I am back from what I call my last trip to Wyoming and the American west. While in ways the journey was hard on me and the new area chosen was more remote but not really a good fishing area, the wild, rugged beauty was awesome. During the day, the heat was almost overbearing at times and at night the temperature grew very cold. Some of the mountains appeared strange and brooding like those in a movie about trolls and dragons. Sunsets were remarkably colorful and dramatic.
An old mining town – Kirwin, Wyoming – recalled days when hopeful miners swarmed into the rugged mountains on horseback, wagon and on foot. The old village site located at the end of a rough, rocky road and at the foot of a steep mountain was at one time teeming with miners and some families hoping to get rich. It was said that few miners left rich but some suppliers and outfitters made the money.
Local streams in our camping area were too swift and shallow for good fishing, with few good holes. Sometime a try for a new place leads to disappointment. I did catch and release a hefty cutthroat trout as a consolation prize, but spent more time looking and taking photos.
I came west because I longed to see the west once more. The area I love near Dubois would have been better for me as I had come to love the fishing and camping areas and the town. I longed to see where I had camped and fished with Ronald Vandiver, other friends and my brothers once more, knowing I was on my last journey west. However, the guys wanted to try a new area. Still, I am glad I went. I am also glad to be home. I am now almost re-acclimatized to North Georgia.
In my heart, I said goodbye to the American West but will keep in touch by dreams, memories, reading and recalling years spent living and traveling in the Great American West.
Hark! Did I hear an eagle scream sailing near white clouds floating in a blue sky?
