First, though, the road between.
My mom gave us a ride just outside of Jackson to get started, specifically to Hoback Junction, the world covered in snow around us. We didn't have to wait for the cold to get to us, as we stuck out our thumbs and quickly yielded ourselves a ride from a beer distributor, although at the moment he was with his chill dog heading to Denver for a concert. Some six hours of conversation later we were in Laramie where he'd be turning south to Denver.
Darkness, it comes all too soon in the winter, shaving some four or five hours off the usable amount of hitchhiking time as compared to undying days of summer, where everything feels closer and movers are on the move. Not this night, though, instead we were in a dark and cold Laramie, all this while still full of energy after an easy one-ride day coming off a relaxing week in Jackson.
The solution: a brewery. A shining beacon of warmth, a place for contemplation, a breeding ground of travel magic, a place to tickle taste buds that trigger inspiration. A place to get buzzed in the middle of a Wyoming winter, anyway.