Wild Wyoming: 10 Adrenaline-Pumping Adventures in Laramie's Backcountry

If you're after a proper heart-stopper, Telephone Canyon Bridge rappelling should top your list. This 25-meter steel and concrete beauty spans a dramatic limestone gorge that channels wind in fascinating patterns—creating what locals call the 'Wyoming Whistle' when conditions are right.

As a bridge enthusiast who's studied structural responses to environmental stressors, I was buzzing to experience this unique rappel. The bridge's underside reveals fascinating engineering choices that have weathered decades of Wyoming's extreme temperature fluctuations. The guides explain how the expansion joints accommodate up to 15cm of movement between summer and winter—engineering brilliance hiding in plain sight!

The rappel itself is technical but accessible if you've got basic climbing experience. You'll need a climbing helmet and proper rappelling gloves. The moment you lean back into the void, the Medicine Bow peaks framing your descent, is pure magic. Just be mindful that summer thunderstorms can develop quickly here—I had to scramble back up when a lightning cell appeared seemingly from nowhere.

Wyoming's high plains create a spectacular canvas for weather phenomena that would make any meteorology geek weak at the knees. The Medicine Bow National Forest sits at a sweet spot where mountain uplifts and prairie air masses collide, creating predictably unpredictable storm systems that are both terrifying and beautiful.

I joined a specialized storm-chasing tour led by University of Wyoming meteorology graduates who know exactly where to position you for the safest yet most dramatic views. We tracked a supercell thunderstorm developing over Centennial Ridge, watching rotation patterns that mirrored what I'd studied during my weather pattern research back in Leeds.

The lightning display was unlike anything I've witnessed in New Zealand or Southeast Asia—horizontal bolts stretching 15km across the sky, followed by ground strikes that illuminated the entire landscape. You'll want a lightning detector for added safety when you're out there. The guides provided weather radios to track storm development, but having your own gear means you can venture out independently after gaining experience.

The Māori concept of tawhirimātea (embodiment of weather and winds) came alive for me here—a powerful reminder of nature's raw energy that shaped my childhood understanding of the world.

The Vedauwoo rock formations look like they've been plucked straight from a Tolkien novel—massive Sherman granite boulders stacked in impossible arrangements, weathered by millennia of Wyoming's harsh elements. For climbers, this place is legendary for its wide crack systems that demand a technique called 'off-width climbing'—essentially wedging your entire body into cracks and squirming upward. It's as graceless and challenging as it sounds, and absolutely brilliant.

I spent two days with local climbing guide Emma Rodriguez, who specializes in teaching this masochistic art form to visitors. My engineering background gave me a theoretical appreciation for the friction coefficients at play, but nothing prepares you for the physical reality of jamming your body into these granite vices.

The classic route 'Edward's Crack' (rated 5.9) had me questioning my life choices halfway up, arms trembling as I tried to remember Emma's technique tips. But topping out to views across the Laramie Basin with the Snowy Range in the distance made every scrape and struggle worthwhile.

You'll want to invest in proper climbing tape to protect your skin—I went through nearly a full roll in two days. And trust me, a crack climbing glove is worth its weight in gold when you're jamming your hands into these unforgiving granite cracks.

The Snowy Range Traverse isn't your typical bushwalk—it's a high-altitude adventure across a knife-edge ridgeline that demands respect and rewards you with views that'll make your Instagram followers think you've splurged on a helicopter tour. Starting from Medicine Bow Peak trailhead, this 18km route takes you across five peaks above 3,600 meters, where the air is thin and the weather changes faster than a Kiwi can say 'sweet as.'

I tackled this in late July when the snowfields had mostly retreated, but still found myself navigating patches of snow and ice in several north-facing couloirs. The route requires basic scrambling skills and a good head for exposure—there are sections where the drop-offs on both sides would give your mum nightmares.

The most technical section comes between Medicine Bow Peak and Browns Peak, where a class 3 scramble demands three points of contact and careful route finding. I found my trekking poles essential for stability on the loose scree sections, especially during descent.

What fascinated my engineer's mind was how the alpine winds have sculpted both the landscape and the stunted krummholz trees that somehow survive up here. The way these trees grow in the exact direction of prevailing winds creates natural compasses and tells stories about the region's weather patterns.

Make sure your satellite communicator is fully charged—cell service is non-existent, and afternoon thunderstorms can make quick retreats necessary. I had to hunker down for 45 minutes when lightning started striking nearby peaks, a humbling reminder of nature's dominance in this environment.

The Laramie River doesn't have the name recognition of Colorado's famous rapids, and that's exactly why you should paddle it. This hidden gem flows through a spectacular limestone canyon with Class III-IV rapids that change character dramatically based on seasonal snowmelt and dam releases.

I joined a local outfitter for a full-day expedition through the canyon's most technical section, known as 'The Narrows.' As someone who's studied how water flow impacts structural integrity, I was fascinated by how the river has carved perfect hydraulic features through the limestone bands—creating textbook examples of standing waves, holes, and eddies.

The guide explained how they work with dam operators to predict water levels, a delicate dance of engineering and natural systems that determines whether certain rapids are playful or potentially deadly. We hit it at a perfect 750 cubic feet per second—enough flow to make the infamous 'Washing Machine' rapid properly exciting without becoming a swim fest.

The most technical rapid, 'Engineers Nightmare,' features a tight S-turn between undercut walls where precise boat control is essential. I flipped here but managed a textbook combat roll that had me grinning like a possum with a persimmon. My waterproof action camera captured the entire sequence, though the footage is mostly of churning whitewater and my panicked expression.

Be warned that the shuttle logistics are complicated, and you'll want a dry bag rated for full submersion to keep your gear safe. My phone survived thanks to keeping it in a waterproof phone pouch rated for whitewater conditions.