Journal: A Trip to Wyoming

Once upon a time, one of our missionaries to far north Russia told us that he and some fellow missionaries had delivered a large supply of quilts to the people in Siberia.  They opened the big box... silently pulled out one quilt after another... and then the missionaries who could understand the language heard the ladies asking each other, “Why don’t the Americans like us?”

Hee hee... well, sort of ‘hee hee’.  That’s kind of funny, kind of not funny.  Knowing that many Siberian ladies do excellent handwork and needlework, I imagine that those donated quilts just plain weren’t up to snuff.  Probably homely as all get-out. 

The missionary himself did not understand; he thought they didn’t understand the process of cutting fabric into pieces and then putting it back together in various patterns.  But... I’ll bet they understood better than he thought they did.  I’ll bet they wouldn’t have felt insulted, had they received really pretty quilts!

Tuesday morning, we had a free breakfast at the Trade Winds Motel in Valentine, Nebraska.  It’s a nice place, and it wasn’t too terribly expensive.  I had a toasted biscuit with butter and jelly, a quarter of Larry’s Belgian waffle, and a cheese omelet, with milk. 

We were 442 miles from Pavillion, Wyoming, Destination #1, where we planned to pick up the air jack Larry had purchased on a Big Iron auction.

Before leaving Valentine, we stopped at Bomgaars and Larry got a couple of warm hooded sweatshirts – one in bright orange, another in red plaid.  I got three pairs of warm slipper socks.  We also got a little heater, planning to use it in motel bathrooms when they are cold, cold, cold.  But, as it turned out, the two bathrooms where I would’ve liked to use it had no outlets whatsoever.

Ah, well.  Blow-drying and curling my hair generally warms me right up – as does Larry, if he stands anywhere nearby whilst I’m a-dryin’ or a-curlin’.  So much so that I shoo him off.  😄  Anyway, we need a little heater for the camper.

A couple of miles west of town, we saw two peacocks (or peahens, as it were) strutting along through the ditch hunting for bugs.

Shortly after noon, we went past Ft. Robinson.  There was a lot of snow alongside the road; it must’ve drifted a lot, because there have been several warm days in the 60s since last week’s snow.  The cows were all placidly eating the grass newly made green again by the moisture.  I wonder if they are thinking, There; winter’s over.  That’s a relief.

Did you ever notice the difference between the expressions of cows versus bulls as they lie in a pasture chewing their cuds?  The cows look like they’re thinking, Ahhhhhh.  This is the life.  The bulls?  Nobody bettuh bothuh me.

At 2:00 p.m., we crossed into Wy-Hoe-Ing.  (We’ve said it that way ever since some guy on Craigslist tried hoodwinking Teddy out of his pickup, years ago, saying that’s where he was from.  We decided he was more likely from Iran.  Or Bangladesh.  Nobody who is really from Wyoming pronounces or spells it ‘Wy-Hoe-Ing’.)

This old wooden water tower is beside the railroad track in Lusk, Wyoming.

When we got to Casper, we went to a U-Haul rental company to rent a trailer with which to haul the air jack.  We got an open flatbed with sides. 

We spotted the majestic Rocky Mountains when we were still 50 miles east of Riverton – well over 200 miles away. 

For many miles as we neared Boysen Reservoir, we drove through the extended area of Gooseberry Badlands, with its strange rock formations.

We saw hundreds of antelope.  We’ve never seen so many of them before.  We saw mule deer... raccoons... coyotes... bald eagles... Scottish cattle... Texas longhorns... shorthorns...

There wasn’t time to get to Pavillion before the place closed, so we went on to Riverton to stay the night.

After checking into our room at the Tomahawk Motor Lodge, we ate supper in the old train depot.  It’s called – would you ever believe – ‘The Depot’.  There was an electric train running on overhead tracks all around the restaurant, which was divided into multiple small rooms.  

They serve authentic, made-from-scratch, Mexican food.  I had a beef chimichanga, and Larry had a smothered burrito.  Scrumptious.  For dessert, I had flan with syrup and sliced almonds sprinkled over it, and Larry had pumpkin flan.  Mmmm, mmm, was that ever good.  And look! – the tables and the sink and counter in the lavatory look like quilts!  Yep, I see quilts everywhere. 

I could only eat half of my beef chimichanga; the rest was soon residing in the motel refrigerator.  We would be glad for that, the next day.

The price of a room at the Tomahawk Motor Lodge, when I looked at the place online while still at home, was $55.  As we were nearing Riverton, the price dropped to $50.  The man at the desk said it was $55.  Larry told him it was $50, online.  The man looked it up.  Turns out, a promotion that was scheduled for next month had gotten posted early.  He compromised and charged $52.50.

In the room, we opened a drawer and found cans of crabmeat, tuna, and spinach 😝 (well, it’s all right in a few recipes, but not by itself; yuck)... and the expiration dates were 2021 and 2022, so I figure the room wound up costing less than $50.

It was a nice enough room, but there sure were some loud neighbors the next morning, as they got up in stages at 4:00, 5:00, 6:00.  I think every time they put something in their vehicle, they relocked it with their key fob, making the horn honk, and they loudly yelled to each other the color and contents of each bag (I think that’s what they were talking about, but I can’t be sure, since they were speaking Tagalog), and then one of them accidentally set off the panic alarm, after which they yelled Tagalog and Belorussian (appropriate, since they were bellowing) about that.

Then Larry’s alarm went off – multiple times, since he adores snooze alarms.  Mine went off next, extremely loudly, as I haven’t discovered if it’s even possible to adjust the volume on my new smartphone’s alarm. 

It was 34°, a little warmer than it had been during the night – but we had to run the air conditioner periodically all night long, because the room got hot.  No idea why.  The heat (baseboard heaters run by a thermostat on the wall) was off.  ?

Wednesday morning, we headed to Pavillion, about 15 miles away, to pick up the big jack Larry had bought – then we would go on to Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks.  It was overcast and 37°, but it was supposed to get up to a sunny 62° in the National Parks.  We dressed in short sleeves with layers of sweaters on top, and had coats, gloves, and hoods handy if we needed them. 

A man in Pavillion loaded the jack into the trailer.  Larry wondered about it... drove away, wondering about it... and then pulled onto the side of the road, pulled out his papers, looked at the picture of the jack he’d bought, and read the description.

“That’s what I thought!” he exclaimed.  “They didn’t give me my jack!  This one is way smaller than the one I bought.”

We turned around and went back.

They looked at Larry’s papers... agreed it was indeed a bigger jack. 

Problem:  they had already given Larry’s jack to another man.

They gave Larry the man’s name and phone number, and told him the guy lived in Cody, Wyoming.

Larry decided, since we would be near Cody in our trek through Yellowstone National Park (and because he’s nice), he could take the man his jack, and collect his own bigger one.

So off we went again, with hopeful plans to fix someone else’s mistake.  And thus started a series of phone calls and messages that got Larry no answer whatsoever.

But! – we had some mountains to look at.  And at least we had less weight to drag around behind us than we would have had, had we gotten the right jack.

Our drive took us first through the Bridger-Teton National Forest.  It was in these mountains that we saw this big moose lumbering along through the snow.  He posed quite nicely for us before trotting up the side of the mountain and disappearing amongst the trees.

Below is the Grand Teton itself, at 13,770 feet.  Middle Teton, 12,804 feet, is on the left, while Mount Owen, 12,928 feet, and Teewinot, 12,325 feet, are on the right.

In the next picture, I am at Jenny Lake, the Tetons in the background.  That’s one of my favorite places on earth.

When we got to Old Faithful’s Snow Lodge, we checked to see if there might possibly be a room.  It was getting late, and it was some distance to West Yellowstone, Montana.  Most other hotels, cabins, and lodges are closed this time of year.  But had I known a room was about $350 per night, we wouldn’t even have asked.  😲 

There were no vacancies.  A glance into the dining room told us that the price of a meal there would be higher’n a kite.

We headed back out to the Jeep and retrieved the other half of the previous night’s beef chimichanga from the cooler and shared it.  For dessert, we had yogurt and rice pudding.  That, along with the coffee in our mugs, would keep us until we got to West Yellowstone.

It really was a spectacular drive that day through Grand Teton National Park and the west side of Yellowstone. 

Upon arriving in West Yellowstone, Montana, we drove around the smallish town (population 1,365, though the tourists add great numbers, especially in the summer) looking for the motels I’d found online... but some weren’t exactly where they were listed on the map, and others had their lights turned off, because there were no more vacancies.  Some had lights on, but looked nasty.  Finally we decided we’d better just hurry into one that looked open and respectable, both at the same time – and whataya know, we found a Days Inn that was very nice and wasn’t too awfully high-priced, into the bargain.

I like exploring in little towns.  When our kids were little, we used to take 3 or 4 hours every now and then and go driving and exploring small towns nearby.  If we spotted a little park, we’d let the kids out to play for a few minutes.  Cheap vacations! 

However, exploring unknown little towns in the dark when we need a motel room, and can clearly see that rooms are fast being snapped up by other tourists, is not entirely relaxing.

After we got all our luggage into our room, Larry trotted down the hall to the vending machine and got a container of macaroni and cheese.  He added water, boiled it over in the microwave, and then we added the canned tuna we’d found in the motel at Riverton the previous night.  It was a little too much, and therefore a little too fishy; but when one is half-starved half to death, one is not too awfully picky!

Thursday morning, instead of the usual continental breakfast many motels offer, we used vouchers to eat at the connected restaurant.  The walls were decorated with animal heads and skins and fish, and there were antique metal coffeepots and teapots on all the window ledges.

Our meal cost 53¢, because we had to pay the tax.

Leaving West Yellowstone, we headed for Mammoth Hot Springs, in the northwest corner of Yellowstone National Park.  Being in a hurry not only to get to Cody to find the man who had Larry’s jack, but also to stay ahead of an approaching snowstorm, we didn’t stop to see all the sights we would’ve liked to see.  This is Gibbon Falls.

For the first time in over 40 years, we saw a bear in Yellowstone!  It was a black bear, and it was digging through small boulders, shale, and decaying wood in a deep arroyo at the side of the road, so we couldn’t get very good pictures of him.  But here he is, and you have to admit, it’s a good enough picture to prove it’s a real, live, honest-to-goodness bear.

At Mammoth Hot Springs, the usual crowds of elk were scattered all over the town.

Elk calf:  “Ma! These thistles are STICKY!”

As we went back south, we stopped at the side of the road to get some apples from the cooler, and to open a bag of honey mustard and onion pretzel pieces.

Larry had not yet gotten back into the Jeep when a raven landed beside him, tipping his head and looking up at him beseechingly.  He had obviously heard the sound of the pretzel bag, and knew that meant food.

I obligingly tossed him a few pieces, and he skillfully caught almost every one in his big, strong beak.

A car approached on the nearby highway, and the raven scurried around to the other side of the open car door to hide.  As soon as the car passed, he strut-hopped back into position – and when we laughed, he made a small crying noise of protest.

After a few pieces of pretzel, we got stingy and decided we wanted the rest of our food.  I began peeling apples. 

The raven flew off, and alighted nearby in a tall pine, making loud, low-pitched raucous calls, which soon drew in his mate, who was a little more skittish than he was.  They soared back down to the Jeep, landing on my side this time.  I tossed out an apple peel, making the female jump back a few steps.  The male checked it out, peered up at me in reproach, and squawked.  He wanted pretzel pieces, not apple peels.  Just look how entirely disgusted he looks.

I tossed out apple cores, which didn’t impress him any more than the peels had done.

The female, however, waited until she thought I wasn’t looking, then, warily sashayed closer, snatched a long curl of peel, and retreated to eat it.  She hadn’t spoilt her appetite with pretzels, after all!

When the male saw that no more pretzels were forthcoming, and the apple cores and peels were disappearing too, he decided not to be so picky after all, and gobbled down a few bites.  He sure gave me a look, though.

We drove to Canyon Village, and looked at the Upper and Lower Falls from all the vantage points available along the North Rim Drive.  The paths down to the lower viewing areas were closed on account of snow and ice.  This is the Lower Falls:

This is the Upper Falls:

On we went to Yellowstone Lake, the largest body of water in the Park.  It’s 7,732 feet above sea level, and covers 136 square miles with 110 miles of shoreline.  Its greatest depth is above 394 feet.  It’s the largest freshwater lake above 7,000 feet in North America.

Sometimes we couldn’t see all the way across the lake, because a strong wind was blowing the storm clouds our way.  We skirted the north shore, heading east, and came upon large herds of buffalo.

This was one of the few times we’ve exited on the east side of the Park in the daylight.  I always knew we were missing some beautiful scenery, but I didn’t realize just how very spectacular it really was.

We got to Cody about 6:30 p.m., and checked into the Super 8.  Then we had supper at Buffalo Bill’s Irma Restaurant, which is attached to the Irma Hotel.  It was built by Buffalo Bill in 1902 and named for his daughter.

The food we got was scrumptious.  A little pricier than we’re accustomed to; we spent $50 – mainly because of Larry’s prime rib dinner, with which he got all he wanted from the salad and soup bar.  I got the Cream of Spinach soup (and was glad I did, for it was delicious, even though I don’t usually like cooked spinach), and the Bronco Bustin’ Steak Salad.  Description:  Thin strips of 6 oz. marinated flatiron sirloin, egg, and tomato atop a bed of mixed greens and grilled vegetables.  Mmmm, that was good.  I could only eat half of it.  I saved the rest in a Styrofoam box and put it in the little refrigerator in the motel room. 

I also had cranberry juice and hot Ginger Hibiscus Orange tea.  (Gotta buy some of the tea soon!)

Friday morning, we gave serious effort to meeting with the man who had Larry’s jack (and we had his).  He wasn’t answering messages or calls – we thought probably because he wanted to keep it, since it’s a lot bigger and worth more money than the one he was supposed to get.  Thursday his voice mail was full, Friday it wasn’t; so we knew it was a working number.

Hopefully it wouldn’t result in a big row, and the guy would be nice enough to exchange with us.

We spent several hours trying to locate the man, calling this number and that, going to addresses we found online, both home and business, that no longer belonged to him, before finally finding someone at an adjoining business who knew him.  He pointed us in the general direction:  “About ¼ mile that way, at the edge of town, on a curved lane... not too many houses there... if you spot someone outside, maybe just stop and ask if they know him.”

We headed that way feeling less than hopeful... turned off the road onto a lane... looked for his name on the row of mailboxes... didn’t find it... rounded a curve – and lo and behold, there was one of those big ranch-style gateways over a driveway, and the man’s last name was carved in decorative wood at the top!

He was home, and he was friendly and congenial, too, into the bargain.  He hadn’t answered his calls or messages simply because he never answers calls or messages from people he doesn’t know (or so he said, though you’d think he’d have at least listened to the voice mail and read the texts).  Anyway, if he’d hoped to keep the bigger jack, he didn’t let on.  He had a big skid loader, so was able to trade the jacks on our open U-Haul trailer without any problem.  And finally, at almost noon Mountain Time, we were on our way east.

At 1:00 p.m., we crossed Bighorn Lake and started climbing up... up... up... into the Bighorn Mountains.

Below is a view from the Bighorn Mountains of north-central Wyoming all the way to the Tetons and the Rockies of Yellowstone, some 170 miles to the west.  Both the Bighorns and the Yellowstone Rockies rise over 13,000 feet.

The higher up the pass we got, on US Route 14 Alternate, the most northerly road through the Bighorn National Forest, the more snow we saw – and then it started sleeting, soon turning to snow.  We were glad we had new tires on the Jeep!

Finally we passed the summit, and before long we could see across the valley to the east almost as far as we had been able to see toward the west.

As we drove across northern Wyoming to South Dakota, we saw more antelope and mule deer than we’ve ever seen before.  The fields and pastures were teeming with them.

We stayed the night in Spearfish, South Dakota, at the Travelodge.  We were in a ground-level room, and there must’ve been a pack of little kids (or angry old folks) in the room directly above us; they kept stomping on the floor.  (Larry got the room – I always prefer the highest floor I can get, even if there’s no elevator.  We need the exercise, after all, especially after sitting in the car all day!)  We hoped the brats (or the cranky old people) went to bed before we did, and didn’t get up in the morning until after we did! 

(They did, and they didn’t.  We slept fine.)

Saturday, we drove through Black Hills National Forest from north to south, past Pactola Reservoir, and stopping to see Mt. Rushmore before continuing on through Custer State Park.

We took a road through the park that we’ve never been on before, and saw the Needle's Eye Tunnel with all the strange rock formations surrounding it for the first time.

Shortly after driving through Iron Creek Tunnel, the front right wheel began making dreadful noises – metal on metal, like the bearings were going out.  I thought it was the U-Haul trailer, but upon rolling my window down and sticking my head out while traveling slowly beside a rock embankment, I determined it was the front wheel.  Plus, I could smell it.

We found a little turnout, and then Larry stood and watched while I drove forward a short way.  He came to the conclusion that it was probably a rock wedged in somewhere around the brake area.  It smelled really bad – like brakes failing on a mountainside.

He got in... backed up quickly and put on the brakes somewhat hard... and then we drove off again, since, after all, there was no place to do anything about it, and Larry had no tools in any case.

It made a lesser noise for a few hundred more feet – and then nothing more.  The backing and stopping must’ve dislodged the rock, and it fell out after a short distance.  Whew.

I like easy repairs like that.

We saw a flock of bighorn sheep, all either females or young ones, as their horns weren’t very big.

After turning onto the Wildlife Loop Road, we soon came upon huge herds of buffalo, many thronging back and forth over the road.  As if that wasn’t bottleneck enough, there was a photographer taking wedding photos right there on the road, with buffalo all around!  I thought sure the bride’s wedding gown with its long train would be like a waving red cape in front of a bull, but the buffalo only vented their spleen on each other, and left the bridal couple alone.

One big buffalo decided our front bumper and headlight made a crackerjack scratching post, and he proceeded to rub on it vigorously enough to set the Jeep to rocking.

Larry, fearing for the health of the headlight, honked the horn.  The buffalo didn’t so much as flinch.

He eventually moseyed on (the buffalo, not Larry) (well, come to think of it, Larry moseyed too, just as soon as possible).  When we checked the bumper and headlight later, there were only a few small scratches from the buffalo’s horn.  Nothing broken, and the scratches will buff out.

Before long, we came to the not-so-wild burros that come begging tourists for snacks and tidbits.  In taking a photo of this furry white lop-eared one, I managed to take an inadvertent selfie.  😆

Note that the little guy here didn’t like the bigger one getting all the attention.

At the southern edge of Custer State Park, there are prairie dog towns, one after another.  I think this little guy is singing O Mio Babbino Caro, what do you think?  (That’s ♫ ♪ O My Dear Papa ♪ ♫ from Puccini's opera.)  😂

There were flocks of Sandhill cranes winging their way south in the evening light, and more and more antelope and mule deer came out to forage in the pastures and newly-harvested cornfields.

We ate supper in Chadron, Nebraska, at Subway.  I had a chicken/bacon/ranch sandwich with everything on it, and a cup of loaded baked potato soup.  Larry had a meatball marinara sub and a cup of chicken noodle soup.

And with that, we drove the rest of the way home, arriving at about 2:30 a.m.

I was tired, and I’d been acquiring a cold for the last couple of days, so for once I didn’t get everything put away until the next day.

But by last night, everything was back in its place, all the clothes were washed, and the last load was in the dryer.  I just can’t stand to let vacation stuff sit around uncared-for!

For the first time, Tiger decided to do as Teensy has often done:  he climbed into my open bag, stretched out, and went to sleep.  “Just try to go away and leave me now!”

Notice that he could have gotten into his Thermabed, had he been so inclined.

An opossum tried to come up the garage steps, maybe hoping to get in the pet door and get to the cat food in the laundry room; but he tumbled back down the steps.  Hearing the racket and seeing both cats were in the living room, I hurried to the garage door, flipped on the light, and looked out.  There sat the opossum at the bottom of the steps, looking a bit stunned; but when he saw me, he waddled quickly off, tail whirring.

Maybe it was an opossum that bit Tiger last month, rather than another cat?  They usually coexist all right; but maybe Tiger tried sniffing one, like he does Teensy.  Who knows. 

I’ve only seen a possum play dead once, years ago.  Usually, they go waddling off pell-mell, tails spinning like little propellers. 

The dryer buzzed, so I went to get the load out... and ... ahhhh.  There’s not many things that feel better than putting on a warm flannel nightgown and a warm terrycloth robe, fresh out of the dryer, on a chilly autumn night.

Aaaaiiiiyiiiieeee!  I just spotted one of the biggest wolf spiders I’ve ever seen, sneaking up on me!  Fortunately, there was a flyswatter within reach.  😲 😝

The cats are sure glad we’re home!  All I have to do is look at them to get them purring.  Teensy purrs so quietly we can hardly hear him – we sometimes have to feel his throat to know there are any vibrations going on at all.  Tiger, on the other hand, sounds like a big ol’ jungle cat, rumbling away.  😊

I wish we didn’t have to obligate someone to care for the cats whenever we go somewhere.  We live 7 miles from town.  Hannah usually takes care of them.  Fortunately, the cats know and like her.  But she says that after about four days, they begin to show signs of really missing us, and get quite vocal in telling her about it.

It’s so funny when she comes to visit us:  Teensy and Tiger come to greet her, and then sit down facing either the refrigerator (where we keep the half-full cans of cat food after opening them – we feed them half at a time) or their saucers.

“They think I’m nothing more than Meals on Wheels!” laughed Hannah.

No more pets after these go, much as I’ve always loved my animals.  I want to be able to travel without causing hardships for the children.

I’m sure glad we put the Dipladenia in the house last week.  It would have been a frost-bitten, wilted mess by now, had we not.  It’s in the laundry room now, blooming away.

It’s raining.  Tiger just came in all wet, and he wants to rub on me.  He thinks I’m his personal fur dryer.  I howl and yelp and back up and point, “Go over there!  You’re all wet!!!”  He goes off slowly, ears akimbo, looking all done-wrong-by.  Po’, po’ ol’ thang.

Teensy, meanwhile, has had enough sense to stay in out of the rain, for once.

Time for supper!

,,,>^..^<,,,          Sarah Lynn          ,,,>^..^<,,,