August 11
We had breakfast at Pistol Pete’s. Steve said, “If he’s there, should we call him Pete or Pis?” Then we drove 186 miles west to Cody, through the Bighorn National Forest, stopping off at Shell Falls where I found I had to keep myself in check because for the first time in my life a view nearly made me weep. It was something about the peace, and the big-ness and the emptiness that hit a spot somewhere.
It was 88 degrees in Cody and we went straight to the Buffalo Bill
Historical Centre, where among the guidelines (such as not taking drinks in or using flash photography) we were asked to leave our weapons in our vehicle.
We had breakfast at Pistol Pete’s. Steve said, “If he’s there, should we call him Pete or Pis?” Then we drove 186 miles west to Cody, through the Bighorn National Forest, stopping off at Shell Falls where I found I had to keep myself in check because for the first time in my life a view nearly made me weep. It was something about the peace, and the big-ness and the emptiness that hit a spot somewhere.
It was 88 degrees in Cody and we went straight to the Buffalo Bill
Historical Centre, where among the guidelines (such as not taking drinks in or using flash photography) we were asked to leave our weapons in our vehicle.We had a log cabin at the Cody Cowboy Village which was great and boasted the best beds in the west. And in the evening we went to the rodeo, which was an experience we can now tick off the list. The show started with a prayer and the national anthem, the exciting bits were just seconds long and the rest was padded out with the weak jokes and homophobic, racist, nationalistic patter of the clown / compere. So ole still wins over yee-ha and I stay loyal to the suit of lights over the denim and chaps.
No comments:
Post a Comment