In a perfect world, this cross-country trek would be comprised solely of local roads, not interstates. That way, I’d be gifted the opportunity to drive through many more little towns like Belfry, Montana on MT-72, where children play in fenced in yards and folks volunteer to spend a perfect summer day repainting St. John’s Lutheran Church. To enter Wyoming is to slip across a border. There are no big signs welcoming you. One farm is in Montana, another is in Wyoming, and the road suddenly changes to WY-120.
THE DRIVE: (one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight , nine)
In Cody, Wyoming, you drive down Sheridan Avenue and the ghosts of the wild west are all around you. The spirit of Buffalo Bill, the souls of displaced or long deceased Native Americans hang in the air. Cody arrives out of nowhere, in a valley at the base of a mountain chain. On Sheridan, you’ll find just about everything Cody has to offer travelers. Saloons with swinging doors, staged gun fights, stores touting relics from the mythical olden days, BBQ, and the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. With five museums under one roof, one can lose himself for hours in the Draper Museum of History, the Buffalo Bill Museum, the Plains Indians Museum, the Whitney Gallery of Western Art, and the Cody Firearms Museum. Far and away, the firearms exhibit drew the strangest crowd.
THE MUSEUM: (one , two , three , video)
DOWNTOWN CODY: (one , two , three , four , five , six)
They say “Cody is Rodeo.” So one would be remised if they came to town and did not soak in the sights at Stampede Park. For every night in June, July and August, the city hosts a rodeo. The grandstands fill with tourists and locals in search of entertainment. Bronco riding, steer roping, barrel racing and bull riding are the main attractions. The crowd cheers fervently as Darryl Worley’s song starts to fade. Awaiting the start of the rodeo, they eat pulled pork sandwiches and chew cotton candy or popcorn. The spectacle begins with the pledge of allegiance, the national anthem, and a prayer to Holy Father so that everyone in attendance will go safely at the end of the evening. After another prayer (for the troops) and a short musical number, the rodeo begins. Nervous anticipation mounts. Silently, many hope for a mauling. Nobody was gored tonight. I enjoyed seeing the children stare in abject horror when that first young steer is roped around the neck and dragged down in a cloud of dirt. When the rodeo ends, there’s nothing left to do but stop at every saloon you pass on the way home to your motel. I quite enjoyed the Red Lodge Wiezen and Seasonal pints at the Silver Dollar Bar.
THE RODEO: (one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight , nine , ten , eleven , twelve , video)
CODY AT NIGHT: (one , two , three , four , five)
Git ‘er Done.
