"Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp. We Don't Want Snakes in Our Garden!"

Casper, WY is actually a pretty big and happening place... especially compared to some of the places I've been in the past few days.  Not that I took advantage of that fact though.  As usual, I was drained from the road, so it was a simple dinner, the pre-purchased Coors lights, and some phone chats with the outside world as I uploaded the pictures of the day to facebook.  Little did I know that so many people were following my little journey.  People were excited to see where I was, and to know what I was doing.  And it wasn't even just my mom.

I had some communication with an ex of mine that night.  Not the ex but, my first love, actually.  That felt good.  I didn't realize how dejected I felt by the ex fiance and men in general, (and by myself, to be truthful,) until he and I re-connected.  But it wasn't a love affair kind of thing.  It was more of a well rounded friendship... with sexual undertones.  It was a good feeling.  And I didn't realize that people were actually checking out my posted pictures and status updates until our conversation.  He made the age old hitch hiker joke of "Gas, grass, or ass.  Nobody rides for free" and I felt scolded when my response ("Have you seen my pictures of the 'stranger dangers' that I've met?") was met with "That's not even a funny joke.  Be careful out there."

I had felt no reason to be scared at all during this journey...save the Thunder Mountain trip... and just went about my business like I had 3 bodyguards surrounding me.  I realize that even though I felt weak and vulnerable emotionally, I had a healthy respect for, and attention to my surroundings.  It was as if my physical safety was something that didn't cross my mind because I had taken precautions.  It was kind of like when I was super little, in Africa and my mom taught me to be loud when I walked so that snakes would know that I was coming, and wouldn't be surprised and strike at me.  I felt like I was being loud enough not to be stricken.  (hmmmm... maybe that's been my problem in the past.  I just wasn't being loud enough not to be stricken.  I was wallpaper until I had something to say, and then it startled the snake.)

"Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.  We don't want snakes in our gar-den!"

But with this conversation, I realized that there are people out there expecting me to come home.  People who do give a shit.  And I owe it to them, and to myself, to make sure that I finish this story and on a positive note.  It had just been 'moment to moment', 'day to day' for me up until this point.  The bubble of my car needed to expand.  What gave me the right to be reckless in any regard, when I was out there alone?  I couldn't imagine how horrible it would feel for my loved ones if something happened to me out here, when some of them were literally pacing and checking the clock while I was on the road.  Sometimes we can be really selfish.

This song is not specific to Wyoming, but it's pretty.  And it is a love song.  This was perfect as I rode through the swells and dips of the landscape and my heart.  Ultimately, I suppose it was sent from my heart to "the Boy" but also to my family and friends because they are my world and I love them.  And they are my home.  It is a love song about being 'home.'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbKX0mb8MGo

I spoke to my Godfather the next morning because he has some property out in Nothingsville, WY where he has an old, one room school house and has erected a small log cabin.  He's been working on them for years.  There's no electricity in his buildings and no running water.  I've been wanting to go see the property forever, but have never had the chance.  And here is my chance.

  

So taking the cell phone reception opportunity that I had, I got directions to the school house: 

"Once you get to Gillette, turn left at the intersection.  Go 8 miles and you will see a mailbox inside a mailbox that has bullet holes in it.    Go up the dirt road, over a hill,  through a bunch of trailers.  Go through a gate and at the fork, go left.  Go through another gate....." And I was informed, by both my mother and my Godfather, that it was molting season for snakes... whatever the Hell that means...

The only problem with these directions was that this could be anywhere!  I didn't see the mailbox, but I had gone the correct amount of miles, so I just started following the directions... and it took me somewhere, but not where I was supposed to be.  But I could see where I was supposed to be, I just couldn't figure out how to get there.  Eventually, after a family of antelope, many gates/ trailers/ hills/ dirt roads, and multiple texts to my mother (who knows Wyoming well,) I realized that I was in the wrong place and wouldn't be able to get there from here.  I turned around.  Once back on the main road, I found my way and it was exactly the way he had described it... starting with the bullet filled mailbox.

He told me that I could stay there for the night if I wanted to.  Ummm.... no thank you.  Maybe I'm a priss, maybe I'm spoiled.  I'll take it, but I'm not hanging out in a snake ridden, no water or electricity having, only an outhouse for a bathroom, place overnight.  Nope.  No way.  No how.

But driving up, my heart swelled once again.  Even out here, where it hasn't been inhabited for months, there are molting snakes, and no plumbing, I felt such joy.  I know how much time and energy my Godfather has put into that place.  And I know how pure it felt. A simpler and harder time is out here.  It's raw and beautiful and natural.  It's perfect.  This is America, right here, right now.  This is sweat, sunburned necks, working from dawn til dusk, honest living.  When he comes out here, he stays on the property, uses the outhouse and buys water in town for bathing and cooking.  Hell, he dug the damn hole for the outhouse and came into contact with a rattlesnake while doing so.  Oh Helllllls no!  I respect it, but I can't do it.  They made them stronger out there.  I'm grateful for all that I have.

I hopped the fence (it was stuck due to lack of use) and gave a wide berth to the hole dug under the schoolhouse by an unknown creature.  I walked with a heavy foot and had the cast iron gnome in case I had to beat down a reptile (Yup that's me, the tree hugger).  I peered into windows as much as I could and gazed out at the prairies that surrounded the property.  I took breaths that filled my lungs and soul.  You have to be there to feel the sounds out there.  It really is nature at it's finest.  You know you are being watched by everyone around you, but you know that it's not humans.  Out there, it's snakes, antelope, bugs, and foliage that examine your every move and breath.   I felt at peace... even though I was sort of like a peeping Tom.

"Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.  We don't want snakes in our gar-den"

I wanted to live "off the grid" for a while.  visiting this property made me realize how romantic/ not-for-me it was.  I can't look into the eyes of Little Bunny Foo Foo before I kill, skin and clean him for my dinner.  I can't live without a hot shower.  I don't want to smell myself without Lady Mitchum.

So way later, I found out why I was warned about snake molting season:  When rattlesnakes molt, they lose their rattles, so you don't get the fair warning before they strike.  Good to know.

After I got a fill of the ol' homestead, I kept trucking northeast towards my next destination.  When hearing that I was going back through Wyoming, my mother told me that I should go see Devils Tower.  Personally, I had never heard of it, but I was game for anything.  She just told me the roads to take and that I would know when I got there.

"N'ok."

Here I go again, on my own.... But she wasn't kidding.  

So, Devils Tower literally rises out of nowhere and it's the most bizarre natural sight I've ever seen.  You may know of it if you've ever seen "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" (Steven Spielberg, 1977) which features the monument.  I had never seen the movie and still have only seen parts.  Upon later research, I found out that Devils Tower is our first National monument and has amazing folklore attached to it.  There are stories of bears, girls, American Indians, God's intervention and the Devil attached to the tower.  Had I known, I would have gone as close to it as I possibly could, but I thought it would have been restricted for some reason, so I didn't pursue as far as I should have.  But I kid you not when I say that all of a sudden, it's just there.  And it's astonishing!  Breath-caught-in-your-throat type astonishing.  Next time, I'm going up as close as I can.  If I can handle Thunder Mountain, Devils Tower should be a piece of cake!