Wheatland, Wyoming

Due in Colorado later in the evening, we decided to spend the entire day driving, leaving time for stops, meandering, and an early arrival in the Denver area. All great stuff, but it meant no return visit to Devils T. The crappy weather took the charm out of any hike we might do, and we had done the walk around the base in sunnier times, so no real loss.

After watching a bit of the South Africa-Mexico World Cup match,* we hit the hotel breakfast. A first on this trip. Made a waffle, enjoyed a few hard boiled eggs, juice and coffee, and then hit the road. Re-traced our steps back to the highway, driving by DT, and on the same one-lane roads we used coming in.

Northern Wyoming makes for pretty boring driving. Though not terrible to look at, the scenery becomes dull and repetitive rather quickly. Except, that is, when you almost almost almost hit a deer sprinting across the highway. If LVL hadn’t said something, if I wasn’t going pretty slow, and if I hadn’t had an extra serving of the hotel coffee, we surely would have hit and killed it. Hearts racing, human and animal.

Huge ranch after huge ranch, seemingly all with a few cows/horses and a ton of land. Little of note, perhaps with the exception of an emergency pee break just outside of Lusk, WY. Pulled off into the driveway of a ranch only to find a rest area less than one mile ahead. Oops.

About 3:30, stopped in Wheatland, WY for a break and some hot/real food.** Peanut butter pretzels and rice cracker mix had begun to oppress us. The Wheatland Inn Family Restaurant was a classic small town roadside diner. Lots of rural-looking old people, there to get a bite to eat and a measure of town gossip/etc. Trucks, suspenders, flannel workshirts, cowboy boots. Great service (waitress in tie dye shirt and a wicked 1977 feathered ‘do), not great eats. Luke warm Hormel chili for me and some jalapeno/cheese fried things to share. The cheese things were edible, the chili was not. Love the lacquered wood clocks for sale, especially Elvis and Terrapin Station.

Filled some gas next door to diner. Two scrawny, middle-aged dudes coming out of the gas station convenience store stopped to check out our DC plates (pointing, elbowing, and whispering) without looking at me or caring that I was watching the whole thing go down. It was not a “welcome to our corner of the world” scene; rather, it seemed more along the lines of “go back where you come from, pinko.” Our (my) first real sense of otherness, and the first notion that our Obama-Biden magnet might be cause for some controversy/awkwardness.

* Ten minutes of watching suggests that Bafana Bafana = lucky lucky to come away with a draw. We are sosuperpsyched for the World Cup.

** Mary Lloyd tells us at dinner that a friend of hers from Wheatland reports that it is the most bigoted town in the U.S. of A. Can’t really say I’m surprised.