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The country between Tensleep and Worland, Wyoming is dry, dry, dry. Badlands. Baaaad. The Moon, with breathable atmosphere and a barbed wire fence. I kept getting passed like I was standing still.
Ah well. If you're in Hell, why not drive like it?
I just did a quick accounting. Been gone 14 days and spent $424. Didn't stint, did whatever I wanted to. Comes to $30/day. Course this does not include gas or the blown tire, which may come to an equal amount. I'll know when the Visa bill arrives. But this means I can live indefinitely, traveling almost every day, on around $1800 a month pre-tax. I've been far too conservative in my planning. I could have retired 10 years ago. That's a decade I'll never get back. Grump.
Well, I have to buy a new truck every now and then. Maybe 8 years ago. And there are other things. I may not always be the splendid specimen I no doubt am today, or perfectly healthy. Hard to imagine. Grump anyway.
Hot Springs State Park at Thermopolis is a thoroughly pleasant place to spend an afternoon. You can have a soak at the sulphurous State Bath House, then shower if you like and spread a picnic lunch under enormous shade trees at a perfectly lush and manicured park. With all the water and shade, the breeze is cool, and the temptation to take a nap may become overwhelming.
And for all you devotees of Silas Marner, here's the salient point: It is all absolutely FREE.
There are places to spend a little money here. There's a waterpark for the kids, and a massage spa for us codgers. But you can have a very pleasant time with nothing in your pockets but wishes. And maybe a sandwich.
The main entrance under the railroad tracks may be tight for some motorhomes at 12 feet, but there is a posted alternate route. You can't camp at the park, but there are several decent looking places in town. I myself went down the Wind River canyon to Boysen State Park at the eponymous reservoir.
I may have to make a long day tomorrow and run for Colorado and altitude. In fact, I feel a strong pull toward Lake City - one of my favorite places on earth. If there were only a symphony orchestra anywhere near, I'd buy a cabin there, perhaps sell the trailer, and be done with it.
Alas, it is in quite the middle of nowhere. Well, no. Creede is in the middle of nowhere. Lake City is sort of on the outskirts of nowhere.
I wonder if Bruno is still cooking up Salmon en croute at the Lodge? Slurp.
At 10,000 feet or so, it should be cool. Aannd....I may still have time to squeeze in an overnight hike along the continental divide.
I heard my mother's voice in that. When I was a kid I used to hate it when she said: "We'll see." Put that way, it was a "no" against which there was small rhetorical recourse. Sometimes it even shut me up.
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