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TOPIC: June 28th
http://groups.google.com/group/entstrees/browse_thread/thread/d05edaca1b642923?hl=en
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== 1 of 2 ==
Date: Wed, Sep 17 2008 4:06 pm
From: dbhguru@comcast.net


ENTS,

The June 28th report of Monica's and my western trip follows. I have two days to go to reach the destination of Pocatello, ID. If enough of you want a continuation of the trip report to include side trips from Pocatello and sights and sites from the return trip, please let me know.

This report has lots of statistics. I hope I haven't overdone it.

Bob


June 28th

On the morning of June 28th, Monica and I arose to the continuation of the stiff wind that had blown relentlessly across the plains throughout the night. It was the wind that had kept the sides of our tent flapping – a sound that was simultaneously pleasing and disturbing. It had brought back memories of the prairie for me in a convincing way.
Out of the tent, as I looked across the sea of waving grass, I was reminded of John Madson’s colorful descriptions of the role of prairie winds in his classic “where the sky began--land of the tallgrass prairie”. For just a moment, I stood still, braced myself, and faced the wind, sensing its full power. I felt energized as a hefty gust came through. It and countless other blasts had scoured the slopes of nearby Bear Butte for thousands of years, each messenger of Aeolus announcing its aspirations to be an important land sculptor.

The morning air was cool, but not cold. It was cool enough, though, that movement around and a brisk rubbing of the arms felt good; and moving around we needed to do because the unrelenting wind challenged us as we maneuvered to take down our tent and pack our equipment. Preparation of breakfast at the campsite, our original plan, was simply out of the question in those blustery winds. Besides, my thoughts were turning toward a hearty western breakfast, which I hoped we could find in nearby Sturgis. Monica was game, acknowledging that trying to prepare breakfast between gusts was not in the cards. There comes the point where eating in the elements is not fun.

For the record, I note that when Monica and I are on an extended trip, such as the one we were on, we look forward to breakfast on the road, especially if in the South or West, where breakfasts tend to be hearty. However, as of late, Monica has been less enthusiastic because of the hefty intake of calories that a breakfast of eggs, bacon and/or sausage, and toast, rolls, or biscuits with gravy insures. The resulting expansion of our midsections had not escaped the notice of either of us. She is right, of course, about our not needing the excess of calories at our tender ages. Nevertheless, I try to justify the morning gorging ritual by telling myself that a hearty breakfast gets me going and allows me to skip lunch if necessary, ergo the managing of the calories, but alas, on the morning of the 28th, we could not find a convenient breakfast spot in Sturgis. The few we saw did not look “mom and pop” enough for either of us. They looked too modern and touristy. Besides, a locust-like plague of bikers intent on frolicking at their annual rendezvous with spirits aplenty had started to descend on Sturgis, and that was enough to deter us from searching more thoroughly for a more rustic breakfast setting to our liking. We envisioned a long waiting line of grouchy or still drunk bikers.

We headed west on I90 through the northern end of the Black Hills with their attractive modest covering of ponderosa pine. They are hills in that region, but the contours are pleasing to the eye. Our destination was the small Wyoming town of Sundance. I knew we would find a good place to have breakfast there and we did.
Sundance, Wyoming, is a small, somewhat historically significant western town located on the edge of the scenic Black Hills of northeastern Wyoming. Sundance’s population is presently around 1,200. Its small size has kept it more authentic.

Some spot identified by geographers in downtown Sundance registers an altitude of 4,738 feet. That is higher than any point in either Massachusetts or Vermont. It is almost equal to West Virginia’s highest mountain, if such comparisons add anything to our understanding or appreciation. Sundance is sometimes described in promotional literature as a mountain town mainly because of its location in the western edge of the Black Hills. Also, there is the conspicuous presence of nearby Sundance Mountain, which rises to 5,824 feet in altitude. The mountain’s hulking form dominates the view from the town streets as one looks to the south. It would be a truly scenic feature of the region were it not for the collection of towers that mar its summit - a regrettable sign and symbol of the times.  So far, Sundance has not been degraded by development such as that found in the other towns of the Black Hills. Fast food establishments and mini-malls are mercifully absent. I suppose it is a matter of time before that changes and Sundance undergoes the transformation of a real Wyoming town to a tourist Mecca replete with corporate symbols of societal homogeneity and attendant loss of local culture. 

Sundance is an attractive name. The town derives its name from the famous Sun Dance ceremony as practiced by the Lakota and Cheyenne Indian nations – a brutal ritual to affirm one’s manhood and to gain spiritual purity. Sundance is also the town that jailed Harry Longabaugh for 18 months for horse theft. Longabaugh became famous under the outlaw name of the Sundance Kid (1867 – 1908?). His escapades with Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch have been the subject of motion pictures and the usual glorification of western bad men. The Wild Bunch often sought protected box canyons to hide from the law. The famous “Hole in the Wall” in the Big Horn Mountains near Buffalo, Wyoming is the best-known location.

It is not an exaggeration to say that notorious outlaws of the American West are a cherished, if over-dramatized, American institution. Robert Redford’s Hollywood portrayal of the Sundance Kid probably did the real character more justice than Longabaugh ever deserved in life, but to the Sundance Kid’s credit, he and his sidekick Butch Cassidy became international bandits. They died in a shootout in Bolivia after wearing out their welcome in the United States, where they are considered to have been the most successful bank robbers of the old West.
I imagine that old-timers in the town of Sundance are proud of its association with Harry Longabaugh, but for me, those colorfully presented western characters are not what the West was, or is, all about. If the bad actors were part of the social structure of the West, they were never truly part of the western landscape in the way that the Native Americans were or as were the fur trappers.

In the present day, cattle ranching and oil drilling are mainstays in the economy of Sundance. Cattle ranching fits in well with the traditional western persona. Oil drilling is not obvious in terms of the number of wells that are visible from the roads, so one is inclined to feel the connection more to the old West than the modern “economic west”. For my tastes, the former is far the more attractive.

Before continuing on the account of our westward trek, I would like to take a couple of detours. First, I will briefly discuss an event of considerable importance to me. It may sound silly, but crossing the border into Wyoming, from any direction, is a special event for me. Wyoming epitomizes several types of terrain that I particularly love. Wyoming has been described by one writer in a National Geographic article as “high, wide, and windy”. For anyone who has spent time there, the description fits like a glove. To the traveler, Wyoming presents a seemingly endless expanse of high plains, desert basins, snowcapped mountains, and canyons, but to make an appropriate distinction, Wyoming canyons are formed mostly by streams exiting mountainous terrain - as opposed to rivers cutting through high plateaus such as with the Grand Canyon.

I maintain that in Wyoming, the high plains achieve the pinnacle of expression for the landform. Wyoming possesses long stretches of high plains, as travelers of I80 can attest - and I do mean high. The average altitude of Wyoming is 6,700 feet (second only to Colorado’s 6,800 feet) and this average is achieved with the contribution of the plains. The lowest point in Wyoming is 3,100 feet, achieved on the Belle Fourche River as it enters South Dakota in northeastern Wyoming. The capital, Cheyenne, sits at 6,088 feet and the towns across southern Wyoming are all above 6,000 feet.
If the high plains achieve a pinnacle of development in Wyoming, the state also provides a level of access to the various ranges of the Rocky Mountains that is noteworthy. In Colorado, traveling east to west, one crosses a wide section of prairie and high plains before being confronted by what appears as an unbroken wall of mountains. The landscape is presented to the traveler in an either/or scenario. But in Wyoming, one has more options. One is able to weave through a series of separated mountain ranges, some lofty and long, some short and not so lofty. There is manageable passage through or around all of them. As a cross-state traveler, in virtually any direction, the visual impact of the weave of plains and mountains keeps each in our consciousness as a defining feature of Wyoming – at least that is the case for me. Now to a second and lengthier digression. I apologize in advance.
When I enter the domain of either the Great Plains or the Rocky Mountains, my thoughts turn to climate. I suppose the numerous, exciting and/or harrowing weather experiences I had in South Dakota and Wyoming in the mid to late 1960s induce the sudden intrusion of climate awareness. From late 1964 through mid-1969, I experienced a string of extreme weather events in South Dakota and Wyoming that left an indelible impression on me. Over that time period, I endured howling winter blizzards with temperatures as low as 40 degrees below zero, summer sizzlers over 100 degrees, damaging hail (my parents car was significantly damaged on a visit), three tornados, wild temperature swings on the order of 40 degrees within minutes, and of course, the effects of the perpetual prairie wind. I think about the latter a lot.

In South Dakota, at times, the wind blew steadily for days on end, whistling in my ears, vibrating anything that could move a little. At times the effect was welcomed and at other times dreaded. In warmer months, the prairie winds blew the insects away. I liked that. In the winter, the winds howled as temperatures plummeted and I was forced on many occasions to seek cover. I hated that. After my first winter in South Dakota, I understood that when traveling in the wide-open spaces, one needed to be prepared for bad weather even if conditions appeared favorable. Blizzard conditions can arise suddenly and be deadly. A weather front can move in quickly, and in the Great Plains, there are few places to take refuge. That is a fact of life.

After a year in South Dakota, I came to appreciate the Great Plains as a land of climatic extremes. In my thinking, South Dakota became the province of Aeolus. I did not know Lee Frelich in those days and was unaware of the nature of upper Mid-west weather and its extremes, particularly those of Minnesota.
As I ventured across the border into Wyoming, I soon came to understand that the extremes of South Dakota applied equally to Wyoming. I quickly observed that the Cowboy State experienced its share of blasting winds and even greater extremes of temperature. If in the mid-1960s South Dakota symbolized wide-open spaces for me, later, Wyoming did even more so.

Whether a town dweller or living on a ranch, weather is something no real Wyoming resident would dare take for granted, but really how rough is Wyoming’s weather? A few extremes from the record books do not tell the story. For example, Alabama has recorded a temperature of 20 degrees below zero Fahrenheit, but such extremes hardly characterize the ordinarily balmy Alabama climate. One must look to the means. Let us take a look at the mean annual temperatures of some typical Wyoming towns.

I have chosen fifteen dispersed locations, spanning the latitude and longitude of the state. Interestingly, though I did not plan it that way, in terms of daily and seasonal weather, Sundance falls exactly in the middle of the list. I will begin with some observations on Sundance, make some comparisons, and then present a tabular array of average annual temperatures for the 15 sites. I limit the analysis to temperatures in the interest of not straying too far from the trip description. A thorough analysis would include wind speeds, overall precipitation, snowfall, degree-days, etc.
Sundance is a typical Wyoming town in the sense that it is fairly dry, experiences cold winters, rather hot summer days and cool summer nights. There is lots of wind. However, these are qualitative descriptors. Quantitatively, Sundance’s average January temperature is a chilly 19 degrees Fahrenheit. The average for July is a warm 69.5. In terms of extremes, the all time low temperature for Sundance is 42 degrees below zero and the high is a surprising 105. Stretches of July and August can be quite hot, especially in the middle of the day. The temperatures extremes give Sundance a range of 147 degrees, not untypical for a Wyoming town. Let us look at another town.

Rock Springs is much farther south, but also experiences an average January temperature of 19 degrees. Its all time low is -38 and all time high is 98. At around 6,700 feet altitude, the summers in Rock Springs are somewhat cooler than typically are Wyoming towns at lower elevation. For instance, Lander, which has an elevation midway between Sundance and Rock Springs has an average January temperature of 20 degrees, with an all time low of -37 and high of 101. There are more hot days in Lander’s summer than in Rock Springs. Low-lying Sheridan at 3,743 feet has an average January temperature of 21 degrees, with an all time low of -37 and high of 107. These elevation statistics bring me to a point.

There is a large difference in elevation among Wyoming towns (over 4,000 feet). Towns like Centennial in southeastern Wyoming’s Medicine Bow Range are high. Centennial lies at 8,074 feet. In the Tongue River basin, Sheridan is 3,743 feet and in the Big Horn Basin, Greybull is 3,789 feet. Towns in the Big Horn Basin are, in general, in the 3,700 to 4,500-foot elevation range. Towns across southern Wyoming are in the 6,500 to 7,000-foot range.
One expects the higher elevation towns to experience the lowest temperatures and in general that is true. However, Mother Nature does not always follow our rules for her. Other factors are involved in determining climate, such as the degree of protection of a town from nearby landforms to include phenomena such as Chinook Winds. Towns lying in prevalent storm paths from the Pacific or Canada can get hammered in the winter.

Ordinarily, temperature drops on the average of between 2 and 3 degrees per 1,000 feet gain in elevation, but the position of a town in relation to a large mountain mass can have a significant effect on climate just as can proximity to large bodies of water. Sheridan lies at the eastern foot of the Big Horn Mountains and receives protection from storms approaching from the west. Sundance lies at the western end of the Black Hills, but is a thousand feet higher than Sheridan. The average annual temperature of Sundance is 1.7 degrees lower than Sheridan. Altitude does appear to play its expected role in this comparison. Basin Wyoming, in the center of the Big Horn Basin, lies at an altitude of 3,838 feet – not much different than Sheridan. Basin’s annual average is 45.5 degrees – only one degree different from Sheridan. However, Basin’s average July temperature is a hot 73 degrees and its average January temperature is a frigid 15 degrees, with an all time low of 43 degrees below zero. In this case, the means are deceiving as a way of comparing the two towns lying at nearly the same altitude.

What are some other Wyoming town averages? Pinedale lies to the west of the Wind River Mountains in central western Wyoming. It is a veritable icebox. Pinedale’s average January temperature is 13 degrees and its average July temperature is a very cool 59. Pinedale has recorded an all time low of -49 degrees and an all time high of a modest 94 degrees. Close by, Big Piney’s average January temperature is an even lower 10 degrees. July averages 60 degrees. Big Piney’s all time low is -50 and its high is 96 degrees. Pinedale sits at an altitude of almost 7,200 feet, Big Piney at 6,824. As one might expect from their locations, the average annual temperatures of the two towns are almost the same. Both are a bone-chilling 35.8 degrees.

Incidentally, Big Piney has been called, from time to time, (as have other towns) the icebox of the nation, presumably based on its year around average temperature. The icebox claim is worth a little exploring as a side issue. Once Fraser, Colorado, claimed the title of the coldest inhabited place in the lower 48 until either the town fathers decided that the claim was not necessarily good for tourism and the title was abandoned or searches of weather records turned up colder places. Fraser’s average annual temperature is a chilly 36.3 degrees Fahrenheit, but there are colder spots as can be seen in the comparisons to follow.

Now to the tabular presentation. How do Wyoming’s towns compare with one another and stack up against other nationally famous cold spots? The following is a sample of Wyoming towns in a side by side comparisonwith some perennial cold spots outside Wyoming added for the purposes of a broader comparison. I’ve chosen Embarrass,MN, West Yellowstone,MT, Gunnison, CO, Fraser, CO, and Caribou, ME.

The above comparison supports my fervently held belief that the vast majority of senior citizens from other areas of the country will likely never retire to Wyoming.
A final tidbit on the climate comparisons is that the average January temperature of International Falls is a frosty 37.5 degrees. That is low, but seven of the locations profiled are lower. Claims of several towns to be the nation’s icebox are largely promotional, but from what I have been able to learn, Embarrass, MN may well be the legitimate title holder. Enough on climate and weather of Wyoming towns, let us return to the trip.

After Monica and I finished our breakfast, we pushed on westward through a couple of small towns and across the Powder River Basin. We passed through the town of Gillette on I90. Gillette is an energy town that appears suddenly, and unfortunately unattractively, on an otherwise unbroken expanse of high plains. Gillette is a testament to our dependence on coal for the generation of electricity. The Burlington Northern and Santa Fe run 100+ car coal trains frequently. Although the region has enormous coal reserves, the rate of depletion reminds us that the clock is ticking on our profligate lifestyles, but that is another story.

West of Gillette, we reached a spot where a long line of snowcapped peaks became visible. The sight was one I knew well. We had made it to the province of the Rocky Mountains. We were looking at the Big Horn Range – a sight that brought back many wonderful memories for me. The Big Horns were my mountains then and they always will hold a special place for me.

As Wyoming mountain ranges go, the Big Horns are not as precipitous as the Grand Teton Mountains farther west in Wyoming, or other famous ranges noted for steepness like the Sawtooth in Idaho. However, the Big Horns actually rise higher above the surrounding plains than do the more popular, more photogenic, and much better known Tetons and far higher than the Sawtooth. The Big Horns are deceptive in their appearance. They save their most spectacular visuals for a series of canyons at their lower elevations and for the alpine country at their highest elevations. The Big Horns are often bypassed, or hardly noticed, by visitors from the east who are on their way to Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. Yet, the Big Horns are very worthy mountains on their own merits. Let us take a closer look at the range.

The Big Horn Mountains extend from extreme southern Montana well into Wyoming. This eastern outlier range of the Rockies is approximately 200 miles long. It is Wyoming’s third highest range in the sense of absolute altitude. The Big Horns reach their altitude pinnacle on lofty Cloud Peak at 13,167 feet. Just north of Cloud Peak, Black Tooth reaches to 13,005 feet and Mount Woolsey, 12,978. A string of 12,000-footers end in Big Horn Peak at 12,324 feet that anchors down the southern part of the 189,000-acre Cloud Peak Wilderness Area. The Big Horns are the source of the Powder, Little Big Horn, and Powder Rivers. The high peaks present a mountain wall rising between 8,000 and 9,000 feet above the surrounding plains. Only the mighty Front Range of Colorado boasts a greater rise from plains to summits, with the culmination occurring for Longs Peak, which rises around 9,500 feet above the plains at the foot of the mountain uplift. That plains to summit rise is the highest for the entire Rocky Mountain chain. However, the rise from Clear Creek near the junction of I90 and U.S. 16 to the summit of Cloud Peak is 13,167 – 4,498 = 8,669 feet and farther north the elevation difference is even more.

In terms of passage across, U.S. 14 crosses the Big Horns north of the wilderness area reaching an altitude of 9,035 feet at Granite Pass. U.S. 16 crosses the Big Horns south of the wilderness area reaching 9,666 feet at Powder River Pass. The southern route was our choice on our way westward. We would return by the northern route.
As a final bit of preliminary mountain trivia, there are only three states in the Continental U.S. and five within the entire U.S. with mountains higher than Cloud Peak. That is more than respectable. In addition, Cloud Peak is a legitimate 4000-meter mountain. There are seven states in the U.S. with 4000-meter mountains: Alaska, California, Colorado, Washington, Wyoming, New Mexico, and Nevada.

From the town of Buffalo, we drove up into the Big Horns on U.S. 16 and to an old haunt of mine. I had in mind showing Monica the flower-saturated meadows above Circle Park. The meadows are an ideal spot to view the southern high peaks of the Big Horns to include 12,324-foot Big Horn Mountain, and 12,375-foot Darton Peak. Those peaks have impressive rock faces, between 1,000 and 1,500 vertical feet.

It was from the Circle Park meadows, above the campground, that my love of the Big Horns reached its mountain pinnacle and I was just itching to share with Monica the spectacular combination of a foreground floral display equal to any set against a background of stern rock faces of the 12,000-footers with their gleaming caps of snow.
While Monica prepared a lunch, I took a quick walk up the ridge to check on the flower status of the meadow, but to my severe disappointment, the expanses of lupine , balsam root, larkspur, and a dozen other showy sub-alpine meadow flowers were gone – all gone. A wild fire in the late 1980s had created conditions for young lodge pole pines to prolifically reseed and the meadow was literally overrun with young trees – saplings that crowded out all the gorgeous meadow flowers. The magical feeling, kindled by the meadow and mountains, a feeling I had longed to rekindle, drained away. My mountain Mecca was not the same. Maybe it could never be the same again. I stood silently, then suddenly realized the time and hurried back.

On returning to the picnic area, I explained to Monica that an after lunch walk up to what had been the magic meadows was not worth the effort. Monica understood. We packed up and were ready to head westward. But fortunately, we first stopped to talk briefly to the campground hostess. I expressed my disappointment at the loss of the meadows. The hostess understood and told us of a meadow region on the top of Hunter Mesa, not far away. She described it as the nearest thing to an earthly paradise she knew of and promised there would be plenty of flowers. I had not gone to Hunter Mesa before. I knew of its existence merely as a name on the map. It was worth a shot.
Monica and I backtracked and drove up a dirt road onto Hunter Mesa where we were welcomed by a fabulous display of wild flowers – just as the campground hostess had promised. At approximately 8,000 feet, Hunter is high enough to retain flowers longer than the lowlands. Lupine, balsam root, and larkspur were in full bloom. It was breathtaking. The backdrop to the meadows was the imposing glacial cirques of Loaf, Big Horn and Darton Peaks. A little of the lost magic of Circle Park returned. The Big Horns had come through for us - especially for me.
Monica and I strolled up through the meadows ablaze with color and to the summit of the mesa where mountain breezes kept us cool. I frequently gazed at the backdrop of 12,000-foot peaks with their imposing glacial cirques that typify the Big Horns. In years past, the cirques made the the Big Horns the preferred mountains for geologists to study the effects of mountain glaciation. In the Big Horns, the original walls that the ice commenced to work on and carve are still preserved. The geological record is complete. There even remains one glacier on the northeast side of Cloud Peak, although climate change will convert it to a dormant and then shrinking ice field.

As we left Hunter Mesa, I briefly reflected on what I had lost and what I had gained. The Big Horns had been my real introduction to the Wyoming Rockies. I had climbed to over 12,000 feet in them and I had fallen hopelessly in love with their exquisite meadows, their sheer rock cliffs, their alpine lakes, and their solitude. I had come to think of them as my private haunt and believed they had always come through for me. They had just done so once again, and with a bow of thanks, I was ready to focus my attention on the remainder of our trip.

On our way westward out of the Big Horns, we passed through the ancient three billion year old rock formations exposed near Powder River Pass and down into younger, colorful Ten Sleep Canyon with its variegated bands of sedimentary rock. Ten Sleep Canyon had been a favorite of Monica’s two years ago and is a perennial favorite of mine. However, on this trip, Ten Sleep did not seem as exciting to either of us. Familiarity can dull one’s sense of discovery and appreciation, especially when on the road and in a hurry to cover the miles.

Once out of the mountains and into the Big Horn Basin, the landscape became drab. We moved on to Worland and turned then south toward Thermopolis, home to the world’s largest hot spring. Thermopolis is another sacred Indian site turned partially into a mindless tourist destination. But fortunately, agreements with the local Shoshone and Arapahoe has insured easy and free access to part of the springs by the public. Unfortunately for us, upon arrival we found that tourist prices had caught up with those expected in ritzier places in this otherwise ordinary appearing, out of the way western town, but we were tired. So, we settled in at Thermopolis for the evening, not satisfied with the price we had to pay for the motel, but grateful for the comfort. On the 29th, we would continue our journey and explore new ranges of the Rockies for Monica. We would pass through a part of the rugged and isolated Absorakas and on to the mighty Tetons. We would go through Togwotee Pass at 9,658 feet and down into famous Jackson Hole. That was an exciting proposition. I was looking forward to seeing Monica’s reaction to the Grand Tetons up close and personal from within the park and the hope of spotting an elk.

== 2 of 2 ==
Date: Wed, Sep 17 2008 8:57 pm
From: DON BERTOLETTE


Bob/Monica-
My most recent visit to your favored Wyoming also involved wildfire...the same year that Yellowstone burned, I had been sent out from the Daniel Boone NF to fight fires in Wyoming...first firecamped out of Jackson Hole, we fought the Gardiner Fire until we were sent to the Boulder Fire in the Wind River Range...one of the more interesting fires I've fought. What ties that fire into your Western trip is my exiting from the Wind River Range...we were sent to Pinedale and billeted in 12x12 tents. The first day it was fine, but overnight the weather changed and we woke to half a foot of snow...this made the exit strategy more difficult, and we had to stay another two days before transport out of Pinedale and back to Kentucky could be arranged. While it wasn't bitter cold, we had to double up the paper sleeping bags we were issued to sleep warm enough.
While I can't recall many of the names (we walked into the Boulder Wilderness, but were flown in to more remote wilderness areas by Chinook helicopter...drop dead gorgeous mountain peaks, extensive golden/green meadows...god's country for sure!
-DonRB