Passing the Hat

When we awoke, the view of the mountains was even more beautiful. The morning sun lit them in a warming light. We decided to stay for the morning services. It was something that we all enjoyed. The music and the sermon allowed us to stretch the hospitality of this church even more. There was a surprise though. When it came time to take up the collection, the ushers walked to the front of the church and picked up two white Stetsons from the altar table and literally began to pass the hat. It was time for us to head out. Over each door, there hung a huge mounted head of an elk. Elk is the English word the word wapiti in the Shawnee or Cree language.

We were on the road to the Devil’s Tower National Monument. The towns of Cody, Grey Bull, Ten Sleep, and Buffalo quickly rolled by. It worked on the imagination how they were named.

Because of the late start, we set up camp in the dark. The drivers became the cooks and the campers set up tents and spread out the sleeping bags. As we sat at the picnic tables, we could see the silhouette of the monolith, even in the darkness. We had our showers after the clean-up and then bedtime. The exploration of the massive tower would have to wait until the morning.

Yellowstone

As the rose, we were still on the road and almost to the southern entrance to Yellowstone National Park. There was no time to rest for the drivers. We needed to tour the park and start heading east to stay on schedule. The beauty of the park was immediately noticeable. We made several stops to see the sights. Yellowstone Lake was huge. The winds across it made breakers almost like those on the ocean. The falls at Yellowstone were beautiful. Two falls graced the river close together and an impressive amount of water flowed and roared past.

We visited several hot springs where the basins were of different colors from the algae that grew in the hot water. Many bubbling paint pots surrounded areas of solid land. Paint pots are areas that are made of mud and a vent of hot water and steam comes from underneath and makes the mud bubble and pop. Like the hot springs, the paint pots were able to cook a person’s foot should they slip into one.

But the biggest attraction was the geyser, Old Faithful. It can shoot boiling water 106 to 185 feet into the air with its volume 3700 to 8500 gallons nearly every hour. While we waited for it to erupt, we walked through the old hotel. There was a massive fireplace whose chimney rose at least four stories in height and its face was covered by a large pendulum clock. Rustic stairs and antlered sconce lights festooned the lobby. We ate lunch in a nearby cafeteria and then drove through more of the park before heading to our overnight campsite.

The campsite was at a church just outside the eastern entrance to the park. It was the Wapiti Valley church. We were greeted by the pastor and were told that we could cook, shower, and sleep in the basement of their sanctuary.

The building was built from the material that was found on the lot. The timbers, wood, and stones were incorporated into the design and the construction. The views were remarkable. Behind, the church snuggled against a hill and across the highway in front were mountains. The meal was quickly prepared, dishes washed, and showers were finished. The drivers were tired and everyone turned in early.

We were wakened in the middle of the night when a mouse invaded the sleeping quarters of the women and it had to be chased out of the building before tiredness overcame the fear and slumber claimed us all.

All Night Long

We had the vans before the closing ceremony for the camp week. As soon as the closing prayer was finished, we piled into the vehicles and began the overnight trek. We left camp and drove West to the town of Craig then headed north on route 13 toward Wyoming. It was soon dark and we dodged animals through the night. Deer, prong horn antelopes, and even coyotes wandered across the highway. The young campers slept even through the swerves and sudden stops to avoid collisions with the natural fauna.

It was dark and there were very few lights. It was even worse when we crossed into Wyoming. We saw exits that were miles between belonging to the same ranch. The larger van that was pulling the trailer was getting low on fuel and everyone was watching for an exit with fuel. Finally, we spotted signage for fuel and we turned off the main highway. The exit ended in a Tee with gravel roads to both sides. It was dark and we couldn’t see any lights that we expected to see at a service station.

The road to the right seemed to lead to a field and the one to the left seemed to open into a parking lot. Turning to the left, we figured that we would have the room to at least turn around to get back to the highway. As we entered the parking lot, we could see the outline of gasoline pumps. When we got closer, we could see the dim light showing the price of the fuel in each pump. Coming to the front of the concrete block building, we could see light coming through a dusty plate glass window. The station was open. While the pastor filled the tank, we woke the campers to offer a restroom run.

As the flock of campers entered the building, the youthful attendant got a surprised look on his face. It was as though he had been invaded by aliens. The restrooms were little more than plywood cubicles and the commodes needed cleaned before they could be used. Joy went outside and brought the window-wash squeegee inside to do a quick clean of the commode.

Let me describe the inside of the building. There was a heavy coating of dust on everything, packaged food, drinks, and supplies. There were three single light bulbs in a row hanging down about three feet along the center of the room on wires. They gave off a little light, but the majority of the light came from the two soda machines.

When we left, the kid had a stunned look on his face and acted as though he had been invaded by creatures from outer space. I wonder what he told his friends in the morning. Soon we were back on the road and on our way to Yellowstone National Park.

Wild About The Wilds

It felt good to gather around a table and eat meals and to sleep in a bed again. Waking up early was nothing unusual, but here at The Wilds camp, high in the Rockies, it was special. The lake in front of the lodge was covered with lacy patterns of mist, the patterns shifting in the breeze. The sun was just blushing the edge of the sky. From the dark evergreens on the far shore, the bugle of an elk hurtled across the water. The sun’s myriad of colors danced with the wisps of mist, kaleidoscope-like. Each day at the camp, the strokes of color became portraits of beauty that changed constantly throughout the week.

Meals, games, hikes, and devotions flowed by in ever changing activities. The well-trained counselors served the campers. The adults were more free and able to hike on their own and attend Bible sessions. They could watch or join the games.

One hike with another chaperone, led us up to the high meadows where we saw deer, ponds with lilies, and hushed, and needled carpets under the pines. Walking was slow. The altitude was over eight thousand feet and oxygen was thin, causing us to breathe more heavily with mild headaches.

My wife Cindy and I decided to go on a breakfast ride. We would ride horses or mules to a campfire/ chuck wagon breakfast. My wife was given a mule named Festus. The ranch hands tried to shorten the stirrups to accommodate her short legs, but her toes barely fit inside. Festus shifted his weight, nervous Cindy pulled back on the reins and Festus reared up. Since Cindy didn’t have a firm seat without her feet in the stirrups, she slid from Festus’ back onto the ground and onto her tailbone.

She rode to the breakfast in a jeep, but had a sore tailbone for the rest of the trip. Breakfast around the campfire was uneventful, but pleasant.

The rest of the week flew by and we planned to drive to Yellowstone National Park after the closing ceremony on Friday evening. The adults tried to catch naps so they would be able to drive through the night.

Those Are the Brakes

We were on the road early. We were all anxious to get to the camp, unpack, and not be inside of the vans for several days. The weather was changeable, as it often is in the mountains of Colorado. The interplay of sun and clouds with the rain and lightening made the travelling and scenery more interesting. The vans were climbing while storms rolled around us. My wife was driving and noticed that the brakes didn’t seem quite right.

She pumped the brakes and put the van in second gear just as we topped the mountain. Saying that the van seemed better, we started down the far side. It was a short descent and we radioed ahead saying that we needed to pull over and see what was happening. Just entering a town named Craig, Colorado we pulled the van into a McDonald’s parking lot.

My wife almost had to stand on the brake pedal to get the vehicle to stop. As soon as it stopped, I told her to pull the transmission into park. When she did, we could hear the motor racing like a jet plane readying for takeoff. She turned off the engine. Everything was still but the ticking of the engine as it cooled. The Pastor came back and we explained what was happening. He popped open the engine cover and looked. We couldn’t see anything amiss. We sent the campers ahead in the two functioning vans, while five of the adults stayed behind to wait until the problem could be solved.

He called AAA and they sent a mechanic with a tow truck. The mechanic looked with his flashlight and soon said, “A spring that connected the foot pedal to the accelerator had broken and had flown off.  Our garage is about a block away, if one can steer and brake and the other regulate the choke by hand, you won’t need to have the van towed.”

We did and it made for a great, humorous photo, and believe me, one of the other drivers got one for posterity. We followed the tow truck and into the garage where he directed. The mechanic didn’t have the specific spring, but with some ingenuity and repurposing another spring, we were soon on our way.

It was the first time that so many adults were in the same van on the trip and we had a great time talking and laughing. We drove through the sulphurous smells of Steamboat Springs and soon arrived at the Wilds. It felt so good to know that there would be only hiking, eating, resting, and devotions without having to drive and set up camp each day.

One of the drivers said that the biggest van that was pulling the trailer had slowed to five miles an hour as it crawled over the top of the mountain pass. The altitude was 10,600 feet above sea level and the oxygen had decreased for the combustion of fuel.

The lodge at the camp overlooked a small lake with the campers’ cabins spreading out on both sides like wings of a bird. Boys to one side and girls to the other, and never the twain shall meet, except for games, eating, and devotions.

On Course

The drive was to King’s Creek where we camped. I mentioned it in my first post and will only say, this site was the one part of the trip that all of us remembered fondly. Our drive for the day was to Arches National Park, Utah. It would be another hot day and water bottles were filled, passed and the kids were reminded to drink frequently.

Our campsite was at Green River and we went there first to drop the trailer before heading to Arches. The sun was beating down hot and bright as we pulled into the first parking lot. We were at the site of a graceful double arch. The wind and water had worn the stone to create arches that rose from a combined base to two arches that rose high overhead to attach to the far wall. The shadows gave relief from the heat.

We were Able to visit windows arch which was a short walk away. We visited several of the other arches. The last was in a deep, narrow canyon. The sand was actually cool to bare feet and shoes came off quickly. The canyon remained in the shade most of the day and remained cool. It was a great place to relax and cool off before the drive in the hot vans on the way back to the campsite.

It had been a long day and darkness descended long before we got to the campground. The campers set up tents while the adults prepared the meal. The weather was so nice, the boys and some of the men decided to sleep under the stars, not using their tents. The boys chose to unroll their sleeping bags to the back of the long skinny site, next to a chain link fence.

When we awoke in the morning, there were sleeping bags hanging on the picnic tables, on the tents, and on the vans. The boys were huddled on and under a couple of blankets. The boys told us that around two a.m. the golf course on the other side of the fence, turned on the sprinklers and everyone got wet.

Breakfast was over, the vans were packed, and we were off for our next destination. It was the church camp, the Wilds of the Rockies.

It’s Grand

In the morning, camp was torn down and repacked. It would be another hot day and the water coolers were quickly filled just before we left Mesa Verde. It had been a day to relax without rushing. As we left the mesa, a huge bus was climbing up the twisting roadway, belching huge clouds of black smoke. It was narrow and we felt glad we weren’t out by the berm, because there wasn’t much room to spare as we drove by each other.

About ten a.m., we pulled into a dusty parking lot at Four Corners. It is the only place in the United States where four states’ borders meet; Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico. There was a large concrete pad with a round metal disc at the center, listing each state’s border. It was a spot where a person could stand on one foot and be in four states at the same time.

Lining the borders of the parking lots were booths filled with Native Americans and souvenirs. It was a relief to step under the tents and into the shade.

Heat devils danced in the parking lot and shimmered off the vehicles. We knew we’d start to cook when we climbed inside of the vans. Winding down the windows to allow the worst of the heat to escape was a torture. The handles were scorching. Everyone found places to sit and squirmed to alleviate the burning heat from the seats.

Our destination was the North Rim of the Grand Canyon on the Kaiabab Plateau. We stopped at the Navajo Bridge and ate lunch in the parking lot. Some of the guys dropped a few flat stones into the water below with resounding “CRACKS.”

The road to the canyon ran south was heavily wooded except for one area that had recently burned. The camping area was thick with pine and the ground soft, covered with a thick carpet of needles. Our sleeping bag beds were comfortable that night.

The canyon was massive, deep, and colorful. The hues changed as clouds and sunlight moved across the sky. The North Rim was over eight thousand feet above sea level. The view was magnificent and impressive.

We returned to the campsite, set up tents, and made the evening meal. While we made the site ready, we watched the Kaiabab squirrels with their white tails running as they searched for pine cones. The silence and a hot meal were most welcome after a long day of travel.

Dusk fell, the air cooled, and the tents and sleeping bags on the bed of pine needles were a blessed relief.