Sheridan and Bighorn mountains


Friday, 12 July 2013

We decided to drive from Buffalo to Sheridan for breakfast. Nice town, Sheridan; too bad it’s named after a fairly unsavoury character: the only good Indian is a dead Indian.


The town is full of street sculpture. From the labels, it appears that these can be either lent out or purchased on demand. The one below is offered at $10 000.


The label on this one is something about old eyes calling for bigger (fishing) flies.



As to activities, we arrived while the pancake breakfast was still on (although we ate at a restaurant). As we started wandering the street, a starter’s gun signaled the beginning of what we think must have been a 5k race, based on the fact that the finishers came  back around in only a few minutes.


Some of them with a great deal of style and vigour.

We decided not to wait for the bed races or the big parade, but drove on, taking highway 14 and 14A west over the northern part of the Bighorn mountains.


I have wanted to photograph an irrigation monster, as we call them, for a while, now. Today was an opportunity to pull off the road and get a shot. There are several slightly different designs, but they generally suggest prehistoric monster skeletons.


We drove up the steep and picturesque road to the high point, almost 10,000 feet, where there is little forest, and beautiful alpine meadow instead. Tiny wildflowers of all colours. Overcast, cold, blowing. We were glad to put on jackets for our outdoors time.



The descent is equally precipitous. Here’s the view from the bottom, back up the grade. The gray wedge halfway up marks road built into the nothingness of the mountain, today under active repair because of continuing slow slides that cause the road to slump and fracture.

We went on to Lovell, where we first stopped at the wild mustang visitor centre, then went on to the Bighorn canyon visitor center. I’ll blog the Bighorn canyon later, but here is the place to document the birds we saw, while sitting in the parklet outside the visitor center. Doris says this is a kingbird, and I can hardly deny her.







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