Hey, Grant County, it’s been awhile.

I have been very busy here winding up the season. Labor Day weekend was our last weekend of business. We had so many people – Nothing like waiting until the last minute to take a vacation.

I am still here because I was offered the chance to extend my contract into October and work on some light construction and repair projects. I jumped at the chance, and I am glad I stayed. But things are very different here now. I know it is almost all over and in all likelihood, I’ll never be back as an employee. This thought leaves a hollow pit in my stomach. Can you be nostalgic for a place and time you haven’t even left yet?

Fall came long ago to Roosevelt. We have mostly evergreen trees, but the bushes are a riot of color and there is that golden quality of light that can only be autumn. The mornings have been chilly for some time, but now the dawn sparkles with ice crystals on the flora, and the buildings shimmer with a light coating of frost. If summer here was beautiful, then I have no adjective to describe fall.

Missing, however, is the bustle and the camaraderie. The bison have already obeyed that ancient instinct that tells them to seek out warmer elevations, the horses have gone back to the contractor’s ranch for the winter. The bears are more evident as they strip the park of edibles before the long winter. I am hoping to see a little of that winter before I leave the park for good.

I no longer live in Roosevelt. The horses are gone and their tack cleaned and stored. The wagons are sheltered to wait for the next season, nine long months away. The cabins and lodge are cleaned and winterized and shut for the cold months ahead.

Except a handful who stayed over like me, the wranglers are gone. Brian will be married next year. Stephen is off to the south to chase Hurricane Gustav or whatever one is raging when he gets there. Darkhan went back to Kahzakstan, but hopes to come to the U.S. to study. Caroline is back in England. Over the summer, I came to really love these guys. I will probably never see them again.

We are working around here rebuilding trails, clearing brush, fixing hitching rails, replacing broken boards, etc. Like I said, I am glad I got this chance, but I miss my old job.

I miss seeing the cloud of the horses’ breath over the corrals in the morning, their soft greeting when we come to feed them. I miss the dozens of “Good Mornings” called by my fellow employees. I miss the excitement of the visitors, especially those who have never ridden a horse or wagon or experienced the outdoors so up close. I miss the familiarity of swinging into the saddle or picking up the reins and showing the next group all the wonders of this magnificent park that is ours.

And it is magnificent. I have seen so much this summer. I watched Old Faithful blow. I looked into the crystal-clear geothermal pools. I stood on some of the tallest peaks in the park and got a small sense of how vast this place is. I lived up close with wildlife I’d never even seen before. I’ve been to the Lake district and helped out as a wrangler in Canyon. I loved my job so much, I even spent some of my days off riding the park!

I took advantage of being near so many states I had never seen and did some exploring. Admittedly, a lot of that exploring took place at rodeos. I went to Cody, Wyo., three times, Bozeman, Mont., at least a half a dozen times, a number of times to Livingston and Cooke City, Mont. I’ve danced the western swing in four different states!

I am living in Gardiner, Mont., now that the park is closed, and commuting to work.

Our last night of our last day, we had our last cookout. We let it drag on longer than it should have, but nobody wanted to say good-bye to our last guests.

Nobody wanted to let the last campfire go out. We all kept telling the tall wrangler tales because it was the last time we would tell them. Nobody wanted to make that last ride down the mountain. Nobody wanted to go put the horses up, knowing that once the saddle was off, it wouldn’t be put back on. I know as I sat there, with all the laughing and joking, that I was not the only one with tears in my eyes.

This year is over. I have learned so much. I have grown so much. This was a pretty broadening experience for a good ol’ boy who has lived his whole life in towns of under 2,000 people. I am fortunate to get to extend my stay, but this year is over and next year will come. Another season of happy visitors and hardworking crew, whether wranglers or kitchen crew or special projects or whatever will make Roosevelt come alive.

Next year someone else will sleep in my cabin, someone else will ride my horse, someone else will spin my yarns, because I won’t be in Yellowstone. But … Yellowstone will be in me, forever.

Rhys Emery of John Day has spent the summer as a wrangler in Yellowstone National Park before going off to college in the fall.