Don’t get around much anymore. Not since March 2020 anyway. Guests arrive August 2021 and it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee and the buffalo chips.
My sisters Mary and Eileen and brother-in-law Brian ventured
from Florida to Wyoming to visit their brother (me, he, him) and family (she, she) and take a look
around the High Plains.
Wyoming and Florida are different places. For one thing, we
are a big square state and Florida is shaped liked a human appendage. Wyoming
high and dry; Florida low and wet. Blizzards generally don’t hit Florida.
Hurricanes usually skip Wyoming.
Both places have lots to see and you have to get out and see
them. In Wyoming, you get in the car, check the gas gauge, and drive to the
mountains. In Florida, you get in the car, check your insurance, and drive to Orlando.
If you survive that, you drive to the beach. I grew up in Daytona Beach in the
1960s and ‘70s. You could drive to the beach and on the beach. NASCAR races
were once held on the beach’s hand-packed sand. Unique place. Beach-driving
hours are now limited.
I drove my 2021 visitors first to Vedauwoo. We picnicked under
pines and watched climbers negotiate the 1.4-billion-year-old chunks of
granite. I remembered my young son and daughter clambering up the rocks and Chris
and me down below, worrying but also impressed. Vedauwoo is usually one of the
faves cited by visiting friends and family. What’s not to like? Gorgeous
scenery, cool winds scented by pines, sunny skies. Add some snow to the Laramie
Range and you get all this plus cross-country skiing or snowshoeing.
Chris and Annie hiked south. Eileen, Mary, and Brian decided
to hike Turtle Rock Trail. I told them it was a fairly easy 3-mile trail. I
forgot to mention that we were at 8,200 feet. This is approximately 8,150 feet
higher that their homes in Florida. I also forgot to mention to drink plenty of
water. I know, what kind of host am I? Altitude and hydration are always the
first things you mention when travelers arrive from The World. I remember my first camping
trip in Colorado after living at sea level for 14 years. Base camp for the Long’s
Peak Trail in RMNP. Spent the first night with a raging headache. Nothing
worked on it: Coors, Tylenol, wishful thinking. I just waited it out.
Everyone but me went hiking. I am partially disabled and use
a walker so hiking is no longer my thing. I sat at the picnic table. Munched grapes, and read a book. At one
point, chipmunks got brave enough to visit the table. Earlier, my patient daughter
Annie fed a grape to a chipmunk. Apparently, they thought I also was a purveyor
of grapes. At least one did. He skittered across my book several times. The
next trip, he stopped, sniffed my thumb, and bit me. I yelped and he scampered
into the underbrush. No blood, the bite not hard enough to break the skin. I
moved away from chipmunk habitat and found a shady, secluded spot to continue reading.
The hikers all made it back. The Florida people were a bit
winded and thirsty.
“That was a long three miles,” Brian said.
“Mountain miles are longer than sea-level miles.” I
explained that mountain trails take twists and turns, they go up and they go
down. Three miles can seem like six or even sixteen.
“So mountain miles seem longer than sea-level miles,”
Brian surmised.
“I don’t get your point,” I said. “A chipmunk bit me.”
Florida and Wyoming may never understand each other. Sign
of the times.
On the next post, we journey east to Nebraska, where it was 98 freaking degrees, and west to the Snowies where it snowed.
3 comments:
Mike, your comparisons of Wyoming and Florida made me laugh out loud. The rest of your post was entertaining, too. Thanks for starting my morning on a sweet note! Ann
Such different places but both share space in my memory. I used some WYO/FLA comparisons in my review of your Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings bio. Hope they work. We shall see soon.
Looking forward!!!
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