Right now a large, I’m thinking Mormon, family reunion is watching me creating this blog post. Why Mormon?
Women are modestly dressed.
There are a million kids here.
They got together and prayed before their meal.
BYU flags are everywhere.
And it is 6:30 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon and there is not one drop of alcohol anywhere in this entire area, except next to me. My glass of wine might be it.
I doesn’t really matter that they are Mormon. Personally I could care less. What does matter is that we arrived on the pretense that we would have a secluded cabin near Moose Creek with the sound of the wind in the trees and the babble of the water. We have a family reunion here instead. Some of them looking over here and shaking their heads, probably the fact that I’m using a laptop while sitting on my concrete porch of the western side of the Tetons. Funny, I want to shake my head back as if to say, “You all shouldn’t be here. This many people shouldn’t be here.” Oh well.
It’s just been a real annoying day for children. Last night the Vernal Townplace Suites back in Utah was overrun by Babe Ruth Under 11 Little Leaguers, caravans of painted up cars celebrating Western Region All-Stars from one area or another. The night was spent listening to parents drink beers in the parking lot while their kids roamed the hotel late into the evening. Then this morning those parents were nowhere to be seen as kids played morning soccer in the hallways and made a complete mess of the continental breakfast. I wanted to taser the kids and punch the parents.
But we left for the mountains by heading north out of Vernal with happy realization that the word “cabins” usually meant solitude. Canyon country continued north of Vernal, solidifying that Utah might be the most beautiful state in the entire country. The last piece of beauty was Fiery Gorge National Recreation Area, a man-made lake that was surround by gorgeous geography and a bright blue sky. We crossed into the flats of Wyoming……and stopped. About thirty miles south of Rock Springs traffic was dead in the road and people were milling about watching the flashing lights of police down Highway 191. There had apparently been an accident involving multiple motorcycles. The Life Flight helicopter, the tow truck, and the investigation closed the road for well over an hour. We walked around, talked with families from Salt Lake City and Fresno, and resigned ourselves to the fact that there was really no turning around when you were in scrubland of Wyoming. We did finish Gone Girl, our second audio book, and we agreed that Amy Elliott Dunn was in fact a sociopath.
Central Wyoming north of Highway 80 sucks. Hours of nothing until the Tetons and then the temperature drops, the moose crossing signs appear, and the mountains and streams fill our visions. We were ecstatic to be in this new country and we were so excited when we pulled into Moose Creek Ranch.
Now I have a bunch of people looking over at me and I’m wanting a refund.