One of my first stops was right after cross the Jackson Lake Damn. Going across the damn, I looked out the window to the right and was completely floored by the mountain range reflected in the mirror smooth surface of Jackson Lake. Thanks to some interpretive signs, I also picked up a few little tidbits of information about the geology of the area. At the top of Mount Moran, it was possible to see a solid black column sticking out of the mountain. This was an old volcano vent where the lava solidified and then the mountain eroded away around it, leaving the lava plug sticking out into the sky. Also, the road I was driving on was on a very flat rocky plain with only scrub for vegetation. It turns out that the valley floor is filled with glacial till that's just so rocky, it's hard for vegetation to get a hold. However, looking at the mountains, it got a lot greener. Moving up from the base of the peaks, it was easy to see other bands of vegetation from lush forest and then thinning into alpine tundra.
I left the park out of the east side to drive along Highway 287. Originally, I was going to leave from the south end and get to the interstate more quickly, but there was a sign promising long construction delays so I figured I'd take the road less traveled that cut diagonally across Wyoming. Of course, it turns out that that road too had a lot of construction, but the way was beautiful. There was even a sign going into the first construction site that read "Construction Delays. Beautiful Scenery."
The road wound its way out of the volcanic Yellowstone area into the edges of the badlands where the hills were carved away revealing stripes of vibrant colours from deep red to bright purple. Slowly, the hills receeded behind me and the land opened up into a giant, desolate plateau that is the Wind River Indian Reserve. Those native people definitely got shafted, forced to move away from their ancient lands into this desolate wilderness where not much exists except from dusty scrub.
I had a late lunch in Lander at a local sub shop where it was painfully obvious that I was a tourist, but it was a really kind family running the place and definitely beat the McDonalds that was sitting across the road.
The rest of the drive down to Rawlins was fairly uneventful. Mostly because for the hours I was on those roads I hardly saw anybody. So, I spent most of the time zoning out listenting to Bill Buford's Heat, which is the tale of how he quit his job as a New York writer to become a whipping boy at Mario Batali's Babo restaurant. It's an incredibly entertaining tale and of course, being a foodie, I got sucked into it even more. As the miles went by, more and more ideas coalesced into my head about what I wanted to make. Fresh tortellini stuffed with a beef paste spice with, among other things, nutmeg. Braised lamb shanks cured with a mint, tomato rub. Tuscan beef slow cooked for days in a strong Chianti wine served with fresh crusty bread. The list goes on.
Anyway, eventually I reached Rawlins in the early evening and after passing an imposing prison, set about trying to find a place to sleep for the night. I stopped into the Holiday Inn Express, but they were all booked up. However, they let me use their internet to find a room. Unfortunately, for some reason, there were no rooms for a reasonable price in Rawlins at all, so I had to search a little wider. I finally managed to get something off in Laramie, the next significant town on the interstate, but of course, it was and hour and a half away and wouldn't save me any time in the morning going in to Colorado. Oh well.
I drove to Laramie as the sun was setting and darkness crept onto the land. It was the only night driving I ended up doing on the whole trip, but it was definitely worth it because in the distance, I could see the outlines of the Rocky Mountains buffeted by lighting spewing clouds. It was a great show.
No comments :
Post a Comment