cowgirl.

I'd really intended to visit the University of Wyoming archeological museum in Laramie the next day, but I got on the road by 6 a.m. and into Laramie way too early to wait around. So, Eastward I continued.