Stopping in Wyoming.

After Pittsburgh, my next stop (was actually to swing back to the farm to tie up loose ends and build a garden wall) was to visit the cousins in Wyoming.

Three days travel past the Minnesota hills
by the Mississippi and the great multitude of roadside stands that told me I was in South Dakota, and I made the cousins' place in Worlin.  There was a dusting of snow in the high pass in June up above Powder Creek and the locals told me it was nothing out of the ordinary.

I'm not sure how to express the level of support and encouragement that cousin Mike has always given me, this trip being no exception.  Of the 23 of us cousins, Mike is the oldest.  He and his wife Joy have been battered about a bit these last few years, going from hospital to hospital, and too often funeral to funeral.  They're both in fine health, but there's been a lot of mortal partings in the family the last few years and in Joy's family as well.

They hosted me for a week out that way in some beautiful country.  Joy gave me a tour of the Buffalo shop she's been doing leathwork for:

There were some Buffalo still on their feet as well:

And a raptor on his feet:

This happened too:

But I think it's more fun if I don't explain what was happening that led to so many riderless horses cutting through downtown.

I also got a few grand tours of the locality complete with in depth local histories about the early ranchers, the range wars, family doings from several generations back (involving ne'er-do-wells, train trips and severed heads) and the truth behind BrokeBack Mountain.  (For the record, it's actually BrokeBack Creek).

All this was orchestrated in large part by Joy's father (also named Mike) who is quite an entertaining man, to say the least.

Now if this crowd sounds familiar, it's probably because these are the same fine people I once met traveling by bike in the opposite direction.

Anyway, if you're still reading, you can expect the next post to also be about Wyoming, largely regarding hot springs and grand vistas.