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Memorial Blues

Wyoming’s Red Desert has many moods, one being I dare you.  Twelve years ago my first trip during the Memorial Day weekend to Oregon Buttes brought hurricane strength winds with blowing snow.  Homeward bound.  A year later at the same campsite for another shortened Memorial Day weekend.  Impossible.

Still some butte experiences are keepers.  Once hiking back to camp from the south butte the boys picked up the sent of several distant antelope.  Off they went to chase their prey.  I settled back and watched the antelope teach Hayduke and Berkley a lesson of bitting off more than they could chase.  Aware of the dogs presence, the trio trotted off a bit whenever there was the slightest chance a transition from nuance to threat might be remotely possible.  This antelope and dog game went into overtime before two whipped canines responded to my calls.  We had a restful afternoon.

Other great Memorial weekends include several excursions to the nearby maze of Honeycomb Buttes.  This badlands wilderness is perfect for a casual bit of exploring without fear of becoming turned around and lost.  The route to camp is accomplished by climbing to a high point where Oregon Buttes, somewhere in the distance, becomes a beacon.  Hikes here offer a soothing experience contrasted to much of the Red Desert.  Like everything here,-weather dependent.

Oregon Buttes is also capable of long distance seduction.  From camp the southern Wind River Mountains, some sixty miles distant, are a constant reminder of past adventures.  Look, there is East Temple Peak and just a bit further south Wind River Peak, both still wrapped in their winter blanket.  This longing to be somewhere else flies in the face of reality.  Options include drive to a trailhead and wait.  Or reminisce and accept.

Sharing these experiences with flexible friends heightens the peaks and flattens the troughs.  Jay, Julie, and family represent the quintessential clan with the proper attitude.  Adding to our collective memorial comfort are adjustments over the years that include the abandonment of tents.  Today it’s slick travel trailers complete with furnaces and inside dining.

Historically Kokopelli’s alluring presence has applied only to a narrow timeline as post Memorial Day weekend the greater Red Desert is all but dismissed,.  Like the snow at the buttes, other past experiences reinforce my trauma.  Adobe Town redefines self sufficiency, miles from anywhere with cement mud capable of enshrining a vehicle.  Was the flat tire experience or the mud that today prevents a return?  Further south, tucked in a nice spot off the road and cozy in the back of the truck, McCarthy Canyon broke my spirit when awaking to June snow.  Typical of many places in the Red Desert, an extremely isolated and slick muddy road fueled my lack of confidence.  I just sat in the truck refusing to accept reality until the mid-afternoon sun dried the road enough to depart.

You might think I was blinded by one too many snowstorms.  No, it’s an attitude waiting for re-education.  Solitude via an abundance of two tracks beg to be explored, but timing is required.  Opportunity awaits, everything from the historic Oregon and Mormon Trails to long abandoned oil and gas roads become routes.  Nothing technical, just miles and miles of aerobic fun.

A plaque north of the buttes marks where the Oregon Territory, Mexican Territory and Louisiana Purchase merge to a common boundary.  It’s time to establish my personal frontier .  Kokopelli return to answer my Memorial Blues, give me courage to join the gold rush at South Pass!  Damn the siren’s call, a new commitment starts to emerge acknowledging the Red Desert’s significance.  This high desert basin covering 9,000 plus square miles has to be more than cement mud and denial.  A few hundred square miles are holding my reservation.

Eighteen years ago John headed west, settling in Heber, Utah.  Focusing on the environment and giving back to community soon became as natural as his beautiful surroundings.  Departing the corporate world in 2006 John immersed himself in a year of graduate studies at the Teton Science School, Jackson, Wyoming.  Place-based education opened new perspectives on nature and spirituality.  After graduation several seasons were spent as a wilderness therapy guide and conservation corps crew leader.  Mentoring to these “kids” remains one of his proudest achievements.

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