Roamed through Wyoming Monday and Tuesday. Interesting state that I haven’t spent much time in. High elevation, constantly feels like my nose is gonna bleed. Eugene is 450′ above sea level, the LOWEST point in Wyoming is 3,099′. Nice hot springs in Saratoga, free to the public. Majorly hot with animated bubbles coming up from the earths core, this was an awesome way to relax after driving all day. I stayed eight miles up the road at the North Platte River access campground, elevation 6,791,’ needless to say, once the sun went down all the jackets, hats and gloves came out.
When I pulled in to the campground a car was leaving and a Jack Russell terrier was running after it. The dog was absolutely distraught and I felt terrible because I didn’t know how to help him, he wouldn’t eat nor did he want to be patted. Abandoned, and trembling he was making the sounds of a shrieking child, extremely hair-raising I must say. There was a couple camped across the grove and they agreed to take the orphan dog to the humane society in Rawlins in the morning. I went down to the river with my guitar and the Harvest moon rising. It was almost bright enough to read on the rocks by the North Platte river. All the while I could hear the cries of the orphan terrier coming from the grove of trees.
There is nothing better than being camped in a remote area and to hear a car pull up on the gravel and shine it’s brights on your tent. I was waiting for the banjos to start dueling when I heard a distraught woman yelling “have you seen a dog? oh my god please tell me you’ve seen him.”
They had stopped to fix a drink on the side of the road to Centennial when they realized their aged dog was absent. The couple looked like Gimli and Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus. The dog, Moai, was so freaked out it kept running further into the wooded area surrounding the camp ground. Fear is like a lost terrier in the woods at night, love is a labrador.
Bizarre experiences at high elevations. The poor pup found and Bette and Gimli off to the Misty Mountains, I pumped up my air mattress again because the air had condensed in the cold. No more than ten minutes after they had gone, I heard mountain lions screaming in that blood curdling way they do. Me thinks that Moai is the Luckiest Jack Russell terrier in all of Wyoming.