We're Coming to America, little America that is . . .

Now leaving the Land of the Lamborns we headed for my next destination, Little America, down Hwy 30 towards the intersection with I-80. I have been dreading this for weeks, you see, in Wyoming the only way across the state is by interstate highway. That means I have 2 options. Option 1 ride down the grass verge of the interstate, not a good option for several reasons. It is against the law, even in Wyoming, and more importantly, if something happens and I lose the pack horse or come off the saddle horse, they can wander onto the highway. Option 2 ride cross country through the desert. Also not a great option as you have to deal with the rough terrain, rocks, gullys, sage brush, scorpions, snakes and increased heat.
So as I rode along the verge of hwy 30 I contemplated my options and decided upon a combination of the two. I would cross the desert after reaching Granger and meet up with the interstate and ride the last few miles down it to reach my camp for the night.
I arrived at Granger, a small town rumored to have a cafe/store. It didn't, but it did have some nice people that gave me 2 bottles of water, which I needed since my large jug had exploded about 2 hrs into our day leaving me without water on a 10 hr riding and walking day(Thanks to the nice Oil men that gave me a bottle and the wonderful motorist that stopped to give me another). After downing one immediately, I put the other in my saddle tote and headed back to the highway and across and through the pass through gate to take the mares down to the river for a long drink. It is here that with Delightful's help I almost went swimming. She decided that she needed to wade out into the river to get a drink and then abruptly turned upstream, nearly pulling me head first into the water before I let her go. I had to wade out, knee deep to catch her again. Then, boots full of water, I remounted and we headed across the desert on a southeastern heading, to intercept the Interstate. While riding through the desert with 2 horses that both have names, I once again found myself thinking about the brave pioneers that came this way so long ago and found myself humbled by their stamina and fortitude. I think that we take advantage of a lot of the luxuries we have and sometimes forget what others went through in this nation to bring us to this point we are at. I notice how people are in such a hurry to get somewhere that they don't see what is around them and even overlook the simple beauty you can find in a desert. Sage brush, rocks, sand and dry washes don't seem very pretty unless you look at them. The sage brush is strong, hearty and enduring, its soft green coats the landscape with a soothing coolness. The rocks peek out of the sand and sage brush like stars tossed across the desert, shining in the sun. The sand is the canvas that the life in the desert paints the story of their existence upon. Rabbits running from sheltering clumps of sage brush, avoiding dangers from above and around them, foxes and snakes creeping and slithering across the desert, the only sign of them, their tracks in the sand. The washes, a simple sign that life giving water carves its path through this dry landscape, the water gone now, but the land still waits for its return. It is all this that the speeding motorists miss out on. This is not the first time or the last on this trip that I wish more people would slow down their lives and see the beauty and peace around them.