Wisconsin Autumn (and other things)

Posted on December 3, 2014 by bygeorge

Wisconsin in autumn is a lovely sight. Heavily wooded with a variety of trees, the colors range from orange, yellow, red, gold, and magenta. One of our favorite areas to visit is the Kettle Moraine, where glaciers deposited massive rock outcroppings visible today along the farm fields, river valleys and hillsides. The topography is enhanced by dense woodlands, lush green fields of corn and grain, and lakes and rivers. The rural character of the countryside surrounding the Kettle is sustained by dairy farms, some with historic stone farmhouses, and most all with ubiquitous big red barns with hay mow. Black and white Holstein milk cows provide contrasting color to the green pastures.

The Osthoff Hotel opened in 1886 and became a destination for summer tourists from Chicago, St. Louis and Milwaukee. Situated on the shores of spring-fed Elkhart Lake, the hotel re-opened in 1995 as a condominium resort and quickly earned a four-star rating. Located in the small town of Elkhart Lake, pop. 1000, the resort is in a beautiful, quiet setting where “getting away from it all” takes on a whole new meaning. We walk the lakefront, the hillsides, and along the golf course, as well as strolling the neighborhoods of Victorian homes, restaurants and small shops.

what a backdrop for a game of tennis! . . . .

We have visited in summer and autumn (June and October); we hope to explore other seasonal amenities on a future visit. A German Christmas Market, beautiful holiday decorations throughout the resort and the countryside blanketed with snow have great appeal. Maybe even some ice skating!

Autumn colors in Wyoming consist of the yellows and golds of native willows, cottonwoods and aspens, and the season is short lived. An early September snow and cold spell had our leaves on the ground when we photographed this scene in October.

didn’t bring a fishing pole! . . . .

According to legend, the Potowotomi Indians first called Elhart Lake “Me-shay-way-o-deh-ni-bis” or Great Heart Lake for its shape resembling an elk’s heart. Carved out by glaciers, the lake is one of the deepest fresh water lakes in Wisconsin.

how can we create this at home? . . . .

A pond surrounded by gardens leads up from the lake shore to the hotel. The autumn colors are almost as beautiful as the gardens in June.

uh . . . .I think I can see our room . . . .

We have explored a variety of restaurants in Elkhart Lake and our latest find, The Black Pig, was over the top. Naturally, most of the best menu items were pork (as in pig). One wall of the dining room was a backdrop for a famous quote by Winston Churchill, which goes something like this: “A cat will look down on you; a dog will look up to you, but a pig will look you in the eye and be your equal!” The bar was friendly, the food delicious and we left with a new appreciation for “the pig.”

crimson climbers . . . .

This stone building was covered with autumn color in downtown Elkhart Lake.

Farms along the open road . . . .

“Come in to my garden” . . . .

This creepy spider and assortment of pals is the entrance to Jurustic Park located in Marshfield, Wisconsin. It claims to be a “display of many of the extinct creatures that inhabited the large McMillan Marsh near Marshfield during the Iron Age.”

“where’s lunch?” . . . .

With tongue in cheek, creator Clyde Wynia has created an endless variety of rusted iron creatures welded from junkyard metal. His imagination knows no bounds.

a hedgehog perhaps? . . . .

Nah, it’s a porkypine. Can’t you read the sign?

“Got a light?” . . . .

Marshfield is about a three-hour drive west from Elkhart Lake, and seems otherworldly. I could not begin to capture all the creatures at Jurustic Park.

a tortoise, of all things . . . .

Clyde gave us a personal, guided tour and said turtles are one of his favorite creatures.

“let’s get some action!” . . . .

Clyde gives this feminine form a kick to get her to shimmy and shake. He took up welding after retirement and let his imagination run wild.

a hang-dog expression? . . . .

Hard to say what life form is draped over the back of this hound, or lurks in his abdomen. It takes careful scrutiny to capture all the surprises.

a use for all my old CD’s . . . .

A stunning array of fish scales made from CD’s!

creature from middle earth . . . .

a new home . . . .

Nearing completion, this lovely new home was being readied for a move-in date a couple of days after we departed.

on the road again . . . .

Miles and miles of roadside colors greet us on our return to Elkhart Lake. We spent another evening at Osthoff and drove to Madison next day to catch a plane. Farewell to Wisconsin, we’ll be back!

Big Horns Redux

Posted on September 10, 2014 by bygeorge

on the road again . . . .

The lure of the mountains and a break in the rainy weather seemed like the combination we were waiting for to head back up to the Big Horns. The prairie here along the Willow Creek Ranch road is lush with late summer grass which creates a beautiful contrast to the red sandstone ridges.

cormorant convention . . . .

This dead tree jutting up behind a reservoir dam was full of cormorants catching the morning sun. These birds are aquatic and aren’t commonly seen in Wyoming, where large bodies of water aren’t that plentiful.

a fabulous foursome . . . .

These bull elk were drinking at a reservoir where we surprised them as we drove around a bend in the road. They took off, but not before I was able to snap a photo of them. In another month, they will be hanging out with “the girls” and fighting with each other for female favors, but for now, they enjoy their band of brothers.

a lonely boy . . . .

A young spike bull ran up the ridge across the road. He did not appear to have been with the other four males, and I could not help but speculate that he was a fresh, cheeky kid who had been challenged for some infraction.

it’s a bird? . . . .it’s a plane . . . .??

A large lens captured this bald eagle having lunch. Just as I adjusted to get a better shot, it flew into the sky.

hey, over here please! . . . .

As majestic and grand as the mountains they frequent in summer, these raptors can be viewed floating over the landscape in search of rabbits, squirrels, prairie dogs, mice and other little critters that make for a nice meal.

a little creature comfort along the trail . . . .

This was our first trial with a “three man” tent. Perhaps three midgets! An optical illusion made it appear the tent was square and we sited it so our feet would be downhill on a gentle slope. Unfortunately, when it came time to go to bed, neither of us could “unfurl” in our sleeping bags as there was not enough leg room! With much ado, we were able to realign our beds to go the opposite direction, which meant we both sort of rolled “downhill” all night.

bring on the marshmallows . . . .

The temperature was 45 degrees next morning, but a warm fire and a pot of coffee made life worth living. The aches and pains of sleeping on the ground went away almost immediately! Almost.

there must be a story . . . .

This wreck of a pickup has been sitting alongside the road for a long time. It makes for some interesting target practice, and I couldn’t help wonder what happened to the bed behind the cab?? I also wonder why it appears to be such fun to blast it full of holes. And what calamity caused the driver to abandon it on the spot? It’s a long way from nowhere up here! A stone marker in the upper left also remains a mystery.

prairie chickens . . . .

Not far from where we camped we came upon a flock of sage grouse strolling through the grass. We speculate they were hunting grasshoppers, as we saw quite a few wings glinting in the sun and could hear them buzzing around. No sagebrush in sight.

beef on the hoof . . . .

A large herd of Angus was gathered at the Middle Fork crossing, likely in preparation for the trail drive down the mountain to their home range. They were sleek and fat from their summer in the high country.

a lovely stream, and no fishing pole! . . . .

The Middle Fork of Powder River heads down the canyon, carving a path down the east slope of the Big Horns, across the prairie and on into Montana.

The sky seems endless . . . .

The sheep seemed endless as well, as a huge band of them gathered on the mountain top. Perhaps they are headed home as well, before the first snow catches them on the trail.The clouds continued to build and grow dark, threatening a storm.

the view to the west . . . .

Looking down from the west side of the Big Horn mountain range, the valley before us part of the Big Horn Basin and beyond in the distance are the Rocky Mountains.

range horses doing what comes naturally . . . .

This little band of horses included a wise looking old mule who dropped out of the photo to take a roll in the sagebrush, creating quite a dust up. He remained out of sight until we had traveled on. Darn! I really wanted a shot of him.

lonely outpost . . . .

This ancient cabin appears to have a new metal roof, which indicates someone still loves on it from time to time. The little outbuilding on the right is a considerable distance to be an outhouse in this rough terrain.

home sweet home . . . .

A common sight in years gone by, this ancient sheep wagon served as home to a herder who would keep an eye on the sheep left in his care. Along with a couple of sheep dogs, commonly Border Collies, the herders summered in the mountain until autumn snows drove them down to range land below. A few wagons are still in use, but the thousands of sheep that once summered in the area are mostly gone, replaced largely by beef cattle.

dogs on an outing . . . .

These Border Collies are enjoying the ride from their perch in the back. A thunder storm has been brewing and it is starting to rain. Doesn’t look like there is room inside this buggy for two wet dogs.

after the rain . . . .

This view from the Slip Road which switchbacks down the eastern face of the Big Horns was breathtaking after the thunder storm that swept the area. The rainbow that arcs across the center largely disappears in this shot, which was disappointing. This descent is a good distance north of where we entered the southern Big Horns, and the red rock formations reappear as we find our way home.

Jumping Boulders In the Jeep – Big Horn Mountain Country

Posted on June 30, 2014 by bygeorge

Branding time on the TTT Ranch . . . .

We decided to take a run up the south end of the Big Horns to have a look at the mountain flowers and see what prospects were for a little camping trip. Some of the clan will be headed up for the annual July 4 celebration and we were scouting road conditions and snow banks. The first leg of the journey was interesting, as we timed it just right for spring time branding of the Angus calves gathered for the occasion. It appears there are more cowpokes than calves, but everyone was having a good time (except the calves)!

More traffic congestion . . . .

Moving a small herd of sheep with a big dog and ORV. Nothing to be done but try to get around them . . . . carefully.

“Baaaaa!”

This herder probably had a few choice epithets for our disturbance of a peaceful trip along the road. Animals have the right-of-way and the area along the road is open range strewn with rocky outcroppings that can be a real ride on an ORV. Better get a horse!

Baby antelope twins . . . .

These perfect little replicas of adult antelope are born ready to run and can keep up with adults on day one. We saw numerous antelope throughout the day, not only in these sagebrush foothills, but on top of the mountain.

Coming into Red Wall country . . . .

Leaving the sagebrush prairie, we next enter an amazingly beautiful red rock canyon that carves its way along the base of the mountain, stretching through Wyoming into Colorado. Known simply as the “Red Wall,” this canyon became a notorious hideout for a variety of outlaws, miscreants and misfits in the past century.

Butch Cassidy Country . . . .

The contrasting colors of green grass on the slopes of the red wall canyon makes for a breathtakingly beautiful sight. I did not do it justice photographically as bright sunlight washed out the colors and I was snapping a few shots from the window of the jeep. Made myself a promise I would do it justice sometime soon. . . .

33-mile road at the base of the mountain . . . .

33-mile road climbs up the base of the mountain . . . .

From this vantage point, the road looks like a piece of cake. Lots of rain left puddles and muddy tracks, but no sweat.

Lupine meadow takes our breath away . . . .

By now we are midway up the mountain. Wild flowers are in bloom in such profusion it is difficult to decide what vista to try to capture. Lots of winter snows, good spring rain, and the mountain is a magic carpet of beautiful colors. We can still see snowbanks in places back in the timber, and every dip in the road is running a stream that has to be crossed.

Water, water everywhere! . . . .

Should not have tired to snap a stream as we were crossing. Bumpy road and soggy bottom makes for an out-of-focus shot. Ah well.

Willard Springs, and old memories . . . .

The only commercial enterprise on the south end of the Big Horns is the Lodge at Willard Springs. Tucked back in the timber, it sits on one of the finest springs on the mountain. Formerly our family cow camp, we have fond memories of the annual cattle drive up the mountain and good times enjoyed on the banks of Willard Spring. Area ranchers have been driving herds of cattle and sheep up onto mountain meadows to graze in summer for 100 years to preserve the range land down below for winter forage.

A costly lightning strike . . . .

This beautiful Angus cow was apparently struck by lightning, which can be fierce on the mountain in summer. It could mean the loss of not only a valuable cow, but her calf as well. Just one of many hazards of summering in the mountains.

Died with his boots on . . . .

“Here lies the S.O.B. who didn’t close the gate!” We took heed and closed the gate. This is the first of three gates to my brother’s property and the necessity of closing gates cannot be stressed enough. Trying to sort out cattle that have strayed into someone else’s pasture can be a real chore under the best of circumstances, but back in the timber and in mountainous ravines, it can be hell. ‘Nuff said.

Jimmy’s flowers . . . .

We are nearing the divide from where you can see west toward the Ten Sleep country or east down on the Red Wall. I should probably try to describe the road from the Lodge at Willard Springs on up to this point, as I didn’t try to photograph it. It was all I could do to keep from being bounced out of the jeep and losing all my camera equipment. Actually, there is no “road” really, just a string of cow trails and ancient ruts in the mud that meander around boulders, over washouts and wherever you are willing to try your luck. The only road “maintenance” if you could call it that, is whatever is done by the property owners in order to access a sparse sprinkling of cabins and the cows in summer.

Another damn gate . . . .

Guess who has been opening the gates – this makes number three, but who’s counting? We find our neighbor’s gate quite amusing. The road on the other side was anything but. There is no road–it was washed away in spring runoff. A rock-filled chasm awaits for anyone with enough nerve and vehicle to negotiate it. The Jeep did the job, but not without a little maneuvering and a great deal of hesitation.

“I’m on top of my mountain” . . . .

This antelope snorts and peers down at us from the very top of the divide. One would expect to see a deer or an elk up this high in elevation (somewhere between eight and nine thousand feet), but antelope have made it their home.

The view from the porch . . . .

Looking west down the divide toward Ten Sleep country in Washakie County, this vista is incredibly beautiful and is where my brother is planning his front porch. We cannot wait to join him for a visit and will throw in a couple rocking chairs for the occasion. Two beautiful little springs flow down the drainage here and it is peaceful and remote. A rough ride, but worth it.

Petroglyphs and Pictographs Aplenty

Posted on November 9, 2013 by bygeorge

Art for the ages . . . .

Castle Gardens is located in central Wyoming and is named for the outcropping of sandstone that wind and water have eroded into shapes resembling the turrets and towers of castles. Many passersby have been drawn to the site for thousands of years, leaving their calling card in the form of rock art carved into the soft sandstone. Above, the oldest recognizable example of the shield-bearing warrior combines several techniques unique in the Bighorn and Wind River Basins.

Castles carved in sand . . . .

Sadly, Castle Garden has suffered from vandalism and is now protected, although increased visitor traffic has impacted the site. In 1940 vandals chiseled the Great Turtle shield out of the rock, but it was returned anonymously and donated to the Wyoming State Museum the following year.

A turtle’s demise . . . .

Once figures/shapes were incised, figures were filled in with several layers of paint, including red, orange, yellow, black, white and green. Polychrome painting and the use of green pigment are very rare in Wyoming and serve as distinguishing characteristics of the Castle Gardens shield style. The Great Turtle figure, housed at the Wyoming State Museum, exemplifies many of the hallmarks of this style.

Blog from the past . . . .

Figures of human forms, calendars, and various animals (elk, bison, antelope) are inscribed on the walls of the canyon.

Horns, four legs, could be an antelope? . . . .

Spectacular beauty juts up from the prairie . . . .

The dark sky in the background is a warning that was not heeded soon enough. Rain in this high desert is rare and who would imagine what would unfold?

Thunderheads – the Gods must be stirring! . . . .

Nature’s fury about to unfold . . . .

The cloud formations were so arresting I found myself photographing them rather than the pictographs we were viewing. Clearly, we were in for some weather and should have headed for shelter.

These are not raindrops . . . .

Fierce lightning, thunder, rain and hail caught us out on the trail. Trying to find a rock ledge for protection was a scramble and not particularly successful. The storm broke in two waves, with just enough reprise in between the downpour to lure us out on the trail to try to improve our position. It was folly, and there was no choice left but to run like hell for the car. Hail stones bounced from our heads and backs, leaving welts behind. My camera and I were soaked.

The Gods were obviously angry at our intrusion into this strange and wonderful place.

Jefferson’s Bible

Posted on March 31, 2013 by bygeorge

“The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth”

A recent visit to the Colorado History Museum led to a fascinating exploration of a recently opened exhibit featuring the original restored Jefferson Bible. This is not a grand exhibit that we have come to expect in major art museums but a small darkened corridor lined with display cases of the original Jefferson Bible and a few of the religious texts, written in English, French, Greek and Latin, that Jefferson had snipped sections from to “cut and paste” into his own book. Two videos explain the history of the bible and the painstaking process of the restoration by the Smithsonian Institution. Reprinting meant that we could purchase our very own copy, which we did.

Jefferson began assembling this book while he served as president, although he did not finish his quest to clarify and distill Jesus’s teachings, which he believed to provide “the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man” until 1820. By removing all references to “superstition and the supernatural,” Jefferson honed in on Jesus as a great teacher and moral philosopher, leaving behind only the “authentic” story of Jesus and reaffirming his belief in the power of reason as the basis for understanding life and the natural world.

Based partly on his experience living abroad, Jefferson came to have a profound belief in religious freedom and later hailed the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom as among his greatest contributions. Jefferson believed God meant to reserve the matter of religious belief to individuals to resolve: “No man can conform his faith to the dictates of another. The life and essence of religion consists in the internal persuasion or belief of the mind.” While kings and bishops might coerce religious fealty from their subjects, history revealed inward conviction as another matter.

Jefferson suffered from “strident, bitter, and very public attacks” on his supposed views on religion. He was charged with being an infidel, atheist and anti-Christian. He argued that neither unorthodoxy nor outright disbelief posed any threat to a society: “It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.”

The Smithsonian purchased the volume from Jefferson’s great granddaughter in 1895 and in 1904 the Government Printing Office had each page photographed and published 9000 copies to be distributed to the two chambers of Congress. It can be read as a history book or as a thoughtful compendium of the New Testament composed for his own purposes by Jefferson.

The Ice Is Nice

Posted on January 5, 2013 by bygeorge

Strap on your skates–the ice is perfect! . . . .

Bitter cold nights at zero or below for the past month have helped to freeze the best ice we’ve had in quite some time. It looks to be about a foot thick and is smooth as glass. After shoveling snow off for about half a day, a telephone call resulted in a skating party the next day of eight adults, five young children, including two babies who enjoyed the day being pulled on sleds around the pond. We had a grand old fashioned day of skating with bright sun, no wind, and lots of laughs as children tried their new Christmas skates for the first time.

Tiny bubbles, in the ice . . . .

By the end of the day we had some pretty brave young skaters who had suffered just a few wobbles and slippery crashes. And of course, the senior citizens in the group were particularly proud to have survived another day on skates. It’s just like riding a bicycle–you never forget how!

What’s a little crack in the ice? . . . .

We tried to ignore these ice fractures which were pretty clear indicators of how thick the ice is. We are hoping for more clear, cold weather to keep the ice in great shape and will continue to try to remove more snow (groan!) to make room for more skaters. Funny how each year this pond seems to get bigger than the previous year??

“Hey, this is fun!”

Can’t get them started too soon.

Christmas at the Cabin

Posted on January 3, 2013 by bygeorge

a perfect storm . . . .

Christmas morning with a new dusting of snow was just one more of a string of events that led us to believe a winter visit to the cabin could be great fun and comfortable too! A circa 1930’s fishing shack, the “cabin” as we refer to it has been modernized and improved over the years. But never in recent history (50-odd years) has it housed winter holiday visitors. We decided to be adventurous, brave the cold, and take a chance.

Sam’s pond covered with ice and snow . . . .

I had hoped to skate on the pond across the road, but snowfall on the ice was daunting. We strapped on our cross-country skis and enjoyed an invigorating hike through the neighborhood. Gnome Lane looked enchanting, with all the little elves and forest people peeping out from the snow.

gnomes under the snow . . . .

In lieu of a Christmas tree, decorations were Ponderosa Pine boughs, dried flowers, pine cones and a few old glass balls. A fire in the pot belly stove kept us cozy, albeit with many trips to the wood box! And new flannel sheets, duvet and down comforter were soft and warm.

dressed in flannel finery . . . .

We attended candle light services at a nearby church, hung our stockings and settled in for a long winter’s night. Let it snow, let it snow!
A delicious, piping hot bouillabaisse, crusty bread, cheese and wine, followed by dessert of dried fruit and cognac, and all is right with the world. We lit the oil lamps, found one poor little candle in the cupboard and had a feast.

a table laden with good things for all to enjoy–even the mice . . . .

A serious collection of music more than compensated for lack of television. The I-Phone and Bose speaker added immeasurably to the occasion. We were rewarded with soft snowfall on Christmas Eve, followed by a bright morning with snow piled everywhere, and beautiful moonlit skies thereafter.

hmmm, the fragrance of pine . . . .

The clock on the mantle chimes once on the half hour, and once for each hour of the day on the hour. The soft ticking of the ancient wind-up clock is somehow reassuring and fills the silence of the hours.

it wouldn’t be Christmas without Santa . . . .

This wooden Santa has was carried from Kansas to bring some holiday joy to the cabin. He was found packed away among family treasures, along with Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer.

won’t you guide the sleigh tonight? . . . .

Christmas morning we opened our gifts and had a slice of coffee cake before heading out to greet the day. We put on our skis and found the new snow that had fallen gave us lots more options for travel. The last leg of our journey took us past the museum and some relics nearby.

all we need is a horse . . . .

Imagine what winter was like when this was the only means of transport! Lots of quilts, heated stones to warm your feet and perseverance. And a good old Dobbin to do the heavy lifting and pull you down the road.

Another old time treat that has special effects in winter is the frosty lid of an outhouse seat. Since we had the water shut off and pipes drained, we hauled our water, heated it for dishes and bathing, and headed “outback” to the little house rather than use the indoor facilities. What a shock! I can remember childhood days on the ranch before we had indoor plumbing – how did we do that?

Jeep Journal – Tetons, Yellowstone, Big Horns

Posted on September 29, 2012 by bygeorge

Like no place on earth . . . .

Our annual autumn trek pointed north this year to explore the fall colors in Wyoming. We take for granted some of the most spectacular vistas in our home state, and it was rewarding to renew our memories of what makes Wyoming such a special place. We spent a pleasant evening in Jackson revisiting some old haunts, and headed out early the next morning to Teton National Park for some serious sightseeing.

These terrible beauties are bathed in clouds as the weather threatened rain or, this time of year, quite possibly snow. Fortunately, the sun prevailed but the clouds added great interest to the mountain peaks.

Still the same, after all these years . . . .

Jenny Lake Lodge and surrounding cabins is a family favorite. A photograph of Jenny Lake, taken by my father, hung in the family home for 50-plus years and I tried to duplicate his shot, to no avail. The sun wasn’t with me and I’ll have to try again, on another journey.

What’s this–a stone’s throw? . . . .

The clear, cold waters of Jenny Lake seem invisible and the rocks were so colorful I could not resist photographing them. My consolation for not getting a great image of the lake!

“I’ll bet I can race you to the other side and win!” . . . .

Racing river otters provided entertainment for a picnic lunch at String Lake, which is a narrow channel between Jenny and Leigh Lakes. Wildlife shots are never easy, and a stronger lens is needed to do this justice, but I had to try. River otters are fairly reclusive and a chance sighting was rare good fortune.

Cruising up the river on a sunny afternoon . . . .

This common merganser duck was another great sight at String Lake. Multitudes of ducks, geese and birds ply the rivers and lakes, but this duck stood out in the crowd.

Clouds hovering over Jackson Lake . . . .

The cloud cover arrived in time to catch a shot at Jackson Lake. It was hard to choose which was the more beautiful–the Tetons or the clouds above them.

Oxbow Bend beyond belief . . . .

Just beyond Jackson Lake Junction, we came to the Snake River at Oxbow Bend and the colors were so intense it took our breath away. Clouds obscure the peaks, but afford a softer light on the river. Hated to leave this lovely spot behind.

On the road again . . . .

Our journey takes us north to Yellowstone National Park where we plan to spend the night at Yellowstone Lake which formed at the center of a great caldera. We are hopeful it will not erupt for another few thousand years. About 2 million years ago, and then 1.3 million years ago, and again 640,000 years ago, huge volcanic eruptions occurred here. The last eruption spewed out 240 cubic miles of debris. Too close for comfort! The central part of what is now the park collapsed, forming a 30- by 45-mile caldera. Beyond imagining.

If this is Lewis, where is Clark? . . . .

A roadside attraction, Lewis Falls is the first of a number of spectacular water falls in the park.

In the grand tradition . . . .

Yellowstone Lake Lodge check-in was required for our cabin, which was a delight. This lodge and the cabins remain open until the end of September, however the grand old Yellowstone Lake Hotel was closed for the season.

One of the world’s grand old hotels . . . .

Yellowstone Lake Hotel is so immense it has to be photographed in about six sections. This is the primary entrance and the boarded windows will protect it from the harsh winter that will soon arrive. Crews of maintenance workers were crawling literally over the length and breadth of the hotel to make repairs and secure the site for winter. The only regret of the journey was that we could not book a room here. Ah well, next time. Our cozy little cabin was a delight and a great value.

An architectural icon . . . .

No rubber tomahawks for sale today. We can only imagine what wonders await the visitors next year in this fine old store.

Where’s my breakfast? . . . .

This young bull elk was enjoying a respite on a sand bar along the edge of Yellowstone Lake. Three cow elk were holding court nearby in case he needed any female attention.

The lady of the lake . . . .

She seems to enjoy her repose a short distance away from the male elk. Life is sweet for this moment, and a wolf sighted up the road a short distance from her is not likely to pose a threat today. The wolf moved into the brush too quickly for us to get a clear view of him, and it was a great photo loss.

A tiny little boat on a great big lake . . . .

Hydrothermal steam rises from the shoreline of Yellowstone Lake, North America’s largest high-altitude lake. Twenty miles long, 14 miles wide, 410′ deep at its greatest depth, and 141 miles of shoreline. The lake bed is a volcanic caldera that is constantly monitored for seismic activity.

The ubiquitous burn . . . .

Fire leaves its mark on the forest, and Yellowstone has many fires throughout the years. Fortunately, not many are as devastating and threatening to historic structures as the “big burn” of 1988.

just a humble log cabin . . . .

This intersection of Old Faithful Inn is interesting to understand the log construction of this massive lodge, which is described as the largest log structure anywhere. Our favorite viewing site for the Old Faithful geyser is on the second-story deck above the entrance. Armed with a steaming cup of coffee and warmed by the morning sun, it made for perfect viewing.

Curly logs for support and decoration . . . .

The deck also affords afternoon cocktails. As we waited for Old Faithful to erupt, I was reminded of an elderly man playing the grand piano inside the lodge on the mezzanine. Egad, that was about a dozen years ago now. The memory will stay with me forever, and I have struggled mightily to master one of the pieces he performed–Traumerei by Schumann.

What a chimney–try building one of these! . . . .

Even the chimney is clad in logs! This massive four-sided stone fireplace rises four stories high.

Thar she blows! . . . .

Old Faithful never fails, and is truly a wonder to behold. My first sight of it was as a child, and I still feel the thrill as if for the first time.

Up, up and away . . . .

Having journeyed through Yellowstone a number of times, the multitudes of geysers, thermal pools, mud pits and other wonders were not on our list of priorities. We did enjoy some along the way, but our greater interest was in viewing and photographing the wildlife. We realized soon enough that our itinerary was not conducive to seeing as much as we had hoped, as evenings are some of the best viewing hours and that requires planning and preparation. We learned from this visit, and will arrange our lodging and schedule for more early morning and evening viewing.

Mudpack, anyone? . . . .

This “painted pot” was just beyond Old Faithful Inn, and with easy access, seemed to call out to be included in our photo album.

Nothing like a mud bath to keep the flies off . . . .

An old “hermit bull” bison grazes alone and far from the herd. He has likely been displaced by a younger, stronger and more virile bull who now rules his harem of female bison.

“I’m just a lonely boy”
. . . .

This old bull was lounging along the road and presented an opportunity for an “up close and personal” conversation. A little zoom brought him close enough to be out of harm’s way, however.

just another waterfall along the way . . . .

A side trip to Firehole Falls led us along a spectacular canyon drive that we had never seen before. The Firehole River flows between two lava flows. Impossible to capture on camera, we found this one-way stretch of road to be awesome.

a log in the sun, wine, cheese and thou . . . .

Lunch along the Gibbon River was a peaceful contrast to the thundering Firehole Canyon. The Gibbon River joins the Firehole at Madison Junction, becoming the Madison River–one of three forks forming the Missouri River. An ampitheater, information center and the best restrooms in the park were nearby. About five miles further on, we came to Gibbon Falls.

can it be?

One waterfall is more beautiful than the next. Cannot remember seeing so many in a single day since touring the big island in Hawaii.

oh for a better lens . . . .

Sand Hill Cranes are grazing in a great meadow that is likely teeming with wildlife later in the day. We were torn, but had to travel on to our next destination. We noted this location for another exploration.

I can see forever . . . .

Nearing the north entrance of the park, late afternoon light on Electric Peak is quite lovely. So many mountains, so little time.

Elk for dinner? . . . .

Mammoth Hot Springs is the northwest entrance to the park. Late afternoons will find a herd of elk moving in for cocktails and dinner. We missed a shot of two great bull elk who were cruising the scene, but the cows were placidly grazing and hanging out.

“Now you see me, now you don’t” . . . .

Peekaboo with an elk is good entertainment, as she kept peering from one side of the tree to the other. Park rangers were a little nervous to have the elk commingling with the tourists, and kept warning everyone to stand back. Just another day in the office!

a little cabin in the wild . . . .

There are many memorable, historic structures at Mammoth, and this humble little cabin is our favorite, with the possible exception of the Roosevelt Arch. Yellowstone is the world’s first national park and was established in 1872 by President Theodore Roosevelt. The great stone archway that comprises the northeast entrance was dedicated to him.

Great lodging north of the border . . . .

We left the park for a short drive to a truly unique retreat in the Absaroka Mountains of Montana. Chico Hot Springs Resort taps into 112-degree water which makes for delightful bathing for weary bones and cramped muscles. The hotel was built in 1900 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It combines Georgian-inspired architecture and warm Craftsman-style interiors, alongside a great swimming pool and bath house to “take the waters.” Exceptional dining includes fresh vegetables grown in greenhouses heated by the hot water springs.

Carriage ride, anybody? . . . .

Horses have been an integral feature at Chico, and a carriage ride or trail rides are available to guests. I don’t think the black dog is part of the ride, but he looks the part.

Can’t rollerskate in a Buffalo herd . . . .

The bison have taken the road and the cars have to fend for themselves. They were in no hurry and dawdled along the roadway, but the drivers of these cars didn’t seem to mind. We are back in Yellowstone National Park, driving toward the Lamar Valley.

Ready for a dip? . . . .

An American Dipper (a.k.a. Water Ouzel) joined us for lunch along Soda Butte Creek in the northeast quadrant of the park. Delightful to watch, these birds dive into the water and submerge beneath rocks to forage for food. Usually found along rushing mountain streams, they have become symbolic of our autumn sojourns into the wild, as we have sighted at least one every year for the past three seasons.

Underwater espionage . . . .

The dipper doesn’t seem to mind the icy cold waters as he trolls for lunch. He darts in and out so quickly that all the physical activity must keep him warm. The show lasted for about ten minutes, and my lunch grew stale while I tried to catch up with this delightful bird on the camera lens.

Always in a hurry . . . .

North America’s fastest animal, these antelope have run a complete circle around us and don’t seem ready to stop to think things over.

Autumn fire is aglow . . . .

The view from Chief Joseph scenic byway is spectacular and ranges from great valleys to the tall mountain peaks of the North Absaroka Wilderness Range.

Shangri La of the West . . . .

This view from Dead Indian Pass overlooks the vast expanse of Sunlight Basin upper left and Clark’s Fork of the Yellowstone River below. Named for a member of Chief Joseph’s tribe who was killed by U.S. Army troops, it marks a sad chapter in the history of the West.

The beginning of the end . . . .

Our journey leads from Cody, across the Big Horn Basin, and into the Big Horn Mountains. A favorite jeep road down the face of the Big Horns was a sheer delight, as the colors were incredible.

Aspens shimmering in the sun . . . .

We didn’t mind the bumps, rocks, washboard and loose gravel of the road into Crazy Woman Canyon. Actually, the road is in better condition this year than in many years past and we dropped down to view wonderful fall colors and wildlife.

The rush and roar is no more . . . .

The sounds of Crazy Woman Creek as it winds along the roadway have always been part of the thrill of this canyon drive. In the spring and early summer, it rages and roars from melting snows as it rushes down the mountain. This year a prolonged drought has reduced the creek to a much lower stream-flow. It is still wonderful to hear and see, however.

“What is it you want to talk about?” . . . .

A blue grouse seems determined to hold the road for awhile, and we couldn’t believe our good fortune that he waited around for our camera. Highly sought for hunting and eating, it seems a better course of action to just take their picture and let them enjoy life.

The rock piles hold steady . . . . for now

Giant boulders the size of a barn have tumbled to the base of Crazy Woman Canyon and the creek rambles in and out as it rushes to the canyon floor. The one-way road narrows at this point, but we find a little spot for a pullout. Meeting oncoming traffic in the canyon is always a challenge, but this day we met only two vehicles coming up and we seemed to be the only vehicle going down.

Autumn leaves, anyone? . . . .

By now we are drunk with spectacular autumn colors, but a few more won’t hurt.

Deer crossing . . . .

This young mule deer darted across the road in front of us, then hesitated. She didn’t seem to know whether to retreat or keep going and she finally opted to leap down into a rocky gulch and scramble up the side of the slope.

Here we are without fishing poles! . . . .

Dad never liked to fish this stream. He said there were no fish here, however we suspect the boulders, willows and rugged terrain had something to do with it.

Willy takes a break . . . .

To lend some perspective to the size of the boulders, a jeep helps. To have a great journey, a jeep helps. To get great mileage, comfort, and maneuverability, a jeep helps. And to get an outdoor experience (doors off, roof rolled back), a jeep REALLY helps. Five days, 1000 miles, and seemingly endless beautiful vistas–Willy made it so much fun.

And did we mention wine? . . . .

Abraham Lincoln

Posted on June 25, 2012 by bygeorge

A man for the ages . . . .

On a recent return trip from Colorado, I decided to pull over at the visitors’ center on I-80 between Laramie and Cheyenne. I had two young passengers who I believed would enjoy seeing this magnificent sculpture of Abraham Lincoln, perhaps our greatest president since George Washington. Surely this would be a more educational experience than seeing the latest Hollywood flick “Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Killer!” Enough said about that.

Sculpted by Robert Russin, a former University of Wyoming professor, this great bust of Lincoln is also replicated at Gettysburg. I had the privilege of owning and residing in Robert Russin’s former home in Laramie, and could not help but wonder at the time how he could have sculpted this massive creation in the studio he built behind his house. Obviously, the rendering of his model was cast much larger than the original!

Placed on a site near the crossing of the first transcontinental USA highway (appropriately named the Lincoln Highway), this sculpture dominates the hillside where it stands overlooking I-80. The old Lincoln Highway passed over the crest of the hill seen behind the monument. This was the historic “Summit,” the highest point on the original highway’s 3,500-mile route from New York to San Francisco. This monument commemorates the sesquicentennial of Lincoln’s birth and was commissioned by the State of Wyoming in 1959.

The brooding countenance of this Lincoln bust is almost as compelling as the Lincoln Memorial on the mall in Washington, D.C. And the story of his assassination, so aptly rendered in this year’s best selling book “Killing Lincoln,” makes one wonder how someone could have planned and executed such a terrible crime. It was a great loss for our country and the American people.

A poem written by Walt Whitman upon Lincoln’s death brings tears, no matter how many times I have read it. It makes reference to the long journey by train returning Lincoln’s body to his home in Illinois.

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!

“O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.”

“O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up–for you the flag is flung–for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths–for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.”

“My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.”

POW Artists Leave Behind a Treasure

Posted on June 24, 2012 by bygeorge

ya gotta have art . . . .

Camp Douglas was created as a prisoner of war detention center during World War II in Douglas, Wyoming. This mural, painted on the wall of the Officers’ Club by an unknown artist, is one of nearly two dozen that were left for posterity. Depicting romanticized scenes of the Wild West, scenes in the murals were largely copied from books in the prison library at the time. Some alterations can be found in these copies of famous western paintings by Remington and others, but it does not diminish the effect.

a river flows near it? . . . .

This scene of Independence Rock was enhanced with a river flowing nearby, which never actually existed. It makes for some nice scenery, however.

Wild Wyoming Woman

the news from Dry Creek . . .

Category Archives: Wanderings