All States Are Not Created Equal

The unofficial nickname of Wyoming is "The Cowboy State," but the official state nickname is "The Equality State" in honor of Wyoming being the first state to allow women the right to vote. And though Wyoming touts equality with its nickname, it proudly boasts inequality with it's landscape. This is a state that shouts "We're better than you" very loudly at times. Don't let the lack of a human population fool you, Wyoming has muscles.

Now you may ask yourself, "What does Wyoming have that makes it so much better than it's compatriots?" It has mountains. Big mountains. Wide mountains. Snowy mountains. Jagged mountains. Bulbous mountains. Mountains that belittle you. Mountains that make you soar. Mountains that quiet your soul and mountains that beg you to shout. Mountains, mountains, mountains. I came to realize today that mountains make any comparisons between states unfair. Places with mountains nearby already have the advantage.

What brought me to this realization? I'll admit that my upbringing in the mountain rich state of Washington plays a big part. It's hard to hate the mountains when you've lived your entire life looking at them. But after spending a month in the plains of eastern Montana, the sudden presence of peaks hit me like a ton of rock, or rather, billions of tons of rock. This smack in the face came as we drove west on I-90 from Sundance with a snow white wall rising on the horizon: the Big Horn Mountains. We turned onto US-16 and headed straight into them.

Covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the Big Horns were glorious. Picture perfect stands of snow dappled firs lined the winding road. Sunshine, snow flurries, and brooding clouds alternated shifts for sky duty. And occasionally the road would completely disappear under a carpet of snow. I didn't expect this much snow in October, but I should have noted the elevation difference from the Cascades. Whereas Snoqualmie Pass is just over 3,000 feet, Route 16 over the Big Horns tops out at 9,666 feet. Perhaps the most scenic portion of the drive came when coming down on the western side of the range. The road delves into a canyon bordered by well-hewn rock with bold lines and angles. The sedimentary layers clearly delineated and decorated with a thin dusting of snow. We came to a turn out and stopped to take in our surroundings. Inexplicably there was a Wyoming sign standing there. A strange place to suddenly announce to travelers, "You are in Wyoming, just in case you forgot which state boasts this amazing landscape."

We continued on to Lander, stopping in Thermopolis to see the world's largest mineral hot springs. Nothing too spectacular, just sulphuric. Traversing through another spectacular canyon and across another barren expanse we finally arrived at the foothills of the Wind River Range. I am now writing in the guesthouse of the Austin family at the base of the Wind Rivers after a good meal of antelope sloppy-joes and a crisp made with locally picked apples. Good company. Plus, the dishes in the guesthouse are exactly the same pattern I grew up with.

The air is cold and the snow covered range makes it difficult to tell where the clouds stop and the mountains begin. And for the time, I'm alright without knowing.