Alaska 2014

NOTE:  When Sharon adds comments, they will be in {curly brackets}.  Comments added AFTER coming back to San Jose are in [square brackets].


Report 15. Day 15. Mon, May 19. Cheyenne, Wyoming to Buffalo, Wyoming.

We wake up in Cheyenne. Here is our rig in its rather modest site.

We get into traveling mode and take off, but I soon discover, when I try to record an observation, that I have lost my digital audio recorder - my secret weapon I use to record significant or funny events during the day. Without it, these reports would be short and boring (Quiet, Bill) because I wouldn't be able to remember them. I know THAT from past experience. I have looked all over the truck, the trailer, including all internal and external storage compartments and still can't find it. I text granddaughters Sam and Mac, plus Carrie and daughter Shani. After a while, three of them respond that they can't find it. It MUST be HERE then! But where?

Carrie says to ask Tony. Sharon says the same thing. This is to Saint Anthony, apparently the guardian of lost objects. You are supposed to say, "Tony, Tony, Come around. Something's lost and can't be found." Sharon swears by this, and has found untold lost items, more than half of which I misplaced. {I've even been told by an older Italian woman, I think one of Carrie's Aunts, that she would put a statue of St. Anthony in the freezer until he finds the lost object. Who knew you could blackmail a saint.!}

I make plans to stop in Casper (I located a Best Buy in that town, and have been told that they have them). So hot dang. This is lucky to have happened at such a time that I can buy a replacement. Whew.

Sharon is convinced enough that the truck is safe to take off on the trip, but she wants confirmation. {I call the dealer where we bought the truck to confirm that there is no recall on our truck. They had called the recall a "dangerous truck recall" and said that if your truck is involved, you should not drive it but have it towed to the nearest dealer to be fixed. I am 99 & 44/100% sure we are OK. But when the service man at Winters Chevrolet checks our VIN number, he confirms that our truck is OK and I can now be 100% relaxed.}

We pass this gigantic meat thermometer... Wait. I think it's going to be an area light - like parking lot or on/off ramp.

It's about 1 pm, and time for my noon pill. I reach in my left front trouser (this may be the very first time I've used the word 'trouser'), where I have a big roll of greenbacks, a ball point pen, a comb, a pill box and a small Orajel tube. I have to fish around in that pocket to extract any of those things. In fishing for my pill box, I - WAIT. WHAT? - pull out my voice recorder. OK, Now. Throw it away and don't tell anybody? No, that's not my style. I want everybody to get the same kick out of it that I get, so I text everybody I texted earlier, and as Sharon is getting back into the truck after lunch, I hold up the recorder for her to see. But she doesn't look over towards me, she just gets seated and says she's ready to go. I don't recall if I 'ahem-d' or tapped her on the shoulder or what, but I showed it to her. WHERE WAS IT? she asks. And here it comes:" In my left hand front pocket the whole time". Luckily she loves me, and she finally says "We need to find a place that you always keep it." The trouble is, sometimes I need it to be in the truck, other times in the trailer, and other times on my person. {Always the dilemma with increasing age. The same routine helps keep track of things but it's hard to remember to always put things in the same place when you use them.}

As they said in Fargo, "End-a story." Except for one text from Carrie, suggesting I stop buying cargo pants, and get something with fewer pockets. Can you imagine? FEWER pockets? Ha!

About 1 pm, as we're passing over a small river flanked by trees, Sharon spots a bald eagle, but being the driver and all, I can't turn around to try and see it. This is just past Douglas, where I-25 curves north again.

About two o'clock Sharon is suddenly excited. "Bear!" she yells. We are in a kind of hoodoo area (google 'hoodoo' if you don't know), but the kind of bear it turns out to be is the very elusive cow-looking-like-bear bear.

Later in the afternoon, Sharon notices that the bedroom window on the right side is flapping in the breeze. {It's the emergency escape window in our bedroom and it's a surprise to see it outside the trailer.} I pull over, have to pull the inside screen off, re-fix the window, but can't get the screen back on. It's on the inside, so it can wait.

Wyoming likes to put iron statues on hills, and here are a couple we see. I know, I know, they are tiny. But see, that's what they look like in real life. Sharon is good with binoculars in a moving truck, so she gets a much better look than you and I. {That second one looks like a jack-a-lope.}


We get to Buffalo, Wyoming - our target for today - and follow our GPS, earlier programmed to do so, to Deer Park RV Park.

I check in with an elderly gentleman - probably my age. Heh heh - with only one good eye. The bad one looks like it was in an accident or something. Anyway, he's very competent, short and sweet with his requests and directions, and as he's getting into his golf cart says, "The office closes at 2000 hours." I say, "I like that system," and he says, "The military got it right when they used that time description system." He leads us to our spot, and leaves us to set up. {He tells Bob that there are deer on the property (hence the name) that were born on the property and wander about but we never see one. We see many bunnies eating the fresh grass}

Cool here. Excellent tv, excellent wifi, excellent bathroom.We both take showers, mine after I do about a twenty minute exercise walk around the park nature walk.

Here's the office building. It looks like a former KOA park.


We watch a fat robin bounce around the area. He probably watched us set up our rig, as you see below.


I take this shot just as I get back from my walk. Nice sunset through the trees.

Good birds today: lark bunting, lark sparrow, bald eagle, robin.

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