There are two topics . . .

. . . of conversation these days in Sublette County, Wyoming:  Storms of the past few days that caused extreme wind damage . . . and mosquitoes.

We wondered whether it was only that we as turistas were just not accustomed to the voracious skeeters that make it dang near impossible to exist in the out-of-doors without blood transfusions, but no: all the locals we've talked to say it's far worse then usual.  Seems it was a very wet winter and spring, resulting in excessive tall grass and vegetation and mosquitoes.

Despite disliking the use of bug spray, it is a necessity for getting out and about, and what a shame it would be to pass up any adventures.  Exiting the truck has become quite an exercise.  The minute we cease forward motion, we are surrounded by mosquitoes desperate to enter our inner sanctum.  Prior to opening the door, we insure that we have everything in hand that we want to take with us and squeeze through as small an opening as possible before quickly slamming it behind us.  If only the procedure could be successful!

Alas, it is not.  Each time we get back into the truck, there commences a protracted period of time filled with palms pounding on windows windshield, dashboard and accompanying swearing and exclamations until we are partially assured we may move forward without further injury.  Even with all our precautions, errant insects secrete themselves until they feel it's safe to whine around our ears, and then the previous pounding and swearing commences once again.

Clearly, this battle has been proceeding for a very long time, as evidenced by this quote from Jane Gould in 1862.

 

Mountain Men, Emigrants . . .

The region we are in was the center of the Rocky Mountain fur trade, with unbelievably hardy men spending winters alone in conditions that challenged their very survival in order to trap and and tan beaver hides that were in great demand in the East.

Beginning in 1824, they came together each summer to sell their winter's work to traders who brought supplies the mountain men would need for their next season.  Those rendezvous were extended times of socialization and preparation for the coming winter.

The Green River Valley was one of the places where the mountain men gathered.  We stopped at one of those sites, where the Green meets with Horse Creek, and where the rendezvous was held for six summers until the final one in 1840.

Beginning about one hundred years later, those gatherings have been celebrated and commemorated every year during the second weekend in July.  Far in the past when Darren, my first-born was young, I attended commemorative rendezvous in Colorado, and now am looking forward to experiencing how it's done in the Green River Valley.

While at Horse Creek, we learned about the first two white women who came west across the Continental Divide on the Oregon Trail: Narcissa Prentiss Whitman & Eliza Hart Spalding in 1836.  They participated in the first religious mass that was held at the rendezvous in July of that year.

Earlier in this trip, we had seen where the Lander Cutoff verged from the main Oregon Trail for a route to California, which made it interesting to find the place with those many thousands of pilgrims crossed the North Fork River.

Not content to simply gaze around at the area, we donned our insect armor and set off to see what we could see, hopefully without untoward bear or moose meetings.

The challenges of the journey - theirs, not ours - were overwhelming.  The river crossing was chosen because of a large island in the channel; however, it was not sufficient to prevent drownings and wagon/stock losses as they made their way across the sometimes-swollen waters.

One of river's channels has moved since those days.  Here we are looking across at what is known as Emigrants Island.

There were footprints of moose and bear in the muddy shore, but none of the beasts were to be seen.

It is unusual to be able to traverse a place of emigrants trail crossings because most were taken up as homesteads afterwards due to their prime locations and so are on private land.  The Lander Trail crossing is unique in that it is open to the public, such as it is - we had it to ourselves (and the skeeters, of course).

Obviously, the bottomland was at one time a substantial homestead.

 

There were ruins of log cabins . . .

. . . barns and chicken houses. . .

. . .  not to mention the ubiquitous stunning mountain views.

Independence Day, Pancakes, Parade, Buffalo trap . . .

Although we are ensconced in the town of Pinedale, we learned that it and the town of Big Piney collaborate with their celebrations.  Big Piney hosts most Fourth of July events (each has their own fireworks shows) and the following weekend is Mountain Man Rendezvous in Pinedale.

Not wanting to miss a thing, of course, we were away early to the Big Piney pancake breakfast and parade.  We were fortunate to sit with a most interesting couple at the breakfast and learned lots about living there.  He was retired from the oil & gas fields in the area, and she had been the town clerk.

We had previously read about the nearby Wardell buffalo trap, and they were able to direct us to it.  What a fascinating story!  Utilized during the Late Prehistoric Period, it was a box canyon that natives used for 500 years to direct herds of buffalo into, and where others on the rims above would kill the animals with arrows.  When the site was partially excavated, nearly 55 feet of bison bones were found, along with artifacts such as projectile points and pottery!  Approximately four tons of bones have been removed!  Evidently, the people who utilized that site were Athabascans from Canada.

Lo, these centuries later, we amused ourselves at the parade - fun & especially exciting when getting sprayed by water cannons.

In the small world category, the folks we talked to at the barbecue in Big Piney are the soon-to-be-inlaws of the young woman who checked us in at the RV park.

 In the category of "What?!", we were astounded to see this bit of badlands, seemingly misplaced by some Divine hand that stuck this bit of leftover landscape out in the middle of a sage plain.

Nor any drop to drink . . .

Admittedly, I disremember precisely to what Coleridge referred, but certainly there is "Water water everywhere" in these parts.  One could nearly close one's eyes, cast out a line, and hit a fishable body of water.

One such stop we made was at Fall Creek and Boulder Lake.  The catch was semi-productive, the view stupendous and the mosquitoes quieted by a strong cool wind.

As anyone who has been here knows, there is no place, near or distant, that is not interesting and beautiful.  It is a feast for the senses.

A surprise & an outrage . . .

And what a surprise we discovered when we stopped to admire this vista!  We are continually searching for wildlife and birds, and this was no different.  We've spotted only deer & pronghorn (still no luck with bighorn, moose and bear), but far across the flat here, something caught our eye.  Even with binoculars, it was not discernable at such a distance, so we got out the scope and were very surprised at what we saw: it was two adult stained sandhill cranes with two juveniles.  We thought they were cranes, but had to look it up to discover why the coloration was different than normal.  Turns out that when they preen, the can stain their feathers with mud, which gives them a reddish hue.

Other birds to add to the trip list include kildeer & spotted sandpiper.

I can't help but compare the Independence Day events in this area with those in Prescott.  Although neither Sublette County (population 8,600) nor any of its towns levy a sales tax (The 4% State tax applies), all the Fourth of July events were free.  That includes a generous pancake/sausage breakfast, parade, great barbecue lunch with live music by the community band, hamburger/hot dog picnic in the park with live music concert by a national musician, and by far the best fireworks show I've ever seen.  It was like the whole thing was grand finale until the even grander finale.

 

It embarrasses me that Prescott has chosen to charge for its Fourth of July fireworks show - $7 per person yet!, $20 for parking, and families are forbidden to bring in so much as sandwiches and Kool-aid for the kids, so that if they come early to gather and celebrate, they must add to the expense by purchasing overpriced victuals there, bringing the total for a family of four to surely something close to $75 or $100.

Because we have of late been traveling in July, we have attended Independence Day fireworks in many places, and have yet to be charged to attend any other municipal fireworks shows; indeed, that is the way it was in Prescott until recently.  I hope that my hometown will reconsider.

Lest you think the Wyoming population is large . . .