It's been a while since I've been to Wyoming. Most of my visits were motorcycle touring on a sport bike. We always liked NW WY for the beauty. I particularly liked the Cody area and the ride up Highway 212 into Montana. The southern part of the state was always crossed with trepidation because of the high winds and gusts. Wyoming is still on my short list of free states where I'd be willing to live but it would need to be in an area with less wind.
We moved to Montana about 3 years ago and there are a lot of similarities and some differences. Where we live doesn't have as many warning signs for grizzlies and fish and game certainly doesn't track sightings. Most of our signs are reminders to manage garbage and attractants because the bear presence is a given. Since we'd moved here, our cameras have picked up cougar, black bear, grizzly and wolf in the yard at night and last year I had to mothball a badger setting up in the yard.
Several years back, I was fishing outside of Missoula and camping about 100 feet from the river. And as usual, always had food items stored safely, and as usual, I bought along a 44 mag handgun and 357 lever rifle. About 4 am one morning, I awoke to the grunting and snorting sound of a griz coming down a trail that paralleled the river by only feet.
The handgun was next to my cot, so I picked it up in one hand and held a 2Mil CP spot light in the other and lied still while carefully listening. My mind quickly ran down a list of things from getting out of the tent before he collapsed it, were my knife was to cut my way out to reassuring myself I had left no fish scraps anywhere on land.
About the time I thought he hit the area were I was going in and out of the water the day before, he stopped and quieted for several seconds. That's it, I thought, as he would now track right to my camp and tent. Now, instead of lying quietly, I set up on the cot edge with my pulse running a few beats faster. My mind warning me to get out of the potential trap of the tent. Then after several seconds, I heard him moving down the river trail again, and slowly, he went out of hearing range.
Needless to say, I stayed on high alert until daylight and decided to have a cold breakfast that morning and not cook eggs and bacon over the fire. Much later that day, I learned a camp about a quarter mile down the river had experienced a griz in the camp that tore into several food items and an ice chest left on a table while two fly fishermen stood in the middle of the cold river for over an hour.