Preparing to leave Denver on Saturday, we weren't sure which route we could take.
We talked about backtracking east, turning north and catching I80 east of Cheyenne. This route would add several hours to the trip to Jackson Hole Saturday morning. We were trying to have more
hours with family in Denver, and we didn't want to get into Jackson Hole very late.
Mother nature was having her way with the Denver environment north of the city all the way to the Wyoming state line. Interstate 25 was closed at Longmont, Secondary roads were under water. We listened to terrible Stories of folks stranded, missing, dead; vehicles driving on seemingly solid roadways, and falling through into washed-out holes.
This was a hundred-year flood. Storms passing over the mountains on the front range dump massive inches of rain on the dry river beds, creeks, rivers, reservoirs and streams high in the mountains. The water begins to fill these dry river beds, creeks, rivers, reservoirs and streams and begins running down the slopes of the mountains, through the towns where folks have settled in large and small communities. Everyone wants to live by a beautiful rushing river!! The beauty and the calm are soothing.
The reservoirs serving the town's water needs fill and the dams burst, sending the water fast downstream-- flooding the towns along the route. It can be a terrible disaster, and it has been an awful time in Denver.
Jim's brother Tom tells us there is no problem 30 miles to the west over the mountains.. The storms are passing over the front range. I70West is the best route to take. Once past the front range, the way is clear. He is going to his cabin in Frasier Colorado on Saturday to deal with the damage from a porcupine chewing through the side of his cabin, and the mess left by this visitor!
In the morning we decide to try heading North to see if the roads are open but we quickly learn that even more roads are closed, Route 76 East is closed, and so we head West on I70 and drive through the beautiful mountains and ski areas of the Colorado mountains. At Silverthorne Colorado, we turn into the mountains and begin the route that takes us up toward the Wyoming state line.
From Silverthorne we wind up through the mountains, headed toward Steamboat Springs and the famed ski resort, memories from my days of skiing run through my mind. I remember Steamboat from many years ago. We descend Rabbit Ears Pass into the town of Steamboat Springs
The area is just as beautiful, but built up to be a place that is much larger than it once was. Yet still, Steamboat remains a Western town with some of the best skiing in the Western United States and some pretty great nightlife in the winter, as I recall...SMILE...
From Steamboat Springs we continue through the towns of Milner and Hayden, to Craig Colorado... passing through small towns with huge power plants, quaint western towns with one church for the entire community and one gas station, one grocery, one doctor's office for miles.
At Craig, we turn North to head toward Rawlins, Wyoming and Interstate 80.
All along the route, we have had sunshine, but as we enter the desert areas of Northern Colorado and Southern Wyoming we begin to see the storms build, all the time staying just behind or aside us. Rain shafts appear to the West of the route, but we pass through with only a few drops on the windshield.
We enter an increasingly desolate area of haunting beauty and quiet, mile after mile of no sign of community, the occasional hawk or common crow flying overhead, oil rigs dotting the landscape
As a little girl, I remember driving through the desolation of the southern portion of the state of Wyoming with my father and thinking how ugly and awful it was; I remember feeling almost a sense of shame of this being the state that I loved so much. I was always so anxious to just get through it and head North to the beauty of the mountains...
But this trip, I had new eyes and new appreciation for the hauntingly beautiful quiet and openness of this wide open place that almost no one calls home
I felt a new sense of appreciation and love for this landscape. Shortly we began to notice herds of antelope, small herds of cattle, and solitary antelope off to the side of the highway
their white markings caught our attention as we drove and we began to see more and more of them, lying down in the deep grasses and sagebrush prairies
And we came out onto I 80 at an exit that had nothing but a fireworks stand, and headed West. We Stopped for lunch at a Subway in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, and then got back on the road
we had skirted storms all the way up from Denver, but now more thunderheads and swirling clouds were laid out in front of us as we neared our exit at Rock Springs Wyoming. As a young girl, I always measured my distance and my time... and the build up of my excitement for reaching Jackson came, when I exited Interstate 80 at Rock Springs. I could settle back into my driver's seat after passing Rock Springs and anticipate the beauty and the peace of Jackson Hole....
Out ahead of us was what looked like a tremendous and dangerous storm. But once again, we steered around it, God moved this storm just to the North of the Interstate and we exited in sunshine at Rock Springs and began our northern route. We drove through the little towns of Eden, Farson, and Boulder ... arriving in Pinedale and then finally passing into the increasing beauty of the drive into Hoback Junction just South of Jackson, where my heart resides. The river ran beside the road for miles; rushing water, and calm stretches.
The sun was setting quickly, the sky turning an intense golden over the southern portion of the mountain range. We drove past our church, The Chapel at River Crossing, and then entered town. Jim decided that I needed to go immediately to the valley. The sun was setting quickly, but we drove through town and began our ascent into the valley, past the elk refuge. Here the road ascends gradually at the base of the butte on the left side of the road..... Past the refuge and the ponds of the trumpeter swan haven in winter. Slowly slowly... and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, rises the Teton mountain range; from the valley floor the mountains rise into view. But today, above 8000 feet, the mountains were obscured by clouds this night. Still, they were in front of us and I was there in the valley I love so much once again.
As dusk began to increase we drove into the little town of Moose WY, populated only by the Ranger headquarters, Ranger living area, the tiny Chapel of the Transfiguration from my childhood days here. We turned left onto the Moose-Wilson Road to head to the cabin. The road rises again suddenly from the valley floor to the next level high into the mountains.
Almost immediately we came into what is affectionately referred to here as an "ani-jam" An ani-jam refers to any congregation of vehicles and their people which are stopped to view wild animals along any road in the area. Vehicles were stopped...one with it's Cadillac back-end jutting into the roadway, forcing all others to veer onto the sagebrush to get around. Folks with huge cameras on tripods lined the roadway, and I scanned the hillside to see what...in this area usually moose or bear...was attracting all this attention. Morning hours and dusk are the most active times for wild animals. Bear are in hyperphagia to prepare for hibernation.....
Soon, as we traveled high along the narrow mountain road to the cabin, we learned what all the excitement was about....
We came upon another group of 30 or more people along the left side of the road at the location of the Beaver ponds. Across the narrow road are stands of tall Aspen trees at the base of a high sagebrush-covered hill. The Aspens are just beginning to turn gold with the coming of fall.
In front of the people stood a young, tall, blond, pony-tailed female ranger, arms outstretched; standing tall and silently in a protective stance of these people and their cameras. Across the narrow road and in the aspens, no more than five feet from the car....I could have reached out and touched...a beautiful, amazingly large Bear. He was agitated by all of these people out of their cars with their cameras, no more than 30 feet away from him. The rule here is 100 yards from bears and moose, and here these people were...out of their vehicles and standing protected only by this poor ranger who, as Jim said, was doing the best job she could do until help could arrive in the form of more rangers and equipment to deal with this increasingly dangerous situation.
As I said, the bear was clearly upset with his predicament. The beaver ponds contain berries and nourishment for the bears who consume more than 20,000 calories per day to prepare for winter. This was the bear's suppertime, dusk in the mountains at the beaver pond. His upset was being demonstrated by his circling in place, around and around and around where he stood.... Classic frustation stance for a bear. Ranger vehicles were in sight, descending from the Wilson station, and ascending from the Moose station to give aid to the ranger who was
risking her life for the STUPID people who were out of their cars, 30 feet across the road from this huge bear, at the height of hyperphagia! We placed our Tahoe vehicle between the crowd, the ranger and the bear as the other rangers began to pull up. If I had put my window down, I could have patted the bear on the head, ALMOST. ... Not quite. He was absolutely the most beautiful bear...in his own habitat, facing stupid humans who just want a pic of the bear! ....
At the risk of their lives, especially in this situation.
We drove on, finally, and left the rangers to deal with the danger and frustration. We unloaded at the cabin and headed into town for supper and groceries. Darkness was complete....no lights except headlights make it very dark. Lightning flashed over the mountains. A steady stream of headlights was coming up the road from what was the ani-jam. The rangers had succeeded in convincing the people of what was the right-minded thing to do. And darkness took away the opportunity for pictures! Amen! Thank you, Lord. "Home" at last.
