Wyoming Weekend

If anyone ever tells you they want to see and live the 'true West', the way it was in the movies, the Old West, they need to go to Wyoming.  

Shaun and I have wanted to ride horses and drink whiskey and be part of that western frontier for a long time.  Shaun because it is different from what he was raised on.  It is a different, more primal side of the outdoors lifestyle that he loves.  Me because it is part of my heritage and my family history. It runs in my blood weather I want it too or  not.  

Finally, after two years of listening to Shaun whine about wanting to ride horses, this past weekend we had an awesome opportunity to spend time with my extended family, and do the Wyoming thing... saddle up and ride our trusty steeds up the mountain to hunting camp.  It was a short trip, to surprise my uncle for his 60th birthday, since he wouldn't leave hunting camp, but it was worth every minute, not to mention the saddle sore.

Old Hollow Belly

A long long history of broken arms, childhood pain and injury, and the most fun any one of us has ever had.

Shaun chopping wood on a beautiful, bright, fall day in Greybull, Wyoming.

The purple hills of the Big Horn mountains.

Shaun on Bugley.  "If Bugley's movin', Bugley's sweatin'."

Me on Tommy.

Hunting Camp.

Relaxing a little after the long ride.

Nice shed!  What a find!  I couldn't even get my hand around it mid-way up.

Debauchery ensued well into the night.  All those shadows are heads.

The ride home, Shaun was obviously a little exhausted.  A sign of good fun, for sure.


And, as (almost) always, check the title for more pictures!