8/6/08
Well, the dino dig is over, so, what else is there to do in Casper, WY? The waitress at dinner was quite disturbed that we would be spending 3 days in her town. That, plus the lack of a swimming pool did not bode well for the rest of our stay. Well, we decided to see the local sites, since this part of Wyoming was on the Oregon Trail, the California Trail, the Mormon Trail and the Pony Express route. Hence, we took a drive out to Independence Rock, about an hour outside of town through some desolate scrub land broken up by some red earth buttes. At last, we saw it - this large, dome-shaped rock jutting out of a flat area. Pioneers on their way west, would stop there before crossing the North Platte River. Many carved their names into the rock (which is over 100 feet tall and over 700 feet wide and 1000 feet long.) It was called Independence Rock because emigrants needed to reach this point on their journey by Independence Day in order to insure that they would be passed the Rocky Mountains before the snows came.
Mark and Meghan climbed the rock. I tried, but my knees just wouldn't let me. I might have made it up, but the trip down would have been quite risky for me. Tom and Greg stayed at the bottom as well.
After a late lunch, we went to the National Historic Trails Interpretive Center. This is a great, hands-on museum for learning about these western migration trails. Meg is shown here trying to pull a handcart that would have been used by the Mormons on their migration to the Great Salt Lake. I am so glad that we did not let that waitress ruin our stay. We enjoyed our visits and learned a lot.
8/7/08
We left Casper at last. We decided to take a detour from the long, boring drive through inhospitable central Wyoming and go visit the Devils Tower National Monument in Northeast Wyoming. The further north we got, the greener and grassier things became. No longer did the land look parched and desolate. As we headed closer to Devils tower, the scenery was so beautiful - hills, Ponderosa Pine forests, breathtaking grassy valleys. Finally, off in the distance, we could see that great butte, jutting out of the landscape. I stifled a giggle to myself as I remembered Richard Dreyfus maniacally making a sculpture out of mashed potatoes. We knew we were on the right road due to the parade of bikers heading toward and away from the monument.
At last, we arrived. Wow, is it big! We made a pit stop at the visitor's center. We heard some cheers and looked up to see a tiny dot of a man at the top with his arms stretched up in victory. A climber had made it to the top. Two others were to follow. Part of me ached to climb this thing, but then reality set in:) This formation has chewed up more fit and better-qualified climbers, so I had no business trying to haul my aging body anywhere near this thing. Instead, we took a hike around the monument. Meg was like a jack rabbit, hopping up and down on the boulders that lined the path. We stared in amazement at some of the larger boulders that had fallen from this stone monolith - some were as large as a house! Mark is shown "touching" the top of the monument.
Alas, it was time to go - back to the Black Hills. Northern Wyoming was so pretty, that it was a pleasant drive. All were happy that we had made the most of our time rather than sulked that things didn't turn out as planned.
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