So Bachelor Diner is all west now. So far in the kitchen a trout has been cooked and ate, and no coyotes have been hanging around beggin' for whiskey. Really, life in the barracks has been pretty uncomfortable. I feel I am still traveling, you know? I can hardly have a good meal without going out to eat. But that ain't a bad thing, since there is, bizarrely, a quite good Thai restaurant in Rawlins...I invariably end up perplexed when I wonder how Anong and his ilk ended up to begin a business here. Hopefully, over the weekend, my fellow interns and I will be moving into a better residence that will allow liquor, internet and dining comfort, and be closer to the field office.
So how is Rawlins, you interwebbars ask? Well people are friendly so far, and have a pretty universal love for hunting and mudding. But the town itself is pretty crappy. Outside the town is nothing but ranches and publicly-owned land for literally dozens of miles. And it isn't a big surprise to drive over two hours away to get to the next settlement, or for daily business.
The way things are in Rawlins is pretty much defined by the boom-and-bust cycle of western economy that still exists to this day. The town is coming down from an oil boom right now, but it may boom again soon with the incredibly ridiculous growth of wind-power in the next couple years. Admittedly, its hard to tell that this town is in any sort of boom besides the fact that everything is more expensive than I had imagined. That's right, instead of pants costing $1, they cost $30...shucks. Pretty much, it reminds me of the now busted Gardner and Fitchburg, but much smaller and less close to home. Chuggans was keen enough to point out that fact, and it is very true.
One thing those Central Massachusetts towns don't have that Rawlins does, besides lots of really large trucks and a convenience store that sells guns (we call it the bread and bullets), are wild creatures running amok everywhere. Even in town, mule deer seriously enjoy peoples' shrubbery and prance about in the road. Once you are ten minutes outside any settlement, you can't help but notice the pronghorns standing about aimlessly, or fighting each other. There are so many “critters” out here, as people call them fondly, and bones are pretty much everywhere. Frankly, its ridiculous. Oh, and I saw a bunch of wild horses out on the range yesterday. They saw me too.