Why I Love Wyoming
By A Midwestern Nomad
Recently, when we pointed the nose of our little Chevy Equinox toward Sheridan, Wyoming, it knew just what to do. Traveling the broad, wide-open, nearly turnless stretches of South Dakota, we quickly made it to the Black Hills, South Dakota’s claim to natural beauty. I think of them as the gateway to Wyoming. Many people do not know that the Black Hills extend into Wyoming. I didn’t until lately. As a South Dakotan, I’m okay about sharing those splendid little mountains with Wyoming because I love that state, too.
Wyoming is a pretty big place with few people, and that’s just fine with me. Particularly since my son’s family has taken up residency there during the last three years, and two of my seven favorite grandchildren living there doesn’t hurt either. Still, Wyoming itself does plenty on its own to hold my affection. It’s the ninth largest state in the union, covering an area of 98,000 square miles, home to just over half a million people. The state’s low population density is second in the union to Alaska. My son tells me that there is a strong sense of community in his town and throughout the state. However, be prepared for folks in Wyoming telling you precisely what they think. Cowboy culture leaves little room for Minnesota niceness.
Dressed appropriately in my Wyoming Cowboys cap, we rolled through the lovely Wyoming countryside on a beautiful sunny day. After that final taste of the Black Hills, we emerged onto the high plains, sage, and badlands country. I love the deceptive nature of its apparent desolation. The unpracticed eye, my wife, for instance, sees this terrain as a wasteland. Traveling through this sageland fills our little Equinox with sighs and comments about the overbearing length of the trip. It’s hard to blame her because there are few places where nature works so hard to hide its beauty. But if you are willing to look down the draws and up at the majestic buttes that rise out of the rolling field-grau topography, you will see some startlingly intimate vignettes of Mother Nature dressed in her finest. Unfortunately, the glimpses of such visions from the freeway are so brief that there is no time to point them out to my dear wife. But she does enjoy spotting the antelope and deer that emerge suddenly from the sage-filled countryside like a stereogram coming into focus. So, she is not entirely irredeemable.
When traveling west on I90, it’s easy to miss Wyoming because you dip through just a corner of it. First, there’s a not-so-close encounter with Devil’s Tower, which stands in the distance as you pass through Sundance. (For those of you who missed it, this last sentence was a reference to the 1977 blockbuster, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”) Next, if you become too entranced by its massive coal mining operation, you might miss Gillette, which hunkers down in some of our nation’s most prosperous energy-producing land. Then comes Buffalo at the corner of I90 and I25, followed shortly by Sheridan, a spit and a holler from Montana. We arrived just in time to see the sunset over the Big Horn Mountains that stretch lazily alongside I90.
I am still shocked about how many years I drove the stretch of I94 between Rapid City and Billings without realizing how magnificent the Big Horn mountains are. I’ve decided that an optical illusion between the freeway and the foothills hides the actual height of these mountains. Once I had the opportunity to travel up into that range, I learned that it’s a geographic shelf set high above the plains of Wyoming that is dramatically beautiful. This incredible backcountry holds jagged peaks, perfect trout water, and amazing trails leading everywhere. From the 9600 foot summit of the scenic route 16 out of Buffalo, one can see the mountain range’s crown jewel, Cloud Peak, earning its name by thrusting still upward above 13,000 feet.
The Longmire book series has dramatically enhanced my infatuation with Wyoming in recent months. Its author, Craig Johnson, might be Wyoming’s finest tour guide as he ushers readers around the state via the heroic exploits of Sheriff Walt Longmire. From the heights of Cloud Peak to the surprising beauty of the Wind River Canyon, the famous sheriff reliably collars the bad guys to keep Wyoming safe. I’m sure Wyoming’s real-life law enforcement does the same. After all, Craig Johnson lives there and ought to know what he is talking about. My wife is tired of me saying, “There is Durant,” whenever we pass through Buffalo, Wyoming. Durant, the setting for Walt Longmire’s hometown, is modeled on Buffalo. Buffalo plays up its part in Johnson’s books with a Longmire Museum and an annual Longmire Days festival. In the books, Sheriff Longmire dines virtually every day at the Busy Bee Cafe. His regular order is “The Usual,” which varies according to the owner’s whims. I’m pleased to say that I’ve eaten lunch at the real Busy Bee Cafe in Durant (Buffalo) and found “The Usual” on the menu. How cool!
In the midwest, we have organized our wilderness into manageable packets scattered across a carefully regulated land. Shelterbelts, stock ponds, and wildlife management areas provide well-distributed pockets of wildness in the mile-by-mile grid of midwestern farmland. Don’t get me wrong; I delight in the beautiful synergy of farming and the thriving natural life achieved by midwestern agriculture. But occasionally, I get a hankering to see what nature can do all by itself. Wyoming puts this on display in spades. Many western states share this trait. Idaho, for instance, has vast areas of wilderness. Even California, home to some of our country’s largest population centers, has its share of deserts, mountains, and lonely shorelines. But Wyoming seems to specialize in square miles devoid of human habitation and will likely remain that way. Its sparse inhabitants can be rather blunt about their desire to keep Wyoming wild. A sign left over from the Covid pandemic reads, “Wyoming -- practicing social distancing since 1890.” Perhaps the local agenda is, “Wyoming is a nice place to visit, but we’re not sure we want you to live here.” However, when my son and daughter-in-law came to Wyoming as teachers, they were warmly welcomed by their new neighbors. They have blended thoroughly into the Wyoming way of life, including its love of natural wilderness. I, too, love the wild characteristics of Wyoming and enthusiastically enjoy them whenever I can spend time there.
Wyoming’s natural wonder is central to its ability to offer a paradisiacal promise for hunters and fishermen. Wild game is a chief factor in Wyoming’s wildness. I grew up hunting for winter’s meat, so I was initially attracted to the opportunity Wyoming presented for bagging big game. However, I soon learned that this was another place where The Equality State makes some people more equal than others. If you have spent a year establishing residency, your license and tags come at a reasonable rate. However, if you want to take Wyoming’s precious big game as a nonresident, you must be prepared to take out a second mortgage. In saying this, I’m not criticizing the system. I admire how Wyoming preserves and cares for such valuable resources while creating a lucrative industry that caters to those who can afford it. At the same time, people who commit to living in Wyoming reap the benefits and put meat on their tables while enjoying mind-blowing big game hunting.
Wyoming is more eager to share when it comes to fishing. The cost of nonresident fishing licenses is on par with other western states. Better yet, the lakes and streams are entrancing and even have fish. Fish are willing to bite on the bits of fur and feathers I throw at them. What could be better than that? Some of my most memorable moments while fishing have come in Wyoming. And since my Wyoming family members share my love for all things piscatorial, life could not be better than fishing in Wyoming with people I love who love fishing. It’s also worth mentioning that Wyoming fish are yummy, especially the ones who choose to get caught on my lures. I’m not a big fan of catch-and-release. If you mess up a fish’s day by catching it, you should show good grace in eating it; otherwise, leave it alone.
It’s always sad when we climb into our charming little Equinox to head home from Wyoming. Not that we don’t love the other places we call home, but being in Wyoming, with its beauty and hard-working people, creates a kind of hope that is very welcome today. Perhaps Theodore Roosevelt said it best when he spoke at a gathering in Cheyenne on April 30, 1903. Addressing the people of Wyoming, he commended them for:
“. . . making of this commonwealth one of the commonwealths of which all our people will be proud. I believe in you, I believe in those like you, and I believe in the future greatness of this country, because I believe that its average citizen—that you here, with your average citizenship, is such that this country, during the centuries opening, will choose to tread the path of duty, and of greatness rather than of mere ease.”