1995--Yellowstone NP
Prologue---August 11, 1995
After our wildly successful and educational family vacation lat year, I had made up my mind that we would take a family vacation every year. We were doing well financially, and we could afford to allocate enough money to have a decent trip each year.
I always start planning well in advance. So Christmas of 1994 had not arrived yet, and I was thinking about where we should go. It was at that time that Jolene, my eldest daughter, came into my home office, looking for some help with her homework. She was working on a report for Yellowstone National Park. This sounded like the perfect place to go.
I always start planning well in advance. So Christmas of 1994 had not arrived yet, and I was thinking about where we should go. It was at that time that Jolene, my eldest daughter, came into my home office, looking for some help with her homework. She was working on a report for Yellowstone National Park. This sounded like the perfect place to go.
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It had been seven years since the devastating fires of Yellowstone, so I figured that the area would be well on its way to recovery. Heading to Wyoming also gave us a reason to visit Margo’s Aunt Helen and Uncle Gary, who lived in Cody, WY. Cody is the unofficial east entrance to Yellowstone. While Cody is over 50 miles from the park, and there is one other city, Wapiti, on the way to the East Entrance, Cody has many amenities and attractions.
Last year, when we went on our cross country trip, Margo and I had written to the Chamber of Commerces for every town we planned to stop in. This year that procedure would only require one letter. The rest of my research was going to come from maps, encyclopedia, motel directories, and Prodigy. |
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Prodigy was one of the very early internet players. In 1995 it, along with CompuServ were the two big dogs. Prodigy was mostly still just an internet portal. It supplied the user (Me) with news, information, basic e-mail, and message boards. My 1995 it had a very basic web browser, but web content back then was in its infancy. Most of what I got came from Mobil Oil Corp, which provided the travel information for Prodigy. You got only text, no pictures, or graphics. These were also the days when a dial up modem of 2400 bps was considered blazing fast. So even if there were pictures it would take for ever to download. Broadband connections today are in the neighborhood of 20,000,000 bps. Just four orders of magnitude.
That concludes your Internet history lesson for the day. The research I did soon had an itinerary and the list of things we wanted to do. We would leave on Saturday, Aug 12th, and drive to Cody. The 13th and 14th would be spent visiting family, touring the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, The Old Trail Town, and taking in a rodeo. Then the 15th, 16th, and morning of the 16th we would take in the wonders of Yellowstone. We would spend the night of 17th in Casper, WY. On the 18th we would drive to Cheyenne and visit the grave of my brother, and visit Margo’s cousin. Then home that night.
Let the traveling begin!
That concludes your Internet history lesson for the day. The research I did soon had an itinerary and the list of things we wanted to do. We would leave on Saturday, Aug 12th, and drive to Cody. The 13th and 14th would be spent visiting family, touring the Buffalo Bill Historical Center, The Old Trail Town, and taking in a rodeo. Then the 15th, 16th, and morning of the 16th we would take in the wonders of Yellowstone. We would spend the night of 17th in Casper, WY. On the 18th we would drive to Cheyenne and visit the grave of my brother, and visit Margo’s cousin. Then home that night.
Let the traveling begin!
Day One--Saturday, August 12, 1995
We had a lonnnnnnnnng day ahead of us. There were 9 ½ hours of drive time, plus pit stops for gas, food, snacks, and just to get out of the damn car. I was figuring we would be on the road for 11 hours. This will have been the longest day I will have spent on the road since we moved to Colorado, from Georgia, back in 1973. Strangely enough, I was not dreading the drive. Last year has shown that the girls travel very well. They had both discovered the transcendental travel abilities of sleep. You fall asleep in Ft. Lupton and wake up in Cheyenne. It’s magic!
We got an early start, being on the road by about 7 AM. Our plan is always to drive as far as we can until someone’s bladder starts to complain. Then it’s everyone out and everyone pees. This time frame last from one to three hours, but two is the average. I’m sure that is sacrilege to many, but car trips are boring. Even when there is something to see, it’s usually gone in moment. If it’s something of geological size, the novelty wears off. One beautiful mountain is as pretty as the next. So, stopping to break the boredom every couple of hours does not seem like a tragedy to me.
Our first break came about 1 ½ hours of travel, when we got to Cheyenne. This turned out to be an extended pit stop as Margo had to pick up some forgot item, and we stopped at a Safeway to be sure of finding it. So, with a bit longer break than I had hoped for, we were back on our way.
Break number two came at Douglas, WY, where we stopped at Arby’s for lunch. It was only about 11:30. Instead of averaging 50 miles per hour, we had done more like 60. Margo’s lead foot and the endless Wyoming plains no doubt contributed to that. We stopped an hour later at Powder River, WY and got gas. Less than an hour later we stopped for the fourth time, at Shoshoni, WY. Part of the reason for such a quick stop is that towns in Wyoming, with services, can be few and far between. The next town of any size was Thermopolis, and it was about another hour. It was probably me, but I don’t remember, that decided a pee break was in order. Filling the drive time with water and pop, probably helped with that decision.
We finally arrived at Aunt Helen’s house about 5 PM. Even with the extra stop, we had still had arrived an hour earlier than I had planned. Bonus. Hugs and kisses all around. Aunt Helen fussed over the girls and we were soon eating dinner. Aunt Helen had insisted on both feeding us and having us spend the night with them, while we were in Cody. She is great cook, which made this decision pretty easy. We spent the rest of the evening visiting. After the 475 miles on the road, it was going to be easy to make an early night of it, and we did.
We got an early start, being on the road by about 7 AM. Our plan is always to drive as far as we can until someone’s bladder starts to complain. Then it’s everyone out and everyone pees. This time frame last from one to three hours, but two is the average. I’m sure that is sacrilege to many, but car trips are boring. Even when there is something to see, it’s usually gone in moment. If it’s something of geological size, the novelty wears off. One beautiful mountain is as pretty as the next. So, stopping to break the boredom every couple of hours does not seem like a tragedy to me.
Our first break came about 1 ½ hours of travel, when we got to Cheyenne. This turned out to be an extended pit stop as Margo had to pick up some forgot item, and we stopped at a Safeway to be sure of finding it. So, with a bit longer break than I had hoped for, we were back on our way.
Break number two came at Douglas, WY, where we stopped at Arby’s for lunch. It was only about 11:30. Instead of averaging 50 miles per hour, we had done more like 60. Margo’s lead foot and the endless Wyoming plains no doubt contributed to that. We stopped an hour later at Powder River, WY and got gas. Less than an hour later we stopped for the fourth time, at Shoshoni, WY. Part of the reason for such a quick stop is that towns in Wyoming, with services, can be few and far between. The next town of any size was Thermopolis, and it was about another hour. It was probably me, but I don’t remember, that decided a pee break was in order. Filling the drive time with water and pop, probably helped with that decision.
We finally arrived at Aunt Helen’s house about 5 PM. Even with the extra stop, we had still had arrived an hour earlier than I had planned. Bonus. Hugs and kisses all around. Aunt Helen fussed over the girls and we were soon eating dinner. Aunt Helen had insisted on both feeding us and having us spend the night with them, while we were in Cody. She is great cook, which made this decision pretty easy. We spent the rest of the evening visiting. After the 475 miles on the road, it was going to be easy to make an early night of it, and we did.
Day Two
Today we would be doing some sightseeing. We planned to go see the Buffalo Bill Historical Center. I didn’t know a lot about it, but I expected to learn a lot about William Fredrick Cody. But first, there was breakfast.
I’m not a breakfast person. In 1995 I was working a swing shift. That meant breakfast for me was around noon. Margo always made sure the girls had something to eat, but during the week, it was usually something fairly quick. Hot or cold cereal or Pop-tarts were the headliners. Margo worked a traditional shift, so morning were always hectic. On the weekends, something more traditional could be found. But Aunt Helen was definitely old school. We got up to the smell of bacon and french toast. For the french toast there was syrup, butter, and homemade Raspberry preserves. After one bite, I swore off of grape jelly forever. The french toast was good, but adding the preserves was heaven. And I don’t particular like french toast. Its ok, but not my first choice. Today, I went back for seconds and thirds, much to her delight.
We finished off with breakfast took our showers and got ready. Margo’s cousin, Julie (Aunt Helen’s daughter) dropped by to visit and we did for a little while. Julie had brought her daughter, Shantel with her. As Shantel was just a few months older than Jessi, we figured we could take her with us while Julie and Aunt Helen ran errands and such. So we all loaded up and headed over to the Museum.
We got there, and right our front to greet us was a larger than life statue of Buffalo Bill, himself. The whole town of Cody owes its existence to Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill had been through the area back in the 1870s as a scout and was deeply impressed by the beauty and potential for development. Buffalo Bill was a businessman after all. His Wild West shows were not an altruistic endeavor. When had both more means, and others interested in the project he came back to Shoshone River Valley and in 1895 the town of Cody was established.
Buffalo Bill Cody was a very famous person by 1895 and had very powerful friends, which included Theodore Roosevelt. Cody used his influence to get a railroad spur built into Cody, the Buffalo Bill Dam built, and the Shoshone National Forest designated as such. All of these helped to make Cody an important city in the state of Wyoming. In short, Buffalo Bill looms large in this small town.
We entered the museum, which is really five museums in one, and went about wandering. As expected I did learn a lot (most of which promptly forgotten) about Buffalo Bill. But, what he did to popularize the west is his legacy. And with this Historical Center he would be doing that long after his death. Speaking of which, Cody wished to be buried in the mountains overlooking Cody. However he died in Denver, CO (my home) in 1917. The City of Denver promptly recognized the tourism potential of having the legendary Buffalo Bill buried in Denver. So they just as promptly buried him on top of Look Out Mountain, and poured a few tons of cement over the grave to make sure he stayed put, despite what he might have wanted. He remains there to this day, and Yes I have spent my tourist dollars there. The official biography on the BBHC’s website does not mention the dispute. They are most forgiving.
We finished with the Buffalo Bill portion of the Museum and moved on the Cody Firearms Museum. I have seen more than a few firearms collections, including one from Colt Firearms in Hartford, CT. This is the most extensive collection I have ever scene. I am not an expert, and do not appreciate the finer points, but they had everything. Every firearms manufacturer I had ever heard of, plus many (including European) that I had not. Revolvers, derringers, rifles, shotguns, all manner of sub categories, and unusual types. My only regret was not taking pictures. I can’t for the life of me remember why.
Next up was the Whitney Gallery of Western Art. I have not been to the University of Wyoming Art Museum in Laramie, WY. I believe that is the biggest in the state. But, it would have to go some to exceed the examples of Western Art here in Cody. Only the Denver Art Museum and the art at The Oklahoma Cowboy and Western History Museum is on par with what I saw at the Whitney Gallery. Russell, Remington, Jackson, and so many others I never heard of were represented there. Again, I’m not expert, but if you are, you won’t be disappointed by what I saw at BBHC.
We toured the other two museums; The Plains Indian Museum and The Draper Natural History Museum. I don’t remember a great deal about either. I do remember that the Plains Indian Museum was well done and interesting.
I don’t recall exactly where in the museums, likely in the Buffalo Bill Museum, there was a hands on exhibit. This exhibit let you try on an actual buffalo coat. That is a coat made of buffalo hide. The girls including Margo tried it on and we got a few pictures of that.
We had chewed up quite a few hours and that coupled with our late start had taken us to closing time. We were all pretty tired and decided to head back to Aunt Helen’s for dinner. We got home and she fed us another scrumptious home cooked meal. It was going to be tough to eat on the road after this. We spent the evening with me going over some family history with her. I had been doing work on Margo’s side of the family and had brought copies of census records and other such information. She was interested and was able to add a bit to her family knowledge. She in turned gave me a lot of the vital information on her side of the family. That would come in handy when I got around to writing the family narrative on Margo’s side of the family. Little did I know that was still more than a decade to come. Then it was time for bed. More sightseeing tomorrow.
I’m not a breakfast person. In 1995 I was working a swing shift. That meant breakfast for me was around noon. Margo always made sure the girls had something to eat, but during the week, it was usually something fairly quick. Hot or cold cereal or Pop-tarts were the headliners. Margo worked a traditional shift, so morning were always hectic. On the weekends, something more traditional could be found. But Aunt Helen was definitely old school. We got up to the smell of bacon and french toast. For the french toast there was syrup, butter, and homemade Raspberry preserves. After one bite, I swore off of grape jelly forever. The french toast was good, but adding the preserves was heaven. And I don’t particular like french toast. Its ok, but not my first choice. Today, I went back for seconds and thirds, much to her delight.
We finished off with breakfast took our showers and got ready. Margo’s cousin, Julie (Aunt Helen’s daughter) dropped by to visit and we did for a little while. Julie had brought her daughter, Shantel with her. As Shantel was just a few months older than Jessi, we figured we could take her with us while Julie and Aunt Helen ran errands and such. So we all loaded up and headed over to the Museum.
We got there, and right our front to greet us was a larger than life statue of Buffalo Bill, himself. The whole town of Cody owes its existence to Buffalo Bill. Buffalo Bill had been through the area back in the 1870s as a scout and was deeply impressed by the beauty and potential for development. Buffalo Bill was a businessman after all. His Wild West shows were not an altruistic endeavor. When had both more means, and others interested in the project he came back to Shoshone River Valley and in 1895 the town of Cody was established.
Buffalo Bill Cody was a very famous person by 1895 and had very powerful friends, which included Theodore Roosevelt. Cody used his influence to get a railroad spur built into Cody, the Buffalo Bill Dam built, and the Shoshone National Forest designated as such. All of these helped to make Cody an important city in the state of Wyoming. In short, Buffalo Bill looms large in this small town.
We entered the museum, which is really five museums in one, and went about wandering. As expected I did learn a lot (most of which promptly forgotten) about Buffalo Bill. But, what he did to popularize the west is his legacy. And with this Historical Center he would be doing that long after his death. Speaking of which, Cody wished to be buried in the mountains overlooking Cody. However he died in Denver, CO (my home) in 1917. The City of Denver promptly recognized the tourism potential of having the legendary Buffalo Bill buried in Denver. So they just as promptly buried him on top of Look Out Mountain, and poured a few tons of cement over the grave to make sure he stayed put, despite what he might have wanted. He remains there to this day, and Yes I have spent my tourist dollars there. The official biography on the BBHC’s website does not mention the dispute. They are most forgiving.
We finished with the Buffalo Bill portion of the Museum and moved on the Cody Firearms Museum. I have seen more than a few firearms collections, including one from Colt Firearms in Hartford, CT. This is the most extensive collection I have ever scene. I am not an expert, and do not appreciate the finer points, but they had everything. Every firearms manufacturer I had ever heard of, plus many (including European) that I had not. Revolvers, derringers, rifles, shotguns, all manner of sub categories, and unusual types. My only regret was not taking pictures. I can’t for the life of me remember why.
Next up was the Whitney Gallery of Western Art. I have not been to the University of Wyoming Art Museum in Laramie, WY. I believe that is the biggest in the state. But, it would have to go some to exceed the examples of Western Art here in Cody. Only the Denver Art Museum and the art at The Oklahoma Cowboy and Western History Museum is on par with what I saw at the Whitney Gallery. Russell, Remington, Jackson, and so many others I never heard of were represented there. Again, I’m not expert, but if you are, you won’t be disappointed by what I saw at BBHC.
We toured the other two museums; The Plains Indian Museum and The Draper Natural History Museum. I don’t remember a great deal about either. I do remember that the Plains Indian Museum was well done and interesting.
I don’t recall exactly where in the museums, likely in the Buffalo Bill Museum, there was a hands on exhibit. This exhibit let you try on an actual buffalo coat. That is a coat made of buffalo hide. The girls including Margo tried it on and we got a few pictures of that.
We had chewed up quite a few hours and that coupled with our late start had taken us to closing time. We were all pretty tired and decided to head back to Aunt Helen’s for dinner. We got home and she fed us another scrumptious home cooked meal. It was going to be tough to eat on the road after this. We spent the evening with me going over some family history with her. I had been doing work on Margo’s side of the family and had brought copies of census records and other such information. She was interested and was able to add a bit to her family knowledge. She in turned gave me a lot of the vital information on her side of the family. That would come in handy when I got around to writing the family narrative on Margo’s side of the family. Little did I know that was still more than a decade to come. Then it was time for bed. More sightseeing tomorrow.
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Day Three-
This would be our last day in Cody. Our itinerary for the day was to visit the Old Trail Town, go to the Rodeo, and thank our hosts by taking them our for a steak dinner. We got up and started reasonably early. We had another great breakfast and made it to the Old Trail Town sometime during mid-morning.
The Old Trail Town is one man’s (Bob Edgar) attempt to rescue old western historical buildings from decay and destruction, and turn them into a museum quality old west town. He started out with the Rivers Saloon, which used to be near Meeteetse (Muh-TEETS-see), Wyoming (We interrupt this story to tell another. On our way up to Cody a few short days ago, we came up on Meeteetse and saw a bull moose standing proud and as still as a statue in the middle of field. We all were talking about a few miles later, when my six year old daughter, changed the subject from the Moose to the pronunciation of the town name. This was accomplished by lifting up her shirt and announcing “My tits, see! I was not amused. We now return to our regularly scheduled program.). This building was put up in the 1880s. It was taken apart and reassembled on the western edge of Cody.
That was the genesis of the town and it continued to grow. By the time we arrived it was a complete town with a one room schoolhouse, blacksmith, general store, carpenter’s shop and several historic buildings. Those included a cabin used as a shelter for Butch Cassidy and the cabin built for Curley, General Custer’s Crow Indian scout that survived The Battle of the Little Big Horn. Each of the buildings was historical at least to the extent that they were actual 19th or very early 20th century buildings and had served a person or community. Each building had a sign telling of its pedigree. Most of the buildings were decorated with authentic western artifacts. It was obvious that a lot of work had gone into it, and there was still a lot to be done.
What town would be complete without a cemetery? Bob Edgar was able to relocate the graves of several westerners. The most prominent being the mountain man, Jeremiah Johnston. Johnston was made famous by the Robert Redford film, Jeremiah Johnson, which loosely told his story. That story told of Johnson seeking vengeance on the Crow Indians that killed his wife. In reality, Johnston was known as “Crow Killer Johnston”, because of this. But, what the movie left out was that Johnston was more commonly known as “Liver Eating Johnston”. Legend (at least exaggerated, probably wrong) has it that when Johnston would kill a Crow, he would cut out his liver and eat it. Yummy.
Margo, me, and the kids made out tour of the town stopping at each building, taking in something from each. I really enjoyed the history, but Margo and the girls, not as much. Probably most of that is just because they didn’t enough historic perspective to appreciate it. I was going to have to a better job on that in the future.
We had lunch at a place called La Comita and headed back to Aunt Helen’s for the remainder of the afternoon. Once there we visited some, took a short walk around the hills around where Uncle Gary and Aunt Helen lived. They warned us to watch for rattlesnakes and to keep an eye out for arrowheads. As it turned out we saw neither.
We had an early dinner at The Cattlemen’s Cut, a local steakhouse. We wanted to thank Aunt Helen and Uncle Gary for their hospitality. I had to fight a bit with Uncle Gary for the check, but in the end (and with a little help from Aunt Helen) I paid the bill.
I was looking forward to our final Cody activity, Cody Nite Rodeo. Every night, from June 1st to August 31st, there is a rodeo at the Cody Stampede Arena. There may be other cities that do this, but if there are I haven’t heard of them. A traditional rodeo is put on each night. This includes; bareback, saddle bronc, calf roping, bulldogging, barrel racing, and the main event, Bull Riding. Points are earned each night for top finishers and these points count towards the overall regional championship. While you won’t see any of the big name competitors, as this is an amateur rodeo. Many of those big names got their start and a lot of practice in Cody.
This sounded like a lot of fun. Margo and I had taken the kids to rodeos before. There is one every summer, just a few miles away from our house, during the Adams County Fair each year, back home. So we knew they would enjoy it. Gates open at 7 PM and the rodeo starts at 8 PM. We got there in plenty of time, after dinner. We bought the premium seats so we could sit in “Buzzards Roost” directly above the Chutes. This was supposed to offer the best view, and we weren’t disappointed.
But, the first thing we did was get a couple of pictures. They had an area set up where, for $6, you get on a taxidermized bull, against a rodeo arena backdrop, and take a photo that had you looking like you were going for the eight seconds yourself. Margo and the girls each got one. They were all cute, but only Margo looked like she was having a good time.
Once the events started you could tell that the talent was not top notch, as many failed to stay on for the required eight second time. But, it was still a lot of fun. No one got bored. About half way through the show, the announcer (who told some terrible jokes and kept up a running conversation with the Top Clown) called for all kids under 12, to come down to participate in the Calf Scramble. This event is not sanctioned by the PRCA (Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association). Three calves are released in the arena, each with a ribbon tied to its neck. Then every sub thirteen year old in the stadium is set loose up the animals with the goal of getting that ribbon. The obvious winners receive a prize. Our home town of Brighton, CO is a rural community, so seeing cattle is no big deal. But, my girls are definitely city girls, so actually chasing down future hamburger was completely foreign to them. I did talk them into it, and went down to the arena with them. It is suffice to say Bossie Jr was never in any danger from my brood. They ran a few steps, saw the melee, and common sense over took them. We did a very good view of the spectacle, though.
The highlight of the rodeo is the bull riders. That’s why they are at the end. I have a great deal of respect for their courage. I would ridicule their brains, if not for a secret desire to ride, at least once, myself. There were plenty that couldn’t make eight seconds, but there were several that did and we had a good time cheering them all on. But, after that it was time to go. We had a great time at the rodeo, and good time in Cody. But, tomorrow we would finally make it to Yellowstone!
The Old Trail Town is one man’s (Bob Edgar) attempt to rescue old western historical buildings from decay and destruction, and turn them into a museum quality old west town. He started out with the Rivers Saloon, which used to be near Meeteetse (Muh-TEETS-see), Wyoming (We interrupt this story to tell another. On our way up to Cody a few short days ago, we came up on Meeteetse and saw a bull moose standing proud and as still as a statue in the middle of field. We all were talking about a few miles later, when my six year old daughter, changed the subject from the Moose to the pronunciation of the town name. This was accomplished by lifting up her shirt and announcing “My tits, see! I was not amused. We now return to our regularly scheduled program.). This building was put up in the 1880s. It was taken apart and reassembled on the western edge of Cody.
That was the genesis of the town and it continued to grow. By the time we arrived it was a complete town with a one room schoolhouse, blacksmith, general store, carpenter’s shop and several historic buildings. Those included a cabin used as a shelter for Butch Cassidy and the cabin built for Curley, General Custer’s Crow Indian scout that survived The Battle of the Little Big Horn. Each of the buildings was historical at least to the extent that they were actual 19th or very early 20th century buildings and had served a person or community. Each building had a sign telling of its pedigree. Most of the buildings were decorated with authentic western artifacts. It was obvious that a lot of work had gone into it, and there was still a lot to be done.
What town would be complete without a cemetery? Bob Edgar was able to relocate the graves of several westerners. The most prominent being the mountain man, Jeremiah Johnston. Johnston was made famous by the Robert Redford film, Jeremiah Johnson, which loosely told his story. That story told of Johnson seeking vengeance on the Crow Indians that killed his wife. In reality, Johnston was known as “Crow Killer Johnston”, because of this. But, what the movie left out was that Johnston was more commonly known as “Liver Eating Johnston”. Legend (at least exaggerated, probably wrong) has it that when Johnston would kill a Crow, he would cut out his liver and eat it. Yummy.
Margo, me, and the kids made out tour of the town stopping at each building, taking in something from each. I really enjoyed the history, but Margo and the girls, not as much. Probably most of that is just because they didn’t enough historic perspective to appreciate it. I was going to have to a better job on that in the future.
We had lunch at a place called La Comita and headed back to Aunt Helen’s for the remainder of the afternoon. Once there we visited some, took a short walk around the hills around where Uncle Gary and Aunt Helen lived. They warned us to watch for rattlesnakes and to keep an eye out for arrowheads. As it turned out we saw neither.
We had an early dinner at The Cattlemen’s Cut, a local steakhouse. We wanted to thank Aunt Helen and Uncle Gary for their hospitality. I had to fight a bit with Uncle Gary for the check, but in the end (and with a little help from Aunt Helen) I paid the bill.
I was looking forward to our final Cody activity, Cody Nite Rodeo. Every night, from June 1st to August 31st, there is a rodeo at the Cody Stampede Arena. There may be other cities that do this, but if there are I haven’t heard of them. A traditional rodeo is put on each night. This includes; bareback, saddle bronc, calf roping, bulldogging, barrel racing, and the main event, Bull Riding. Points are earned each night for top finishers and these points count towards the overall regional championship. While you won’t see any of the big name competitors, as this is an amateur rodeo. Many of those big names got their start and a lot of practice in Cody.
This sounded like a lot of fun. Margo and I had taken the kids to rodeos before. There is one every summer, just a few miles away from our house, during the Adams County Fair each year, back home. So we knew they would enjoy it. Gates open at 7 PM and the rodeo starts at 8 PM. We got there in plenty of time, after dinner. We bought the premium seats so we could sit in “Buzzards Roost” directly above the Chutes. This was supposed to offer the best view, and we weren’t disappointed.
But, the first thing we did was get a couple of pictures. They had an area set up where, for $6, you get on a taxidermized bull, against a rodeo arena backdrop, and take a photo that had you looking like you were going for the eight seconds yourself. Margo and the girls each got one. They were all cute, but only Margo looked like she was having a good time.
Once the events started you could tell that the talent was not top notch, as many failed to stay on for the required eight second time. But, it was still a lot of fun. No one got bored. About half way through the show, the announcer (who told some terrible jokes and kept up a running conversation with the Top Clown) called for all kids under 12, to come down to participate in the Calf Scramble. This event is not sanctioned by the PRCA (Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association). Three calves are released in the arena, each with a ribbon tied to its neck. Then every sub thirteen year old in the stadium is set loose up the animals with the goal of getting that ribbon. The obvious winners receive a prize. Our home town of Brighton, CO is a rural community, so seeing cattle is no big deal. But, my girls are definitely city girls, so actually chasing down future hamburger was completely foreign to them. I did talk them into it, and went down to the arena with them. It is suffice to say Bossie Jr was never in any danger from my brood. They ran a few steps, saw the melee, and common sense over took them. We did a very good view of the spectacle, though.
The highlight of the rodeo is the bull riders. That’s why they are at the end. I have a great deal of respect for their courage. I would ridicule their brains, if not for a secret desire to ride, at least once, myself. There were plenty that couldn’t make eight seconds, but there were several that did and we had a good time cheering them all on. But, after that it was time to go. We had a great time at the rodeo, and good time in Cody. But, tomorrow we would finally make it to Yellowstone!
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Day Four-
Today we would see Old Faithful! But, we were still a ways off. Cody is about an hour’s drive from east entrance of the park. But, our plan was to stay in Gardiner, Montana, just outside the north (original) entrance. I do not recall my reasoning for picking the northern boundary to stay. Perhaps it was the price of the hotel Staying outside the park is much cheaper than inside. There are only a handful of roads that get you around the, very, very large Yellowstone National Park. If Yellowstone was a state both Rhode Island and Delaware would be listed as smaller in size. Actually combined, RI and DE would be still smaller. It took us about an hour to get the 52 miles from Cody to the east entrance. It took us about 2 ½ hours to get from the east entrance to our hotel, in Gardiner, MT. So by the time we checked into our hotel, The Best Western-Mammoth Springs, it was about 11:30 AM.
We were more excited than hungry, due to snacking on the way, so we decided to eat lunch in the park, after we got to Old Faithful. It was another two hour drive from the North Entrance to Old Faithful, which is in the upper southern end of the park. By the time we got there, we were hungry. But, we were on geyser time, so we parked and headed straight to the Visitor’s Center. There they had the predicted time of the next eruption posted for all to see. We saw that we had about an hour. Old Faithful is so named because it is so predictable. It is still a natural wonder however, and doesn’t care about schedules, so we wanted to be back at least 20 minutes before the predicted time.
As Old Faithful is far and away the most popular attraction in the park, then National Park Service has built a very nice village there. It several stores, gas stations, the aforementioned Visitor’s Center, a Ranger’s Station, and three different lodges/inns. Each of those has a restaurant. We ate lunch in The Old Faithful Lodge. We finished eating with plenty of time to spare.
Built around the world’s most famous geyser is a wooden observation area. There are signs warning you not to go any closer. No one did. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been, at how far away we were from the geyser. There was no real mystery where the water would be coming from. There was a mound about 100 yards in the distance with steam coming out. There were plenty of people waiting for the eruption, and we picked out a good spot. I wanted to try to get a picture of the girls with Old Faithful in the background.
If I remember correctly Old Faithful was a little bit early, but I am still positively amazed that they can predict it at all, let alone accurate enough to gather a crowd. It started out slow, with a bit of sloshing over the edges of the mound. Then it started to come in surges. Each surge was higher than the last, and would come before the water from the prior surge had died down. I took the picture with the girls and had time to take two others before the nature show was over. I didn’t time the event, but it lasted much longer than I had anticipated. It certainly exceeded a minute and may have been longer than two. It’s hard to judge how high the water was thrown, but comparing how high vs. how far away we were, it had to have been more than 100 feet.
Then it was over. We had seen Old Faithful. It was worth seeing again, but if we waited around for the next one that would probably be all of the southern section of the park we would see. At the Visitor’s Center there were other geysers predicted to erupt, but none for hours. We would have to be on our way.
We headed east towards Yellowstone Lake. I don’t think we even stopped at the lake. One lake is pretty much like the next. I have nothing against lakes and even enjoy them on occasion, but Yellowstone has a lot of unique features and we were heading towards on of them.
We reached the Mud Volcano area, and parked. It had taken over an hour to drive from Old Faithful. When we got there, we were practically the only people here. The first thing you really notice is the smell. The air is very acidic and sulfurous. If the wind was right, it was a bit hard to breathe. Mostly it just smelled bad. The next thing that jumps out at you is the amazing visuals. The Mud Caldron, which is about what the name suggests, is the predominant feature. It is a pool of light brown mud that looks like it is boiling.
The trail you are to stay on is a wooden boardwalk. There are signs everywhere warning you to stay on the trail, and further informing you that the ground you might step on (off the trail) could just be a thin crust over a pit of boiling water. I was intimidated. No chance of me ending up as a Wyoming lobster.
The area is named after the Mud Volcano, discovered by white men (as Indians had known about the area for centuries) in the 1870s. The Mud Volcano was a small (compared to the caldrons) hollow filled with boiling mud, that would periodically explode and sent scalding mud everywhere. But, that activity has long since died down, and today it just simmers and boils.
Maybe that will change one day. We learned that every time there is an earthquake, and the area is seismically active, the patterns of geysers and other thermal features changes. After a quake some geysers erupt more frequently, some less. Some that were dormant start up, some active ones become quiet. But most don’t even notice the occasion.
After visiting the Mud Volcano, we were starting to get tired. It was after 5 PM, and we had been at it for about 10 hours. Most of that had been in the car. We were in the middle of the park, and still had about 1 ½ hours of driving to get to our hotel, so we decided that we had had enough for the day.
By the time we were back in Montana we were hungry. We ate at a place called Outlaws which was near our hotel. We also noticed that right across from the hotel was a stable. I took the girls over to pet the horses. Jolene has always had a fondness for them. We had gotten a flyer that told us the name of the place was Headwaters, and that they offered trail rides. Both girls liked that idea, but I wasn’t sure if we would have time. For today, they had to settle for petting the animals and taking a swim in the indoor pool.
We were more excited than hungry, due to snacking on the way, so we decided to eat lunch in the park, after we got to Old Faithful. It was another two hour drive from the North Entrance to Old Faithful, which is in the upper southern end of the park. By the time we got there, we were hungry. But, we were on geyser time, so we parked and headed straight to the Visitor’s Center. There they had the predicted time of the next eruption posted for all to see. We saw that we had about an hour. Old Faithful is so named because it is so predictable. It is still a natural wonder however, and doesn’t care about schedules, so we wanted to be back at least 20 minutes before the predicted time.
As Old Faithful is far and away the most popular attraction in the park, then National Park Service has built a very nice village there. It several stores, gas stations, the aforementioned Visitor’s Center, a Ranger’s Station, and three different lodges/inns. Each of those has a restaurant. We ate lunch in The Old Faithful Lodge. We finished eating with plenty of time to spare.
Built around the world’s most famous geyser is a wooden observation area. There are signs warning you not to go any closer. No one did. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been, at how far away we were from the geyser. There was no real mystery where the water would be coming from. There was a mound about 100 yards in the distance with steam coming out. There were plenty of people waiting for the eruption, and we picked out a good spot. I wanted to try to get a picture of the girls with Old Faithful in the background.
If I remember correctly Old Faithful was a little bit early, but I am still positively amazed that they can predict it at all, let alone accurate enough to gather a crowd. It started out slow, with a bit of sloshing over the edges of the mound. Then it started to come in surges. Each surge was higher than the last, and would come before the water from the prior surge had died down. I took the picture with the girls and had time to take two others before the nature show was over. I didn’t time the event, but it lasted much longer than I had anticipated. It certainly exceeded a minute and may have been longer than two. It’s hard to judge how high the water was thrown, but comparing how high vs. how far away we were, it had to have been more than 100 feet.
Then it was over. We had seen Old Faithful. It was worth seeing again, but if we waited around for the next one that would probably be all of the southern section of the park we would see. At the Visitor’s Center there were other geysers predicted to erupt, but none for hours. We would have to be on our way.
We headed east towards Yellowstone Lake. I don’t think we even stopped at the lake. One lake is pretty much like the next. I have nothing against lakes and even enjoy them on occasion, but Yellowstone has a lot of unique features and we were heading towards on of them.
We reached the Mud Volcano area, and parked. It had taken over an hour to drive from Old Faithful. When we got there, we were practically the only people here. The first thing you really notice is the smell. The air is very acidic and sulfurous. If the wind was right, it was a bit hard to breathe. Mostly it just smelled bad. The next thing that jumps out at you is the amazing visuals. The Mud Caldron, which is about what the name suggests, is the predominant feature. It is a pool of light brown mud that looks like it is boiling.
The trail you are to stay on is a wooden boardwalk. There are signs everywhere warning you to stay on the trail, and further informing you that the ground you might step on (off the trail) could just be a thin crust over a pit of boiling water. I was intimidated. No chance of me ending up as a Wyoming lobster.
The area is named after the Mud Volcano, discovered by white men (as Indians had known about the area for centuries) in the 1870s. The Mud Volcano was a small (compared to the caldrons) hollow filled with boiling mud, that would periodically explode and sent scalding mud everywhere. But, that activity has long since died down, and today it just simmers and boils.
Maybe that will change one day. We learned that every time there is an earthquake, and the area is seismically active, the patterns of geysers and other thermal features changes. After a quake some geysers erupt more frequently, some less. Some that were dormant start up, some active ones become quiet. But most don’t even notice the occasion.
After visiting the Mud Volcano, we were starting to get tired. It was after 5 PM, and we had been at it for about 10 hours. Most of that had been in the car. We were in the middle of the park, and still had about 1 ½ hours of driving to get to our hotel, so we decided that we had had enough for the day.
By the time we were back in Montana we were hungry. We ate at a place called Outlaws which was near our hotel. We also noticed that right across from the hotel was a stable. I took the girls over to pet the horses. Jolene has always had a fondness for them. We had gotten a flyer that told us the name of the place was Headwaters, and that they offered trail rides. Both girls liked that idea, but I wasn’t sure if we would have time. For today, they had to settle for petting the animals and taking a swim in the indoor pool.
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Day Five
Today would be our second, and last, full day in the park. We started the day with breakfast at The Yellowstone Mine Restaurant, which was right beside our hotel. Fortified, we were ready to start our day.
Our first stop was at Mammoth Hot Springs which is about five miles from the north entrance. Mammoth Hot Springs is a giant and every changing hot mineral spring, with spectacular stone formations. What that means is that water from rain and melting snow seeps into the ground and runs into a series of underground cracks and faults in the limestone under the surface. That water becomes both hot and acidic from the hot gases that come from the magma under the limestone. The now mineral rich water rises up to the surface. There on the surface, the dissolved calcium carbonate from the limestone is deposited on top. Over the course of many years terraces and other formations are formed. These are constantly changing as more minerals are added and seismic activity changes where the hot water bubbles to the surface. The terraces are very interesting. The whole area looks out of place. It’s like some alien landscape was transported and beamed into a mountain valley. Very surreal.
We looked at the various formations for a while, and then decided to continue deeper into the park. Yesterday, when we were on our way to Old Faithful we noticed a parking area, and a waterfall off on the side of the road. We pulled in and soon discovered that the waterfall was called Rustic Falls. We could tell that this was low season for the river, due to all of the discolored rock that was relatively dry. The falls were about 50 feet in height and emptied into a pretty valley with a lot of trees and shrubs. We took a couple of pictures, after admiring the scenery, and then moved on again.
Next on tour was going to be the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. But first we had to experience another wildlife road closure. We had one yesterday, and we ran into another today. A wildlife road closure happens when a deer, elk, buffalo, bear, or other large mammal is spotted near a road. Then the first person going one direction on the road pulls over to take pictures. Behind him a line develops. Car not wanting to stop, still at least slow down to see the animal and to drive through the maze of people and cars. The same thing happens in the other direction, so traffic comes to a standstill at some point down the line. I think the practice is frowned upon by the Park Service, but people are still going to pull over to see Yogi or his friends.
We saw plenty of elk and buffalo while we were in the park, but strangely (at least to my expectations) not one bear. Growing up I would see a documentary or Disney program on TV, telling of the wonders of Yellowstone. Right after the shot of Old Faithful hurling water to the heavens, would be a car chocked road, with bears everywhere trying to mooch a snack from the tourists. I certainly got the impression that bears were everywhere, and actually came looking for you. I guess that over time the park officials had relocated the bruins, and modified the behavior of both the two legged and four legged creatures so as to not have them interact. When a bear gets into an altercation with a human, the bear wins. But, then because the bear hurt the human he gets to be dead. Plenty of incentive to keep them a safe distance apart. Still, I would have hoped for at least a distant sighting. Nope. I would have to be happy with the pictures in my head.
We continued our journey into the Canyon area of the park. It is truly awesome scenery. I don’t like the name “Grand Canyon of Yellowstone”. The canyon has plenty of character and grandeur of its own. It should have a unique name. Carving the canyon all these past eons is the Yellowstone River. Unlike the original Grand Canyon in Arizona, the Yellowstone incarnation is much narrower. But, the river is much wilder and at the northern end of the canyon (where we were) is Yellowstone Falls. The Yellowstone Falls are two separate falls, about a half mile apart.
We were going to hike to the Lower Falls, because that was the first one we came to. I really didn’t know anything about the falls or the hiking trails to get to them. So chance decided that we were to hike to most treacherous of the two “Brink of the Falls” trails, to see the more spectacular of the two falls. According to the pamphlet that we picked up, after the hike, the trail we trekked was not recommended for those “with heart, lung, or other health conditions”. We could see why. Some parts were steep, some were narrow, and some were close to the edge. There were stairs and it was uneven. By the time we got to the viewing area, we had started to wonder is this had been a mistake.
We arrived at the viewing area and got our first look at the waterfall. Powerful is the best word to describe it. Intimidating was a close second. I was overwhelmed by the unstoppable onslaught of the water and the sheer volume. All I could think about when I looked at it was “Wow”! I was very glad that there were guardrails. The falls had a magnetic quality to them as well. I was drawn to them, as equally as I was awed by them. The rails added that measure of security that said something bad could not happen. We watched the water, following pieces of canyon debris fall to its doom, over the 308 foot drop. It was easy to lose yourself in thought and wonder just watching a particular rock, as the water washed over it. I lost track over how long we were there, but soon we decided it was time for the long hike back.
Half an hour or so later we were back up at the car. We decided to back north to the Canyon Village and get something to eat. We decided on ice cream and a short break. Afterwards we decided that even though there were still things to see in the park, we would forgo them for a horseback ride in the Montana hills. The girls were thrilled with that idea. We were in the northern middle of the park and it took about an hour to get back to the hotel. We immediately went over to the stables to inquire about a ride. I turned out that they could accommodate us almost immediately.
We had not planned for a horseback ride, so all of us were in shorts and tennis shoes. Not exactly riding apparel, but the folks at Rendezvous were used to tourists. Jessi was too little to handle a horse by herself, so our guide picked out a seasoned animal, and would lead him behind his mount. The rest of us would follow behind. My horse was called Big Red, and he was a large animal. Margo and the girls all got smaller horses. None of them were aggressive or emotional. Our guide saddled the animals and gave us the safety rules. Soon we were on our way.
We would taking a trail that would take us past through the ghost town of Jardine and past the Jardine cemetery. The ride would last about an hour. We had a great time, and it ranked as one of the highpoints of our trip. The trail took us into the hills around Gardiner, and crossed a rocky stream. For serious horsemen a little stream does not even warrant a mention. For three tourists, the eldest of which had not ridden in well over a decade, it was cause for some apprehension. But, our guide had given us the secret. “If the horse starts to slow when you cross, kick him. He’ll go.” Brain surgery. None us had any trouble crossing. Of course the horse did all the work. Mine did stumble just a bit on one of the many rocks.
A ghost town in the mountains is different than the old west plains ghost towns of TV. Not dusty roads, with vacant, facade buildings. Our ghost town had just a few structures all heavily overgrown with brush, shrubs, and trees. There wasn’t a lot to see from the back of horse. But, the scenery was still beautiful. Perhaps the strangest part of the ride was our trip past the cemetery. There were many headstones visible, but the most prominent, and close to the trail was that of George Welcome. It was a little eerie to seemingly be invited into the cemetery/town by a headstone with large block letters spelling “Welcome”.
The ride back was the reverse of what we had just done. But as we were all now old hands it was more relaxing. I found my self looking more at Margo and the girls. I was in the rear of our group so I didn’t have to look back to accomplish this. One of my most vivid memories of this ride was looking to the front, as our guide led Jessi and her mount. Jessi was enjoying her ride immensely looking around, and holding on the saddle horn. Occasionally she would decide that the trip needed a little spark. So, as she had seen on TV she would kick and try to spur her mount to greater speed. But, as he was the real veteran and was being lead, he completely ignored her commands and just plodded along behind. Still if was amusing to watch her “giving him the spurs” and trying to go faster.
Our trip ended much quicker than we wanted, and soon we were back in Gardiner. We thanked our guide and headed back to the hotel. We were all hungry by now. We had dinner at Cecil’s Restaurant, not far from the hotel. They also had a nice gift shop so we got in a little souvenir shopping as well. Another trip to the pool for my girls and it was time to call it day. Tomorrow we would be heading home.
Our first stop was at Mammoth Hot Springs which is about five miles from the north entrance. Mammoth Hot Springs is a giant and every changing hot mineral spring, with spectacular stone formations. What that means is that water from rain and melting snow seeps into the ground and runs into a series of underground cracks and faults in the limestone under the surface. That water becomes both hot and acidic from the hot gases that come from the magma under the limestone. The now mineral rich water rises up to the surface. There on the surface, the dissolved calcium carbonate from the limestone is deposited on top. Over the course of many years terraces and other formations are formed. These are constantly changing as more minerals are added and seismic activity changes where the hot water bubbles to the surface. The terraces are very interesting. The whole area looks out of place. It’s like some alien landscape was transported and beamed into a mountain valley. Very surreal.
We looked at the various formations for a while, and then decided to continue deeper into the park. Yesterday, when we were on our way to Old Faithful we noticed a parking area, and a waterfall off on the side of the road. We pulled in and soon discovered that the waterfall was called Rustic Falls. We could tell that this was low season for the river, due to all of the discolored rock that was relatively dry. The falls were about 50 feet in height and emptied into a pretty valley with a lot of trees and shrubs. We took a couple of pictures, after admiring the scenery, and then moved on again.
Next on tour was going to be the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. But first we had to experience another wildlife road closure. We had one yesterday, and we ran into another today. A wildlife road closure happens when a deer, elk, buffalo, bear, or other large mammal is spotted near a road. Then the first person going one direction on the road pulls over to take pictures. Behind him a line develops. Car not wanting to stop, still at least slow down to see the animal and to drive through the maze of people and cars. The same thing happens in the other direction, so traffic comes to a standstill at some point down the line. I think the practice is frowned upon by the Park Service, but people are still going to pull over to see Yogi or his friends.
We saw plenty of elk and buffalo while we were in the park, but strangely (at least to my expectations) not one bear. Growing up I would see a documentary or Disney program on TV, telling of the wonders of Yellowstone. Right after the shot of Old Faithful hurling water to the heavens, would be a car chocked road, with bears everywhere trying to mooch a snack from the tourists. I certainly got the impression that bears were everywhere, and actually came looking for you. I guess that over time the park officials had relocated the bruins, and modified the behavior of both the two legged and four legged creatures so as to not have them interact. When a bear gets into an altercation with a human, the bear wins. But, then because the bear hurt the human he gets to be dead. Plenty of incentive to keep them a safe distance apart. Still, I would have hoped for at least a distant sighting. Nope. I would have to be happy with the pictures in my head.
We continued our journey into the Canyon area of the park. It is truly awesome scenery. I don’t like the name “Grand Canyon of Yellowstone”. The canyon has plenty of character and grandeur of its own. It should have a unique name. Carving the canyon all these past eons is the Yellowstone River. Unlike the original Grand Canyon in Arizona, the Yellowstone incarnation is much narrower. But, the river is much wilder and at the northern end of the canyon (where we were) is Yellowstone Falls. The Yellowstone Falls are two separate falls, about a half mile apart.
We were going to hike to the Lower Falls, because that was the first one we came to. I really didn’t know anything about the falls or the hiking trails to get to them. So chance decided that we were to hike to most treacherous of the two “Brink of the Falls” trails, to see the more spectacular of the two falls. According to the pamphlet that we picked up, after the hike, the trail we trekked was not recommended for those “with heart, lung, or other health conditions”. We could see why. Some parts were steep, some were narrow, and some were close to the edge. There were stairs and it was uneven. By the time we got to the viewing area, we had started to wonder is this had been a mistake.
We arrived at the viewing area and got our first look at the waterfall. Powerful is the best word to describe it. Intimidating was a close second. I was overwhelmed by the unstoppable onslaught of the water and the sheer volume. All I could think about when I looked at it was “Wow”! I was very glad that there were guardrails. The falls had a magnetic quality to them as well. I was drawn to them, as equally as I was awed by them. The rails added that measure of security that said something bad could not happen. We watched the water, following pieces of canyon debris fall to its doom, over the 308 foot drop. It was easy to lose yourself in thought and wonder just watching a particular rock, as the water washed over it. I lost track over how long we were there, but soon we decided it was time for the long hike back.
Half an hour or so later we were back up at the car. We decided to back north to the Canyon Village and get something to eat. We decided on ice cream and a short break. Afterwards we decided that even though there were still things to see in the park, we would forgo them for a horseback ride in the Montana hills. The girls were thrilled with that idea. We were in the northern middle of the park and it took about an hour to get back to the hotel. We immediately went over to the stables to inquire about a ride. I turned out that they could accommodate us almost immediately.
We had not planned for a horseback ride, so all of us were in shorts and tennis shoes. Not exactly riding apparel, but the folks at Rendezvous were used to tourists. Jessi was too little to handle a horse by herself, so our guide picked out a seasoned animal, and would lead him behind his mount. The rest of us would follow behind. My horse was called Big Red, and he was a large animal. Margo and the girls all got smaller horses. None of them were aggressive or emotional. Our guide saddled the animals and gave us the safety rules. Soon we were on our way.
We would taking a trail that would take us past through the ghost town of Jardine and past the Jardine cemetery. The ride would last about an hour. We had a great time, and it ranked as one of the highpoints of our trip. The trail took us into the hills around Gardiner, and crossed a rocky stream. For serious horsemen a little stream does not even warrant a mention. For three tourists, the eldest of which had not ridden in well over a decade, it was cause for some apprehension. But, our guide had given us the secret. “If the horse starts to slow when you cross, kick him. He’ll go.” Brain surgery. None us had any trouble crossing. Of course the horse did all the work. Mine did stumble just a bit on one of the many rocks.
A ghost town in the mountains is different than the old west plains ghost towns of TV. Not dusty roads, with vacant, facade buildings. Our ghost town had just a few structures all heavily overgrown with brush, shrubs, and trees. There wasn’t a lot to see from the back of horse. But, the scenery was still beautiful. Perhaps the strangest part of the ride was our trip past the cemetery. There were many headstones visible, but the most prominent, and close to the trail was that of George Welcome. It was a little eerie to seemingly be invited into the cemetery/town by a headstone with large block letters spelling “Welcome”.
The ride back was the reverse of what we had just done. But as we were all now old hands it was more relaxing. I found my self looking more at Margo and the girls. I was in the rear of our group so I didn’t have to look back to accomplish this. One of my most vivid memories of this ride was looking to the front, as our guide led Jessi and her mount. Jessi was enjoying her ride immensely looking around, and holding on the saddle horn. Occasionally she would decide that the trip needed a little spark. So, as she had seen on TV she would kick and try to spur her mount to greater speed. But, as he was the real veteran and was being lead, he completely ignored her commands and just plodded along behind. Still if was amusing to watch her “giving him the spurs” and trying to go faster.
Our trip ended much quicker than we wanted, and soon we were back in Gardiner. We thanked our guide and headed back to the hotel. We were all hungry by now. We had dinner at Cecil’s Restaurant, not far from the hotel. They also had a nice gift shop so we got in a little souvenir shopping as well. Another trip to the pool for my girls and it was time to call it day. Tomorrow we would be heading home.
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Day Six
I enjoy fishing, and I decided that at some point on our Wyoming vacation I was going to wet a line in this state known for its trout waters. I figured today was the day. We got up got ready, and had breakfast at Gold Mine in Gardiner. We picked up some snacks and some film and then we were on our way. We retraced our route into the park, and after a couple of hours we were at the East Entrance to the park.
My plan was to try some lures in the river, the North Fork of the Shoshone River, which ran parallel to the highway that would take us back to Cody. But, I also need a fishing license. I figured I would stop at a convenience store or other such establishment on the way. When the road signs announced the proximity of Absaroka Mountain Lodge, and that they offered fishing, I figured they might sell licenses. They did, and six dollars later, I was on my way.
We pulled over on the shoulder at a spot not too far from Wapiti, WY, when the river meandered near the highway. Margo and the girls were not interesting in fishing. But, the area was scenic and the river was begging them to throw rocks in it. So they headed downstream and I headed up stream. I spent a half hour casting, and reeling. Casting and reeling. I tried every lure in my box, and several spots in the river. I came to one conclusion; there were no fish in the Shoshone River.
With that incontrovertible fact established, we repacked the car and continued our trek home. On the way we passed a pagoda style house on a hill. An honest to goodness Asian pagoda in the middle of Wyoming! I did some research years later, and found that is was to be a private residence. An architect spent years building it himself, without benefit of nails. But, he died when he fell off the roof. His kids inherited the place, but really had no interest in it. One of the kids died in a rafting accident on the nearby Shoshone River. Now the house seems to have aquired a reputation as cursed. The remaining family was having a hard time selling it. Oh, well. Next stop Thermopolis!
By the time I had finished making the non-existent fish of the Shoshone laugh, and be on our way it was past noon. The girls had eaten some snacks while I rusted lures, and I did a bit of that as we drove. We didn’t want to eat a heavy meal right now, because once we got to Thermopolis we would be swimming in the mineral pools there.
We arrived in Thermopolis around 2 PM, and entered Hot Springs State Park, and found a place called The Star Plunge. We didn’t have any experience with natural hot springs so, other than having our swim suits and anticipating hot water, we didn’t know what to expect. We soon discovered that Star Plunge was a kind of hybrid, part natural spring, part swimming pool. The owners, evidently many years ago, had built their water park, in stages around a natural hot spring. The spring fed the many (I don’t recall how many) pools that they have. They had at least one, large, outdoor pool, and at least a couple inside.
We got changed and swam and splashed for awhile. Every pool was fed by the hot spring. You could tell this by the sulfurous smell that assaulted you everywhere you went. You got used to it more, or less. But, both Margo and I were concerned about how we would smell when finished up. There were areas in one of the pools that very rough on the bottom and sides. These had to be part of the natural, original spring. Margo and the girls spent most of their time in the main pool, inside, and the smaller pool nearby. I also enjoyed those, but also wandered into the vapor cave. There the room was very warm and had signs warning me not only to limit how long I was in there, but to “Please do your lovin’ at home.” I would, thanks.
We spent an hour or so at Star Plunge swimming and then showering up afterwards. The pit stop had done us some good. We had gotten a nice break after two hours in the car, and we had a little bit to eat at their snack bar. But, we had to get a move on. We were spending the night in Casper, WY, and that was still over two hours away.
We got back in our car and continued south on US 20. We entered the Wind River Reservation after just a couple out of Thermopolis. The Wind River Reservation is governed by the Eastern Shoshone and Northern Arapaho tribes. It was originally supposed to be Shoshone property, but the US government “temporarily” placed a band of Arapahos there too. So much for temporary.
In addition to entering the Wind River Canyon, we were soon into the Wind River Canyon, carved by, yes, the Wind River. The Canyon was the most scenic area we would see after leaving Yellowstone. With mountains all around, a rushing clear water river, and tunnels bored through in strategic places, it shortened our drive to Casper.
We pulled into Casper sometime after 6 PM and found our hotel, a Motel 6. Our trip last year had shown that this chain generally delivers a comfortable room, at a great price, if you aren’t hung up on the neighborhood. We definitely were not. We would sleeping and getting up to go home tomorrow.
Dinner was Dennys. The most memorable part of the meal was the free limited edition baseball cards that they were giving out, in conjuction with Upper Deck. Nothing against Denny’s, but even for a meat and potatoes guy like me, they aren’t a first choice. But, the girls love the commercial on TV, where the two old ladies talk about going to “Lennys. No, it’s Denny’s.
That was it for the day. Tomorrow we would be going home, with a pit stop in Cheyenne.
I have always thought of myself as the oldest of the four children raised by my parents. But, in truth, there was a sibling, a brother, who came before me. He, David Charles, was born on February 14, 1962. Over the course of the years, and especially as I researched and wrote a family history book, I have tried to put myself in my parents shoes. The anticipation of the birth of their first child. Going through the Christmas holidays knowing that this time next year, they would be buying miniature cloths and toys for their son or daughter. Then having the child born on the most romantic of days, Valentine’s Day. My thoughts would of course then jump to the tragic dichotomy of the event. My brother’s death the next day. The horror of being told something was wrong. The hopelessness of being told there was nothing to be done. The cut of irony having this event fall on my father’s own birthday.
My parents rarely spoke of this time, and always in reverent and subdued tones. Dad was in the Air Force, until I was 10. His first three children were born in Cheyenne, on F.E. Warren Air Force Base. But the life of an American serviceman is nomadic, so after the burial of my brother and our subsequent transfer, visits to his grave became more difficult. Even when after Dad’s retirement and a permanent Colorado address was established, getting up there was not simple.
With those facts in mind and because we would be driving right through Cheyenne, not once, but twice, I felt more than a little obligated to make a stop at the cemetery. Margo had her own reason for wanting to stop. Her favorite cousin, Tina, just past 21 years old and beginning a family of her own, with Brandon, her own F. E. Warren Airman, was also in Cheyenne. When I planned this trip I made sure we would have time to take care of all of our family business.
We left Casper at about 9 AM and pulled into the capital city about 11:30AM. I had gotten both a cemetery map and the location of my brother’s grave. So after finding the cemetery it was pretty easy to locate the grave. I had been there many times, but always as a kid, and not for at least 20 years. So without the map I would have been lost. The stone was a small flat one, with an inscription I remembered well; Baby Boy Kretzer David Charles, Feb 14-15, 1962. We place a small cross on the grave, and after just a few moments of silence, we left.
Tina and Brandon had lunch prepared for us. That was very nice of them and we all ate gratefully, as we were hungry. We told them about our past week’s travels and they in turn brought out a recent photo album of their trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Margo and I were both interested in the pictures of Mount Rushmore, and even more so in the pictures of Bedrock. Everyone knows of the existence of the four presidents carved onto the face of Mount Rushmore. But, neither Margo nor I knew that some entrepreneur had created the fictional town of Bedrock, home to the Flintstones. We thought it so cool to see Tina, Brandon, and their son sitting in the Flintstone car or conversing with Wilma and Betty. It kind of whetted our appetites for a trip that direction.
Several hours melted away as we talked about the vacations, Aunt Helen and the Cody clan, and caught them up with all of the family gossip from Brighton. All too soon we had to get going. We only had another 90 minutes or so until we got home. But, it had been a week on the road and our own beds called to us from the southern horizon. We said our good byes with hugs and handshakes, and we made out for the final leg home.
My plan was to try some lures in the river, the North Fork of the Shoshone River, which ran parallel to the highway that would take us back to Cody. But, I also need a fishing license. I figured I would stop at a convenience store or other such establishment on the way. When the road signs announced the proximity of Absaroka Mountain Lodge, and that they offered fishing, I figured they might sell licenses. They did, and six dollars later, I was on my way.
We pulled over on the shoulder at a spot not too far from Wapiti, WY, when the river meandered near the highway. Margo and the girls were not interesting in fishing. But, the area was scenic and the river was begging them to throw rocks in it. So they headed downstream and I headed up stream. I spent a half hour casting, and reeling. Casting and reeling. I tried every lure in my box, and several spots in the river. I came to one conclusion; there were no fish in the Shoshone River.
With that incontrovertible fact established, we repacked the car and continued our trek home. On the way we passed a pagoda style house on a hill. An honest to goodness Asian pagoda in the middle of Wyoming! I did some research years later, and found that is was to be a private residence. An architect spent years building it himself, without benefit of nails. But, he died when he fell off the roof. His kids inherited the place, but really had no interest in it. One of the kids died in a rafting accident on the nearby Shoshone River. Now the house seems to have aquired a reputation as cursed. The remaining family was having a hard time selling it. Oh, well. Next stop Thermopolis!
By the time I had finished making the non-existent fish of the Shoshone laugh, and be on our way it was past noon. The girls had eaten some snacks while I rusted lures, and I did a bit of that as we drove. We didn’t want to eat a heavy meal right now, because once we got to Thermopolis we would be swimming in the mineral pools there.
We arrived in Thermopolis around 2 PM, and entered Hot Springs State Park, and found a place called The Star Plunge. We didn’t have any experience with natural hot springs so, other than having our swim suits and anticipating hot water, we didn’t know what to expect. We soon discovered that Star Plunge was a kind of hybrid, part natural spring, part swimming pool. The owners, evidently many years ago, had built their water park, in stages around a natural hot spring. The spring fed the many (I don’t recall how many) pools that they have. They had at least one, large, outdoor pool, and at least a couple inside.
We got changed and swam and splashed for awhile. Every pool was fed by the hot spring. You could tell this by the sulfurous smell that assaulted you everywhere you went. You got used to it more, or less. But, both Margo and I were concerned about how we would smell when finished up. There were areas in one of the pools that very rough on the bottom and sides. These had to be part of the natural, original spring. Margo and the girls spent most of their time in the main pool, inside, and the smaller pool nearby. I also enjoyed those, but also wandered into the vapor cave. There the room was very warm and had signs warning me not only to limit how long I was in there, but to “Please do your lovin’ at home.” I would, thanks.
We spent an hour or so at Star Plunge swimming and then showering up afterwards. The pit stop had done us some good. We had gotten a nice break after two hours in the car, and we had a little bit to eat at their snack bar. But, we had to get a move on. We were spending the night in Casper, WY, and that was still over two hours away.
We got back in our car and continued south on US 20. We entered the Wind River Reservation after just a couple out of Thermopolis. The Wind River Reservation is governed by the Eastern Shoshone and Northern Arapaho tribes. It was originally supposed to be Shoshone property, but the US government “temporarily” placed a band of Arapahos there too. So much for temporary.
In addition to entering the Wind River Canyon, we were soon into the Wind River Canyon, carved by, yes, the Wind River. The Canyon was the most scenic area we would see after leaving Yellowstone. With mountains all around, a rushing clear water river, and tunnels bored through in strategic places, it shortened our drive to Casper.
We pulled into Casper sometime after 6 PM and found our hotel, a Motel 6. Our trip last year had shown that this chain generally delivers a comfortable room, at a great price, if you aren’t hung up on the neighborhood. We definitely were not. We would sleeping and getting up to go home tomorrow.
Dinner was Dennys. The most memorable part of the meal was the free limited edition baseball cards that they were giving out, in conjuction with Upper Deck. Nothing against Denny’s, but even for a meat and potatoes guy like me, they aren’t a first choice. But, the girls love the commercial on TV, where the two old ladies talk about going to “Lennys. No, it’s Denny’s.
That was it for the day. Tomorrow we would be going home, with a pit stop in Cheyenne.
I have always thought of myself as the oldest of the four children raised by my parents. But, in truth, there was a sibling, a brother, who came before me. He, David Charles, was born on February 14, 1962. Over the course of the years, and especially as I researched and wrote a family history book, I have tried to put myself in my parents shoes. The anticipation of the birth of their first child. Going through the Christmas holidays knowing that this time next year, they would be buying miniature cloths and toys for their son or daughter. Then having the child born on the most romantic of days, Valentine’s Day. My thoughts would of course then jump to the tragic dichotomy of the event. My brother’s death the next day. The horror of being told something was wrong. The hopelessness of being told there was nothing to be done. The cut of irony having this event fall on my father’s own birthday.
My parents rarely spoke of this time, and always in reverent and subdued tones. Dad was in the Air Force, until I was 10. His first three children were born in Cheyenne, on F.E. Warren Air Force Base. But the life of an American serviceman is nomadic, so after the burial of my brother and our subsequent transfer, visits to his grave became more difficult. Even when after Dad’s retirement and a permanent Colorado address was established, getting up there was not simple.
With those facts in mind and because we would be driving right through Cheyenne, not once, but twice, I felt more than a little obligated to make a stop at the cemetery. Margo had her own reason for wanting to stop. Her favorite cousin, Tina, just past 21 years old and beginning a family of her own, with Brandon, her own F. E. Warren Airman, was also in Cheyenne. When I planned this trip I made sure we would have time to take care of all of our family business.
We left Casper at about 9 AM and pulled into the capital city about 11:30AM. I had gotten both a cemetery map and the location of my brother’s grave. So after finding the cemetery it was pretty easy to locate the grave. I had been there many times, but always as a kid, and not for at least 20 years. So without the map I would have been lost. The stone was a small flat one, with an inscription I remembered well; Baby Boy Kretzer David Charles, Feb 14-15, 1962. We place a small cross on the grave, and after just a few moments of silence, we left.
Tina and Brandon had lunch prepared for us. That was very nice of them and we all ate gratefully, as we were hungry. We told them about our past week’s travels and they in turn brought out a recent photo album of their trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota. Margo and I were both interested in the pictures of Mount Rushmore, and even more so in the pictures of Bedrock. Everyone knows of the existence of the four presidents carved onto the face of Mount Rushmore. But, neither Margo nor I knew that some entrepreneur had created the fictional town of Bedrock, home to the Flintstones. We thought it so cool to see Tina, Brandon, and their son sitting in the Flintstone car or conversing with Wilma and Betty. It kind of whetted our appetites for a trip that direction.
Several hours melted away as we talked about the vacations, Aunt Helen and the Cody clan, and caught them up with all of the family gossip from Brighton. All too soon we had to get going. We only had another 90 minutes or so until we got home. But, it had been a week on the road and our own beds called to us from the southern horizon. We said our good byes with hugs and handshakes, and we made out for the final leg home.
Epilogue
The final drive from Cheyenne to Brighton was as uneventful as we would have hoped for. It is always gratifying to get back home, no matter how much fun we had had.
The seeds the pictures that we looked at when visiting Tina and Brandon did bear fruit, six years later when the four of us, plus my eldest daughter’s boyfriend, all went up to the Black Hills. We too saw Mount Rushmore and met Fred and Barney. That 2001 Black Hills vacation was a nice trip. It turned out to be the last true family vacation we ever took. Jolene became “too cool” to go with her parents on vacation after that. So the years of 2002-2006 were spent vacationing as a trio. Not until 2007, when Jolene was 23 years old, and an adult herself, did the four of go on a reunion tour of such. I often wonder how long or even if, our own definition of Family Vacation will include the word “grandchild”. Time will tell.
The seeds the pictures that we looked at when visiting Tina and Brandon did bear fruit, six years later when the four of us, plus my eldest daughter’s boyfriend, all went up to the Black Hills. We too saw Mount Rushmore and met Fred and Barney. That 2001 Black Hills vacation was a nice trip. It turned out to be the last true family vacation we ever took. Jolene became “too cool” to go with her parents on vacation after that. So the years of 2002-2006 were spent vacationing as a trio. Not until 2007, when Jolene was 23 years old, and an adult herself, did the four of go on a reunion tour of such. I often wonder how long or even if, our own definition of Family Vacation will include the word “grandchild”. Time will tell.