The Drive West Having gotten everything ready to go the night before, I was able to fall asleep without too much difficulty and woke up semi-refreshed at 3:45 AM. Without any sandwiches to make, like in previous years, I had ample time to say good bye to my buddy Kintla and Yumi before pulling out of a dark driveway at 4:20 AM. After the great 2009 Mule Deer incident I was leery of driving in the dark even if it was only for a half hour so I was on high alert as I sped down I-43 to Bob’s place down in Oostburg. I made it to Bob’s palatial crib right on schedule at 5:00 AM and was back on the road within 10 minutes and on schedule. So far, so good. Next stop: Madison to pick up Reed. Once we got through downtown Milwaukee is was apparent that we’d be at the designated rendezvous point well ahead of schedule and called Reed to give him a heads up. He agreed to roust his daughter early so that she could get him to the pick up point early. For the first and only time during the trip we had to wait for Reed, but only for about 15 minutes. Once we had his gear in the Rav4 we were west-bound.
The Trusty Rav4 was doing its job in fine style. Bob, relinquishing the co-pilot’s seat was chilling in the spacious back seat while Reed and I caught up on things up front. Before long we were crossing the Mississippi and into the hell hole some like to call Minnesota. After a hour of driving through Minnesota’s vast wasteland it was both time to get some breakfast and some gas since my low fuel light had been illuminated for 20 minutes. Since there was no greasy spoon truck stop at the next exit, unlike in the rest of the civilized world, we settled for some Amish Restaurant and gas station joint by default and held our noses as we walked inside. Even though I realized we were in Minnesota and the restaurant staff was probably doing the best they could using prehistoric cooking methods I became majorly pissed as we sat and waited 45 minutes for our food. I didn’t want to waste a minute if it meant driving though eastern Wyoming in the dark and these Amish bozos were putting my schedule in jeopardy. When the food finally came they forgot my toast---which was hardly a surprise. If we had any sense we’d give Minnesota to the Canadian’s and let them deal with the mess. Once back on the road we continued westward through some of Minnesota’s most barren and unsightly prairie. After what seemed an eternity we finally crossed into beautiful South Dakota. The border crossing out of Minnesota is always a joyous moment for me. Not only am I out of Minnesota, which I have always considered the armpit of our great nation, but I’m also only one state away from my ultimate destination---either Wyoming or Montana. It also helps that the speed limit in South Dakota is 75 mph instead of Minnesota’s wimpy 70. Morons. And Bert Favre sucks. Now that we were knocking on the door it was time to see what the Rav4 could do on the open range as I set the cruise control on 83. We started to make up some of the time that we had lost at Amishville and were soon crossing the mighty Missouri at Chamberlain. Cruising past “1880’s Town” we began to notice an inordinate number of blown down signage and standing water indicating a good storm had blown through recently. The prairie was also greener than I had ever seen during my previous trips through, and rivers and ponds that were normally very low in July and August now seemed full. When we got to Wall, I gave a shout out to a co-workers nephew who lived in Rapid City to let him know we’d be pulling into the Flying J truck stop at around 5:30---and not to be late. We were carrying a very important shipment of Wisconsin bratwurst to the lad from his uncle Jim as a favor.
Just as I told the kid we arrived at the Flying J at 5:30 and, after a few phone calls and choice words, the brats were transferred at 6:00. Had we known the dude was going to be half hour late we could have grabbed a bite to eat at the Flying J while we waited. After wasting the half hour I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to make it to Buffalo before dark and wasn’t a happy camper. I had originally thought we could make it to Buffalo by 8:30---early enough to grab a bite---but not now. We got back on the interstate and stopped at a favorite Wisconsin standby: the Culvers in Spearfish for greasy butter burgers and cheese curds. I’m not sure, but I think that meal might have been responsible for the next days’ methane bombardment of Bob. But that story shall remain untold. Once we finished dinner and were back on the road it was full speed ahead to Buffalo. We didn’t have a room reserved but were confident we could find one without any trouble. As we were chasing the sun we ran into some cloud cover and eventually some light rain which wreaked havoc on my bug-splattered windshield once the wipers were turned on.
At just past 9:00 PM, after nearly 18 hours on the road, we arrived safely in Buffalo and began looking for a suitable motel to spend the night, eventually settling on the Econolodge---I think. Fortunately, they had rollaway beds so Bob and Reed wouldn’t have to spend the night together spooning. Sleep was difficult after pounding down several cups of Coke at Culvers but fate was on our side: Bob’s supposed legendary snoring, this according to his wife, did not manifest itself on this night so we all eventually managed to fall asleep without incident. It didn’t take us long to pack up our things and fill up the Rav4 before heading off to get what is my favorite breakfast: Pistol Pete’s breakfast burrito smothered in green chile sauce. The guests of honor were waiting for us at 7:30 and we proceeded to catch up on things. Rob was now divorced and had lost about 50 pounds, probably due in part to the divorce and his love of hiking in the Bighorns. Pauline, who now lived in Buffalo and once a vicious killer on the collegiate volleyball court, was coming off an ankle injury after getting thrown by one of her horses. It was great seeing them both again and the burrito did not disappoint. Once we said goodbye it was time to finish the drive and get over to Dubois. Neither Reed or Bob had traversed the Bighorns before so I was looking forward to showing them that area, Bighorn Canyon as well as the red rock landscape just west near Tensleep.
The trip up the mountain was like none other I’d previously experienced with the formerly trusty Santa Fe and my main reason for going with the V6: power to go up mountains, specifically the Bighorns which always seemed to be in my way. Instead of downshifting to 3rd or even 2nd gear, the Rav4 powered its way up toward Powder River Pass with plenty of ponies to spare. Where I once was content, dare I say ecstatic, to be traveling uphill at 45 mph I was now impatient when vehicle’s ahead of me were moving at that pace. Yes, it was a sweet feeling which ended soon enough up at the pass. We got out to take a look and a few photos of the area then continued down to Meadowlark Lake and eventually the switchbacks of the Bighorn Canyon where we stopped once again. Even after several trips through this area I was still in awe at how the topography changed from sub-alpine to rugged canyon in a matter of minutes—even moreso when we reached the eastern end of the Bighorn Basin and the red rocks along Tensleep Creek. Once we passed through the picturesque town of Tensleep we found ourselves in dry, barren desert, dotted with an occasional well and a lot of nothing else until we arrived in Worland. Beyond Worland was more nothing, though the landscape was beginning to get a bit more interesting as we neared Thermopolis and the Wind River Canyon. The Wind River Canyon (INSERT PHOTO) was the one portion of the drive that I was really looking forward to seeing based on a few pictures I had checked out and the “terrain” feature on Google Maps. Once we made it through Thermopolis, home of a large hot spring, we came upon the Bighorn River and began the descent down to Riverton through the canyon. I’m still befuddled by what we saw at the top. Though I could swear we were moving downhill the river appeared to be flowing uphill back toward Riverton. This continued for the length of the canyon until we hit the Boysen Reservoir dam, seemingly hundreds of feet below the elevation we started at in Riverton. I think I need to consult a few topographic maps of the area. Or were there two different rivers converging at one point?
Whatever caused this optical illusion, the drive through the canyon was quite scenic with walls rising nearly 1000’ above us and the whitewater to our right. We cruised through a few tunnels near the bottom and soon found ourselves looking over the huge reservoir---which might have been the biggest body of water in Wyoming except for maybe Yellowstone Lake. Riverton proved to be a nice town which seemed to have everything a body could want from higher education, a nice health care facility and a Taco Johns. Closing in on Dubois the landscape began to change once again from not much of anything to red rock badlands, ranches and the Wind River. Before long we were in town and parked at the Twin Pines Motel hoping to check in. (INSERT LINK) I had previously told Lee, who had gone west a few days earlier to hike with Steve in the Tetons, that he could drop my name and try to check in if he got there before we did. He had and was getting himself organized when we walked into our 2 room suite. Reed, who had confirmed his participation after I had made the room reservation, as the odd man out had no problem getting a small cabin for himself just down the drive from the main building where we were located and again narrowly avoided having to spoon with Bob.
Introductions made and small talk completed, Bob and I went over to Reed’s cabin so that we could all run over to Brooks Lake to get a feel for the place. We’d be shuttling a couple of vehicles over there as that was our exit point for the hike. The drive out to Brooks Lake followed what was probably once a migratory route native Americans and wildlife alike had used for centuries before the American west was settled. Now it was US highway 287 which followed the meandering Wind River and delineated the Absarokas from the foothills of the Winds to the south. I’d marked the NFS access road on the GPS just in case it was poorly signed or I wasn’t paying attention when we got there but we had no problems The road started out in decent shape but quickly deteriorated to a dusty washboard. Still, I wasn’t worried about the Trusty Rav4 having any problems because the road wasn’t that bad and would get better as we passed a grader driving in. The drive didn’t have any views to speak of but we did startle a deer standing in the road. Brooks Lake was as scenic as it looked in the photos I’d seen. In fact, the photos of the lake were a main reason I’d wanted to hike in the area in the first place. The breccia cliffs, still covered with some snow, helped create a stunning backdrop behind the lake. As we drove through the Pallisades campground I already had the urge to come back to this place in the future with Yumi as there were some beautiful sites right along the lake.
There was a small parking area near the outlet stream so we decided to get out and check out the lake. Across the lake, about ¼ of a mile distant, day hikers and riders were making their way back to the Brooks Lake Lodge. As we followed the trail into the woods Reed discovered some recent hail and my mind flashed back to all of the harsh weather we had dealt with last summer in the Beartooths. With no place to hide, things could get awfully interesting if we were to get some severe weather up on the Buffalo Plateau. Once back in Dubois we had a little time to finish organizing our gear before meeting “Double Cabin”, aka John for dinner. John’s family owned the Absaroka Ranch (INSERT LINK) west of town and had been an invaluable source of information during the trip’s planning stage. John arrived right at 6:00 and we all walked the few blocks over to the Rustic Pine Steakhouse for our last real food for over a week. And some adult beverages. The steaks were huge and cooked to perfection. Having had two wisdom teeth pulled a week ago, I had a little trouble with my ribeye but managed to eat erverything but the gristle. To be truthful, my $32 steak was not that good, though everyone else had no complaints. As a bonus, one of my stitches worked its way loose and I was able to pull it out without being detected. John continued to feed us information after dinner. Mostly about bears (you’ll be fine), driving in mud (stay in the ruts) and fishing in the Buffalo River (it’s great). It was an enjoyable evening. Once back at our rooms we finished getting our gear ready and hit the sack. We were ready. |
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