Wyoming should be renamed "Whoa-ming." Ok maybe not, but this trip, these views, this week-- I set a new personal best for the number of times I breathed the word "whoa" when taking in nearly every view I laid eyes on. Whoa. I have more photos than you want to see. Truly more than you will see, but the mountains and the river, mixed with the donkeys and the company and the late evening dinners and the midafternoon naps and the clouds and the thundershowers-- it was magical. It's hard to believe it's September. It's hard to believe I have to go to work and be a contributor to society. It's hard to believe that Beaverdale is fenced in by literal wooden fences rather than epic mountains, domed cloud cover and the riffle of a river.
In Wyoming I wore ball caps and cutoff shorts. In Wyoming I hiked, waded and walked. In Wyoming I had fourth day hair (gasp!) and wore little to no blush. In Wyoming we were small and quiet and in awe. In Wyoming I wore a shirt that looked like one Bindi Irwin loaned me so I could act as a zookeeper for the day. In Wyoming I was a trout whisperer and not the trout slayer. In Wyoming a Calmer Palmer awoke early to the sound of donkey feet, then tiptoed out to the bench near the firewood, inhaled the steam of her french pressed coffee, sighed often and took in panoramic views. In Wyoming things were slow and deliberate. In Wyoming. Whoa-ming.
Life kicks in tomorrow. We've put the 20 inch Little Laramie rainbow trout in a brine (foreshadowing a really interesting post to come: smoked trout. booyah.) We've done the laundry, washing away the little bits of river and Chelsea, Kevin and I have dropboxed nearly 800 photos. [Pst. Photo credit for about 2/3 of these great images goes to them both. Chels and HBF: Thanks for sharing.]
More to come about the to and from, including a love letter to the Rocky Mountain National Park, facts about the four incredible national forests we drove through and a whole post about the incredible way HBF teaches fishing using all inclusive resort analogies. What an incredible western adventure at the Ed Hall Ranch. Before I hit the hay (not literally this time) I have to turn off my "out of office" message and be sure I know where to find my mascara. I'll dream of meadows and rapids.