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This is out west. Wyoming to be exact and even more specifically if you’re that kind of person, Laramie, Wyoming. You can get physically further out west but you will be hard pressed to get any further out west emotionally. This is a small lake on the Hutton Lake National Wildlife Refuge where migratory waterfowl and other birds stop over on their way North or South depending on the time of year and their inclination. You can see just as far as you want to in any direction but you may have to climb a small rise next to the lake to see to the ends of the earth.

What you will see mostly is fairly flat land that is the color of a dusty old dun horse, the sleepy one leaning against the side of the barn because that’s where its warmest right now. Slap it on its haunches and the dust that rises from his coat is the color I’m talking about. At this time of year it is just barely spring and the green hasn’t started yet. The brush that is left over from last year, the stuff that didn’t blow away in the cold winter winds, is covered with the same dust that you can see for two lifetimes. It sets the mood for the place now. One that is slumbering but gently stirring, straining to wake and begin the new season. The roots are beginning to pulse with the need for spring rains and some of the buds on the low growing brush are trying mightily to break out into the new leaves that will signal the frenzy of spring’s beginning.

To get there you turn into the entrance of the city’s premier cement plant then head west for about three miles or so along a dirt road that pulls you steadily forward through sage and cactus and barbed wire fences towards the distant mountains way off, even more west than you are now. When you reach the gate with the small sign saying Hutton Lake National Wildlife  Refuge, cross the cattle guard and you’re pretty much there. To those unused to driving along the back roads out here, where you don’t see the constant panorama of strip malls, gas stations, houses, street lights, stop signs, motorcycle cops and all the other visual cues that tell you, you are safely at home and the worse that can befall you is a long wait at the drive up window, this can be a little intimidating. What happens if you get a flat tire? Or you get hungry. Or even scared. Many times your cell phone won’t work because you’re too far from the towers. There aren’t enough people out here to make it worth while to put some up. You will definitely feel alone but then that’s what a lot folks say they want.

Actually you just deal with it. Kind of like people did for the last couple of hundred years. Most of the time you find out that you can live through it. Out here you are exposed and vulnerable to the conditions at hand. When a storm blows up like the one above, you have several choices. Find shelter, always a good choice. Stay where you are and get wet and probably blown over too if the wind is strong enough. This is a marginal choice. Or a combination of the two where you stay out and experience the full effects of the wind and rain and the overwhelming power of one of these Prairie storms until the very last moment where you run back to the truck and sit inside listening to the thunder of the rain on the roof and the sound of windblown dust hitting the side of your truck rocking it back and forth. This is my personal favorite. Yours may vary on your tolerance levels.

One thing for certain you will know you’re out west. And alive.