Whisker Biscuit

We piled into the car for our road trip to Saratoga, WY fueled by Starbucks, a satisfying game of luggage tetris, and Kacey Musgraves. We all agreed that Starbucks has the most exemplary service of all caffiene-dealerships. Haley at the helm, we cruised up the foothills bopping along and discussing the week ahead. We stopped at a tiny town in Wyoming to relieve ourselves and I bought a rice krispie the size of a red hawk.

Upon arrival, the staff immediately helped us to unload the vehicle and sent us off to lunch. None of us were very hungry, but that didn't stop us for gorging ourselves on the delicious options. I had the Elk Stew and a soda. Apparently, alcoholic beverages are verboten when you intend to partake in certain afternoon activities. Given that we had archery on the schedule, the server, Jamie, suggested a soda instead of the Coors Banquet I'd requested.

For our first activity, the family divided and hopped into two Rangers with a guide. We took a dirt road out to an archery course. Carson taught us about the "whisker biscuit" which is the little bristled donut that holds the arrow in place. Haley and Ramsey had an advantage because they'd visited an archery range the day before. The course was similar to disc golf, where you shoot at a target, walk over to it to collect your arrows, then walk a few paces to find yourself at the start of the next target. The course was mostly thistles, rabbit brush, and low trees. While Haley and Ramsey were the clear archers of the bunch, I managed to shoot the antlers clear off the deer target! Not sure that that was the goal, but I was giddy to hear it hadn't been done before. If Stacy and Dawn were put in charge of bringing home dinner, let me tell you, we'd all starve. They could not hit anything! My mom dejectedly hung her head repeating, "I suck!" And she did. We all had a good time and learned a new term.

The Need for Speed

We splurged on the "incremental" ATV trip. We learned the language of the resort relied heavily on the words:

• Incremental: Not included in the exorbitant fee you paid to stay here
• Absolutely: yes, we can do that
• My Pleasure: sure
• Absolutely, it would be my pleasure: okay, lets tone it down a bit, shall we?

Back to the ATVing! It was a dusty journey on some semi-technical, sandy, rutted paths through the Medicine Bow mountains. We were warned that the ATVs were our financial responsibility, and should we flip them we gon'pay. The warning rattled around my brain for the first half hour while I tailed my mom and Stacy at a safe distance, picking my line fastiduously, and wondering just how much this dang thing costs. At minute thirty one and three-quarters, I'd forgotten the potential expense and just wanted to GO FAST. We booted Dawn and Stacy off the front of the train and let Ramsey lead. Fortunately for Haley and I, Ramsey kept us on our toes, yo-yoing in order to avoid breathing in the guide's dust cloud. Admittedly, Haley and I were both yelling under our helmets to hurry the heck up, but Ramsey stayed consistently inconsistent. I say luckily because Haley and I were likely to let our lizard-brain take over and drive ourselves dangerously into an ATV-shaped debt. On one uphill corner, I noticed that Ramsey and guide, Nick, were off to the right and Haley was somewhere off to the left. I idled while I let the dust clear to find Haley giggling off in the rabbit brush. She'd experienced the need for speed and landed herself off course.

Rock On

The dialogue that precludes a climb consists of: "Belay?" "Belay on." "Climbing?" "Climb on."

But at Magee Homestead, they switched up the lingo.

Pond Fly Fly Fishing

Call time: 6AM. We all managed to rouse ourselves before sun-up.

Breakfast for Dinner

While the bartender, Isaac, was equipt to make some of the finer beverages available, such as the Lost Oaxacan, the Aperol Spritz, and the classic Manhattan - he confided in us that what he truly longed to concoct was: the Breakfast Shot. The lodge had refused his many proposals to aquire butterscotch snapps due to it's incongruency with the whole affair. We'd expressed interest in his famed shot, in spite of my own reputation of drinking only the lightest of beers, and my mother's affliction of having lost her sweet tooth (RIP).

On our third night at the property, Isaac waved us over to the bar, and with his cowboy hat tipped low he smirked, dipped behind the bar, and retrieved a bottle of something medicinal-looking. Yup, butterscotch snapps. He'd purchased it with his own money and intended to fix us one for a preprandial lubricant. Note: I may be taking liberties with the dialogue and diction.

The Big Day

Farewell to All Y'all

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