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There is one old pine which, when it fell many years ago, had not broken off, but rather had twisted so the outer part looked as though you had taken a cardboard tube and twisted it around and bent it ninety degrees. Heck I remember some of these downed trees from the first time I was here, and that, like I have said, was around 27 years ago.

We amble over toward some rocks and trees, a little rise, you might say. Looking at it from the open field, it looks like any other place, with some large rocks and a few pines. But this place is where, on the Southeast side, there is a curved place which is protected from the wind and rocks, and it's pretty well hidden from anyone who would happen by. I show the wife how I used to back the pick-up into the little opening in the rocks, then back it right up to the camp sight. It is narrow so I had to watch carefully where I backed. If I had backed over a rock then I would have had a banged-up wheel, or I would have dented part of the body. I only remember getting one hubcap back in there and that was at night.

I take pictures from all angles and tell the wife about how the kids and I would come up here.Then, after they went to college I would come up here by myself, that is until I quit hunting. Of course someone has left a whiskey bottle on the ground, and of course the wife spots it. But I nor my sons ever left one little thing, not even a chewing-gum wrapper, for this was too much of an idyllic spot to spoil with trash.

There is a little creek about 50 yards South of this place, so good water is always at hand, even in the driest summers and falls. There is, or rather was, a spring up under some quakie's roots, and it flows down toward the creek. But it runs into ground afore it gets to the other creek, which is half a mile away.

I climb up on the rocks which run from the South to the North-North West, then make a break Heck I do not climb, but just walk up, for they are not very high. In fact, from the sheltered side they are only ten or fifteen feet high, but then on the open windward side they range from 25 to 30 feet high,and are really only a little hillock.

I just stand on the rocks and slowly turn around, gawking like a country boy might, on his first trip to the city. The sun is getting low, so as I look westerly, I have to screen my eyes from the sun. That is what a Stetson is good for, to shed water when it rains, and to shield my eyes from the sun the rest of the time.

I decide I will walk up to the rock that I stood on during my hunting days, for it is a high and strategic location. There isn't much of a view looking north, but the south side is maybe 70-90 feet high. You can see quite a ways and no critter can pass within a quarter of a mile without being seen. Funny, but as I start through the brush and across the little creek, I find myself tromping through the same mud that I walked through many years before. You would think that after all these years I would know better and come up with a different route, but not so, because I find myself following the same route as the last time. What I do notice is that in places the creek is only like a foot or less wide. And although it is just a foot or so deep, it is good, cold mountain water.

At first, when I climbed on this rock and started to look around, I thought wow! this sure has changed. Then in a minute or so I think, damn, the same trees, except they are a little taller. Plus I notice that a new jeep trail has been created by hunters down on the south side. Funny how, in this country, you drive across some open ground like this and for a year or so you can't see where your tires have been. I didn't believe it until we bought some land and I drove around the perimeter a couple times. I went back the next year and there were my wheel tracks. Now I can appreciate the fragile eco system of this land. But then heck, it has been here for thousands of thousands of years.

I take a bunch of pictures, look around some more, then I sit down and enjoy the view. The only thing missing is the deer. I notice that they don't browse here anymore and decide that those ATV and motorcycle people have scared them off.

I decid after a while to head back down the hill. I cross the creek and find the wife sitting on a rock, watching some birds that are nesting in the bushes. She thinks they look like robins, even though both of us know that the robins have all gone south!

She has found a pretty piece of quartz, which is quite square and neat. So now we will have another rock on the patio. On the way back to the car we wander over and look at some more dead trees. One has blown over and the roots are large and neat. The wind and blowing dust has made the roots so smooth. Dang I want to take it home, but how do you transport the stump of a two or three foot diameter tree which has roots that would measure 10 feet? Well that is an excuse to come back and look it again.

We get back to the car and have a nice crunchy apple, then we start home. Oh it is a lovely Wyoming, November Sunday. I wonder if next Sunday will be as nice and enjoyable.

TOMWYO Nov 9, 99





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