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After a stormy night which finally drove me inside the van we left Glendo Reservoir with its primitive play structure for toddlers and drove around the lake a little to see some the the large lake that seems to be in the process of filling. As we continued our drive east we are following the rote of four different trails: The Oregon Trail, The California Trail, the Mormon Immigrant Trail, and the Pony Express Trail.
Marker A18 in the trail guide is called Cold Springs and Rifle Pit Hill. This area was a popular campsite along the trail due to the availability of water and grass for the animals. Ruts from wagon trains are well worn into the side of the hill. Apparently there were depressions in the earth near the top of the ridge with stone walls long the rims. There are believed to be rifle pits for the use of soldiers who were protecting the wagon trains. The site of these pits is now on private property and access is restricted. It is worth noting that there are a number of areas whee the trails cross private lands. The NTP had documented these areas and found out some facts about them, but the are not all accessible - some require advanced permission, and some are open to the public. The sites that are on government land - generally state, National Park, Bureau of Land Management, or National Forest are open to the public.
At a rest stop at near the town of Guernsey the interpretive signs explained the mission of the army to protect the travelers heading through Indian country. A number of battles were fought between the army and Indians (Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Gros Ventre, and others) in this area. A umber of soldiers and an unknown number of Indians were killed in these battles, one such being Lt. Caspar Collins. Lt. Collins' father was an army officer after whom another Fort Collins had been named so the new fort was designated Fort Caspar - the city of Casper, Wyoming, is on the site of Fort Caspar (and why the spelling was changed no one seems to know).
This information was found at Ft. Laramie - the Fort is well preserved as a National Historic Landmark, and has an excellent museum with interesting grounds. Thee are many interesting exhibits detailing he conflicts with the native residents of the area and travelers passing through on their way to Oregon.
One such story is of the young Indian woman, Mni Akuwin, the daughter of Chief Spotted Tail. She had been a witness to an 1854 Indian vs. Army battles and had become interested in the ways of the White soldiers. She spent a lot of time around the Forts, and when she died she requested to be buried at the Fort. Her request was granted and with due ceremony her body was buried in the traditional manner on a raised platform with various artifacts, including the heads of her two favorite ponies, to be with he in the next world. In 1876 her relatives requested that she be reburied on their reservation, so he remains ere moved. But then in 2005 her relatives asked that her remains be returned to place where her family was buried at Fort Laramie, and that was done. I was touched by the story as one more in the long saga of the relations between the newcomers to this land and the people who call it their home.
Our next stop was Register Cliff. This rocky outcropping, A16 in the trail guide, served as a landmark for the travelers headed west, and an opportunity for them, and for those who have come o the site more recently, the record there passage in stone. Unfortunately for those who expected to be memorialized for all time by their art work, the rather soft rock has suffered the consequences of wind, lichens, and later travelers so some of the earlier efforts have been obliterated. Some effort has been made by means of a chain link fence to protect the areas where there are good 19th Century names, but he more recent markers are overwritten and otherwise damaged. As those who have done the cave drawings in France apparently realized it is better for future generation to do your artwork in dark caves with no lighting. At least they are available for later researches to wax poetical about the artistic merits of prehistoric teenagers.
After leaving Register Rock it was beyond lunch time so we entered the small town of Lingle, Wyoming, looking for a place to tide us over until evening. Grandpa Chuy's establishment seemed to be a likely candidate, so walked in, were invited to sit anywhere (of which there was quite a bit), and provided with a menu. Chuck decided that among the gourmet choices presented by the menu the "green chili with meat" seemed like it was, at least, something to inquire about.
"Is the 'green chili with meat' like Chili verde?" he inquired of the waitress.
"No. it's like chili with. . .you know. . .uh. . like. . .", she hesitatingly replied.
Sensing that the young lady was a little out of her depth, a man who I assume is the owner (he did not look like Grandpa Chuy, rather more like cowboy Bob) came up and said, "Do you have a question, sir?"
Chuck asked again, "I just want to know if the green chili with meat is like chile verde?"
"No, it's like green chili with meat," was the expanded explanation from Grandpa Chuy.
Chuck gave up. "OK, I'll have that."
Well, it turned that the grayish-green gruel that momentarily appeared from the kitchen more had Chuck than Chuck had it. The van's supply of all variety of indigestion medications was soon exhausted. Chuck said that the dish was nothing like he had ever seen or eaten before (and remember he just got back from Southeast Asia).
Our final stops for the day were Scott's Bluff and Chimney. Both of these landmarks were well document to lead the way to South Pass, which we did not visit on our trip. Both of these places wee visible for many miles, some say 50 to 100 miles, from the very flat prairie. As we were photographing chimney rock, two long freight trains came by, both headed in the same direction on parallel tracks. It looked like a race.
After that, we hit the road again.
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