Sunday in Rawlins, Wyoming

August 26, 2007, Sunday I must admit that the last three campgrounds I’ve stayed at--KOAs in Vernal, Rock Springs, and RV Campworld in Rawlins, WY, are cleaner than my house!!





The laundry areas and showers are spotless. I think it comes from being raised in a part of the country where kids are taught to clean up after themselves and what the campers don’t take care of, the campground hosts are right on top of it. This campground today even has a little shelf in the laundry area with hand cream!

The campground hosts are frequently older Rvers themselves who are “Full-timers.” These are people who hit the road as soon as they retired. The couple at RV Campworld have been doing this for six years. When the wife got ill back in their late forties they also came to the realization that it’s NOW. They sold their house, bought the RV and haven’t looked back. They love it! They even have their favorite doctors in Arizona where they always manage to end up at least once or twice a year. I notice that full-timers drive huge Class A motor homes and tow Jeeps. As a friend once described Americans to me--nothing but Gypsies with credit cards!

Rawlins was only 100 miles from Rock Springs. Since I got here so early I decided to drive through the downtown--such as it is--and check it out. I went right by St. Joseph’s Catholic church and mass was just starting. Amazing! I was happily surprised to find a church that had been built by people who gave a damn.

It was actually quite pretty inside although I found the arched ceiling sans earthquake retrofitting a tad disconcerting. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a REAL PIPE ORGAN played! What blessed relief not to be assailed with guitarists familiar with only 4 chords and aging singers who haven’t heard the news that the Sixties ended a long time ago. I haven’t felt so thankful in a long time.

The congregation was small--maybe 75 people--but congregation the organist played as if she thought she was in a cathedral. My only disappointment was realizing that my lungs really have been damaged.

Finally there was music worth singing and I can only manage about 5 notes before needing air.

I took quite a few pictures and again thanked the good pioneers of the turn of the last century for caring enough to build a church that wasn’t disposable.

I do wonder what happened with this table in the back of the church that must have really ticked off the secretary!!!

Southern Wyoming is a mystery--there is nothing to see! It’s not ugly--it’s simply nothing! No rocks, no trees, no rills, no purple mountain majesty, no fruited plain. Some dull gray/green plants dot the dull earth but nothing over 18” high. I-80 just goes and goes with no turns or decisions.
The LEGAL fireworks stands are a constant temptation. How many bottle rockets can one stash in a Minnie Winnie? “Please, Officer, I’m just a little ole grannie going to her father-in-law’s funeral. I’m sure I don’t even know what a Picolo Pete is.”
The only business I saw and it was booming was something called The Red Desert. It said “Adults Only” but nothing about books. I suppose it could have been a House of Ill Repute but I was entertaining breaking fireworks laws, not moral ones.
The best sign I saw was for Frontier Prison: “Come Do Some Time With Us.” I thought it was an invitation to break the law but later found out it was a museum!
And now, for your viewing pleasure, a photo tour of Rawlins, Wyoming.