Waylaid In Wyoming

The Grand Teton Range gave me a nice show, silhouetted against the falling sun. Sunsets, when you're on the road, are a mixed blessing. Great photo opportunities but it also a pretty good indication that the day has come to an end and you'd best be finding shelter for the night. Such was my case. I was hellbent for leather, or in this case, Rock Springs, Wyoming.

I blew through Jackson, Wyoming like nobody's business. Apparently this is a well-known ski town but it was summer now, the light was fading fast, and my skis were back in Arizona. So all I did was ski-daddle down the road southward on Highway 191.

I did stop somewhere along the way before the sun fully set and caught the alpenglow against what may well have been the Wind River Range to the east. There is an interesting phenomenon that takes place when the sun sets and the curvature of the earth comes into play with the light rays and the clouds are just right. If you've read "The Bridges Of Madison County" you will know that light coming down through the clouds of a rising or setting sun is known as "god light" and that religious calendar companies love it. What I'm describing is one step farther than god light; maybe it's reverse god light. You see, you put your back to the setting sun and look eastward and sometimes you can see light rays that look like god light coming out of the eastern horizon! I got a passable shot of reverse god light and kept moving.

On down the highway with road signs to evergreen towns like Pinedale and Big Piney, another "big" town like Big Sandy, and geological towns like Boulder and, of course, finally, Rock Springs.

I got into Rock Springs just shy of 10 PM and due to major construction near the intersection of Highway 191 and Interstate 30, I found myself detouring through the north side of the city in the dark. By luck (and a bit of land navigation training years ago in the Army) I headed south down the street that put me in at my favorite motel chain, Motel 6. I went inside and asked for a room. The young lady behind the desk said "Sorry, we're full." I inquired about other hotels and motels that might have rooms. "Sorry, I don't think anyone has any rooms tonight." Making like a Wyoming cowboy in my mind, I said to myself "Well, now if that don't beat all!" I was far too tired to go patrolling around a torn up town after countless hours on the road, so I did what any self-respecting bootstrap Montana-grown boy would do: I pulled out my sleeping bag and pillow, rocked back my car seat, rolled down the window a hair, and went to sleep right there in their Leave-The-Light-On-For-Ya glow of their parking lot security lamp. Saved myself about 36 bucks, too.