I’m a day late and a dollar short — sorry for the delay — had to do laundry last night while in the bustling metropolis of Lander, WY.
Today we managed to hit an art show in Jackson, proper, which was an unexpected treat. Saw lots of mountains, wildlife and horses — but nothing to bring home (Tom breathed a sigh of relief).
We picked up bagel sandwiches at a little shop on our way out of town, then headed north to pick up US 287 to descend south and east towards Estes Park.
I hate, hate, hate good-byes, particularly where my brother is concerned. We’ve had to exchange too many, living 3000 miles away from each other. The melancholy that assailed me after our dinner last night was eased slightly by a hard night’s sleep. But it was still hard to hug him good-bye.
On 287, a couple of hours in, we pulled off and had lunch overlooking the Needle Mountains, a group of serrated granite bear teeth rising from the Shoshone National Forest. As we worked our way east, the land turned to red-rock, before descending to “just” cowboy country by the time we reached Lander.
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