A Wyoming Winter: Fort Laramie Nat'l Historic Site 1/29/11

Fort Laramie National Historic Site, an agreeable destination in its own right, has the unfortunate distinction of inhabiting the same state as the true giants of the NPS: Yellowstone, Grand Teton, and Devils Tower. In the face of such magnificence, how on earth do you sell a mere fort? Geysers, rugged peaks, and igneous intrusions will always win out over reconstructed Civil War era buildings, of course, but it makes little sense to pass this one by when it's so crucial to understanding the entire American fort system. In their own way, all are linked by their trade, Indian policy, and push for Western expansion, and without them, one wonders how the very parks we now deem superior would have been established and protected. Forts are essential to our historical identity, and the Laramie incarnation is one of the best.

Located three miles southwest of Fort Laramie, WY, near the towns of Guernsey and Torrington, the fort is settled beautifully at the edge of the Laramie River, combining unpolished ruins with faithful reproductions of the past. As a fan of "leave it as it was", I was glad to see mere facades dotting the site, but somehow adding the "new" provides a much-needed insight into how one might have lived on the vast plains over 150 years ago. Founded as a trading post by the American Fur Company in 1836, Fort Laramie was eventually purchased by the U.S. Army in 1849. As a military outpost, it became a key bulwark in the defense of American interests (read: the push of commerce at the behest of the white man), and throughout the following decades, it hosted numerous treaty councils, most of which were broken by The Man when discoveries of gold trumped honor and the sanctity of contracts. At Laramie, the story played out as expected.

When we last visited Fort Laramie in the summer of 2009, the site was teeming with visitors, costumed reenactors, and a measurable level of good cheer. Now, as January neared its end, the weather was decent, but there wasn't another soul in sight. Even the ranger seemed a little startled as we entered the sub-par visitor center, enthusiastically starting the film for us as if the thing hadn't been played in weeks. The movie, while humble, was pretty damn good, as it was informative, detailed, and - most crucially - not boring. Context was provided, and the facts never got in the way of the overall narrative. Sure, the theater itself was more a glorified waiting room than comfortable center for education and entertainment, but at least it had the rest of the building beat, which was little more than a haphazard collection of books, jams, and Old West odds and ends. We'd skipped the film last time for no good reason, so we were pleased to have "earned" the stamp this time around. Sure, we'd miss the lack of faux soldiers gnawing hardtack riverside, but the walk was worthwhile all the same.

After leaving the visitor center, one should proceed immediately to the Old Bakery, stroll along the river, and then check out the latrine and Old Guardhouse, which allows visitors to walk right in and inspect the Four Seasons-style accomodations for misbehaving soldiers. After more ruins, you'll hit the far end of the fort, the Captain's Quarters, which held the distinction this winter day of being colder inside than the outside air. It was drafty, cramped, and quiet, though they do their best to recreate "homey" scenes with period furniture and the like (from 1872, to be exact). Another highlight is Old Bedlam, which housed bachelor officers and their wild parties. One imagines this was the cathouse of the fort, unless you believe "bedlam" included quiet nights of poetry readings and meditation. The fort's center area (for maneuvers, drills, and all sorts of marching) is large and expansive, allowing one to see how the fort was, at bottom, a relatively large town for the period.

The third in the above series of photos is, of course, from our summer tour, and one can see how much more inviting the fort is during the warmer, greener months. That said, forts were in service during the entire year, not just tourist season, and the lack of green grass doesn't mean you're facing a less authentic view. Regardless of the time of year you visit, the drive to the site is delightful, complete with small town visions, old bridges, and cheeky signs (the one for the town of Fort Laramie says, "Home of 250 Good People and 6 Soreheads"). Regarding the latter, I think I might have encountered one of the six in nearby Torrington, thought one might be tempted to excuse her soreness on account of her five o'clock shadow. Maybe I should have directed her to the fort; not even a female Tom Selleck could resist its charms.

FINAL RATING

7/10

Please, Show Them the Money: Scotts Bluff Nat'l Monument 1/29/11

When we first visited Scotts Bluff National Monument in June 2009, we spent our time driving the 1.6 miles to the top, briefly taking in the windy, cloud-covered sights of the Nebraska no man's land, and returned to the bottom. We peeked inside a covered wagon or two, got our passport stamps, and then headed west to Wyoming. We ignored the visitor center not out of spite, but rather because the time crunch forced our hand. Had we known then what we know now, we would have cheered our decision rather than asked "what if." Simply put, there isn't a worse VC in the entire park system, and yes, I'm including dilapidated trailers trafficking more in mildew than sensible history. Built no later than the Great Society, and likely extending back to the New Deal, this house of horrors is old, embarrassing, stuffy, and dull, without the foggiest clue of how to keep human beings amused and entertained. I'm not even sure it's possible to survive the ordeal without lapsing into a deep coma.

Since our latest visit could not, because of the late hour, include another drive to the top, we decided to spend the half-hour left to us in the presence of displays that wouldn't challenge the imagination of a corpse. The theater - a word I use reluctantly, as what we would soon watch couldn't possibly be described as a movie - also houses uninspiring set pieces that could be called third grade dioramas if I wanted to think of the best possible way to insult third grade dioramas. The words and images before you are from a time when education was akin to castor oil and a paddling in the principal's office, not edification or enlightenment. One can imagine a big-haired mom from the Eisenhower era pulling her screeching young ones throughout this room, daring the brats to challenge the received wisdom on display. And the film! Or should I say, the slide show set to illiterate pap. Rife with spelling errors, bad art, and unitelligible nonsense, the twelve minutes passed like hours, not once referring to Scotts Bluff or its importance in American history. Sure, it was teeming with anecdotes from the Oregon Trail ("Dear God, don't drink the water!"), but please, help me understand why the hell I have to hike up that trail. No help would be coming from the ranger, either, as he was old enough to be the very voice we heard on the soundtrack.

Not updating a visitor center, like ever, is probably not reason enough to avoid an NPS site, but that's all too easy to say when you haven't yet stopped by Scotts Bluff. There's no way to avoid bitterness, especially when the ordeal was compounded by a tour group loud and large enough to fill a Greyhound bus. They cooled it a bit during the appalling film, but I had to hope they'd be once again roused to anger so they could tear this place apart. Curiously, I did learn that wagon travelers often picked up books and clothing along the way, only to leave them again for use by others, but long after that tidbit has left my mind, I'll still remember that the NPS believes you spell Platte with at least three t's.

As with Chimney Rock, Scotts Bluff was a signpost for pioneers heading West, preserving 3,000 acres of "unusual landforms and prairie habitat." According to the literature (the site's pamphlet is the best thing they offer), the North Platte River Valley has been a pathway for at least 10,000 years, beginning with American Indians and ending with the very people who sent them to their doom. The Oregon Trail was about discovery and conquest, trade and travel, with a large dose of military expeditions, stagecoaches, and Pony Express riders to round out the exodus. The bluffs - in particular, the iconic Eagle Rock - consist of caprock, sandstone, volcanic ash, and siltstone, the oldest of which dates back a good 31 million years. Though the source is now a mystery, it was once appropriately called "a Nebraska Gibraltar." It's a memorable setting, if only because it acts as such a dramatic contrast to the flatness of the surrounding landscape.

As Scotts Bluff National Monument (and the town itself) is only a three-hour drive from our home in Denver, it made sense to give it the full treatment at last, and I'm glad we secured a new stamp we hadn't noticed before. Besides, how often does a person have the chance to stand in a gen-u-ine Hurricane Simulator before sitting down for one of the worst movies of the year (The Dilemma)? The so-called "monster storm" did little more than temporarily turn my hair into a fright wig, but those fifteen seconds were infinitely more satisfying than Ron Howard's atrocity to follow. Just another day in the Cornhusker state.

FINAL RATING

5/10

Elk Penis of the Plains: Chimney Rock Nat'l Historic Site 1/29/11

It's the place so nice, we had to go twice. Or at least include on our one-nighter back to Nebraska to get a few pictures, stamps, and magnets that we foolishly ignored back in June of 2009 when we were new to the obsession. Few people have cause to visit the Cornhusker state once in a lifetime, let alone three in a little under two years, but here we are again, only a few short months after we drove the length of the damn state in pursuit of a National Monument that was rumored not to be worth a crap. It was, thankfully, as is the odd beauty of Chimney Rock National Historic Site, located 3.5 miles southwest of Bayard, NE, as if that would mean anything. It's not near anything of note, save the additional stamping mecca of Scottsbluff, though one can see it for miles and miles, much like the original trekkers who braved the elements to reach greener pastures. That it jets up from the prairie floor like a middle finger to its surrounding bleakness is the whole of its appeal, even if it's eroding at the sort of clip that will make it unavailable to people you don't now know because they'll first appear on the scene long after you're dead.

You'll notice that the above sign, snapped as the late-January sun faded into twilight, refers to the Nebraska State Historical Society. While this is a joint venture with the NPS - and had been declared a National Historic Site back in 1956 - the state of Nebraska runs the show, meaning that while there is a stamp available for the passport book, your Annual Pass is only good for a modest discount. So instead of a freebie, I had to part with $4 for two admissions, greedily accepted by the Amish-looking gentleman at the counter, who also happened to possess a beard so unruly, it may or may not have hidden a small flock of birds. But hey, why not part with such a paltry sum when it means one can walk out the back door, stride a few feet, and be met with a fence, presumably non-electrified, to keep visitors from getting closer to the rock. Do they fear vandalism? Climbers? Little kids armed with bats? Likely all three, but it's a bit frustrating to deny travelers a walking trail, even if it stopped just shy of the base. So after one stares at the rock for a bit, considers another angle, stares some more, and curses the blocked access, there's little to do but retreat back to the visitor center. Maybe they want us inside so we'll buy more junk.

The Chimney Rock visitor center is decent as far as these things go, and while we skipped the film this time around, we had caught it before, and it's surprisingly worth seeing. The displays nearest the back exit are reasonable, largely because they provide pictures from the past showing how much more dramatic the rock's spire had been. There's also a panel "proving" that yes, Native Americans called the rock "Elk Penis", which only goes to show that white people are usually less imaginative. Even a casual stare bears this out, as yes, it does look more like animal genetalia than some chimney. Not even geology is safe from the prude's censoring hand, it would seem. Still, the rock is of great historical importance, serving as a unique landmark in the push West along the Oregon Trail and, according to the pamphlet, drawing more comments than any other rock formation. For some, it was a break from the endless stretches of tedium, while others saw it as the last gasp before things really got rough. After all, according to the visitor center's numerous displays, the trail, above all else, was little more than endless death. There's a great fixation on disease and freshly dug graves at this site, which is appropriate, if not a little morbid.

The weather, thankfully, was better in 2011 than 2009, as the image below will prove. It is, alas, the only picture we snapped back then, but what else is one to do? Chimney Rock is close enough to other sites to justify a visit, but no one is likely to spend more than a half-hour total here, and that's including the movie, a restroom break, and a second look at the sample headdress. Open up the ground leading to the rock itself, and people may stay beyond the standard long stare. Besides that, one should not expect many more improvements, except of course to offer a greater magnet selection beyond the commemorative quarter variety. I saw a good 2-3 patches on hand, but who in the hell collects patches besides Boy Scouts and bored grandmothers? It still boggles my mind that we've been here twice, with Crater Lake sounding in at a big round zero, but proximity, admittedly, has more to do with it than genuine preference. But look out if a rumor ever surfaces that there's a new bonus stamp on hand. A third time, yes, will be the charm.

Oh yeah....see that sad little stamp from June 20, 2009? It's upside-down for a reason. Yes, that's how Brooke stamped it in our passport book, and it's driven me crazy ever since that day. We've now righted that ship with the latest version, though I'm still bitter. My pain lessens, however, with the knowledge that the picture stamp we got back then is no longer available. Unless that Amish dude is hiding it somewhere.

FINAL RATING

5/10

The Wonderful World of Waterfolds - Capitol Reef National Park - 5/22/10

Utah wins.

Throughout our travels across this amazing country, no state has elicted more jawdropping awe than our very own neighbor, the Beehive State. Utah, while not extraordinarily diverse, has dibs on the country's best scenic drives. The whole state is one big Rand McNally dotted road. (Google it).

Overshadowed by big sisters Bryce Canyon and Zion, Capitol Reef National Park is marked by a literal "wrinkle" in the Earth's crust. Over millions of years, the sediments and fault lines pressed up against each other over a period of time to create a permanent 100-mile long crease in the Earth. As with many locations in the Southwest, it was inhabited by Ancestral Puebloans, but after they vanished in or around 1200, the area stayed resident free. Until Joseph Smith and his brethren came along....

A Mormon sect found their way to the middle of Utah and what appeared oddly....to be fertile and lush land. The red rocks filled with iron ore are an unending site in all of Southern Utah, and patches of green are unusual. The drive to Capitol Reef is a lonely one, approximately 100 miles southwest off Interstate 70, with only one gas station (encased in a rock) between the freeway and the park's entrance.

Mormons inhabited the area, establishing several small towns around the Waterpocket Fold. Inside the confines of the park itself is a still working orchard. Housing peach, pear, apple, and cherry trees in the oxygen rich ground, visitors today can still pick bushels of fruits of their choice when in season, and in the hot summer sun, the fruit ripe trees provide respite from the sun. Our day, however, was a crisp, perfect 67 degrees.

A short plank walk (dotted with literally hundreds of blue fuzzy caterpillars....everywhere you looked, walked, or rested your hand was nature crawling) took you past ancient petroglyphs and along the edge of the orchard itself.

Capitol Reef is massive in size, and the visit that we did would be considered shameful among many travelers. Miles of scenic drives and hikes keep visitors busy for days, along with a scenic farm, schoolhouse and community offering a street fair of sorts the day we arrived. Matt Griswold, however, insisted that we keep moving because we absolutely had to get to Bryce Canyon soon andthedriveislongsowehavetogonow allowed us a grand 90 minutes in Capitol Reef......Wally World Bryce awaited the Cales, so we moved quickly......

The Castle (above) is the highlight of the Scenic Drive and the spot of the Visitor Center. Although remote and less well known than other National Parks in Utah, there was barely room to move in the small Visitor Center due to the crowds. A small theatre to the right offered an excellent film overview of the valley and the creation of the Park itself. Well done and packed with geologic and historic tidbits, this was time well spent away from the park to appreciate the mechanics of the spectacles around us.

Capitol Reef is well worth the side trip through Southern Utah.....Less known does not mean lesser in general.

But......Aunt Edna needs to get to Phoenix, so off we go.......

FINAL RATING

8/10

Side Dish: A Capitol Offense - Another Day, Another Obsession

If the ability to go back in time ever becomes a reality, one of the first things I shall do is travel back to that picture-perfect day at the Quarai Ruins in New Mexico's Salinas Pueblo Missions National Monument. Take a moment to gaze at the crystal blue sky, breathe in the crisp mountain air and.........

.....punch that old man square in the nose.

A previous entry told of our fateful meeting with another pair of Stampers at the Quarai ruins, to which the man excitedly ran back to his car asking if we "collected capitols". Waving a small bound blue book innocently around, we were at once capitivated at another chance to stamp something else. What a neat little side trip to each capitol this would be....think of the fun.

*!!$?&*#$%@
This little blue book, in only 5 states, has caused us more pain, laughter, screaming, and lying than a waterboarding session with Dick Cheney himself. We have had the fortune of traveling a great deal in our 11 years of marriage, and had we started earlier, we would currently have 22 stamps.

And would most likely be divorced.

The story behind "The Capitol Collection" starts in a small neighborhood very close to our home, in Capitol Hill, a neighborhood directly behind the Denver Capitol building. An enterprising soul decided to send each state capitol building a stamp with distinguishing state landmarks, the name of the capital city, and a picture of the Capitol building itself. Some states were reluctant to participate, with some flat out refusing (Tennessee being one....shame, as Nashville not only has the Capitol building, but a U.S. President's grave on its summit as well). Each stamp would be conveniently placed at the visitor desk of each location, where a kindly docent or volunteer would recognize the traveler's request immediately and point the stamp out to the stamper's delight.

Each state has a picture of the building itself for easy identification, and on the opposite page, a description of the construction and history of the Capitol, along with a small area at the bottom to record each visit, much like the NPS Passport Stamp.

Capitols do have volunteers that guide visitors through the grounds, describing much of what is written above. How wonderful that these people give their valuable time to educate the public on what their tax dollars pay for, and showing the inner workings of state government.

And their average age is approximately 97 years old.

In only one location visited has the stamp been available where it is supposed to have been. The volunteers have looked at us like we were crazy (yes), obsessive (dead-on) and pathetic (hey!!) while searching aimlessly in every drawer in or around the visitor desk. Due to the tours normally happening every hour on the hour, this pursuit can put a crimp in travel plans if you are planning on a flyby. For the extremely dedicated traveler, a 2-hour visit can be the norm in settings that are alarmingly similar in every building.

Wyoming - the lovely building seen above, located in downtown Cheyenne, is located at the end of a street housing all of the public buildings within the vicinity. However - no stamp is to be found anywhere near the building. Come again???

Wyoming's stamp is found at the History Museum across the street, where a myriad of retirees sit waiting for someone, anyone, to visit them during the day. We finally located the building...asked the volunteer, who shockingly knew immediately. She sweetly asked us, "Would you be interested in taking a tour with me in the museum?"

Oh no......this will take at least 90 minutes. We are 300 miles from Fossil Butte National Monument (the actual destination for the day). What to do with this sweet old lady?? Lie your asses off and watch her face drop like the stroke she might have had the month before.

We told her that we had already visited the museum. "How about the new exhibit? Want to see that?" Yeah -we told her we had already seen that, too. She looked puzzled and we literally RAN out of the building. Interesting start to the new stamp book. Easily located, but with an engraved seat in hell reserved for both of us.

Utah nearly ended the pursuit of collection before it began. A beautiful white marble building was almost completely empty (never a good sign). We had our instructions for the stamp's location and came in with book in hand. The visitors desk was unmanned, and the stamp was nowhere in sight. We decided we would become Sherlock Holmes' apprentices and started opening every single drawer, door, and office that we could get into looking for a stamp that most likely did not exist. Our blood pressure started to rise as we walked through the building, crossing each and every entrance without finding a soul who knew what we were speaking of.

While collecting NPS stamps, the avid Stamper can always count on the coveted stamp to be available at either the ranger desk, the bookstore, or by the entrance. 100% of the time, it is there waiting for greedy hands to grab it and feed their OCD obsession. This was a different ballgame. After driving 400 miles to stamp something, DAMMIT, it needs to be there.

We got back in the car, and Matt immediately threw the book in the garbage. Matt stated that if this was going to be like this in each location, it was not ultimately worth it. That affirmation lasted approximately 30 seconds. Across the street from the Capitol, was a gift shop and bookstore. It was worth a shot to see if they knew anything. I walked in, and asked the 15 year old checker if he had seen or heard of the elusive Capitol Stamp. A vacant look appeared, alerting me that we were not going to be successful. I left the building deflated, and then heard someone scream, "Ma'am!! Ma'am!! I think I found it!" Running back inside, the Doogie Howser lookalike had indeed located it. The book was retrieved from the trash and the quest was back on.

Similar stories followed....In our own Capitol, we found the docent who knew where the stamp was, only to realize to our horror that we (Brooke) left the book itself in the car. In Nebraska, we waited over an hour, as we had just missed the last tour sitting on the cold marble, crabbing the entire time.

The lone exception was the wonderful state of New Mexico. Santa Fe is a home away from home for the Cales and it never fails to disappoint. The Capitol visit was the most interesting of the buildings we had visited. The stamp was where it was reported to be, and the art around the Rotunda was worth the visit itself. New Mexico - we thank you for saving our sanity this day...

We are most certainly sadists, as we do intend to continue this mad game as our travels roll on. Trips to Pierre, Bismarck, Boise, and Topeka are in the near future, and we will roll in to each Capitol building hoping for the best, but knowing the worst will befall us. We will break laws, go into vacant offices, bypass security offices, and lie to anyone that crosses our path to obtain each stamp.....

But if H.G. Wells' grandson ever does invent a time machine??? That old man is dead meat.......