Wyoming - Day 17 - back to Casper

Casper KOA, Bar Nunn

Friday, 17 September 2021

We had a hard time walking in the Douglas KOA campground this morning because of the unusual number of rabbits there.  Just plain rabbits, not jackalopes.

today's route

On the road

When I'd written out driving directions for today, I'd noted to myself that to find the right road, I'd need to take the 1st left, but not the turn for I-25.  Unfortunately, I didn't see that note until I was irrevocably on I-25, and I was even eastbound instead of westbound.  I got off at the next exit but found there was no way to get back on.  The exit ramp went under the highway and I found at the stop sign that the only way to get back on was to make a u-turn.  Which I did because there was, luckily, not much traffic.

I got off at my original mistake and this time went a little farther and followed the signs for Ft. Fetterman Historic Site, which is where I was going.

I passed 3 antelope, then 6, then 3 more, then a deer standing by a cornfield looking like it was assessing traffic.

The radio told me I was driving toward 37° in Casper.  It's getting chilly here at night.

At Ft. Fetterman, the gate was closed and a sign said it was open 9 - 5 Tuesday - Saturday.  But I was there at 9:09 on a Friday.  I waited for a bit but decided there was a chance they'd switched to off-season hours, and without knowing for sure, there wasn't any point in waiting.  There wasn't even room enough for me to walk the dogs.

The fort was established in 1867 because both the railroad and settlers had moved into the area and local Indians were disputing such access.  The Treaty of 1868 with the Indians closed 3 other forts in the area, leaving only Ft. Fetterman "as an outpost of civilization on the Western frontier," per their brochure.  Among those who visited there were famed mountain man Jim Bridger, Wild Bill Hickock, Calamity Jane, and "Buffalo Bill" Cody.  Although travelers saw it as a haven, those stationed there saw it as an outpost of hell and desertions were common.  It was abandoned in 1882.  And maybe today, for all I could tell.  We drove on.

I passed a historical marker called "The One Mile Hog Ranch," and since I'd heard of it in connection with free time pursuits of the nearby soldiers, I figured it wasn't talking about a pig farm.  It wasn't.  I didn't stop but found it online.  "Colorful" scarcely begins to describe this place.   https://www.hmdb.org/hog-ranch

At one point on this drive I almost drove off the road while I was writing notes.  This 2-lane road has a shoulder that's about 1' wide, and that shoulder slopes abruptly from the edge of the lane of traffic.  What happened was that my tires had crossed onto the shoulder, and the slope quickly pulled us strongly to the right.  For a second I was afraid we'd tump over altogether.  It was scary and unnerving and when I found a relatively straight stretch of road where oncoming traffic could see me, I pulled over as far as I could and stopped to get a grip.  That was really spooky.

From about there on, the road became very bumpy because of tar spread across the seams in the concrete.  I couldn't help but wonder if it'd be as bumpy if they didn't try to seal those seams, though I suppose rain and snow would get into the cracks and damage the road more than it already was.  But I had to slow down to 50 mph and the ride was still very bumpy.  I figured it was especially hard on Gracie, who has been traveling with her chin propped on the arm rest.

I passed what looked like large oil facilities here and there.  Also a large wind farm.

Lots of Meadowlarks, lots of horses, not many cows.

Near the town of Rolling Hills (aptly named), pop. 440, elev. 5,291', I saw a male Pronghorn near the road.  I'd already pulled over to let a car pass so I slowed way down in case this guy ran in front of me.  But when I got close he got nervous and turned around and ran off another way.

The temperature was 54° in Evansville, pop. 2,544 and elev. 5,133'.  Evansville is the site of Reshaw's Bridge, which I hadn't heard of but is an interesting side note of history.  The bridge (what's there now is a replica) was named for its owner, "the French-speaking entrepreneur John Richard," per a Wyoming history page I found.  For at least 10 years in the mid-1800s, this bridge "was the most important crossing of the North Platte River on the Oregon/California/Mormon Trail.  During that time tens of thousands of wagons and hundreds of thousands of people - bound west and east - crossed the bridge."  I love that the Americanized spelling of Reshaw grew out of French-speaking Richard's name. 

Since it took less than 2 hours for me to get from Douglas to Casper, I ran a few errands before going to the campground.  I stopped at a grocery store and a liquor store, and I made a concerted effort to get a photo of a statue I'd seen on my first trip here.  I had to work pretty hard to get this photo, because of one-way streets and noontime downtown traffic, but I got it.  

"20% Chance of Flurries"

This is a bronze statue, dedicated in 2005, that was intended as a "tongue-in-cheek reference to Wyoming cowboys' lot in winter: unpredictable, sideways blizzards in which they have to work, saving livestock, sometimes including newborn calves and lambs who would starve and freeze to death in the bitter cold," per the Library of Congress.  (In case you can't tell from my photo, the cowboy has a calf slung across his saddle.)

I can sympathize.  Sometimes the weather forecasts I see don't bear much resemblance to reality.

And then we went back to the all-gravel KOA in Bar Nunn.  When I checked in, I bought propane for the first time since this past June.  I still had more than a quarter of a tank, but it's been so chilly at night, and I didn't know what I'd be heading into, so I wanted to provision up.

One of the campers - a big Class A - had a slogan printed on their rear window: "Adventure Before Dementia."  A lesson for us all.