Bao chilling out in a pole chair, in Dubois, Wyoming. Catch the tomahawks. I almost bought one. But what would I do with a tomahawk?

Butch Cassidy's girlfriend lived in Dubois (and it's pronounced du-boys) and that's why the Dubois Bank was never robbed. (Not because of the way it's pronounced, but because Etta lived there) It's a pretty little place, the main street -- called Ramshorn -- lined with buildings made of wood. And boardwalks, with verandahs over them. Art galleries. Places to get something decent to eat. Just a dot on the map, but not at all a bad place to stop for the night.

I saw photographs of the real Butch Cassidy -- and the Sundance Kid, and the rest of the gang -- in Thermopolis, at the excellent Hot Springs County Museum and Cultural Center. The real people didn't look anything like Robert Redford or Paul Newman. Actually, they looked a bit mean. Another fond illusion shot to hell.

We're a bit behind with our blogs, because there was a thunderstorm in Dubois last night. Seventeen drops of rain, two claps of thunder, no lightening, but it wiped out the internet signal. They don't have air conditioning, either. They've never needed air conditioning, until now. Actually it was okay, once the sun went down. You opened the windows, and breathed fresh air. Not at all a bad thing.