Dan and Karen's September 2001 Drive
| Windmill (IA) - Corn Palace (SD) - Ghost Town, Wall Drug, Badlands - Black Hills, Gold Mine - Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Needles Hwy, Wooly Mammoth - Buffalo - Devil's Tower - Thermopolis - WY Dinosaur Ctr, begin Yellowstone - Saratoga Hot Springs, Laramie Dinosaurs, Lincoln Hwy - Rocky Mtns | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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September 11, 2001: (No need to mention the shocking events of this morning, and which caused us some slight delay in our departure). After pulling free from the St. Louis afternoon rush hour on WTC Tuesday, we headed north on US 79. Although we took the smallest, closest to the river, main roads, we were still pretty much hemmed in by traffic till "pert near" Clarksville.
That's also when the road became notably scenic. Of course, the Clarksville visitors center was closed. We were there 10 minutes to 5:00, the nominal closing time. But, its summer hours were Weds-Sun, 10-5. We're not even sure if it's considered summer. We headed on north till Hannibal forced us onto Hwy 61.
Tuesday night accommodations:
We camped at a poorly marked, primitive, Army Corps of Engineers riverbank fill area north of Canton, MO. It has 2 pit toilets, and 15 spaces with fire pits along the river. It's free.
We'd noticed long lines at gas stations, and heard reports of fuel price gouging. Given the current gas panic, we can better use the money we would otherwise have spent on a hotel for fuel.
We slept okay, except that the barge traffic a couple of dozen feet from our tent was very loud and bright during rush hour from 3:00 a.m. to 5 or so.
You know those absurd ads for laptop computers showing them being used on the beach or by the pool. I'm one of those ads. The bright red tent is behind me, and the sun rising over the misty Mississippi is too bright for me to see the screen. Nevertheless, I write. Fish flop into radiating rings of ripples as the mist rises from the river and the sun tries to pull free of the trees. My chilled hands appreciate the heat of the rising sun.
Weds. Sept. 12, 2001: Wrote a bit, till Karen woke. Then packed up and got on the road a bit after 8:00. We'd called home from the river front last night. There was full digital cell service in this middle-of-nowhere spot! Anyway, we'd heard of a gasoline panic driving prices up to $3 and even $5 in Indianapolis and St. Louis. We bought gas at the first gas station we came across for $1.74, about $.20 higher than they'd been the day before. The coffee was weak, too.
Wednesday was a day of driving. We hit I-80 at Iowa City, our first interstate since leaving the St. Louis area. We stopped for a picnic lunch at the second or third rest area; Iowa has them every 30 miles or so. A brief rest area nature walk, during which Karen found, picked, and ate wild plums, and then back on the road.
We stopped again in Elk Horn, IA to tour the 1850's Dutch windmill which was moved to Iowa in the 1970's and restored. The site also has an official Iowa welcome center, so we got a hotel coupon book. These really give you the best lodging deals. The AAA rates can't compete. We stopped again for dinner at the Omaha Indian Reservation casino and buffet, north and across the river from the city named for the tribe. It was fresh catfish night, and Karen really liked the fried catfish, comparing it to Larry Reed's. The natives here look more like the cartoons/caricatures here than do the Southwestern Indians. Anyway, gas on the "res" was only $1.58 for super (they were out of regular). We'd decided to stay in Sioux City, IA. There was a campground for $12, or a coupon hotel for $39. After last night, a bed and bath seemed like a good idea. So, we indulged. Therefore, I could send email.
Out of Iowa, and into South Dakota:
Thursday 9/13/01: We slept long, and woke to a rainy day in Sioux City, IA. It took us a while to get going, so we didn't hit the road till after 11:00. We drove through the city of Sioux City to find the Sioux City Public Museum. It is a nice town with many Victorian houses. The museum is in a house much like we see a block from home in Compton Heights. Fancy woodwork, servants' stairs, high ceilings, etc. Besides the nice house, it really is a museum worthy of a bigger city. For animals, geology, and especially Native American arts, it's worth the stop.
Then we went up to Stone State Park. The nature center is geared to kids, and uses materials provided by the timber and mining industries to illustrate proper prairie and woodland maintenance. But they have a wonderful glass walled beehive, with a glass tunnel connecting the hive to the outdoors. You can watch the worker bees fanning the air into and back out, filling cells with honey, and other bee-like activities.
Finally we de drove up to the scenic, "see 3 states" overlooks. We looked it over under our umbrellas. Misty hills and the Missouri and Big Sioux rivers. Pleasant. The unique geological feature of the area is the loess hills. In brief, sharply defined hills composed of glacial runoff soil on top of glacially scraped rubble moraines.
Finally, we headed out of Iowa and into South Dakota. I liked the concrete teepee sculpture at the rest areas. At the Welcome Center, we were told that the best buffalo burgers were to be had at Al's in Oacoma, SD. We drove. We stopped after a couple of hours in Mitchell, SD home of the Corn Palace. Yes, it's a cute tourist town. The tradition of the corn palace was chronicled at the Sioux City Public Museum. Basically, you build an exhibition hall and decorate the outside with murals and patterns using only ears and husks of corn. Mitchell, SD has kept the tradition alive since 1892, while the rest of the country gave it up in decades past. Every year the entire exterior of the building gets re-corned with a new set of murals and patterns. September is when it is done. You see, the corn is ripe. We've been seeing harvesters, loaders, and trucks of corn (maize) all along our drive.
While in Mitchell, we also stopped in at the Cabela's sporting goods emporium. Big. Dioramas and murals and many stuffed beasts. I was amused by the acre of guns, rifles, and the aisles of handguns and ammo and stuff.
South Dakota reminds me of what I expect from Montana. Fields turned to plains as we headed west. We saw signs denouncing animal rights activists, signs proclaiming the god given right to mine the countryside for furs and other resources, and there seems to be a general keep-the-gummint-off-my-life feel.
So, from Mitchell, we drove in the downpour, keeping our speed well below the speed limit of 75 because of the tendency of our tires to hydroplane. About 5 miles before our dinner destination, there was a "Rest Area, Scenic Overlook" sign. The rain had subsided to a drizzle, so I could see the slightly rolling, basically flat plains to the horizon. I looked again at the blue sign, and cynically said to Karen, "Yeah, right".
We passed the rest area exit, and crested a slight rise. Then, spread before us, was a deep river valley. Quite a vista after the apparently endless plains. We're learning about the surprises one can find in South Dakota.
We stopped at the buffalo burger joint we'd had recommended back at the Iowa border, Al's Oasis. Good food, 5 cent coffee, and to my surprise, decent 40 cent biscotti! Then we spent the night at the adjacent Inn. Tired. I'm again fighting off some rhinovirus.
Friday Sept 14, '01: We slept soundly in a room overlooking the big plastic bison, the interstate, and just beyond that, the Missouri river (which is called Lake Francis Case here abouts). The constant tickle of rain on the window was soothing all night. Of course, we woke to rain. The sun seemed reluctant to rise at a reasonable hour, until I remembered that we will cross a time zone today.
From south central to south western South Dakota:
Our first stop on Friday was to revisit that missed Scenic Overlook from the previous afternoon. It was raining harder this morning, and the wind was quite fierce. I had a golf umbrella, and held it to my back with the stick tucked under my arm. It was a challenge to keep it pointed toward the wind, and my camera under my jacket. I leaned back into the umbrella to keep it from sweeping me off the path. My jeans got soaked below the knees, but I didn't notice till later. The view didn't seem as impressive in the gray morning. Or maybe it was just that the adventure of arriving at the overlook overshadowed the view. I took a snapshot, anyway.
We headed west on I-90 for the rest of the morning. We stopped at one ghost town at the Okaton exit, which closed for the season!. It was basically a block long board-walked row of buildings in the middle of nowhere. I found traces of railroad tracks completely hidden in the grasses, and surmised that the town was killed by the interstate system. The railroad became secondary, and this little grain-loading and mail-stop town faded away.
As I was inspecting the rusty old rails and rotten timbers hidden in the tall, wet grass, a gray speckled bird popped out of a clump beside the rusty rail in front of me, and proceeded to give me a measured stare. It then feigned hiding from me, badly. I started to warm up my camera, when it did another stare-and-nearly-hide cycle. I was about to snap its picture, when it dove for true cover, still moving away from where I could hear the peeping chirps of its hidden young.
The air in this part of SD smelled like cinnamon. It was the oddest thing. We noticed that maize and beans had given way to heavy headed sunflowers and dark brown headed wheat (or milo, or barley?), but that doesn't seem to account for the distinctly cinnamon aroma of the stiff breeze blowing across the waving fields.
We also stopped at a reconstructed 1880's village, which was a tourist stop and movie set for such films as "Dances With Wolves". The skelatal sculpture visible from the interstate brought us to the parking lot. The entry fee was a bit too steep for us, so we just looked from outside the stockade fence.
Anyway, westward on I-90 to Wall, SD. Wall is at the edge of the Badlands. It also has a much ballyhooed Wall Drug store which made its fortune during the depression by advertising free ice water with Burma-Shave-like signs. (Long historical story omitted, follow the link.) This institution is practically a theme park. Among all the pose-with-this paraphernalia, they have a credible animatronics T-rex breaking out of a Jurassic Park style pen. A tacky tourist must-see wrapped around an interesting historical anomaly situated at in interesting geological feature.
And finally into the badlands (down SD 240 from Wall at I-90, and back up SD 44 to Rapid City, SD, again on I-90). Imagine a hybrid of the high prairie and the Arizona desert. Striking, beautiful, forbidding and enticing. The rain had stopped while we were at Wall. So the scenery was lit by a swirling steel gray sky, with occasional misty haze. We got out and stared at many of the prepared overlooks. It was cold and windy. In the Badlands, the air smelled of honey. Wildflower honey. The park rangers had noticed this, as well. Outside of the park, on our way back north, we spotted a small family of pronghorn antelope, and a flock (gaggle, cluster, brace?) of wild turkeys. We have yet to see a buffalo on the loose.
By the time we got back to the interstate, we were quite tired. So we stayed in Rapid City. This is the commercial/industrial center on which the Black Hills towns rely. No scenery.
Saturday Sep 15, '01: We packed up and were on our way by 9. Four days on the road together, and we weren't getting along. We thought that Karen had left our AAA South Dakota tour book behind, which was annoying. I must have been snippy, since Karen kept telling me how I was contradicting her. I didn't dare argue the point.
We drove up I-90 to Spearfish, and drove south into the Black Hills from the top. (US 14 to US 385, in brief, to the city of Custer.) In detail, we entered the cloud capped hills (named "Black" because of the dark evergreen foliage, not the dark soil and rock formations) and followed the Spearfish Creek between them for a while. We pulled off a couple of times for the scenery. One stop was labeled "Bridal Veil Falls". I estimated about a gallon a minute, but on closer examination, it probably was upwards of five. Hardly impressive at the end of this dry season. We spent some time there unwinding, and trying to get our compatibility back. I climbed the rugged, jagged scree beside the falls. Karen had a cup of yogurt at the bottom. This outdoor break seemed to help. We later got to Roughlock falls (named for the crude procedure of binding your wagon wheels to keep them from turning during the descent), which was a short detour down a dirt road. Now these were more like it. I wanted to get into the water and under the falls. But the cool, drizzly weather wasn't quite right. Never mind the frequent signs forbidding it. So we drove on.
We drove upward along 385. Into and back below the clouds. We reached the steep streets town of Lead (as in "Lead me to the gold"). On impulse, I stopped at the mining museum. We arrived at 12:20, so we took the 12:30 underground mine tour. Well, it was a mine mock-up in the underground basement of the museum. But the equipment was real, and the guide had been a miner. We spent 2 1/2 hours there. Cool stuff. The gold mine, active on and off since the 1880's, is to be shut down this year. It has tunneled already 8500 feet down (from just over a mile above sea level). There is more gold, but the $280/oz. is too cheap to pay for its extraction.
A couple came into the museum a few minutes after the last tour had departed. They were disgruntled. They had been to see Mount Rushmore, but the clouds never lifted enough for them to see the faces. It just wasn't their day.
After Lead, we headed on South toward Custer, where we planned to spend the night. My sinuses protested the steep climbs and dips of the road. Coffee and decongestants helped. We passed a rock shop at the side of the road at 5:00. The sign said closed, but Karen was driving, and she spotted someone getting into an SUV on the side of it. She pulled over, addressed them, and they agreed to open the shop again. We shopped their bins, and bought a few regional rocks. The Black Hills have a cool range of geologies, all exposed to the surface. I am partial to an ingneous or metamorphic matrix with white veins of volcanic quartz running arcross the original strata.
Finally, on toward Custer. As we approached the Crazy Horse Memorial, the low and heavy gray skies parted briefly. A spot of blue showed. We continued after a quick snapshot.
Custer, SD, elev. 5300 ft. I pulled into the Bavarian Inn on impulse to check prices. It was on the northern outskirts of Custer. After checking a few other places, we returned and checked in. Karen was happy with this apparently absurd choice. We ate roulades and rot-kohl dinner in their restaurant, too.
Sunday, 9/16/2001: The day dawned with heavy, low clouds. As we tried the disappointing free "continental breakfast", we planned a day of museums. By the time we were ready to leave, the hilltops were again visible, so we thought we'd try to see Mt. Rushmore (which we'd heard was mostly shrouded the day before). We drove the scenic route, across Custer State Park on US 16 from Custer, and then up the winding Iron Mountain Rd (still US 16).
In Custer State Park, animals roam. We saw most of the possible species. A herd of burros blocked the road for a while. Also, a large dragonfly flew into the car while we were shooing jackasses, and insisted that the rear window was the only exit. Karen finally got her out by chasing her into a cup.
If you ever go there, note: The Iron Mountain road had been designed as an approach to Mt. Rushmore. It goes out of the way to provide several tunnel-framed views of the four famous faces.
This day, the sky sometimes showed patches of blue, and I found myself donning sunglasses for the periodic, unfamiliar brightness. We'd been tipped off to a free parking lot near the big, $8 main lot. It had a "Full" sign standing at the entrance, which we squeezed past, and found ample room in the tiny lot. The long climb and walkway from this lot provided plenty of nice views. The walkway is new-ish. The walking boards are recycled plastic and the structure is treated lumber. Just off of the walkway, spaced every few paces or so, were signs warning of dire consequences for leaving the walkway. It added to my temptation to climb up the rubble pile to the chins of the portraits. I didn't. I did take too many pictures. Only some of them are shown here.
We had cafeteria buffalo stew for lunch with a Wisconsin couple we'd met on the path. I noted that the majority of people coming to the ancient scenic wonders of the Black Hills, come for a 20th century artifice. This couple had planned to fly to Paris for their Honeymoon. All flights were cancelled, so they drove west.
In the amphitheater at 2:00 there was a rally/prayer meeting to show solidarity after the terrorist event last week. Honor guards, firemen holding colors, and a thousand or so people saying the pledge of allegiance, and singing our awkward National Anthem. We left when they got into the seemingly endless prayers and speeches. There was also a nice little memorial with flowers at the base of the New York flag along the colonade of states. and a smaller one by Pennsylvania on the colonnade of states between the visitor's center and the Amphitheater
We encountered mountain goats in and near the Rushmore parking lots. We had to stop to take pictures, or they'd revoke our tourist licenses. Right? The second picture (above) is one of several I took when climbing around on the rocks rather than sticking to the paths.
Then we spent the afternoon driving down the scenic Needles Hwy. (US 87, named for the eroded spires ). Pretty erosion. Slow, winding roads. I did do a bit of climbing at the Needles Eye tunnel and overlook. Karen got worried when I'd been gone about 15 minutes. I climbed down on the far side of a tunnel, and ran back through the tunnel. This tunnel was about 9 feet wide, 13 tall, and maybe 50 feet long. I ran fast. The sharp curves leading to the narrow tunnel didn't let me see if a car was coming, and I didn't want to be in the way when one did. Now, I'd just been climbing up and down steep rocks for 15 minutes. Then a sprint. This is at over 5000'. The air was thin in my lungs, and I'd been relatively sedentary for the last week. I was quite pooped. My flannel shirt was damp from the exertion. Karen took a turn driving back down to Custer.
We went directly to the Crazy Horse memorial after the long and winding drive out of the park. By then, the sun was low, and the clock was approaching 6:00. They were open, but the restaurant was closed. The museum, interpretive center, gift shop, etc. are impressive. Large, rambling buildings with historical displays, the artist's studio and original home, and other exhibits.
The sculpture project itself is unbelievable. It's been in progress for 50 years, and has far to go. It's a way of life for the family who are running it. Crazy Horse is an icon for his people, somewhere between Abe Lincoln and Jesus in terms of Lakota significance. If not for a cowardly assassination, he might have led the Dakotas to be an independent Indian nation. This huge monument is certainly a more apt image for the Black Hills, this sacred Indian territory, than the 4 faces we'd seen earlier in the day.
At Rushmore (which was named after a lawyer, in Sioux territory) we met two couples whose flight plans were changed by religious extremists this past week. One honeymoon couple lost their tickets to Europe, so drove out west. The other couple had been marooned in Washington state, and rented a car to get home to Alexandria Virginia, with their large dog.
Monday 9/17/01: Once we checked out of the Bavarian Inn north of Custer, SD, we headed south to Hot Springs to see the Mammoth site. This had been a sinkhole in the barely prehistoric past, and foolish anti-social males had occasionally gotten stuck. They've found fifty-two individuals so far, from both mammoth species, all male. The other findings are more significant.
They found a nearly complete flat-faced cave bear. This was the 12th specimen found in the world. This predator was so clever that he rarely got stuck in sink holes or tar pits. This was the first time they found a leg bone for this particular ursine. Along the wall of the dig they have life size cut-outs of all the critters they'd found in this pit. The bear one, our guide pointed out, was wrong. You see, the archaeologists made the typical assumption that these big bears had similar proportions to the smaller, modern grizzly bears. No such luck. The legs were much longer. Standing on its hind legs, Flat Face would stare into 2nd story windows. His estimated running speed (based on body mechanics and energy calculations) is about 48 mph! He'd eat a couple of grizzlies a day, if these meager modern bears had existed back then. He could have run down a cheetah. And the evidence shows that he was smarter than your average bear.
The guide suggested cloning this beast and releasing his ersatz kin in Afghanistan. Weak joke so soon on the heels of the WTC event. Also, this sinkhole was a hot spring, and (the guide admitted) the DNA would have racimized (decomposed) to nothing before the beasts were fossilized.
Our guide is an archaeologist studying to become a teacher. He also noticed my Kim Fritts t-shirt, and we started chatting pagan, SCA, SF etc. He's planning to open a store in Hot Springs, SD called Something Different (? I think) and sell to the off-beat set. He wanted my card, and might sell some of my jewelry. You never know.
After the mammoths, we visited the Wind Cave National Park visitors center. We've got good caves back home, and were tired, so we didn't take the tour.
After Wind Cave, we took the last remaining road through the Black Hills, 385, 87, and the wildlife loop which doesn't show on most maps. Some gravel roads, but mostly smooth, albeit winding sailing.
We hiked one nature trail up a mountain and up the fire watch tower at the top. I still feel the altitude when I climb. Karen assured me that she wasn't afraid of heights at the bottom of the hill. Halfway up the watch tower, she told me that, maybe, she was. She recovered, and we got up to the locked hatch at the top of the stairs. The guide book said the tower was open. Oh, well. The view was pretty good from 5 feet lower down. On the walk down the hill, we stole a couple of chunks of quartz-veined red granite from rubble piles for our garden.
On our drive toward the wildlife loop, we finally saw buffalo. Hundreds. All around us. Why does the buffalo cross the road? Each one had to cross, ask, and return to tell the others. They, unbelieving, milled back and forth trying to figure it out. Except for the calves; they were content to roll in the dirt or suckle wherever mom might roam.
Once out of the park (at the East side) we drove fast roads up to buy a hat in Rapid City, at a place recommended by the Hawaiian waitress at the Bavarian Inn, which is just south of the Crazy Horse memorial in Custer City. She said that's where the local ranchers shop. It seemed right. By 8:30, we arrived at the Spearfish Kelly's Inn and called it a night.
We did not visit the dinosaur dig with its famous T-Rexes at Hill City. We skipped the legendary, live white buffalo in Custer, we stayed out of Hickock's Deadwood, and we didn't camp last night in the park (which I'd regretted until it dawned rainy).
Tuesday 9/18/01: Slowly started the day in Spearfish. Karen and I were both out of sorts. We got on the road by 11:00. I-90, that is. We left the Interstate for Wyoming road 111 toward Aladdin. We stopped in Aladdin, WY (pop 15) to get something at the General Store. The store was still operating, and had the original 1890's shop paraphenalia. The dry goods bins were full of cigarette packs, but penciled on the sides were the type of grain or flour stored there, and the price. The latter was much scratched out and rewritten.
From there, we headed west on SR. 24, to the Devil's Tower. That certainly is a weird piece of erosion formation. We ate lunch in the picnic area a couple of miles from the base, and watched the climbers through binoculars. I rested in the shade, and Karen wrote a postcard. As I said, we were out of sorts. We briefly visited the Visitors Center, then drove on down 24 to 14 to I-90. We watched the hazy Bighorn Mountains grow in the distance. At 6:00 we stopped in the town of Buffalo.
After driving through the parking lots of several motels, we decided to stay at the Mansion House Inn on Main street. It is now a hotel, with 4 rooms in the mansion, and a ranch motel across the parking lot. We stayed in the mansion. Antique furnishings, modern bath, and a phone booth just outside in the hall.
We walked to dinner about a mile away. Karen was cold, the waitress offended her with her impatient efficiency, so she just had a salad. I had a sausage sandwich. Back to the room, and I pretty much passed out on the comfy king-size bed. I woke enough to get undressed at some point.
Wednesday 9/19/01: I got up at 7, as the doors and floors creaking, and voices from the dining room became constant. I showered and went out to breakfast. Coffeee mugs and silver trays and home made muffins and kuchen. A convention of Lutheran ministers, and two couples who were able to get rental cars to return home from places to which they'd flown. Rental cars were hard to get a day after flights stopped. Karen hadn't gotten as good a night's sleep as I had. She woke sleep deprived.
I just lost a couple of paragraphs because of the ergonomic peculiarities, and software obsolescence of the Mac. If you actually try to use this laptop on your lap, as I am in the laundry room at the campsite near Thermopolis, your clothes are prone to bumping the mouse button, there is often a couple of second delay between typing or mousing and display, and the undo on this machine is only one character deep.
So, after we got going, we drove west on US 16 through Powder River pass in the Big Horn Mountains and via Ten Sleep to Worland. The scenery as the car struggled up the apparently flat, yet quite steep roads was quite nice. Snowy patches are starting to show on the mountains. The foliage is beginning to yellow.
The mountain pass was 9,666 feet. We stopped there, and climbed the rocky peak beside the pass. Well, about 200' of the 300' granite prong. There was a nice eye slot through which we spied the other side of the mountain. I had to rest every 75 feet up or so. Also, the jeans, flannel, down vest, wool scarf, and ear warmer were barely warm enough in the strong winds up the rock pile. The climb at this altitude is not what my flabby body is attuned to. We did see guinea-pig-like Pikas living among the rocks. We carried a few veined rocks back down the jagged slope for our garden.
Driving downhill to Worland was like the painted desert in Arizona. With pine trees. I'd lost my sunglasses in a crack, so we looked for replacements in Worland. They don't believe in polarized glasses, or pretzels in this town. We tried 2 places. We also filled our gallon jug from a drinking fountain across from the Courthouse in Pioneer Park. This drinking fountain is fed by an Artesian well.
So, south to Thermopolis, home of the world's largest mineral hot spring. We picnicked lunch at a table in the State Park. I walked around the terraces. Then again with Karen. Finally, a third time with camera. Then we went into the free spa. The Indians allowed the whites to have the spring, as long as it shall remain free. Well, there are fancy pay spas to either side, with water slides, saunas, etc. The free on is cooled to (!) 104, and has both indoor and outdoor concrete pools with sitting benches, stairs, a ramp, and even a hoist for the handicapped. It's free, but limited to 20 minute in-water sessions, not more frequently than once every 2 hours. This is plenty for most people. We soaked. Karen loved it. It even relaxed me. The water just flows from the spring, over the terraces, and through a couple of extra cooling ponds, and then through the pools, and on into the creek.
Karen has been wanting to camp. We finally did, just north of Thermopolis in the Country Campin' campground. After checking in with the owner and his Basset and other, bear-like dog, we set up the tent, built a fire, and spread out dinner at dusk. The mosquitos were fierce. They went through my jeans to get to me! Then the wind came. Serious wind. I was expecting a storm. We had about an hour of wind. I'm glad I staked the tent. The column of heat from our small, but now bright fire swept horizontally 25 feet. The wind did not deliver rain to us. We saw lightning in the distance, though. It was 60ish when we turned in, the stars showing through gaps in the clouds. It was a clear night.
Thurs 9/20/01:By dawn, it was chilly. Not quite frosty, but still, it's cold. A bi-plane started buzzing around at 7:00. There are no crops around. I found out later that it was spraying mosquito killer. We drove to the shower house with our laundry, showered and did laundry. I've written this sitting by the dryer in the laundry room (I only need a light jacket in here).
It was a completely clear, blue day. By the time we struck camp, and finished our laundry, it was 10:00, and the car in the sun was comfortably warm. We went into town (Thermopolis, WY) and found Pumpernick's on Broadway, an eatery recommended by the white-hatted gent who lives at and runs Country Campin'. Good food served slow, but presented nicely. We read local papers while waiting. Mostly reactions to the attack last week. The article I found most disturbing was about radio stations censoring music which deals with destruction (Talking Head's Burning Down the House), or flying (Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds!) or performed by artists with Muslim leanings (Cat Stevens).
Anyway, after breakfast, we walked to the Western History Museum, which we'd heard was excellent. But we decided not to pay to go in, since neither of us are really old west history buffs.
We proceeded to the other end of town (many blocks) to the Wyoming Dinosaur Center. I didn't pay to walk out to the dig, and dig. But the museum is excellent. After a while there, we did a soak session at the free bath. The hot mineral soak is relaxing, although it really tightens up the skin. So, at 2-ish finally, we headed toward Yellowstone via Cody (SR. 120 north, then Fed. 14/16/20 west. We passed plenty of spectacular geological scenery (yawn). I think we're getting saturated.
But, Shoshone canyon, with it's deep cut through ancient breccia and spires and chimneys was impressive. We couldn't visit the Buffalo Bill Dam, though. Security.
It seems silly to me. The total explosive tonnage used last week probably wouldn't seriously bother this little dam. And, if the dam went, some ranchers lose profits, and more electric power needs to be imported. Not a major security risk. I did talk to one fellow who was stopped on the road in his truck coming from Alabama. He was questioned, but released. Odd.
So we drove through Shoshone Canyon into a fierce, low sun. I'd finally found some polarized sunglasses at Wal-Mart in Cody for only 3 times what I normally pay at Walgreen's. We were planning to drive through Yellowstone, and get an inexpensive room on the far side, in Montana. But, driving those steep, windy roads alternating between blinding sun and deep shade tired me fast.
As we descended to, and drove around one end of Yellowstone Lake (elev. 7,733), I saw (and smelled) a small steam vent by the side of the road, and a wolf by the shore, and we also had to slow for a dozen or so bison crossing the road. We just passed the gathering, although others had stopped on the road to watch.
We stopped at Yellowstone Lake Village to ask about room rates. High. They did have 3 cabins available. Re-done in the 60's. No phone or TV. But, private bath and heat. For only 5 times what we'd spent to camp last night, or twice the price of the Victorian Mansion king-bed room. I was pooped, so we stayed. We are a short walk from Yellowstone Lake. The cabin is sort of rustic, and smells as if a large old dog with dubious continence has been staying here. Given the sag of the mattresses, it might be that a bear had wintered there. But there was heat, and a private shower.
Friday 9/21/01: The sky dawned clear this equinox morn. The frost glistened on the cars I saw through the dirty glass and torn screens of the cabin window. Karen woke chipper, I woke slowly. We left the smelly, shabby cabin at 10ish.
We headed west to the West Thumb Geyser Basin. I tried to find some quiet time, staring into, listening to, feeling the steam from, melding with the fuming cones, holes, and mellow geysers there. Waves of tourists came and went. Karen worried that I was morose. I was quiet, introspective, and just very there. Zen. I needed that. We left at noon, and drove up to the Divide Picnic Area. We ate beneath tall trees waving in the breeze. Then, on to the main tourist attraction, Old Faithful. This area is very built up. We checked the prediction, and watched the hole blow at about 2:15.
We were both tired and craving cappuccino. We asked at a gift shop, and were directed to the Old Faithful Inn. Now, this Inn is well worth visiting. The largest log cabin ever built. Fancy use of twisted pine branches. Really cool. They also have a real cappuccino kiosk on the second floor, overlooking the lobby, and adjacent to the deck from which Old Faithful can be seen. We had cinnamon scones and 2 double cappuccinos on the balcony. By this time of day, flannel shirt sleeves in the shade with a warm cup in hand was perfect. We then walked around the near geysers. Each has its own personality. My hat once blew off of Karen's head. She had to go a few (forbidden) paces off of the boardwalk to retrieve it. Fortunately, it was in a fairly stable area. We looked into dining at the Inn, but the wait was already 2 hours.
We drove on out to West Yellowstone, MT. On the road out, we saw several groups of Bison, and a couple of groups of Elk. West Yellowstone is in the process of closing down the summer trade. Hotel rates just dropped this week. Gift shops are open for only a couple of more weeks. In about a month, the snow business trade starts up.
We stayed at the Branding Iron Inn, and walked through town to dine at the Three Bears. We plan to spend tomorrow in the Park, and the night at either the North or South ends. Then out, to wend our way home.
Saturday 9/22/01: After having explored the cute little town of West Yellowstone the night before, we were in a hurry to get going in the morning, and back into Yellowstone. So much in a hurry, in fact, that we forgot a few things. They had *great* tasting tap water in W. Yell. In fact, we found out from a ranger the next day that it was the best-tasting in the whole Yellowstone area. We had intended to fill up our water jug. We, in fact, forgot to even top off our water bottle. And then when Dan topped the car off at the gas station, neither of us thought to wash the windshield. We soon discovered that we were nearly out of washer fluid.
So, while trying to drive directly to the geysers, without sightseeing on the way, we had to slow for the occasional rubber necker slowing or stopping to see (yet another) elk or (even more) bison. At one point, the bison had actually blocked the road both ways. There were several vehicles in front of us. We stopped the engine, and waited, listening to the other engines, and the buffalo grunting. Occasionally, we'd gain a fractional car-length forward. I'd start the engine, inch up, and shut down again. Karen finally thought to clean the windshield. We always carry a little scrubber/squeegee thing, and there still were dregs of cleaner fluid in the system.
So, Karen hopped out, and I spurted fluid for her as she manually scrubbed
the windshield. In the middle of the process, the behemoth Winnebago before us
crept up a few feet.
Some guy behind us yelled, "C'mon, lady! Whaddaya doin'? Move up!"
Karen yelled back, "Nobody's movin' here, anyway!"
When we finally did move, we managed to slip by the bison behind the 'Bago.
Mr. Impatient got stopped by a calf. Laugh.
So, on to the geysers. We drove along the Firehole Falls loop, and pulled into the Midway Geyser Basin. The main feature there, Grand Prismatic Pool, was billowing huge clouds of steam, and dumping thousands of gallons a minute of near-boiling water into the stream. The steam bath along the walkway was nice in the cool morning. The columns of steam rising from spots all over the landscape were somewhat reminiscent of rust belt cities.
We next visited the Biscuit Basin area. It was named after biscuit-shaped rocks which had formed around one large geyser. The geyser had a major eruption following an earthquake in the 1980's, and the biscuits are no more. As we walked up the path to one of the colorful hot springs, a bison stepped up onto and across the boardwalk a hundred feet ahead of us. Naturally, by the time I got my camera limbered, it was over the hill and barely visible. I'd been noticing the bison tracks all over the "Keep Off, Thermal Area" zones. I figured they wandered onto the hot spots at night. This one stayed into the morning. Karen dubbed it the Biscuit Basin Bison incident.
Old Faithful, cappuccino. Finally checked phone cell messages.
Yellowstone Canyon. We first stopped at Artist's Point, to see the most-photographed view in Yellowstone. There you look up the canyon to the lower falls, which are twice the height of Niagara. Many cameras. To find the best vistas, just look for the clumps of Japanese. Two guys had wooden plate cameras, and were discussing photographic arcana which reminded me of my high school darkroom days.
Next, we took the Uncle Tom Trail. You park high above the lower falls. Walk down a steep path to about the level of the precipice, from which the mist-cast rainbows are quite pretty. Then there are 300 steel steps anchored to the cliff. Down was easy, but we saw a few pale, panting climbers heading the other way. It is a nice view from near the bottom of the falls. Thunderous.
We had to rest several times on the way back up. A couple of fearless hikers with two tiny children were making the decent. When the mom and older daughter passed us, she looked at our expressionis, and said, "Okay, consider me warned." The father and smaller girl were slower, since the littler one was more afraid of heights as she gamely made one step at a time progress down. I was pooped by the time we got back to the car. Then, yet another stop, to the much lesser climb down to the brink of the upper falls. Clear water, a meter or so deep as it plummeted over the rocky brink toward the short rapids before the tall lower falls.
Drove past Mammoth Springs, steeply descending, striking views of geology en route, to Gardiner, MT outside the North Gate. Sun touching only the mountaintops. Late, tired, expensive. Karen impulsively turned into the Westernaire Motel. 1950's vintage, $20 cheaper than the Motel 6. Small nice room, tiny shower, no phone.
Sunday 9/23/01: Left the Westernaire close to 9. Passed through the original Roosevelt Gate, and climbed back up to Mammoth Springs. They were mostly dry. We walked around. Just as we were about to give up on them, we came upon Canary Spring. This one seemed to gush nearly as much as Thermopolis. A swift, sulphurous stream burbled along by the boardwalk. It steamed thickly, and was actively producing new terraces. I savored it for a while, sitting on a bench. Karen wandered around. I joined her at the bottom, and watched the stream encrusting grasses and branches. Fossils being formed. I went back to my bench. When Karen came back up, she'd adopted another couple. From Cody. A mechanic and his wife. We hung out and wandered the rest of the mostly dry springs for an hour.
We shared a Huckleberry ice cream cone as we left the other couple.
We finally moved toward Tower Falls. A long climb down, and back up, with our still sore muscles. Not as impressive as yesterday's Yellowstone Canyon falls.
Picnic lunch, and out of the Northeast Gate. Winding road, and we finally saw moose. A cow and her yearling cub. We stood on the narrow road and watched them grazing the tall bushes with other moose-seekers.
We turned off of twisty, bumpy federal road to a "lesser" state road shortcut toward Cody, the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway (WY 296). The speed limit was 65, and the road was in much better condition than the federal highway. But, we rarely got up to 65. Quite scenic.
Read about Chief Joseph himself, at indians.org or at pbs.org
We stopped many times along the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway just to look at the views. Keep in mind that we had passed the "just another gosh darned scenic view" point a week ago. One breathtaking gorge on this route isn't marked on any of our maps. Just a simple bridge leaping across a really steep, deep gorge. W-a-y down. In the late afternoon light, it was hard to see the bottom. It was that deep. Also, coming away from that point, I rarely had to worry about the "slow curve" speed warnings. When I saw (for example) the Loopy arrow and 35, I tried to got the car up to that speed, but usually failed.
We had planned to get to Thermopolis for the night. We settled for Cody at 7. On impulse, we stopped at the Moose Creek Inn, another old one. The bathroom has a terrazzo shower pan, and a 1930's style compact cast-iron sink. They are demolishing this wing of the motel to upgrade it at the end of this month.
We had an excellent steak dinner at the Prime Cut Saloon, a short walk from our hotel.
Monday 9/24/01: First some notes I've been keeping in my head:
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Sulphur. Brimstone. Yellowstone. Yes, I finally get it. Since my childhood, I'd never questioned the semantic root of the name of the park. Now, with the smell of sulphur in the air, in my hair, everywhere, and seeing some visibly yellowed stony areas, I get it. |
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Big Vehicles, Big Lenses. In Yellowstone, both my car and camera are distinctly undersized. Well, the car doesn't bother me, since it gets good mileage, even if it doesn't sleep six. As for the camera, the snap-shotters have similar size units, but I rather identify with those who spend some time framing, adjusting for light, and considering what can be done in post-production. Those guys (and gals) are hauling heavy glass. Some even have plate cameras. When we saw the moose, I took a snapshot of one such. |
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Fossils: I'd always wondered why there were alternating strata of dark, eroded shale, and shiny white limestone in many places. In Yellowstone, I could see limestone deposits forming over soil (which will pack and crystallize into shale). I could watch plants (and imagine animals) getting encased in the sulphur and lime, which will fossilize the cellular structure, allowing only interesting minerals to displace the cells. |
So, today we walked over to Peter's Bakery and Cafe for cappuccino, pastries, and bacon and eggs. As we were about done, an older couple from Maryland came in. How do I know? Karen started chatting with them. We spent about 45 minutes chatting, and touring their Victorian suite across the street in the Irma. The Buffalo Bill room. The Irma was built for William Cody and named for one of his daughters when he was the big wheel in town. The cherry wood bar was a gift from Queen Victoria. Besides his renown for the bison carnage, Cody was a partner in the project to dam the Shoshone river for irrigation purposes.
Anyway, after breakfast, we drove toward Yellowstone to the Wal-Mart. I've somehow used up my 250 or so "low resolution" shots, and am hard pressed to find any that I can get rid of before seeing them at full resolution. Since I've had a full vacation worth in the Black Hills, and another in Yellowstone, I figured, what else could I need to shoot? Well, people convinced me that I'd find pictures to take in the Rockies. I bought a too expensive and too small SmartMedia card for my camera (all that was available in Cody, WY on short notice).
We drove again to the Buffalo Bill dam, because a (misinformed) cashier told Karen that the overlook and visitor's center were again open. This is the replacement, hydroelectric dam, for the original Shoshone Dam built by B.B. But the tunnels through the banded rock and the views of Shoshone Canyon were a nice and short drive in the wrong direction.
Finally, away from Yellowstone, and back to Thermopolis. Another hot soak, and a picnic lunch while looking over maps. We decided that we'd have to leave the Grand Tetons for another trip, so we could pass through Rawlins, where we'd been told there was an interesting jade mine.
After lunch we drove down the Wind River Canyon. I'd picked up a useful guide at the Themop Chamber of Commerce named "What Kinda Rock Izzat" (sic). The roadside signs told the geological era of the strata along which you were driving. From the relatively modern 150 million year old dinosaur level, down through single celled and beyond. It's quite a canyon.
We weren't ready to stop at the nice and scenic campground just south of the canyon. So we pushed on. We crossed the divide a couple of more times, crossing the Red Desert in the Great Divide Basin. This high depression has a few springs, but never enough water to flow anywhere, so it is completely surrounded by the Continental Divide. (In case you didn't know, the Divide is determined and defined by whether a stream in a given location would be Atlantic-bound or Pacific.)
Antelope became more common. We still didn't stop in Riverton. Rather than take the long way and stop in Lander, we took WY 135 south, and then 287 east all the way to Rawlins. Rawlins looked expensive in the AAA book. We figured that there must be something cheaper. The sun was brutally horizontal as we stopped at several motels. We finally stayed at the one I'd wanted to check out first, the Key Motel. Rawlins is a decaying industrial/agricultural center. It feels like a bad neighborhood, compared to the rest of Colorado.
This hotel seemed nice enough. The drunken yahoos who were partying around back, and in the halls till midnight, hurling Oedipal epithets like empty beer cans at whatever moved were a bit annoying. The phone had a modem port, but the heater didn't work. And, unrelated, I discovered that my 7 year old, tiny, plastic shampoo bottle top had cracked, probably from the pressure changes. I had to empty and wash out my bathroom kit.
Tuesday 9/25/01: We woke around 7, as usual. We showered and packed, and were almost ready to go when the maid knocked on the door at 8, to ask if we were ready to have our room done. This has been quite a weird stay.
We drove west on Cedar Street to Huckleberry's, a cappuccino and ice cream joint. It was a couple of blocks from the address which we'd been given for a jade store. We had a nice coffee and croissanwich breakfast. The barista had lived in the Rocky Mountains, and added his 2 cents about how we should drive down there. We also met a 67 year old gent who still kept up with his boxing regimen.
After coffee, at about 9:30, we tried to find the jade mine address. The whole block of the address was a Chevy dealership. After a bit of driving around, we stopped at a gas station to fill up, and try calling the number. I hadn't called the night before, since we got in so late. I hadn't called yesterday or before, since we had no idea when or if we would reach Rawlins. The phone number yielded a synthetic "Leave a Message" message. I hung up. We drove on.
A brief, yet slow, drive east on I-80 under construction, and then south on WY 130 to Saratoga. Last night, Karen had read about another free thermal bath in Saratoga, WY. So we found the place, after almost missing it completely.
The Hobo Bath of Saratoga is not the posh, state managed affair of Themopolis. A concrete shower house overlooks a concrete walled pool, which has a circle of rocks around the hottest upwelling. The water was quite hot outside the circle, and sulphur and heat bubbled up from the sandy bottom of the pool. A park bench sat on the bottom at the north end. I only went in standing up, leaving my legs red after a few minutes. Karen delved deeper. Then, we tried the stream into which the pool drained. There, Karen had what she really wanted: Hot and cold mixing in eddys. There were other hot spots in the stream itself. We saw a weasel/otter/? on the side of the stream. A mallard sat across from us for a while. I showered off my sulphurous legs, dressed, and sat in the shade while Karen enjoyed for another hour.
After the bath, we lunched in the car as I drove over the Snowy Range Pass (10,847') by Medicine Bow Peak and on to Laramie, WY. Laramie, aside from being the parody of Marlboro on the Simpson's, is a college town.
We drove down Grand for a cappuccino. In detail, we found the Wyoming University area off of Grand Ave, Parked, got a pass and a map, and walked across campus to the Geology building. They have a good dinosaur museum in the geology department. After browsing the big-boned ancients for a while, we picked up coffee at the Student Union, and then decided to take the interstate down to the Rocky Mountains, to probably stay in Estes Park.
I-80 East from Laramie toward Cheyenne. The high point of I-80 (aka Wyoming's Lincoln Highway) is at the top of Sherman Hill, at elevation 8,640 feet. A giant bronze bust of Abraham Lincoln gazes down on the interstate from a rest area at the summit. The rest area where US 30 met I-80 had a full map of that trail, with points of interest marked and described. We saw several pieces of the Oregon trail.
We turned South at Cheyenne onto I-25 a couple of miles, and, stop.
Solid parking. This was not just the
rush hour from Cheyenne. Karen was driving (well, sitting behind the wheel),
and urged me to go ask a trucker
what was up. When another gent from a pickup pulling a trailer with a small
tractor on it did the same, I joined him.
I dashed barefoot along the interstate, and stepped up on the metal step of the Tractor. The trucker said that there was an accident about 5 miles ahead. Solid stop. Mr. PickUp said that he's only going to Estes. I said, so was I. Then Karen came up with a map, and they discussed what our best option was. The two of them were stuck. We, in our little Mazda Protege, could unlawfully u-turn across the grass median, and head back to I-80, go east to US 85, south to Ault, then West on CO 14 to I-85 again (for the welcome center) and on down to the Rockies.
US 85 was fast, once we got away from the interstate. The sun was shining hotly in my right ear. We got to see a little (compared to So Cal I-10) wind farm from this road. There were about 21 turbines (14 MW). I'd wondered if anyone was making use of the winds up here on the high plains. We got to the welcome center at Fort Collins at 6:00. They closed at 5:00. We didn't feel welcome. So we drove a couple of miles south to the next rest area. Karen was almost floating. As we came out of the rest area, who should address me but Mr. Pickup, with "How'd you get here?"
He'd just made it, himself. We chatted, and he offered to put us up in his Estes Park home, which had once been a Rocky Mtn Ntl Forest V.I.P. cabin, moved out when the Nat'l Park removed such things. Rumor had it that JFK had slept there.
So, we followed him down I-25, and west on US 34 through the canyons into Estes Park, and up the steep drive to his house. It was dark by the time we got there. Karen unloaded our stuff all over his rambling cabin, and I helped him unload his 2 heavy traveling cats. We chatted as he defrosted some jambalaya for dinner. He was an IBM engineer, then manager. Retired 3 years ago. His wife is on sabbatical from a similar job, and was away visiting family. Max was returning home from helping the widow of his recently deceased best friend do some road and property work. We got to bed in his spare room with a tall bent-maple framed bed at about 11:00.
Wednesday 9/26/01: I woke at 4, and at 5. I got up at 5:30, dressed, and went out to see the stars. It was already getting light enough to drown out any stars which I couldn't see back home, anyway. but everything seemed much sharper up here at 8,000 feet. I am writing, sitting at the diningroom table, watching the sky brighten above the Rockies through a picture window.
Max rose at 6:30, and I made bacon and eggs for breakfast. Karen joined us by 8. We packed up, and were gone a bit after 9.
So, First we made a stop in at the Safeway and Conoco in Estes Park. Then we drove into the Rocky Mountain National Park. We took the Fall River Road up to the top. This gravel road, build by convict labor, was a single, steep lane rising along the mountain side. The view was sparse, since the trees grew tight along the road. Karen was both a bit claustrophobic because of the narrow tree corridor, and acrophobic, when the tree tops disappeared below one side of the car or the other. There frequently was a 50 foot drop a foot from our tires. Anyway, she didn't enjoy the rough road up.
I was also out of sorts by the time we reached the Alpine Visitor's Center. I decided later that it was because of the altitude (11,796' at the shops to 12,000 at the top of the Tundra Trail). We had a chili dog at the cafe, and managed to get a table with a view down to the treetops below. The elks are in rut, and we could see a herd down below. With our 15x binoculars, I could see make out the alpha male, a 4-pointer. We then climbed the tundra nature trail. We were far above the tree line, and I found climbing to be very hard up there. Even after ten days mostly above 5,000 feet, and spending the night at 8,000', this 12,000' is thin air territory. The weather was clear and warm, but the wind chill up top was easily below freezing.
We left the tourist stop and started to continue west on US 34, but after a couple of miles, decided to turn back, and take 34 back toward the downhill junction with the old road. The views from 34 were much more spectacular than from the old road, and the driving much easier. The aspens were golden, some turning to red.
I was dishrag-exhausted. I figure it's the altitude, more than the last dozen nights short of sleep, and weird diet.
We wound around the east end of the Rockies, taking WY 7 south to Boulder, and then US 36 and I-25 south to Denver. Karen wanted to visit a friend who is in paralysis recovery after an unfortunate incident involving his new BMW and a dig deer. He may regain the use of his hands, at best.
We settled into a La Quinta at I-25 and Colorado, after trying 3 rooms. I basically retired and turned on the idiot box. Karen went to visit her friend in Englewood till 11.
Thursday 9/27/01: Woke, showered, and left the LaQuinta by 8:30. Found the US Mint downtown, and orbited it once before finding an all-day $4.50 shove-your-money-in-the-slot parking spot. We took the mint tour with a small group. The tour itself wasn't interesting compared to the documentaries I'd already seen. However, the displays of monetary history, old currencies, and common entertaining uses of coins were fun. After the tour, Karen got us in past security to see these static displays again. We also spent some time in the gift shop. It's amazing what money money can buy.
Then, east along Colfax, which becomes US 287, which becomes US 70, which eventually enters I-70. We left boring I-70 at Byers, to take US 36 across Colorado and Kansas and Missouri. The road is slightly slower, but much more interesting. Much less traffic is quite an attraction, as well.
We stopped for Gas in Norton, KS where Karen's father's mother (Helen Kenney) grew up.
We stopped for the night in Smith Center, KS, in a 45 year old motor court called the U.S. Center. Many towns we'd passed through have been mostly done in by the interstate. This one seems to be hanging on.
Friday 9/28/01: Coyotes howling in the pre-dawn pulled me from my sleep at about 4:30. I dozed fitfully until 7:30.
Back on the road, US 36 to US 61 at Hannibal, MO, and finally, I-70, home.