pronghorn antelope
windy picnic
Upton, Wyoming
After passing through Upton (population 872) there were 106 miles to drive before the next town appeared. Bill (population 11) had a post office, a small motel where railroad employees mandatorily change shifts, and a tiny general store.
Looking for recreation in the coal fields of the Powder River Basin, we stopped to buy cold drinks for a picnic. I finally found the National Grasslands map I'd been looking for since before we left New York. It was pinned to the wall, yellowed and curling apart at the folds. Oh well, most of the public lands were behind us, so we picked a spot next to the highway a bit out of town and laid out our blanket, cracked open our root beers and looked through the barbed wire fence at the horizon so far away.
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