Guernsey State Park and Reservoir

The wonderful part about being a nature-lover, is that entertainment is cheap if you live in the right place. And, thanks to my move, I live in a pretty good location. I live in Torrington, Wyoming, a small town (big in Wyoming standards, apparently) close to the Nebraskan border. The problem is, in the immediate area (30 minutes), there honestly isn’t much to do.

There is a two-screen movie theater that was sold out the first night I tried going to it, forcing me to go back even earlier the next day to wait in line for tickets. Then, it turns out they only accept cash, which I hadn’t prepared for. I got in, but didn’t have any money left for popcorn. Luckily, I’m an expert at sneaking in movie theater contraband. In fact, my record was managing to get two foot-long subs and a drink (the kind with the lid) into a theater at one time. It was winter, so having a coat helped. Sneaking some gas station candy into this theater was a walk in the park. I saw Pitch Perfect 2, which honestly disappointed me a little

There is a ShopCo, a dollar store, and a couple mom and pop grocery stores. One of the stores has their employees carry out your groceries for you and load them into your car. Good thing I’m not a drug smuggler, because I was totally unprepared when he followed me out and asked me to pop my trunk. I was cringing as I opened it, unsure of what junk I’d left in there. I don’t carry anything illegal in my car, but I’ve been known to forget the odd frozen food in the trunk after a shopping trip. I found the last one the hard way. We were both pleasantly surprised when only my handy dandy foldable dolly was in there. The rest was spotless. He said, “Oh, that’s not bad at all!”, which leads me to believe this man has seen some serious shit in his line of work.

There are a couple stores on Main Street that close at five and probably aren’t open on Sundays. The gas stations and McDonalds proudly boast that they are open 24 hours on certain days of the week. It’s just one of those towns. It even has sidewalks. Those of you from Evansville, IN, will appreciate this, because that city does NOT believe in sidewalks. They are sporadic there, at best.

The presence of sidewalks was one reason that I’ve tried to start running again. And by “running” I mean “part jogging, part walking.” That ended after my last adventure, when I switched over to the street to avoid an overgrown bush and fell in a pothole. I need to give it another shot, but seeing as how it’s been cold and rainy nonstop since I got here and there isn’t a single gym in the town, I haven’t had many chances to physically better myself.

Long story short, the town doesn’t have much to do. After a full nine to five day of apartment searching when I arrived, I spoke with my dad on the phone. I speak Vulcan. For those of you who haven’t seen Star Trek, that means that I’m a serious monotone speaker. So it must have been bad because he could tell right away that I was stressed. So he demanded, and I quote, “Go find a mountain and take a picture of it. Let me help out from my end.” Have I mentioned my parents are awesome? If not, then I’m doing it now.

So my journey began. The problem is, I can see mountains and bluffs in every direction, so I wasn’t sure which way to go, so I just picked a random direction: East. I drove for a half hour or so and finally spotted a giant peak and eventually a mountain range to go along with it. I followed the highway toward it, stopping occasionally for a photo opportunity. By this point, I’m getting used to the rattle snake signs at every rest area. I drove for an hour and pulled off at a rest stop that had a short trail to a shelter area that looked out over the mountain. I’d come to a fork in the highway and wasn’t sure which way to go. Plus, I’d been driving for an hour, and the mountain still looked to be another hour away or more. It’s funny how distances work out here. In Indiana, I could only see as far as the end of the cornfield. Here, you can really test the limits of your eyes since there is nothing to stop them.

The rest stop, however, informed me that I was looking at Laramie Peak, the largest peak in that particular branch of the Rockies. It also turns that I’d been following the approximate route of the Oregon Trail. The rest stop also informed be that the Mormons and travelers of the Oregon trail that came before me, had spotted that peak from Scottsbluff, Nebraska, over 100 mile away.

So I put my feet up on the bench (possibly an unnecessary precaution against a rattlesnake happening upon my leg from under the bench---for all I know, they can jump or climb and get me just as easily), and I took some pictures. It was a beautiful view, but I knew there was just no reaching Laramie Peak that day. It’s on my to-do list.

However, I had seen a sign for Guernsey State Park on my random drive, so I turned around and decided to check that out. I’m 110% glad that I did.

Guernsey State Park is in Guernsey, WY, approximately thirty miles from Torrington, WY. It contains Guernsey Reservoir, a result of the damming of the North Platte River. I’ve learned since then that people mostly use it for water sports and (stupid) cliff diving, that has resulted in more than a few deaths over the past years. So no cliff diving for me at Guernsey. I've done it in Mexico, so I'll stick with that for now. Entry is $6 or so for non-residents. It has winding roads with lots of switch-backs, low speed limits, and possible rock slide areas, so I wasn’t the most comfortable driving it by myself. I kept my speed low, doors locked, and promised myself that I would be out of there by nightfall. I’m making it sound creepy, which I somewhat regret, but I’m trying to be honest about everything. So I’ll make up for it by telling you why I was creeped out: it was abandoned. It's still off-season there because it's still a little chilly. I could count on one hand the number of cars I passed going in the opposite direction, and there were even fewer campers and no boats or watercraft at all. I saw one man out grilling by himself, and we waved to each other. But that was it.  Oh, and there was no cell service. If it had been just a tad busier, I would have been a little more comfortable. Therefore, I’m vowing to go back when I won’t have so many visions of rock slides or car troubles and walking miles for cell service. I’m a little paranoid and over-cautious at times, if you can’t tell.

But let’s talk about how awesome it was! Even the outrageous, horrible scenarios playing out in my head couldn’t detract from the beauty of this place. I started at the entrance nearest to the town of Guernsey. There is a road that you can take through the park that takes you another route back to town. So I took it all the way through, which took about an hour with my frequent picture stops and slow driving. From that direction, the first thing I came to was a one-lane bridge over a dam. I saw a windy, one lane road going down to the bottom of the dam so I ventured down there first. The geology of Wyoming means that the “dirt” is all kinds of pretty colors (never say “dirt” to a geologist). The North Platte has cut through the layers of rock, forming a canyon with sides made up of layers of tan and red.

The road through the park was long, with frequent opportunities to stop and take pictures. Like I said, the sun was going down, so I didn’t get nearly as many pictures as I would have liked. Another reason I plan to go back. The road itself wound around reservoir on the side of the canyon, cut into the rock. There was virtually no shoulder to the road, which meant a low speed limit. I was fine with going slow though: more time to admire the awesomeness. It really has to be seen to be appreciated. The water was clean and blue, unlike the murky brown lakes and rivers that I’ve gotten used to in Indiana. There were little to no trees, which I’ve always thought would have been bland and boring, but it isn’t. It just showcases the red rock beneath. It makes for beautiful colors and pictures. Here are some of the pictures I managed to get:

I definitely see myself going back once the weather improves. It’s about thirty minutes from Torrington, and I don’t think I could ever get enough pictures of it.

When I was leaving the park, there was a paved road that wound through the hills. Next to it was a dirt road with a sign that informing anyone driving a tank to please use the dirt road. Yes, you read that correctly. TANK. If someone is driving a tank on public roads and doesn’t know to choose dirt over paved, odd are, they probably don’t need to be driving a tank…

 

Journey Across the Great Barren Plains Otherwise Known as Nebraska

At the moment, I'm writing retrospectively quite a bit. I'm catching up on a couple weeks' worth of traveling. So I'll just go in the order in which things happened. I'll start with my journey across the Great Barren Plains (and by "barren" I mean boring because in reality they are anything but barren). This is also known as Illinois and Nebraska. Yes, I know I missed a state (Missouri). But I don't consider Missouri boring at all. It's quite interesting. And by "interesting" I mean hilly and not prone to putting me to sleep--- sorry, Nebraska and Illinois, try planting a few more trees or building the worlds biggest rocking chair or something since you can't just make mountains.

Nebraska does, however, have the world’s longest wooden bridge over an interstate, so I suppose they are giving a good effort. I didn’t stop, because I searched beforehand and they charge $12 or so. I was only wanting a quick stop, and I wasn’t going to pay $12 on a “quick stop.”

I've driven across Illinois and Missouri countless times, as far west as Kansas City. Beyond that was foreign territory as far as westward driving, unless you count Texas. I consider Texas southern. Texas considers Texas its own country. To each their own.

The funny thing is, you gain a few thousand feet in elevation crossing Nebraska, but you never actually feel like you're going uphill. I kind of pictured a switch-back road going up a mountain in my mind. The exact opposite is true. The wind sure is hell, though. My light, non-aerodynamic car had a hard time of it, even with every square inch packed full of stuff (including the microwave). Let’s just take a brief intermission to talk about packing for this trip, shall we?

You really learn what is important to you when you have to fit your entire life into a tiny Corolla. I used vacuum bags to reduce the space my clothing, bedding, and fabrics took up by I would say at least 2/3. Best investment ever ($1 per bag at Dollar Tree). So I put all of my must-haves in the car, with the help of an awesome friend who took her day to help me pack. If she ever decides to go into the moving business, I will be her best reference. And I’m considering flying her out to help me when all of this has to go back in my car. When I’d fit all of my basic survival things in the car, like underwear, clothes, blankets, shoes, etc., I still had space. It then became a game of how much we could fit in the car. I don’t think there was a cubic inch of space left in the trunk when we were finished. Everything was positioned for maximum efficiency. By now I was getting excited. “What else can I possibly fit in here?” I thought to myself. We were exceeding my expectations by a landslide. Everything we fit was something less to buy when I arrived at my destination. So we packed cleaning supplies. Then my memory foam mattress. A hamper with more “frivolous” clothes in it. Lotions, soaps, shampoos, and my detergent-making supplies (I make my own detergent for less than a $1 for a couple gallons--- you should try it). Closet storage. Then, the ultimate challenge: the microwave. Because I’m sitting here thinking, “what if my future apartment doesn’t have a microwave? That’s really expensive to replace. I’d rather not take my chances because I can’t cook…” So we packed the microwave. Then we put things in the microwave because why not? No reason to have empty space.  Side note: don’t ever pack liquid containers in the microwave. In fact, just leave your liquids home Period. They expand at high altitude and explode. At least, that’s the only reason I can come up with. Because my microwave was covered in lotion and the rest of my bottles look ready to burst when I arrived. They wouldn't sit up straight in the shower for a few days. The altitude change is the only variable I could find that changed, besides temperature, that would have affected all the bottles, and temperature would have caused them to contract, not expand, because it was colder. Okay, enough science for one post. Next we packed the vacuum cleaner. Hepa filter because what if I’m allergic to cactus or whatever they have in Wyoming? Posters for decoration. Electronics. I kept trying to say, there’s still room in the back window, but my helper wouldn’t have my line of sight for driving be impaired for the next 1042 miles. Pillows, blankets, laundry basket. Movies, camera tripod, pots, pans, all of my silverware and the holder, cookware, plastic food storage things, plate, bowl (we only packed one of each because we all know I don’t make friends quickly or easily enough to need more than that). Oh, and the folding camp chair. The list goes on. All in a Corolla. I was impressed. I have to give most of the credit to Kendra for this. It was truly amazing. We even fixed my lighter plug-in charger that hasn’t worked in forever. Not sure what we did, but it works now! I can now use my Garmin while charging my phone. This is the first time I’ve been able to do this in about 5 years, so I was pretty excited.

Anyway, back to my story…

When I left Indiana, it was so humid it felt like I was taking a hot bath when I walked outside, and it was in the high 80’s, I believe. Well, I needn’t have feared heat stroke, because it got colder as I crossed the plains, making the wind absolutely biting. I also had to deal with weird gasoline types in every state (thanks, dad, for dealing with dumb phone calls about what is considered "safe" gas for my car). I mean, who needs two types of 87 unleaded gases anyway? Nebraska. That's who. Why can’t we all just get along and agree on what gas to use?

So I chugged along, stopping briefly at a Lewis and Clark museum and briefly considered hijacking a historical boat for the rest of the journey. Again, I could have went into the exhibit, but I wasn’t going to pay for a quick stop, so I made do with the old boat halfway buried in their yard.

I eventually stopped for the night in a halfway decent hotel, after napping at a remote but popular McDonalds, so I could strike out early the next day. I would recommend napping somewhere slightly less popular. Waking up to doors slamming and people looking over at you like you're homeless is more than a little creepy. However, I guess that’s better than waking up to a guy with a chainsaw staring at you for a whole other set of reasons. The odds of that happening would have went up exponentially had I chosen a truck stop for my nap. On second thought, stick with the crowded McDonalds… I left early from the hotel and made a few stops as the terrain got more interesting.

My first stop was Lake McConaughy. I saw a sign on the interstate and couldn't resist. It also turned out to be a shortcut to where I was heading so it worked out well. It claims to be the largest reservoir in America. The wind was vicious, making white-capped waves on the lake. Several people stopped their cars to look, but I was the only one dumb enough to get out and take pictures. I definitely saw an older couple staring at me and shaking their heads. I like pictures and my butt was numb from sitting so long. Don’t judge me. It was here that I saw my first tumbleweed. However, when I drove down from a hill, I was suddenly a couple hundred feet in the air, driving across a dam. Somehow the tumbleweeds must have rolled up the dam and gotten stuck. This was no place for pictures. I did, however, laugh and smile like a little kid because I think tumbleweeds are the funniest things ever for some reason. I was simultaneously cringing in terror from being up so high with only two thin metal wires in between me and a fall to the death, laughing like a little kid, and trying to admire the view of the lake and river. It was a very confusing mix of emotions.

My next stop was at a very rural place called Chimney Rock in Nebraska. It was $3 or so for the movie and exhibits, but I can’t find it in myself to pay even small amounts when I’m just stretching my legs, so I meandered around their gift shop, settling on a few postcards to add to my extensive collection, and took a few pictures outside. The gentleman behind the counter looked and dressed like the Amish from back in Indiana, but it would have been rude to ask. I still need to research if there are Amish communities around here, just out of curiosity, or if that guy just dresses, shaves, and talks like that. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the style. This was also my first snake sign spotting. I knew there were rattlers out here before I came, but I wasn’t prepared for the signage. Or the snow. That goes to show just how much colder it got as I drove west. But I would like to think that snow = rattlers hiding, so I appreciated it that day.

This is Chimney Rock. It kind of looks like an upside down oil funnel to me, but “Upside Down Oil Funnel Rock” is infinitely less catchy than “Chimney Rock.” There’s a reason I don’t name things. Well, two reasons, actually. I’m not important enough (yet), and I’m too literal. I calls it like I sees it.

Whew! That was a novella! But I like to add my thoughts into everything I write because that’s kind of the point of a blog. Otherwise, I could just provide you with a list of all the places I stopped and let you Google them. Is Google a verb? If it wasn't before then it is now. For the next entry, I’ll be talking about Guernsey State Park.