It was a hot sultry day and I was looking at a map at an intersection near Kemmerer, Wyoming. I had spent the greater part of the day exploring Fossil Butte National Monument, a place filled with fossils and geologic history. Like many other units in the national park system, this monument had a junior ranger program, but Fossil Butte had the added bonus of a souvenir patch for completing the requirements. Being a collector of patches I completed the tasks to earn my patch and bought the standard patch as well.
Now straddling my bicycle at the intersection I was tired and a bit dehydrated. I had spent the night in a small town park located beside the railroad tracks. All might have been well, but a few trains passed by during the night and the sprinklers forced me to take up a strategic position behind a protective tree. Throughout the day the winds had blown hard counteracting my progress forward and the dry weather had left my mouth parched. Thus as I looked at the map I knew I needed to take a short side trip into Kemmerer because my route south was deserted for a good stretch.
Wearily pedaling the six miles into the tough struggling western town I searched for a grocery store to stock up on supplies. The downtown area was like so many others through the West; small and quaint. In my tired state I would have taken little note, except that I saw a storefront that caught my attention. A sign over the door read “Golden Rule Store: The Original J.C. Penney Store”. Now I don’t take much interest in fashion, but having heard a little about J.C. Penney, the man, I was interested. The store was opening in 1902, a hundred years ago. In 1913 the name of this store and twenty others was changed to its current name. I wanted to go inside just to look around, but unfortunately the store was closed. I was so tired and disappointed that I forgot take a photograph of the store for my sisters and bragging rights.
Continuing through the town I found the grocery store and bought some basic necessities. Outside the store I was drinking some cold chocolate milk and looking through the phonebook for a campground when a man approached me. He asked me if that was my bicycle all loaded down with gear. I replied that it was and asked him about camping in the area. He informed me that south of town was all public land and all I had to do was pull off the road and set up camp. Then without another word he handed me some fried chicken and left.
Overjoyed at the turn of events I quickly finished my milk, packed up my supplies, and hit the road. In the waning light of dusk I passed the intersection and continued on. The razor straight road stretched towards the horizon with only sagebrush, sand, and open spaces in sight. I pulled off at one of the numerous side dirt tracks leading to nowhere and set up camp on the other side of the wire fence only a short distance from the road. Then I quickly pulled out the fried chicken and had myself a feast of this great delicacy, which was finished off by chocolate chip cookies. Full and refreshed the weariness of the day urged me into the comfort of my sleeping bag. I fell asleep to the howling of distant coyotes calling across the night time skies.
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