To celebrate our 500th post on BigShotsNow we are republishing some of our more popular posts. This post first appeared on January 19th 2014. If you have any suggestions of previous posts you’d like to see again drop a note to dlutsey@enchantedpixels.com and we’ll try and honor that request. This is a request from a long time reader and we’re more than happy to fulfill it. Thanks BR.

I was returning home from a late spring shoot in Yellowstone, traveling the back roads of Wyoming taking in the scenery, and found myself on a stretch of two-lane highway that went on, straight as an arrow, for miles. It was that part of Wyoming that a lot of people find completely devoid of anything interesting to look at. Even boring perhaps. I don’t because I like the way being able to see for miles and miles makes me feel. It feels like you’re the first one to see this country even though you aren’t of course, but the feeling of all that space and you’re the only one in it feeds my sense of adventure.

The country is made up of low rolling hills, sparse vegetation, and sand. Lots of sand. To the uninitiated it would seem impossible to make a living out here or even sustain life for that matter, but they would be wrong. Scattered along this highway to nowhere there are small ranches, mysterious trailers sitting way out in the middle of nowhere, no wires leading to them, no signs of life except for the tire tracks leading up to them, fairly well used tire tracks. Every once in a while there will be a break in the fence with a dirt road leading off into the distance heading towards who knows where, until finally going over one of those low hills towards what, home maybe. To mark that this country is inhabited there is often a mailbox leaning up against the fence post by the cattle guard and occasionally the red flag would be up but I didn’t see that very often.

This is a place where you can drive for a long time without meeting another car and any movement can be seen for miles if you’re watching. And you need to be watching and not sleeping which is really easy to do if you stare at the road ahead too long. It seems like the view doesn’t change for hours and if you’re not careful you will find you have traveled for quite some time and you have no memory of what you just passed through. Hopefully your autopilot was on and you were in that phase I call the Sun-blind Lion phase and not asleep. That’s where there is a huge amount of activity going on behind your eyes in the farther back part of your brain that you use for planning stuff while you’re semi-conscious and driving. It’s where you can build an entire house stick by stick in your minds eye while your regular non-goofy part of your brain handles the mechanics of driving while you’re busy elsewhere. Either way it is disconcerting to suddenly be aware of traveling at a high rate of speed and realizing you weren’t aware. That’s why you look all over the place. You watch for birds, trying to figure out if that black speck out there near the horizon is a raven or a golden eagle or even a buzzard. Long minutes of intense concentration help eat up the miles. It’s always a raven, by the way. But the thought that it might be the eagle keeps you awake and that’s the whole point of this anyway.

Cresting a hill I could see way off in the distance a shape that wasn’t the normal next to the highway kind of shape. I always keep one of my cameras on the passenger seat in case I need it and it is set to the prevailing light conditions, turned on and ready to go. As I drew nearer I saw that it was two boys heading home or at least I thought it was their home as there was a cluster of low-lying buildings with corrals, an old pickup sitting there, a few kind of dusty and somewhat used looking cows standing nearby, and the general appearance of people living there real regular. I hadn’t passed another place for miles, I don’t know where these kids were coming from but it was clear they were going home. It must have been a kind of ritzy place as it had not only electric wires leading to it but a phone line as well and almost all of the fence posts were upright and the wire looked tight. Those are pretty sure signs this is a place where folks live full time.

I knew right off that they were professional cowboys as they didn’t use a saddle. Amateurs and city kids got to have a saddle. Plus their hats, It is a hard and fast rule that a cowboy kid growing up cannot have a hat that fits them until they’re at least 16 and then they must have knocked down one of their uncles in a fair fight before they’re allowed to choose the one they’ll have until they get married. This is a cowboy law and seldom broken. Besides it is a badge of honor and a sure sign of unspoken love to have and wear the hat your dad doesn’t need anymore. It means you belong to a family and they care about you. It doesn’t matter that you have to put Kleenex in the hat band to make it fit. It’s a grown up hat. I’ve heard of some of these hats being passed down through several generations until they finally wind up hanging on hooks next to a treasured family picture. An heirloom now that shows traditions need to be honored.

I knew I only had a chance for one or two pictures before they heard me coming and looked around. That would change the very character of the image I wanted so I rolled down the window and took a few shots as I coasted up to them. The wind was blowing up pretty good as it does two or three times a year in Wyoming so they didn’t hear the truck until I pulled up next to them. I was right, they both turned to look and the whole image changed. They were nearly as surprised as I was to find another living soul out here so we both tentatively waved at each other and they turned down their lane towards home and I pointed the truck south and did the same.

I don’t normally photograph people. I’m more comfortable out in the field shooting wildlife and landscapes, but every once in a while that perfect shot comes along and I can’t pass it up. That’s the way it was with “Big Hats- Heading Home”.