A long time ago I read My Friend Flicka, and Thunderhead. I loved the stories and their Wyoming setting. Part of my horse passion. Well, now I know about Wyoming and I can't imagine spending a winter there ever. After yesterday's arduous snowstorm trek in western Nebraska, Wyoming was a hope for better.

By morning, today, the wind had died down and the temp was in the teens. The storm had passed. I set out at dawn to get in as much mileage as I could before the wind might start up again. The snow had all blown off the highway so it wasn't slick at all though the landscape was covered with about 3-4 inches. About an hour and a half into the trip with a bright morning sun the wind began to howl mercilessly. It blew that snow intensely, reduced visibility (had to have sunglasses to see), slowed everything down. The roadway didn't become icy except in the side roads and rest stops.

Wyoming rest stop at 9,000 feet. There is a sign there that says wind often gust to 90 mph. I doubt it did today, but not too far from it.

With predictions of more weather to come I kept going. Wyoming people and the big trucks were persevering; so, I did, too, and prayed for the wind to die down. It didn't until around mid-day when the elevations began to drop and the temp warmed up to the 40s. Most of Wyoming is very high altitude though the mountains are scattered so you don't have a sense of high country.

Coming into Utah was a relief...the wind was gone and the temp rose to the 40s.

Utah rest stop. I wasn't the only one taking a picture. I love my trusty pony Subaru.

Lola directed me well, and I got to the Love residence at 4:30 p.m. How good it was to get all the hugs.

Unloading the car I found Toby's footprints were still on the hood. How on earth did they survive all the wind, frost and snow.  Hmmm. Was I dreaming he came along...