We headed north to Moran and crossed over the Continental Divide at Togwotee Pass towards Dubois where we stopped and had dinner at the good ol' Cowboy Café; they have some mighty fine trout there and the best pie this side of, well, somewhere I'm sure. With our growls tame, we set off for in search of Thermopolis, WY, where we intended to hole up (see, I'ma learnin' to speak cowboy) for the night. We came across the first of several 'bonuses' on this trip when we went north out of Riverton and happened upon the Wind River Canyon; it was spectacular! All along that section of this incredible canyon were signs with the era, age and type of rock along the steep and rugged canyon walls. If I'd ever seen 3 billion year-old rock before, nobody bothered to point it out to me until now. The canyon lets out just south of Thermopolis and though I'd read about the town and thought I knew what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised at how welcoming it was. The state park was beautifully green with large old trees and plenty of deer and rabbits greeting us. Unfortunately, we arrived just after 9pm—the time that the thermal pools close. We stopped at the Holiday Inn expecting to get a room but instead were told that it was 'reunion weekend' and there was not a single room in town! There wasn't another town for 57 miles and that wasn't much of a town, but the man at the desk made a couple of calls for us and found that the Bates Motel, uh, I mean the El Rancho had "just one room left for the night". Well all right then! Picture the old single-story strip motels with Harley Davidson's and old couches out front and you'll get the idea. It's turned out that the live-in managers were members of our church and the rooms were actually fine, so we felt very fortunate.
Before leaving town in the morning, we went to the Dinosaur Museum. Being a typical almost 5 year-old, Joshua delighted in the big bones and teeth and it really was a worthwhile stop. We waved goodbye to the 'World's Largest Mineral Hot Spring' and happened upon bonus number 2 when we crossed the Bighorn mountain range. I'd heard of those mountains but it's never anyplace that I expected to find myself and was delighted to experience their beauty. In such remote western areas, I always get lost in thoughts of what it was like to be a Native American there before the white men came.
At Buffalo, WY, we hit I-90 and by then it was welcome as we wanted to get to Devil's Tower before it got too late in the day. Since I first saw 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' in the 70's and it became one of my all-time favorite movies, I'd wanted to visit Devil's Tower but truly never thought I would as it's so far from anything or anywhere. I thought that places like this 'Bear Lodge' as the indigenous people called it, as well as Mt Rushmore, were reserved for retirees in RVs! The weather was perfect and we hiked the mile-and-a-half trail around the base of the tower. We saw lots of adorable Prairie Dogs chasing each other in and out of their tunnels too. It really was a magical place and I felt so privileged to be there.
Just my observation about Wyoming: it's the least populated state in the country and we joked as we'd pass through these little towns that had population signs that said '44', or in one case, '1'! We figured that they'd walk in a circle for their Fourth of July parades waving and clapping for each other. Many barns were painted with American flags and business's asked if we were veterans as they offered discounts to them. It's such a simple life compared to the crowded cities and suburbs. No doubt that these folks have their issues too, but it's a world away from what I am used to. Having traveled back and forth over the whole state now, I realize how cosmopolitan Jackson Hole is compared to the rest of Wyoming. We have a beautiful performing arts center, museums and even a few Obama signs in cars and yards.,We still had lots of daylight after our hike so drove to Spearfish, South Dakota, (a new state for all of us) and then decided to drive south through Deadwood at the north end of the Black Hills. Deadwood was a very attractive old mining town that was fully catering to the tourists with new casinos and updated façades. The Black Hills proved to be way more than I expected too; they are heavily forested with lots of streams and lakes and really quite beautiful.
After indulging in an all-you-can-eat buffet and a good night's sleep, we came, saw and conquered Mt Rushmore touring the museum, taking lots of pictures, eating ice cream and finally departing to the Crazy Horse monument which was just 14 miles away. They charged $20.00 to get in, which I thought was outragous at first, but once inside, I wish I could have spent way more time there and truly hope to get back someday. We took a bus ride to the base of the mountain where they were actively digging; there is just one family of 7 working on this project and they will not accept any federal funding. It may take another 50-100 years before it will see completion.
The museum was full of donated Native American art and artifacts—I was overjoyed to see these treasures but Josh just wanted to run around and it was impossible for me to really take it all in. Maybe when he is older and has more of an understanding of their value, we will make the trek over again. It was about 4:30PM now and we wanted to make Casper, WY before dark. We enjoyed what Pizza Hut had to offer in Custer, SD, and again, we set out for places unknown. There were so many places worth exploring in the Black Hills that we could have spent a week or more, but time and money just didn't allow it this trip. 
When we passed though the town of Edgemont, SD, and I realized how close we were to Nebraska, I suggested taking a little side trip: Joshua and I had never been to Nebraska and on the map it looked like such a few miles, so we diverted south towards a spot on the map called Ardmore and about twice as far we would meet up with and head west on Hwy 20 which should have taken us speedily to Casper. Well, little did I realize until we were quite a few miles down the road that the pavement would end; the last living souls we'd see for nearly 70 miles would be the over-turned van full of people with police cars and medics scurrying about them and the train conductor that was so thrilled to see other humans that he honked a joyful tune to us as we waved excitedly at him! Not long after we saw the bad wreck on that corner of the endless dirt road, we started heading in to the storm of the century. The radio station (the only radio station) kept interrupting the Christian songs to tell us about a "Severe storm in Sheridan County of the Nebraska Panhandle". The sky was getting darker by the minute and lightening was striking constantly. It was raining, and the wind was starting to blow pretty hard. We finally passed Ardmore and every home and small building was boarded up except one that looked like it should have been. Some old bloke was set to stay there, lawn freshly mowed, despite it being a ghost town—heck, maybe he was a ghost? I felt as though I was starring in a Steven King novel and Joshua kept saying how much he hated Nebraska and that he never wanted to come back! Over and over he said, "There's nothing here! Nothing! Absolutely, NOTHING!" The radio man kept saying, "This is a severe storm with quarter–sized hail. If you are caught in this storm, seek shelter in a STURDY building and stay away from the windows!" I started having visions of tornado and looked for somewhere to seek refuge; there was none. Meanwhile, it rained harder and we kept driving right towards the dark, ominous, almost non-stop-sky-filling lightening bolts. Where were the trees? Mountains? Something? Anything? All that could be seen in any direction was prairie grass; nothing but grass. I'm sure the bison loved it before we wiped them out, but we decided they could have it! We stuck out as a huge 'bull's eye' full of anxiety. Finally reaching Hwy 20, we somehow out ran it the storm. Whew! If it were up to me, I'd power this nation with windmills filling the whole state. Nobody would notice the eye-soar and it would be a non-stop supply! I have to laugh now but when we saw the entering 'Nebraska' sign, Kelsey suggested we get out and he'd take a picture of us in front of it. I told him I didn't want to be struck by lightening for a photo but we did stop and actually stuck our feet out touching the ground so it would be official. Even during the years living in the Mojave Desert in Las Vegas did I ever feel so far away and lonesome for the ocean--at least then I was only California away. 
We were happy to get closer to Casper and hear rock music on the radio again. We must have stopped at a dozen motels along the freeway looking for a room under $100.00. Most were quoting us $120.00 and up! Good grief, it's not like we wanted to stay in some touristville; it was Casper for crying-out-loud, and it was very late. Kelsey was finally able to talk the rates down at a nice Quality Inn and we quickly crashed. After a quick breakfast and a tank top-off, Kelsey asked a man for directions back to Hwy 20. Well, I was looking at the map and could have told him to just hop on the freeway again and there would be an off-ramp just up the way, but this man told him to go 5 lights and take a right, so we did and found ourselves on Hwy 220! After discovering this, we decided to follow it anyway as it would eventually lead us to Lander and we could then reconnect to our familiar road to Dubois. We quickly left town and followed the North Platte River and quiet rolling hills of farmland and occasional interesting rock outcroppings. We crossed a creek and a little sign marked it as 'Sweetwater'; I commented that the Mormons had crossed that on their handcart trek west in 1856 and no sooner than I said that, there was a sign saying "Martin's Cove' 4 miles up! I was blown away! If you are LDS or a western history buff, you know the story of the handcarts and the Martin and Willey companies that left too late to Utah for religious freedom and became stranded in the blizzards of late fall. I am descendant of a family in the Willey Company and when we turned in to the park at Martin's Cove, I was hit with a wall of emotion and tears overcame me. We were greeted warmly by senior citizens who chose to serve missions there and they let us haul some handcarts around a loop. Josh loved that but I thought of him trying to make the 1300 mile trek on foot and knew he wouldn't have lasted a block. The story is too long to tell but these people faced tremendous loss and hardship and I couldn't help but feel that accidental trip down the wrong road for us was no accident at all. We were told the story of 9 year-old little Bodel Mortensen who sat propped against the cart wheel to rest, and froze to death. My family had to carry my great, great, great grandpa in the cart because he was not able to walk. The company were caught in a bison stampede and lost most of the oxen and cattle and were left with a starvation diet of 4 ounces of flour per person, per day; they had to cross freezing, slushy rivers and streams with just rags on their worn feet and snow up to their waists. I feel such an intense connection to these people, my family, who gave up everything in Denmark and England and crossed the Atlantic on a crowded old ship and continued across this land for their belief in Christ and His restored gospel. I can barely imagine the hardship and struggles, but I was lead here to this place and walked on the same ground as they did, if only for a few feet. We spent several hours here and watched as many people dressed in pioneer type clothing loaded up their carts to make just a 5 mile trek. I struggled with the emotion throughout the visit and 56 miles up the road, we stopped for another couple of hours at the Willey Handcart Memorial and met a distant cousin! We shared family history and both mentioned that Marilyn Monroe used to come to the family reunions as she is somehow related. This cousin and I share the same great, great grandpa and we exchanged addresses. Again, I felt it was not an accident that we were lead there and I am still feeling the emotion and awe of the day. 
We finally arrived in Dubois having made a 1200 mile circle and ate dinner at our Cowboy Café. At 9pm, we drug ourselves in our door and I am so thankful that we saw so many antelope, deer, elk, bison, prairie dogs and marmots; we saw countryside that I never knew existed that was breathtaking; we met wonderful people and even a relative!I feel spiritually and emotionally fed and renewed and I'd say the boys had a great birthday weekend!
