In Glenrock is the thirteenth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

I usually refer to Glenrock, Wyoming as my home town. Although, truth be told, I don’t really have a home town. We moved so much when I was a child, I never spent an entire school year in the same school until I was a freshman in high school. That was the year my dad died and my mom moved us again. We moved to Glenrock because that’s where my grandparents lived. She, understandably, wanted to be near them. But, I didn’t want to move. I had finally found friends and a school where I felt I belonged and now we were leaving—again.

Mom ended up staying in Glenrock and even remarried when I was a senior in high school. I thrived there and many of my friendships still endure. It ended up being a wonderful place to be and I still consider it my home town. I’ve been back for short visits over the years, but this time I am planning to stay a while. I have the time, and there are people I want to catch up with.

It’s a Friday afternoon when I arrive and the local celebration known as Deer Creek Days is kicking off. The next morning is the big parade through downtown. I go on an undercover mission to figure out which house is Kristy’s. After determining where she lives, I show up to what looks to be the beginnings of a parade-watching party in her front yard. I ask a young man if Kristy lives here. He says she does and tells me he is her son. I ask him to go inside and tell her that Loree is here to see her. He looks a little confused, but follows my instructions. As she comes out the door, there is no doubt my mission of surprising her has succeeded. Through tears and laughter and chaos, I hardly notice the parade. I send a text to Colleen to let her know our plan worked. I invite Kristy to come visit me in my traveling abode when she has time.

When I left Yreka, nearly a year ago, I was somewhat rushed. I upgraded the flooring and window coverings, painted the cabinets and replaced the faucets. I completed all the major projects, but I still have a few little things that I need to do. Spending some time parked at my parent’s property will allow the time and space to finish up these loose ends. Also, the electric step motor, which stopped working in Colorado, still needs to be replaced.

Not only is my stepdad, Les, a very handy guy, but he also loves projects. When I tell him about the things I hope to accomplish to fine tune and finish my coach, he jumps right in and offers to help. The first problem we need to solve is air conditioning. It’s August and it’s hot. I need to be able to run the A/C in the motorhome, not only for me, but for Luna. Les’s shop has plenty of power to run my 30-amp motorhome, but there is no RV style plug to deliver the power I need. Off to the home improvement store we go. I purchase the needed wiring and parts, and he installs them. Now I can be comfortable in the afternoons, and come and go without worrying about Luna sweltering while I’m away.

It turns out Les and I make a great team. He’s very mechanically inclined, while I’m a little more creative. Between the two of us, we tackle project after project and I couldn’t be happier with the results. I am forever grateful for all his help and pleasant company while working. Mom also keeps us company and makes sure we are both well fed.

One day, I smell something funny inside the RV. It’s almost like a chemical smell mixed with a slight burning odor. I goes away, so I assume it was just something weird in the neighborhood. Then, when the air conditioner turns on, it’s back. Now I’m pretty sure it’s coming from my air conditioner. I turn it off and climb up on the roof. The intake area of the A/C unit is totally covered and clogged with…..you guessed it…..cottonwood fluff! A thick coat had accumulated over the month in Colorado. After hauling my small vacuum up there and cleaning it off, the smell goes away.

Between projects, I spend time driving the back roads looking for wildlife. I also have the pleasure of spending a day fishing with my Uncle Richard. I have a nice dinner with him and my Aunt Lorna. There are visits with my brother, Rick, and his family. I’m really enjoying it my visit.

I spend a day with my dear friend Kristy, who is still grieving the recent loss of her son. Bearing witness to her unfathomable pain is difficult and uncomfortable. I spend the afternoon listening to her recount the details of her unexpected and overwhelming loss. I tell her she doesn’t have to tell me everything if it is too painful. She reassures me that just being there and listening is helpful. I don’t pretend to know what she’s going through. My imagination isn’t big enough to imagine what it’s like to lose a child. I am honored to be present for her, as a friend, though I am helpless to ease her pain.

While I’m in Glenrock, my children decide it’s a great opportunity to visit their grandparents and me at the same time. I’m thrilled they are able to come and stay with me for a week. What fun it is to introduce them to my friends and show them around my teenage stomping grounds.

Another item on my to-do list is to get a South Dakota driver’s license. I’ve changed my residence and auto registrations, but getting a driver’s license requires an in-person visit. Not only do I have to go to South Dakota and take the test, I have to show proof of staying overnight in the state. An overnight trip to Rapid City wouldn’t normally be on my agenda for a Wyoming visit, but this is as close as I will probably get, so off I go.

After spending the night and showing up early at the Department of Public Safety, I receive my shiny new DL. Now everything is official. It’s weird being a resident of a state where I don’t live or even intend to, but everyone has to be a resident of somewhere and this is how it’s done if you are a full-time Rver. I take the opportunity to drive through the Black Hills in South Dakota and visit Devil’s Tower in Wyoming on my way back. The ugliness of the huge open-pit coal mines I see on my drive quickly replaces the beauty I saw earlier in the trip.

Wyoming has always had a boom and bust energy economy. On this particular visit, the economy is booming. The town of Gillette is unrecognizable from my childhood. Filled with newly constructed buildings and housing, brand new diesel pickups and high end luxury cars, it is a veritable metropolis compared to the town I knew thirty years ago. As I observe all this temporary prosperity, I can’t help thinking how shocked and devastated these people will be when the next bust inevitably comes. In the more than thirty years since I graduated high school, the same cycle has played out over and over again. And so, the fortunes of the people here continue to swing wildly on the energy industry’s ups and downs.

Summer is winding down now and I’ve completed most of my projects. I’m missing Chris and wanting to get back to the Pacific Northwest before winter hits. Time to start planning a route and places to visit along the way.

I have many fond memories of Jackson Hole, the Grand Tetons, and Yellowstone from my years of living in and visiting Wyoming. So, of course, it makes sense to visit them on my way west. As I start calling and searching for reservations, it becomes apparent that it’s best to wait until after Labor Day to start my journey. Because of availability, I will go to Dubois for a few days, then Yellowstone. I will backtrack from there to Grand Teton National Park. I’m excited to experience these places again, especially because I fancy myself a photographer now.