Today’s blog includes contributions from our featured guest editor, Deborah (or just Deb, if you’re into the whole brevity thing)

Also, today’s cover photo is of Edward Thome sporting his new authentic western apparel cowboy hat. Ed is the Executive Director of the Lynnewood Hall Preservation Foundation, and has been with us visiting with the Wideners while in Sheridan, WY.

Today was one of our best yet as our host, who sells ranches for a living, took us to a large private ranch to fly fish on a stream near PaintRock Canyon.  Joining us were the Baldwins, who are heavily involved in Lynnewood Hall from a legal and marketing standpoint.  Bruce is an avid fly fisherman, and he talked about the fine points of fly fishing constantly with our host while the rest of us tried to keep up.

The five old folks took all of the seats in the truck, so Anthony rode in the back (there was full bed cover.)  We saw absolutely gorgeous scenery and Peter, our host, gave us lots of facts about ranches, wildlife, fishing, and weather on the dry side of the mountain.

In the “It’s a small world” category, we were crossing the pass through the Big Horn Mountains, and needed to stop at a roadside parking area for the men to take care of business. A little while later back on the road, Debbie, who couldn’t find a suitable tree at the last stop asked if there was a real restroom somewhere up ahead. Peter replied that yes, there would be stop ahead soon at Meadowlark Lake, just over the pass. We pull in to a gas station with one pump and quaint little restaurant with a fire raging in the stone fireplace. There was a gentleman standing in front of it dressed in a black cowboy hat, down vest and cowboy boots. Wouldn’t you know it, Pater says, “Hi Copper” (or Chopper or something similar, but it doesn’t really matter since it wasn’t a real name anyway). That was not all that unexpected since we think Peter knows everyone in Wyoming. We exchanged hellos with Cropper, and mentioned were from Philadelphia area. A woman, at the back of the restaurant who was setting tables and the only other person in the place, pipes up and says, “You’re from Philadelphia? I’m from Downingtown.” It turns out she lived less than 5 miles from Tom, graduated high school the same time Tom’s son Andy did, but from a cross-town school and also went to West Chester University where Bruce graduated. She had come to the area for its World Renowned rock climbing in the western canyons of the pass.

Back in the truck we passed some of the rock climbers waiting out the rain in their campers and Peter referred to them as Patagonia Hippy Campers – youngsters probably living off their parents’ trust funds in their Mercedes glampers. He doesn’t mince words…

While Scott did not fish, he flew his drone and took some pretty good pictures and some fairly shaky videos of the area where we fished.  He only crashed the drone once on the far side of the stream, where Bruce located it and Peter rescued it unharmed.

Everyone mingled with the cows, bulls, and calfs in the herd that called our stream home.  I’m sure they were happy when we left, but we took lots of pictures of the livestock, which Debby (and I suspect a few of the guys) thought of as cute.

We saw only two fish, and Bruce caught our only one that was removed from the water, but we all had an excellent time and we were only a little over an hour late returning Bruce and Debmeister to town to start their long drive to Denver.  When Scott, Tom, and Anthony returned to the house, Scott thriftfully ate leftovers while Tom and Anthony went on a profligate (we’re almost finished, so you might want to finish readying before you look that word up) trip to Arby’s for a fast food dinner.