Tadpole Jig
I can't quite recall why we decided on a riding trip to Wyoming, but that's where we found ourselves.
Parked under the broad star filled sky, Rita, our newest family member, appeared content. Rita who?
Rita the Casita!
Having been chased into our tent by poor weather, unable to cook too many times, we'd been lightly searching for a small camp trailer this past year. Rita very recently popped up for sale locally and we had to check it out. She was just about perfect and all we'd been seeking. This trip was the farthest from home we'd ventured and our first time challenging the elements together and though her skin was lashed by rain and gusts of wind, we remained warm and dry while cooking dinner, both agreeing she was worth every penny.
It appeared that the cooler temperatures and very fall like weather convinced leaves to change over night. Trees we remembered as being green the previous day were now yellow and orange.
Crisp air amplified the gravel's crunch as our tires passed. Friendly granite boulders, eons in age, invited us to play. And play we did. Up and down, traction was near limitless.
Exploration, like changing seasons, is refreshing.
Fall is synonymous with football here in the US. Travis happened to be in town, unconnected to our own visit, to support his alma mater, so we thought we'd link up and see what tailgating was all about.
A sea of gold and brown engulfed us quickly and I apparently looked very lost. A stranger thrust two tickets to the Wyoming vs. Oregon game into my hand, perhaps to act as a compass that ensured we would cheer for the home team.
The beer was strong and our collective memories of the game are weak. Luckily the alarm clock's strength prevailed in the morning and we all met for a fog-clearing farewell ride.
Returning home, we found the desert welcoming. No more fearing a mid-day ride and broil. Keri must have found her confidence in the long rays of sunlight; she attacked a number of haunting trail sections.
Moving forwards
Parked under the broad star filled sky, Rita, our newest family member, appeared content. Rita who?
Rita the Casita!
Having been chased into our tent by poor weather, unable to cook too many times, we'd been lightly searching for a small camp trailer this past year. Rita very recently popped up for sale locally and we had to check it out. She was just about perfect and all we'd been seeking. This trip was the farthest from home we'd ventured and our first time challenging the elements together and though her skin was lashed by rain and gusts of wind, we remained warm and dry while cooking dinner, both agreeing she was worth every penny.
It appeared that the cooler temperatures and very fall like weather convinced leaves to change over night. Trees we remembered as being green the previous day were now yellow and orange.
Crisp air amplified the gravel's crunch as our tires passed. Friendly granite boulders, eons in age, invited us to play. And play we did. Up and down, traction was near limitless.
Exploration, like changing seasons, is refreshing.
 |
| Trying hard |
Fall is synonymous with football here in the US. Travis happened to be in town, unconnected to our own visit, to support his alma mater, so we thought we'd link up and see what tailgating was all about.
 |
| Cowboy pride |
The beer was strong and our collective memories of the game are weak. Luckily the alarm clock's strength prevailed in the morning and we all met for a fog-clearing farewell ride.
 |
| Entering |
 |
| Ejecting |
Returning home, we found the desert welcoming. No more fearing a mid-day ride and broil. Keri must have found her confidence in the long rays of sunlight; she attacked a number of haunting trail sections.
Moving forwards
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