Gothenburg, Nebraska to Glenrock, Wyoming
Day 23
Accumulated Miles: 4,581
Mike can subsist all day on bubble gum, fried pork rinds, candy bars and Diet Coke. I cannot. This causes some friction between us, especially at mealtime, which, depending who you ask, could be any time of the day or night.
What doesn’t cause friction between us is how to negotiate a museum. He goes his way, I go mine, and somehow we always meet up at the end, together. I like it.
Things we saw today that we don’t ordinarily see:
• Trains hauling coal. In fact, we hear and see many more trains here in America’s Breadbasket than we do back home in Bend, Oregon. They seem to go every which way at all hours of the day and night.
• Drive-through liquor stores. Bitch’s Bar and Café in Lingle, Wyoming, for example, has a convenient drive-up window for all of your adult beverage needs. You don’t see that in Oregon, ever. But don’t ask them for a to-go cocktail in a cup. That, apparently, is against the law.
• Four deer crossing Interstate 25. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. I braced myself for impact and when I opened my eyes, three seconds later, Mike had negotiated our way through them without a scratch on man, beast or machine. Amazing.
Time Machine Dreams: Today, I found myself longing for a time machine. Here’s what I would do:
1. Put Pippin in it and send him back to puppyhood so I could train him to come when I call him. Bad doggy. Scratch that last part. Bad owner.
2. Travel the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon, in the year 1850, popping back to the future whenever I wanted a hot soapy shower and a Cobb salad. Oh, the sights I would see! Top hits of our list today, which included 13 hours on and off the road, include:
California Hill: Mike had to walk to these very distinctive wagon ruts by himself, because the guidebook warned of rattlesnakes, and I was not about to budge from the Jeep. Pip stayed with me, safe and sound. Mike thought we were sissies, which we are. We then drug the trailer about ten miles on a bumpy dirt road with impressive ruts of its own, before we caught a paved road to Highway 26 and our next destination.
Windlass Hill: The steepest incline the emigrants came upon thus far was Windlass Hill, which caused the pioneer travelers fits. I had another fit of my own, about the rattlesnake warning sign. Mike got some fabulous pictures and I’m happy to be proud of him from afar.
Ash Hollow: Just outside this popular wagon train watering hole, we found the gravesite Rachel E. Pattison, a pioneer bride who died at age 18. This reminds me that although the Oregon Territory promised great riches and fresh starts for everyone who ventured there, for many it delivered only tragedy.
Chimney Rock: This wonderful monolith on the land told the pioneers that their journey across the plains was nearly at an end, and that their travels through the mountains was about to begin. Chimney Rock is the landmark most discussed in journals and drawn in art of the Oregon Trail. Perhaps most importantly, it boosted the pioneers’ morale – assuring them that they were indeed making progress, after all the weeks and miles of rolling, endless plains. More than 75% of their journey – and the most treacherous terrain of all – remained to be crossed.
Fort Laramie: Steeped in history, culture and war, Fort Laramie can boast one of the most excellent historical sites on the Oregon Trail. Many buildings from the original fort have been resorted and offer fantastic glimpses into the lives the 19th century inhabitants. The exhibits portray settings in time that seem as real as today’s, whether they be bunkhouses, kitchens, offices or bedrooms. At Fort Laramie, it’s easy to imagine the commanding officer receiving reports in his office of Indian activities; the enlisted men playing cards, swapping stories and smoking cigars in the saloon; and groups of weary overland travelers camping by the Laramie River, grazing their livestock and enjoying the benefits of civilization.
Guernsey Ruts: The last stop of our day, as the sun was setting below the hills, was the magnificent wagon ruts near the town of Guernsey, Wyoming. Captured in the soft sandstone, these swales were carved as deep as five feet by thousands of wagons passing through the prairie to he promised land.
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