After visiting six states in the last three weeks, it is
abundantly clear that we are no longer in the pesky drought that affected
western states in such a dire way over the last two decades.
The greenest
state, though, is Wyoming. The Red Desert now has a new name: The Green Desert.
Our famous
foothills outside of Lander that protect us from the awesome beauty of the bare
Wind River Mountains, known as the Lander Front, are as green as my front yard.
Rivers and
creeks are running high. By the time this column gets published, I would
predict flooding will be occurring at various places around the state.
I am writing
this on Sunday, June 5, where the thermometer reads 93 this afternoon. Whew!
It was so cold and so wet for so long, it is hard to believe that real
summer is bearing down on us.
One of my
trips involved fetching our old motorhome, which has been stored in Las
Vegas. Even Nevada and Arizona were
green. Even parched St. George, Utah was
verdant.
Here in Wyoming, Baggs and Rawlins
were amazingly green. Rivers and creeks are running muddy and high. They are
over the banks in many of the places we passed through.
The North Platte was running high
east of Rawlins on Interstate 80. The Sweetwater River was over its banks near
Sweetwater Station between Lander and Jeffrey City.
Places in Sheridan, Johnson and
Campbell counties plus other NE Wyoming counties are not nearly so green. In
fact Gov. Matt Mead signed a drought resolution earlier in June.
Another of my trips took me through
Yellowstone and up to Montana. On the way home, Powell is like one giant
garden. Worland was dizzyingly green.
Boysen Reservoir between Shoshoni and Riverton was high. Badwater Creek, which
is always dry and always “bad”, was running over its banks between Shoshoni and
Wind River Canyon.
I remarked to an experienced forest
firefighter that we probably were not in any fire danger this year, right?
He was cautious.
Well, yes and no, he said. Because
of all the rain, we have had tremendous growth of grass and weeds in the
mountains. If it gets crazy dry this fall and high dry winds come up, we could
have a monster conflagration. However,
he really was hoping this would not happen.
During our motorhome trip back from
Las Vegas, we spent the night in Mesquite. The couple next door was from Alberta,
Canada. They were very familiar with that monster fire at a place called Fort
McMurray.
They said it was truly hell on earth
but luckily they lived 50 miles away.
They said growth of foliage from wet weather that had dried, then the
fire went wild, consuming all that fuel, aided by high winds featuring very dry
air. Sound familiar?
I made a trip to Jackson May 25 and
encountered a snowstorm on 9,500-foot Togwotee Pass. It was a typical Wyoming
meeting. Three hours over, attend a one-hour meeting and three hours back home.
Again, rivers and creeks were running high and everything was as green as could
be imagined.
Down in Casper, the overflow at the
Pathfinder dam has been amazingly impressive.
Biggest flow in years.
When I surveyed some friends around
the state, here is what they reported:
“It’s beautiful in and around
Wheatland,” says Linda Fabian. “Green and lush. No flooding up on the mountain
but those people did have a couple weeks of way too much water! They are always thankful for it, though.”
Ray Hunkins, from the same area,
said: “The northern Laramie Range is as good as I have seen it, and I have
owned our ranch for over 35 years. It is located just south of Laramie Peak.
The flooding Laramie River has made transportation and access difficult for the
second year in a row.”
Chuck Brown, also of Wheatland,
reported creeks and rivers are at maximum capacity.
Ann Pendley of Cody emailed me a
photo that showed just how green her part of the state looks. Her picture showed a scene that looked like
Ireland.
Vince Tomassi in
Kemmerer-Diamondville said: “It is very green but drying out a little now with
the recent winds and no rain for 10 days or so. Sure looks great right now.”
Up in Buffalo, local columnist
Sagebrush Sven was asked by wife Maudie to put the snow shovel. Sven was protesting, though, saying you never
can tell . . .
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