COKEVILLE, Wyo.—Tim Teichert and Jason Thornock want the sun to help them survive as ranchers in Cokeville, Wyoming. On an overcast May day, the two drove around the one-restaurant town, lamenting high electricity prices and restrictive Wyoming laws that they say have thrown an unnecessary burden onto their broad shoulders.
“I pay $90,000 in an electric bill,” Teichert said as he and Thornock made their way through fields of cattle, alfalfa and hay. “Jason’s about $150,000. If Jason had that $150,000 back, his kids could all come back to Cokeville, and work and live here, and you’d be able to raise kids here in Cokeville.”
In 2023, hoping to improve their margins, Teichert and Thornock each applied for Rural Energy for America Program (REAP) grants, which the Biden administration had infused with $2 billion to help support farmers interested in renewable energy.
While neither man was thrilled about the prospect of applying for federal funds—they prefer smaller government—they were interested in using solar to cover their own electrical demand. Teichert and Thornock say this could have saved them five or six figures annually, and made their businesses more attractive to their kids.
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Across Wyoming and the U.S., Americans increasingly face skyrocketing electricity bills. In 2023, Rocky Mountain Power, Teichert and Thornock’s utility and the largest in Wyoming, asked regulators at the state’s Public Service Commission to approve a nearly 30 percent rate increase; the next year, they asked to raise rates by close to 15 percent. Though both requests were ultimately granted at lower rates, affordability concerns have sent almost every corner of Wyoming scrambling for ways to defray rising electricity costs.
A fraction of homeowners already do this in the Equality State by using credits from their utility for generating their own electricity using solar panels and sending excess amounts back to the grid, an arrangement known as net metering. But Wyoming law caps net-metering systems at 25 kilowatts, large enough to include just about any homeowner’s rooftop solar system, but too small to provide enough credits to offset all the electricity larger properties, like ranches, draw from the grid.
Earlier this year, a coalition of environmentalists, businesses and ranchers, including Teichert and Thornock, unsuccessfully supported a bill that would have raised Wyoming’s net-metering cap to 250 kilowatts.
Teichert and Thornock were initially counting on changes to the law as they eyed REAP funds. Teichert, a sturdy man with pale blue eyes and a trim Fu Manchu mustache, eventually applied and was awarded a $440,000 grant to build a ranch shed supporting around 250 kilowatts of solar panels. Today, with no ability to net meter, he fears he may never recoup his investment, which was over $500,000. Thornock, whose wide, boyish grin sits atop a hefty build, was approved for $868,000 in REAP funding to build a 648-kilowatt solar system. Concerned that his project’s viability rested on the judgment of state lawmakers, he returned the money.
The Department of Agriculture has since stopped funding renewable energy projects on farmland. REAP was a “huge opportunity we all missed in Wyoming,” Thornock said.
The two men are not the only Wyoming ranchers interested in using solar to give their businesses more stability.
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“A lot of ranchers really look to renewables to help diversify their revenue stream, keep the ranch whole, and keep their family on the ranch, keep the land together,” said Chris Brown, executive director of Powering Up Wyoming, a renewable energy advocacy group. Most of the ranchers he’s worked with are interested in leasing their lands to solar developers, rather than purchasing their own systems, and his organization is neutral on net-metering.
Rocky Mountain Power says it is open to changes in the state’s net-metering laws, and the utility did not take a position on net metering during last spring’s legislative session.
“It’s not a level playing field; you’re dealing with a monopoly—a government-subsidized monopoly, government-protected monopoly.”
— Jason Thornock
“We have worked diligently in recent decades with customers, municipalities, state legislatures, in order to facilitate particular regulatory and pricing changes to allow customers to meet their energy goals,” said David Eskelsen, a spokesperson for PacifiCorp, Rocky Mountain Power’s parent company and a subsidiary of billionaire Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway.
If rate hikes keep coming and margins don’t improve, Teichert, who runs his ranch with his brother, fears he and Thornock will eventually have to sell their lands, which crisscross much of Cokeville. They find other utilities’ arguments against net-metering expansion dubious, and fume at the business model and regulatory environment that allows utilities to earn enormous profits but restricts their customers from making their own energy use more affordable. The two ranchers find it particularly ironic that Rocky Mountain Power could build power lines across their property to carry renewable energy to California, Oregon and Washington, while it is illegal for them to install enough solar panels to cover their own electrical bills.
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“It’s not a level playing field; you’re dealing with a monopoly—a government-subsidized monopoly, government-protected monopoly,” Thornock said on his ride to see Teichert’s solar array. “It’s got all the power in the world. And, like Tim says, they want to sell renewable energy to California, [Washington] and Oregon. They won’t let us do it because they want the control.”
Reaping Few Rewards
Teichert pulled his truck through a gate and into a field of alfalfa and hay. Just beyond was a shed with 18 red steel legs that looked like an enormous centipede straddling bales of hay and some farming equipment. On top of the shed sat Teichert’s $1.1 million solar system, which was designed to cover the electrical costs of running all his irrigation system’s pivots and pumps.
If Teichert could net meter, he says he would be more competitive with ranchers just a few miles away in Idaho and Utah, where net-metering laws are much less restrictive than in Wyoming.
In Idaho, ranchers can install up to 100 kilowatts of solar, and that number jumps to 2 megawatts for ranchers in Utah, 80 times the limit in Wyoming.
Tim Teichert installed around 250 kilowatts of solar using REAP funding, hoping Wyoming would change its net-metering laws.
Rocky Mountain Power charges irrigators different base electricity rates in each state, but regardless of the price of the power, any savings are helpful to big users like agricultural operations.
“Quite a few of the farmers [in Idaho and Utah] do it,” said Teichert, of net-metered solar.
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In 2023, while Teichert was designing his system, Thornock was considering whether it was wise to spend his money on a solar array. He believed there was a good chance Wyoming wouldn’t change its law to increase the cap on net metering. Since his system would be more than 25 times the size that’s allowed to net meter, Thornock anticipated it would be extremely difficult for it to pay for itself if he wasn’t credited for sending excess electricity to the grid. He backed out of his REAP grant, and advised Teichert to do the same.
But Teichert forged ahead and installed his panels, believing it would be no big deal to convince Wyoming lawmakers to adjust the state’s net-metering law—especially given the more advantageous arrangement ranchers in Idaho and Utah enjoy with the same utility. “I thought I’d be ahead of everybody,” he said.
Once the bill to raise Wyoming’s net-metering cap failed, Teichert pivoted. He began exploring a power purchase agreement with Rocky Mountain Power, in which the utility would buy electricity from him like he was a power plant. He said he had been told by the company installing his panels that a power purchase agreement could net him a good deal.
But when he saw how much the utility would pay him, he laughed. The utility would give him less than 1 cent per kilowatt hour in winter periods of low demand, and about 4 cents in peak summer demand hours. He would get much more of a financial benefit from the electricity he sent to the grid if he was instead compensated through net metering, which Wyoming law typically requires be credited at Rocky Mountain Power’s retail rate of electricity. The utility charges him around 14 cents per kilowatt hour, he said.
Setting up to sell his excess electricity to the grid through a power purchase agreement could leave Teichert even deeper in the hole, he added, as the utility informed him it would need $43,000 just to look at connecting his system to its grid.
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Teichert looks over his power purchase agreement with Rocky Mountain Power. He is forgoing the agreement because he doesn’t believe it will ever let him recoup the costs of his system.
Originally, Teichert expected to pay off his solar shed in 10 years, but with the additional costs and the rates the utility offered, “I don’t know that I’ll ever come out on the deal,” he said.
And now, the federal support that incentivized him to pursue solar has been eliminated; in August the Department of Agriculture announced it would no longer fund solar or wind projects through REAP.
Teichert eventually decided to purchase a battery system to back up his panels. He does not plan on selling any of his electricity to Rocky Mountain Power.
“I should have listened to Jason,” he said.
Thornock feels he dodged a bullet.
Driving away from the solar shed, Teichert and Thornock said their history with Rocky Mountain Power contradicts other utilities’ arguments against net-metering.
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Lines in the Valley
The biggest of the power lines crisscrossing the valley where Teichert and Thornock ranch belong to PacifiCorp, whose planned Gateway West project to deliver renewable energy to customers in California, Oregon and Washington would add even more lines. Some of those new lines could cross Teichert and Thornock’s properties, the men say.
They’ve got more experience with power lines than most utility customers, as they actually built some of the smaller lines coming off Rocky Mountain Power’s system.
Both men say the utility sent inflated estimates of the cost to install new lines to bring additional power to their growing ranching operations, leading them to seek help elsewhere.
In 2020, Teichert said he contracted a company to put in a power line for about $600,000 after the utility told him he would need to pay over $1 million for the same job, he said. Thornock has repeatedly testified to state lawmakers that Rocky Mountain Power nearly bankrupted him when he first began ranching in the late 2000s after going back and forth with him about whether they would deliver power on lines he had installed. Thornock wound up in court and lost, then had to cover the utility’s attorney fees.
The whole saga “was that close to breaking me,” he said, as Teichert drove by the poles he had installed.
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Jason Thornock wishes he could use solar to offset an annual $150,000 electrical bill.
Utilities warn that net-metering systems can allow those with rooftop solar to avoid paying fixed expenses for the grid they feed into, like system maintenance and construction costs, which, according to reporting by the New York Times, account for a growing share of utilities’ spending. “That in effect sets up a subsidy flowing from customers who don’t use net-metering systems to those who do,” said Eskelsen, PacifiCorp’s spokesperson. Any price issues rooftop solar customers cause are confined within their “rate class” of customers who use a similar amount of electricity, he added.
Determining how—or whether—to alter the rates for net-metering customers to make sure they’re paying their fair share for the infrastructure that takes their excess energy has been a sticking point between utilities and Wyoming’s net-metering supporters. Rooftop solar supporters say that subsidization likely occurs all over the grid regardless of whether a homeowner or business is net metering, and claim that avoiding transmission costs saves all ratepayers money.
Experts generally say that rooftop solar’s dependence on infrastructure that it isn’t paying for won’t create billing issues until 10 to 20 percent of a utility’s customer base is in the program. Less than two percent of all Wyoming homes have rooftop solar panels, according to estimates from the Solar Energy Industry Association.
Given all the work he’s paid for, Teichert finds utilities’ arguments about cost sharing disingenuous. “When they sit there and say, ‘Well, we’re not paying our share,’ we’ve more than paid our share,” Teichert said. “That bugs me that they lie like that.”
Thornock said he would be happy to pay for any issues a net-metering solar system may cause—provided the new rate is fair, and preferably not suggested by a utility.
“We’re not asking for a handout. I don’t want Rocky Mountain Power subsidizing me,” he said. “I just want to be able to compete. I just want to be able to make a living.”
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When told of Teichert and Thornock’s experience building their own power lines, Eskelsen was surprised, but said it was possible in such a rural area. “That’s not something that we typically allow,” he said.
But what really bothers Teichert and Thornock is the utility business model. In Wyoming, as determined by the Public Service Commission in the company’s latest rate case hearing, Rocky Mountain Power is entitled to a 9.5 percent return on equity, around the national average, according to S&P estimates. In other words, if Rocky Mountain Power uses shareholder funds to build long-term assets, like power plants, it can recover up to an additional 9.5 percent of the total value of those assets from its customers and deliver that back to shareholders as profit.
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This incentivizes Rocky Mountain Power to “explode [their] costs,” Thornock said. “Ten percent of 10 million is a lot more than [10] percent of a million,” he continued. “Even I can do that math.”
At least one former utility executive believes that the nationwide average of around 10 percent return on equity for utilities is too lucrative, and should be closer to 6 percent to more appropriately reflect the benefits and risks of investing in a utility.
“We’re not asking for a handout. I don’t want Rocky Mountain Power subsidizing me. I just want to be able to compete. I just want to be able to make a living.”
— Jason Thornock
A utility’s return on equity is misunderstood, Eskelsen said, and functions more like a ceiling than a guarantee. Because utilities must “open our books to utility commissions,” who judge whether the company has spent prudently, they have a “powerful incentive” not to exaggerate their costs, he said. A commission disallowing a utility’s costs cuts profits for utility shareholders, he added.
Back in Teichert’s truck, he and Thornock laughed at the fantasy of getting a guaranteed profit on cattle and crop purchases. “I think that’s why there’s such a huge blowback from these utilities on net metering,” Thornock said. “They can see that if we let these guys produce their own power, they’re going to see right through all the nonsense.”
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“And I don’t blame them,” he continued. “If I was in their shoes, man, that’s crazy money—and they’re protected by the government to do it.”
Staying Alive
For their way of life to remain sustainable for themselves, their kids and grandkids, Wyoming needs to either increase the net-meeting cap or change how it regulates utilities “so we can have something fair,” Teichert said.
But he and Thornock see many of Wyoming’s representatives as too deferential to utilities, and neither of them has much faith that the state will overhaul the system.
While it is not unusual for politicians in Wyoming to accept donations from sectors they regulate, at least one member of the Wyoming Senate has close professional ties to a utility. Dan Dockstader, a state Senator representing Teton and Lincoln counties, which includes Cokeville, is a board member of Lower Valley Energy, an electric cooperative.
As last year’s net-metering bill came up for a vote in the Senate, Dockstader amended the bill to exempt electric utility co-ops from Public Service Commission oversight when it came to setting net-metering customers’ rates. The commission now has “limited jurisdiction over eighteen retail rural electric cooperatives,” according to its website.
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Rocky Mountain Power transmission lines run across both Teichert’s and Thornock’s property, and there may soon be more here if the utility decides to run its Gateway West transmission project through this corridor.
The amendment didn’t sit well with Thornock. “[Dockstader is] representing Lower Valley Energy, he’s not representing the people who are using the power,” he said.
“I was representing the interests of the Wyoming Rural Electric Association (WREA) with 14 electric power distribution cooperates and another three generation and transmission cooperates,” Dockstader said, in an email. “All efforts to pass legislation should include a balanced approach with the rural cooperatives.”
Those who have been trying to find a way to raise Wyoming’s net-metering cap agree that utilities hold a lot of sway with lawmakers in Cheyenne.
“We watched numerous amendments chip away at the original intent of the bill, to the point where we realized if it passed it would actually be a step back for rooftop solar deployment in Wyoming,” said John Burrows, climate and energy director for the Wyoming Outdoor Council.
“Utilities have established, professional lobbyists,” he continued. “They lobbied quite aggressively on this issue and I suspect that that had an impact on where the bill went.”
Moving forward, net-metering supporters are trying to resolve their differences with utility companies through a third-party facilitator before introducing another bill, according to Burrows.
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“Net metering still needs to happen,” Thornock said. Other energy sources, like small modular nuclear reactors that can generate power without emissions, but rely on unproven technologies, intrigue him—but he worries they’ll also be hobbled by the kinds of problems plaguing net metering. “If we don’t get this net-meeting stuff figured out we’re not going to be able to take advantage of the technology that’s coming,” he said.
Clouds shrouded the high sun over Cokeville when Teichert dropped Thornock off at his house around noon. Cruising around his hometown, where he once taught middle school English, Teichert pointed out about half a dozen homes sporting rooftop solar panels. As the cost of living goes up, his 91-year-old mother’s house may be next.
“At some point, my mom’s gonna have to choose between, do you turn on the power or do you buy groceries?” he said.
Rising costs, including for electricity, pose a similar dilemma to his business. “If it gets to the point where you can’t afford to ranch, our only option is to start selling 35-acre parcels,” he said.
Eventually, Teichert navigated toward the mountains. He slowed to admire the clarity of a creek, pulled over to gush over the ski slopes just outside of town and spoke eloquently about Cokeville’s history as an energy hub. But on his way home, he saw ranchland that had been carved up and sold to developers, and his eyes winced with angst. He kept driving.
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Jake Bolster
Reporter, Wyoming and the West
Jake Bolster reports on Wyoming and the West for Inside Climate News. Previously, he worked as a freelancer, covering climate change, energy, and the environment across the United States. He holds a Masters in Journalism from Columbia University.
County 17 publishes letters, cartoons and opinions as a public service. The content does not necessarily reflect the opinions of County 17 or its employees. Letters to the editor can be submitted by emailing editor@oilcity.news.
Dear Gillette,
I am writing this letter because I am fed up with being forced to make impossible decisions just to live and work in Gillette.
We are constantly told that Campbell County is a great place to build a life, but the reality on the ground is exhausting. We are facing a double penalty here: a dwindling, high-cost economy and an almost non-existent dating scene. I am tired of having to choose between paying outrageous rent for a basic apartment or moving away from friends and community because I cannot find a genuine, long-term partner.
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The dating pool in Gillette feels more like a shallow puddle. Many of us are doing everything right — working hard, staying stable — yet we are coming up empty-handed due to limited public social spaces and transient culture that isn’t conducive to long-term relationships.
It is disheartening to see the “Wyoming Advantage” disappear while we are stuck in a dating desert. Rising costs and limited supply make housing a heavy burden, with residents struggling to find affordable options. Skyrocketing fuel, utility and grocery prices have put families under extreme financial pressure.
I am tired of sacrificing my personal happiness and financial stability to live here.
We need more than just industrial growth; we need quality of life that allows us to find love and build a future here, not just by a paycheck.
Kevin McNutt Gillette
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Rich Renner always knew he had pretty good neighbors, but he found out just how good when his new rescue dog from California got himself lost in a Wyoming whiteout.
Renner had taken the goldendoodle named Charlie out ahead of this past week’s storm to relieve himself. There was some snow on the ground at the time, but Charlie wasn’t having a thing to do with that strange, cold, white stuff on the ground.
At least not at first.
“I had taken him out to the barn, but he was staying under the overhang,” Renner said. “He wouldn’t go out to the snow.”
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Given the dog’s reluctance, Renner decided to shovel a path from the barn to the house to make it a little easier for the pooch to get around.
While Renner was doing that, the dog finally decided maybe the snow wasn’t so bad after all.
“He kind of got the zoomies,” Renner said. “So, he was running around and went around the corner, out of sight. I had boots on, so I followed after him.”
By the time Renner turned the corner, there was no sign of Charlie.
A dog named Charlie a Wyoming couple rescued from a California shelter running off with a whiteout blizzard on the way triggered a 24-hour search. It was a miracle, Charlie’s owners believe, that a newlywed couple in the middle of nowhere found him. (Courtesy Rich and Barb Renner)
A California Dog Meets His First Wyoming Whiteout
At first, Renner wasn’t too concerned. It wasn’t the first time the dog had done a little bit of exploring around the house.
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Normally, he came back on his own.
But this time was different. There was a huge snowstorm expected later in the day, and the forecast was for temperatures in the range of 25 degrees.
Charlie is a rescue dog fresh from California, which means the goldendoodle didn’t have much in the way of fat stored in his body. Nor was he yet acclimated to the cold.
Renner followed his dog’s tracks down to a forested edge, and there saw what had captured Charlie’s attention.
“There were deer tracks all over,” Renner said. “Boom, he was gone.”
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Renner was at first more worried about the deer than the dog.
He’d just put an AirTag on the dog’s newly arrived collar right before they went outside that morning. The collar also had the couple’s names and phone numbers.
“An hour later, that AirTag pinged at a neighbor’s house about a half mile away,” Renner said. “So I zoomed down there on a four-wheeler and I saw tracks, but no Charlie.”
Renner roamed around on his four-wheeler for about an hour, looking for and calling for Charlie. Then he had to go to work.
“My wife, Barb, stayed home all day and worked off and on and looked for him some, too,” he said.
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A dog named Charlie a Wyoming couple rescued from a California shelter running off with a whiteout blizzard on the way triggered a 24-hour search. It was a miracle, Charlie’s owners believe, that a newlywed couple in the middle of nowhere found him. (Courtesy Rich and Barb Renner)
A Long, Cold Night
Once Renner returned home, he and his wife did more searching until about 10:15 p.m. that night using a headlamp to see.
“I thought I’d see his eyes somewhere with that headlamp,” Renner said. “But to no avail.”
By this time, a sick feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach.
He was thinking about how the dog had chased after an animal three times his own size and how sometimes deer had charged, unafraid, at the couple’s older husky.
Maybe Charlie had been hurt. And Wyoming’s famous winter winds were picking up.
Was his California pooch stuck somewhere outside in this Wyoming whiteout, where the temperature was just getting colder and colder?
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“It had snowed all day,” Renner said. “It was just a lot of snow.”
That snow covered the dog’s tracks, making him impossible to track.
The AirTag was proving next to useless as well, suggesting the dog had gone somewhere very rugged, some place with little to no data to transmit a signal.
Tuesday night, Renner could barely sleep thinking about Charlie, lost in this heavy snowstorm, with temperatures forecast to get into the lower 20s that night.
“Since we didn’t find him, I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, he’s not going to survive the night,’” Renner said. “I kept waking up a lot and thinking about him. Like, ‘Oh my gosh, what’s he experiencing right now? Where’s he at? Did a mountain lion get him?’”
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The next day, Renner and his wife were both exhausted but had not lost hope they would yet find Charlie.
They were looking, their neighbors were all looking. They even hired a drone company to come look for Charlie using an infrared camera.
A dog named Charlie a Wyoming couple rescued from a California shelter running off with a whiteout blizzard on the way triggered a 24-hour search. It was a miracle, Charlie’s owners believe, that a newlywed couple in the middle of nowhere found him. (Courtesy Rich and Barb Renner)
Neighbors Rally As Storm Deepens
The Renners had been putting messages out on Facebook and social media about Charlie, asking for the community’s help to find him.
Renner was amazed at how his neighborhood sprang into action.
It seemed that everyone he knew — and even some people he didn’t know yet — were looking for his pet, who he feared was too skinny to survive another night out in the cold, much less the cold, wet snowstorm that continued into Wednesday.
“Before, I lived in Cheyenne for a lot of years, and you didn’t even hardly know your neighbors,” he said. “You maybe said ‘hi,’ to them when there’s a snowstorm and you’re shoveling your snow at the same time.
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“But other than that, we didn’t even know our neighbors.”
Mountain Meadows, though, proved to be a different kind of friendly — the kind that doesn’t smile and wave in passing; the kind that shows up on the doorstep and asks, “How can I help?”
“There were probably six different vehicles or side by sides at different times looking for him Tuesday night,” Renner said. “And then people were passing the word on through Facebook and emails and everything.
“And just everyone was praying for him. I mean the number of prayers that went up for Charlie is just amazing.”
A Blind Date, A Snowy Hike, And A Lost Dog
While a small army of neighbors continued to search for Charlie with drones and side-by-sides, a newlywed couple the Renners had never met were on a surprise date.
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Jada, a Laramie native, and Collin Szymanski, from Utah, are newlyweds.
Since Collin is new to Wyoming, Jada has been making a point of showing him some of her favorite places.
That day, she’d decided on a literal blind date, complete with blindfold, to one of her favorite places in Curt Gowdy State Park — Hidden Falls.
The falls are a couple miles from where the Renners live as the crow flies, and maybe 10 miles or more away in twisting, winding, dog-chasing-a-deer miles.
By the time Jada and her husband arrived at the Hidden Falls Trail, snow was picking up speed and Jada was starting to question the idea of hiking that afternoon.
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“There was, like, snow everywhere,” Jada said. “I was like, ‘Oh man, I thought it was going to be a little less snow than this.’
“So I unblindfolded him and I was like, ‘Should we still go?’”
The couple are young and in love, so of course the answer to that question was, “Yes!”
As they hiked into the thick carpet of new snow, they soon found themselves with a new-but-stand-offish friend.
“All of a sudden we see this little dog running around,” Jada said. “We’re thinking, ‘Oh well, his owners must have decided to go on a hike in the snow, too.’”
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A dog named Charlie a Wyoming couple rescued from a California shelter running off with a whiteout blizzard on the way triggered a 24-hour search. It was a miracle, Charlie’s owners believe, that a newlywed couple in the middle of nowhere found him. (Courtesy Rich and Barb Renner)
The Sound Of Loneliness
When they got to the end of the trail, though, there were no owners around.
That was when Charlie began to howl, a haunting, lost sound.
“You could tell he was so sad,” Jada said. “So we were trying to get to him, but he was a little scared of us.”
Once Jada managed to get close enough to see Charlie’s collar, things changed. The second she said his name, the dog immediately calmed down and came over to them.
It was remarkable, given that Charlie had only had that name for about four weeks. But it clearly meant everything to the dog to hear that one word.
These were friends, Charlie decided, because somehow they knew his name.
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An Answer To A Prayer
By noon, with no further sight or sign of Charlie, the Renners’ hopes were dwindling.
Their property backs up to some very rugged country with deep draws and thick timber. It’s a maze of places to get lost.
It’s also a maze full of obstacles and dangers much larger than Charlie — mountain lions, deer, moose. Then there are box canyons easier to get into than out.
Their skinny California dog, chasing a deer in a full Wyoming whiteout, could easily become lost, trapped, or hurt. More and more, it seemed like that’s what had happened.
Just as they were about to give up and call it a day, Renner got a phone call from a man he didn’t know.
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“Hey, are you guys missing a dog?” the man asked.
Relief flooded through Renner at those words as the man told him he’d just found a golden-colored dog at Hidden Falls in the box canyon.
Thanks to the collar, which had the Renners’ number on it, he’d been able to immediately call from the canyon.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Renner said, noting that calls from the canyon are usually impossible to make.
It felt like a minor miracle.
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Charlie had spent all day and night Tuesday in a snowstorm that got down to about 25 degrees, and had somehow managed to bump into what were the only other hikers on the Hidden Falls Trail, somehow none the worse for his adventures.
Soon, Renner and his wife were headed in their cars to go pick up Charlie from the Szymanskis, meeting halfway between their home and Hidden Falls.
For Rich, who describes himself as a person of faith, all these details add up to something bigger than coincidence.
“I know that God makes things happen,” he said.
Jada felt that as well, considering how things happened.
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“Their whole neighborhood had been looking for him,” she said. “He told us he had just been praying so hard. We felt like we got to be the answers to those prayers.”
A dog named Charlie a Wyoming couple rescued from a California shelter running off with a whiteout blizzard on the way triggered a 24-hour search. It was a miracle, Charlie’s owners believe, that a newlywed couple in the middle of nowhere found him. (Courtesy Rich and Barb Renner)
Celebrity Life On A Leash
Back home, Charlie acts as if nothing miraculous has happened at all.
“He’s happy to be home for sure,” Renner said. “He spent yesterday in the barn, and he’s in the barn today.”
But he’s not going outside any more for a while without a leash, Renner said, as he remains just a little too fascinated with Wyoming wildlife, particularly moose, which are 100 times heavier than he is.
Renner is looking into electric fences to keep Charlie and his moxie corralled so that the pooch’s future adventures won’t be quite so harrowing.
“We’re chuckling now, because he’s like a celebrity,” Renner said.
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For all the worry and all the searching, what’s really sticking with the Renners is how his Wyoming neighbors were there when needed, crawling the snowy hills in their trucks and side-by-sides, looking for a California pooch with no idea what a Wyoming whiteout really means.
“That’s the real story,” Renner said. “It’s the community, the neighborhood, how everyone just rallied behind this to help.”
Renée Jean can be reached at renee@cowboystatedaily.com.
CASPER — Discarded rocks thrown outside the geology department at an upstate New York college in the 1920s became gems in the eyes of the boy who picked them up.
They were also stepping stones to a career and life that led to 68 years of leading the growth of Wyoming’s — and America’s — mining industry.
Politics and philanthropy also helped John Wold earn accolades like Wyoming Man of the Year in 1968 and Oil/Gas and Mineral Man of the 20th Century in 1999.
But the longtime Casper resident left that century behind and kept going to work in his downtown office, pursuing new ideas and enterprises nearly until his death on Feb. 19, 2017, at age 100.
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Peter Wold, 78, remembers his dad as a man who was “driven” and focused, but who always made time for his wife and children.
As he co-leads the oil and gas business started by his father back in 1950, Peter said his dad’s portrait on the wall reminds him of the principles and “purpose” that guided his life.
“I think that he motivated me, and I would say the same for my brother and my sister,” he said. “We’ve all tried to stay engaged in community activities and philanthropy and be good fathers and a mother.”
He not only contributed to the evolution of Wyoming’s energy industries, his financial generosity endowed a geology chair and two chairs of religion at Union College in Schenectady, New York.
He also endowed the Centennial Chair of Energy at the University of Wyoming and his lead 1994 donation to Casper College became the Wold Physical Science Center.
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U.S. Sen. John Barrasso, who characterized Wold as a “legend” when he died in 2017, said even though nearly a decade has passed since then, his legacy is all over the Cowboy State — even if younger generations now don’t recognize his name.
“As a professional geologist, John’s contributions to the mining industry revolutionized the way our nation extracts minerals today,” Barrasso said. “Casper College students continue to benefit from John’s generosity and are reminded of him every time they walk through the Wold Physical Science Center.
“John passed on his love for Wyoming and his energy expertise to his family,” the senator added. “He would be so proud of how his children and grandchildren carry on the family business and his tradition of giving back to the state and people he loved so much.”
John Wold, right, was a busy man but always took time for his family, Peter Wold said. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
Big Into Rock
Peter Wold said his dad’s successes in part came from his education, continuous learning and ability to compartmentalize and head for the goal — something he loved to do on the hockey rink as well.
Born in New Jersey, John Wold grew up on the Union College campus where his father, Peter I. Wold, was a distinguished physics professor. The family lived on campus.
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While growing up, a young Wold became fascinated with the excess rocks being tossed out by the college’s geology department and started his own mineral collection.
Following graduation from high school, the Eagle Scout attended Union College and became an exchange student at St. Andrews University in Scotland.
While at Union College, he played on the hockey team, and he graduated with a bachelor of arts in geology and went on to Cornell University to earn a master’s degree in geology as well.
Prior to World War II, Wold worked in Oklahoma and Texas for an oil company, but in 1941 he volunteered to help the U.S. Navy’s Bureau of Ordinance researching magnetic mines.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, he was sent to Midway Island as a physicist involved in degaussing or demagnetizing submarines to protect them from magnetic Japanese mines.
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Navy Man And Inventor
Although he never officially attended Navy officer training school, Wold was given a commission and went on after his Midway assignment to serve as a gunnery officer and executive officer on destroyer escorts.
Peter Wold said his dad’s wartime ship assignments did not involve any significant battles.
It was while in the Navy that Wold had an idea to improve the masks of divers while watching them work.
He applied for a patent in July 1946 for his improved “underwater goggle.”
“The purpose of this invention is to provide an efficient underwater goggle, simple of manufacture, which is of such form that it will fit with water-tightness the contours of most faces without alteration or tailoring by the wearer,” he wrote on the application.
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Wold wrote that the design was meant to be flexible enough that it could be worn “across or below the nose of the diver with equal water-tight integrity.”
The inventor received his patent in Casper on Oct. 3, 1950, and it was something he was always proud of.
Peter Wold said he kept it framed on his office wall during his business career.
John Wold loved Wyoming and enjoyed fishing, skiing, and outdoor activities. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
John and Jane Wold on parade during his political career. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
John Wold served in the U.S. Navy during World War II and worked demagnetizing submarines as well as serving as an officer on destroyer escorts. John Wold and his wife Jane in their later years. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
The Oil Field Calls
After the war, John Wold married his wife, Jane, and worked for Barnsdall Oil on the Gulf Coast.
By 1949, Peter was born, and that winter the Wold family was sent to Casper to establish an office for Barnsdall Oil.
The family drove from Houston to Denver and found the roads north had been blocked by the infamous blizzards of 1949 for the previous two weeks.
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Peter Wold said his dad liked to tell the story of how he only had enough money for one night in a Denver hotel.
The next day, his dad said it was like a “miracle” and the road opened, allowing them to reach Casper. The highway shut the next day and stayed closed for two more weeks.
In 1950, Wold launched his own firm, Wold Oil Properties, as a consulting petroleum geologist, and never looked back.
A search of Wold in old newspapers shows his progression of accomplishments in both his business life and Republican politics in Wyoming.
Ahead Of His Time
In 1953, in addition to growing his new business, he was a member of the Natrona County Republican Party Executive Committee.
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He ran for and won a state House seat in 1956. In 1960, he became the state Republican chairman, as well as a member of the nation’s Republican National Committee.
In 1964, he was the Republican nominee for Wyoming’s U.S. Senate seat to run against Sen. Gale McGee.
His political office high point culminated in his election as Wyoming’s U.S. House representative in 1968 as Richard Nixon was winning the White House.
He was the first professional geologist ever elected to the U.S. House. While there, he authored and sponsored the National Mining and Minerals Policy Act of 1970.
That legislation was instrumental in laying the groundwork for Wyoming’s and the nation’s mining industry.
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It directed the U.S. to develop a stable domestic mining industry that’s economically sound and encourages private investment. It also called for standards to dispose of and reclaim mining waste and land to mitigate environmental impacts.
While he was proud of his time in Congress, the scientist and businessman who liked to get things done was stymied there.
“He recognized that he was one of 435 congressmen and that frustrated him,” Peter Wold said. “He said, ‘I’m going to go for the Senate.’”
In 1970, he took on McGee again and lost, as Republicans took a beating in the Nixon midterm election.
Peter Wold said his dad never ran for office again but stayed interested in politics.
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On the business side of his life, John Wold excelled and was able to use his geology, chemistry and economics savvy to see opportunities that others might miss.
He also could see when those opportunities were turning south.
During his lifetime, Wold started companies that got involved in pursuing coal, uranium, trona, and coal gasification. But each of those sectors came at different times of his life and career.
“When he focused on something he focused primarily on that project,” Peter Wold said. “He was active in the coal business, in the uranium business. But he did those separately, compartmentalized.
“You have to be really good at what you are doing.”
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John and Jane Wold at their ranch property. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
John Wold poses with his extended family. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
John and Jane Wold left a legacy that continues through the next generations of the their family. (Courtesy Peter Wold)
Business Ventures
A joint venture with Peabody Energy and Consolidation Coal Co. (now CONSOL Energy) put Rocky Mountain coal in the spotlight.
In 1973, he started Wold Nuclear Co. and was a co-discoverer of the Christensen Ranch uranium ore deposit in the Powder River Basin.
He also became the principal in the development of the Highland uranium mine in Converse County, which once was the largest uranium production operation in the U.S.
Peter Wold said his dad used a technique with paper cups and a tiny piece of film on the bottom of each cup that would be buried for a few days on potential uranium lands.
While he did not invent the technique to detect radon gas, he used it on a huge scale.
“They wanted to see what radiation penetrations there were,” Peter Wold said. “They laid thousands of those cups all over Wyoming, New Mexico, and Texas.
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“With that information they were able to determine there were uranium ore bodies.”
Wold’s holdings of potential uranium lands in south Texas led to an unforeseen talc mining opportunity, so he created American Talc Co., which became one of the largest talc operations in North America. It was sold to Daltile in 2017.
Wold’s interest in trona mining in the southern Green River Basin led to patents on solutions-based mining processes that he worked to create and develop with a Colorado firm.
But several years of work and roadblocks led him to sell the reserves he bought. The technology he helped develop, however, helped transform the trona industry.
Wold also bought a coal gasification idea during the first decade of this century and became chairman and CEO of GasTech.
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The company sought to develop gas from deep layers of coal in the Powder River Basin through pumping oxygen down into the beds and setting them on fire.
He worked with an Australian company that had pioneered a similar concept in Australia.
A demonstration plant never came to development.
Peter Wold said his dad’s efforts to develop coal and coal gasification in Campbell County came from his understanding that the coal, natural gas, and oil in the county held more BTUs of energy than all of Saudi Arabia’s oil.
During his life, John Wold’s expertise was sought by many companies that recruited him for their boards.
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Hole In The Wall Ranch
Outside of energy, Wold enjoyed Wyoming’s outdoors and sports.
In 1977, he bought the Hole in the Wall Ranch southwest of Kaycee where the notorious Hole in the Wall Gang left their hoofprints fleeing the law.
Peter Wold said his dad did not buy the land because of the history.
“It was because of the fishing,” he said. “The Hole in the Wall Ranch has the Middle Fork of the Powder River as it comes out of the Bighorn Mountains and it runs through the ranch. And it is really good fishing.
“Dad loved to recreate and he loved fishing and one thing led to another and he said, ‘We ought to buy this place,’ so we did.”
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While his dad was not that interested in cattle ranching, Peter Wold is.
Today, the ranch runs 600-800 head of Black Angus cattle.
Wold also was key to the development of the Hogadon Basin Ski Area on Casper Mountain and helped support the building of the Casper Ice Arena, where he coached young hockey players.
As he grew older, macular degeneration, a trait that ran in his family, started to take Wold’s eyesight.
Peter Wold said his dad’s loss of vision frustrated him. Even though he couldn’t see well, he kept driving a car into his mid-90s.
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“He didn’t like being dependent on someone to take him to the grocery store or bring him down to the office,” Peter Wold said. “The macular degeneration was very discouraging to him.”
Before he died, John Wold put money toward finding a cure for his blindness that became the Wold Family Macular Degeneration Center at Oregon Health & Science University’s Casey Eye Institute at Oregon Health and Science University.
The institute touts the center as a “central hub” for ongoing research and clinical care efforts as well as a “catalyst for further discovery and innovation by having research, clinical care and clinical trials all in one place.”
Throughout his life, the former college athlete never stopped moving and working to stay fit.
Wold would do leg lifts and stomach crunches before getting out of bed. In his 90s, he was still running down his street even on ice and snow.
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He continued to challenge himself mentally and never retired.
Peter Wold said carrying on the legacy of his dad’s business success means he thinks a lot about what would make John Wold proud. (Dale Killingbeck, Cowboy State Daily)
Legacy Of Giving
As Peter Wold and his brother Jack continue to work in the oil business started by their father, they and their sister, Priscilla Longfield, also continue the legacy of giving launched by their parents.
Peter Wold said the family foundation donates about $3 million a year.
The foundation’s directors include his brother, sister and himself, but John Wold’s eight grandchildren are now involved in choosing who the benefactors will be as well.
While his dad could be a “taskmaster” who wanted his children to have purpose and goals, Peter Wold said he also instilled a desire for them to make a difference in their time.
Peter Wold agrees he feels a “weight” and responsibility that flow from his dad’s accomplishments, and he thinks about that.
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“How can I live up to his expectations? What should I be doing that would have him proud?” Peter Wold said. “He left a wonderful legacy that our whole family is proud of.”
When John Wold died at 100, the Casper Star-Tribune dubbed him Wyoming’s “citizen of a century.”
Dale Killingbeck can be reached at dale@cowboystatedaily.com.