About one minute after I crossed the border from Colorado to Wyoming, I saw this and knew I had definitely left the urban sprawl of Denver far behind.
I drove through the outskirts of Cheyenne to my overnight destination, a way station on my way to the Grand Tetons. I wasn’t sure what to expect other than it was a state park and it was named after Curt Gowdy, the sportscaster. Sure, I thought when I made the reservation, it might be a fun place. Well, the entrance did NOT disappoint!
When I checked in at the registration kiosk, the woman said, “Oh, you picked the nicest campground here” and I thought to myself, it’s all pretty good so far. I drove past a couple of fields with trailers and RVs scattered around and wondered if that was it. It wasn’t so I kept going. Onto a gravel road. For three miles. Rutted and washboarded after recent rains, it was slow going and I debated whether this campsite would really be worth it.
It was. This was the view of the lake, and my little campsite was right on the lake. Score!
In the morning, I took a walk around, enjoying the explosion of wildflowers on the trail.
And I spotted my tiny trailer from across the lake. Pretty cool spot, right? Of course, you can’t actually see the other three RVs sharing that spot with me, which is kind of the whole art of taking campground photos: crop or compose it so people think it’s just you and nature and they don’t see the RVs behind the bush or around the bend!
The trail wound around to this view of the rock-covered hills. I’m not sure what created these things but they looked rugged as Wyoming should be and I walked back to my trailer and hitched up thinking that woman at the kiosk was right: this was the best spot. I’ll be back, even though it was one of the few places in my three-plus years that had absolutely zero cell signal (Verizon or ATT). Worth it, though.
Folks, this is perfect weather for today’s game. Not a breath of air.