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…
No comments:
Post a Comment