North Platte to Cheyenne

Our breakfast companions Saturday morning were all dressed in what seemed to be unseasonably warm clothes: jeans, sweatshirts, heavy jackets. Bob and I were, of course, in lightweight summer shirts and shorts, ready for another day in the late summer heat. When we stepped outside, we were greeted by a cold, wintry wind and our overdressed travelling companions suddenly seemed very sensible.

Not too much traffic on I80, just a steady stream of truckers and (mostly) Nebraska vehicles. We crossed into mountain time a little west of North Platte and the countryside gradually lost the character of the plains, becoming more hilly and "western" looking. Some of the cattle in the fields looked ready for the dinner table and I reflected (briefly) on the unpleasant realities of a food supply that includes beef. We stopped for gas just off the entrance ramp to Cheyenne and donned our jackets.

Cheyenne is a small (56,000) city showing signs the effects of a long recession. The downtown, touristy area seems to have a population of homeless and distressed people, probably no more than anywhere else but quite visible. We walked into the Wrangler store but I was so turned off by aggressive sales staff that I turned around and left Bob to contend with the aggressive marketing of western wear (denim, cowboy boots and hat, belts) on his own. He is better in these situations than I ... and left without buying a thing.

I missed visiting my second state capitol but we did enjoy Cheyenne historic union train depot, once the busy hub for east-west/north-south trains. A busy farmer's market in the square drew us to wander among the stalls, and we sampled the best peaches we have ever tasted -- even better than those in Pike Street market in Seattle. Bob chatted easily with a Cheyenne resident, a Detroit area native,  at a table located in the center of the bustling market. After lunch at the Albany Bar and Restaurant -- where we shared a wonderful chicken breast sandwich, we set out for Colorado.