In order for us to experience what is left of the Wild West, we have to drive East.
East, beyond the settled lands surrounded by rivers, forests, mountains. Up and outward, through the wind farms and ranchland, until all sound and scent of manmade congestion is but a memory.
is a little place we've been before.
Windswept undulating hills of grassland broken only by brave homesteads and weather-beaten barns, fencelines occasionally cutting across, following invisible lines of ownership.
We also went to shoot things.
Being an old cemetery and created in a harsh landscape during a time with few medical advancements, it not surprisingly held a large percentage of young people and infants. This was sobering and disturbing to some of our party. I personally found the lost markers and unidentified sites the hardest to digest. Lives lived and lost with little or nothing left behind for remembrance.
Our group, at the end of the weekend, was tired and ready for familiar beds, but happier and fuller for the memories added to our life stories. I like this new tradition.
favorite giant-ice-cream-cone dealer.
I hear the date has already been set.