Yellowstone 2018-10

The Biggest Surprise

A word of advice if you travel by car to Yellowstone.  The park is a dense forest. Most of the time, you cannot see more then a hundred feet off the side road.  There are few reliable landmarks except at major intersections.  Carry the USPS provided map issued to you when you paid your fees at the gate and, if you do not have an electronic compass in your car’s instrumentation, bring a cheap one with you, it will save you from a U-turn or two.  If you don’t know how to use a map, go to Las Vegas instead.

Cody, Wyoming

As shared earlier, my plans included departing Yellowstone via the Cody, Wyoming (east) entrance.  My previous trip to Cody was during the month of April and we could not enter the park due to snow closure.  I closed the circuit by taking U.S.-14/20. The highway segment is 80 miles so make sure you have that much gas in your tank.  

My previous trip to Cody was a pilgrimage to the William F. Cody museum complex.  If you are interested, just scroll down the blog until you get to it. The museums were more than hoped for.  The town of Cody on the other hand appeared to be on life support.  The downtown tourist district was devoid of life and many of the buildings were boarded up.  But something miraculous has occurred and the community is blossoming.  I stopped for breakfast and walked the length of the old downtown. All of the storefronts were occupied and open for business.  They are after the tourist trade, so pack your bags and get up there!

No, that is not my bike!

Wyoming is the second least densely populated state in the U.S. That explains why there are so few highways and why I had to make drive halfway across the state to find a southerly route that would take me to Colorado.  And still, I encountered a savage pass that needed traversing. The pass is not identified on the map; I would have avoided it if it had been because by this time in the trip I was getting pretty weary of winding roads and acrophobia inducing drop offs. When I finally crested this monster, I found a sign designating it “Granite Pass”.  This feature is in Bighorn National Forest.  I would like to return to this area some day and do a bit of exploring.  When I returned to an elevation with suitable oxygen to sustain life I found a service station because I’m old and that’s what we do.  The operators of this convenience just stared as I babbled on about finding a route to Colorado that did not cross a mountain range.

G-g-g-granite Pass

Of note, my route took me through Jefferson County; home to the Jefferson County war.  If that means nothing to you, at lease google “Tom Horn” and I am confident you will have an opportunity to gaze at a picture of Steve McQueen’s baby blues.  From Sheridan it is a pretty easy drive across three-quarters of the state to the little town of Rawlins, Wyoming which seems to have the highest per capita hotel room population in the state.  And the first place I tried was full!  The kind people at Hampton Inn were able to identify the local Best Western hotel as having available rooms.  {See National Park Service ,it can be done.) To my surprise, it was located in another cluster of hotels located at the other end of town.  The clerks there informed me that they were at an eighty-six percent occupancy rate.  When I inquired as to the need for so many hotel rooms in such a non-destination town, all they could offer was that it was on I-80.  The next day found me piloting my way though the grasslands of Southern Wyoming en route Colorado.

I picked up I-70 in Colorado at a town with the intriguing name of “Rifle”.  I did not stop but noticed they were flying banners announcing some type of local festival; maybe someday in the future.  From there I tracked southeast to Montrose, Colorado, home of my Aunt Barbara.  I was all over this part of Colorado and what it had to offer in a previous journey (2016, I think) so you can look at that if you wish.  This will be the last entry unless I stumble something do kvetch about on the way home.

If you are so inclined, I do appreciate feedback.

Yellowstone 2018-9

What’s that Smell?

If you have not had the pleasure of taking accommodations at a five-star hotel and wish to in the future, I highly recommend you consider a visit to a National Park. Unlike city hotels, when you walk out the door you’re ‘promised a natural wonderland.  My experiences included Yosemite, Furnace Creek (Death Valley), Grand Canyon (multiple stays) and with this adventure, Yellowstone.  The condition of the properties is always top rate, even more astonishing when you consider the ages of each are over or approaching one hundred years.  And the level of service is of the highest caliber.  But as with anything special, there is a price. And there I will limit my dissertation on how much I paid for two-nights stay at the Lake Hotel.

Yellowstone National Park is more or less square shaped, tucked in the northwest corner of Wyoming. Within the park, there are five villages each offering accommodations, food service and access to park attractions. Lake Village is practically in the center of the park.  The intra park road system is shaped like a figure eight with arms reaching out to the various entrances (five).  When you consider a trip to Yellowstone, AAA publishes a map of the park and Grand Tetons Nat’l Park that will aid your planning considerably.

Yellowstone Nat’l Park is open year-round though access to any of the features may be closed due to snow.  I had planned my trip to coincide with the opening of the east entrance (exit for my trip) from Cody, Wyoming thereby allowing me to pass through the park without back tracking.  And though that proved successful, several of the park villages were still snow bound making access to some attractions impossible.  Their famous green bus tour was not in operation yet and that is something I would really like to have experienced.

Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River

 I spent one full day driving the park roads and walking short trails to see certain geological phenomena. But then a geyser is a geyser and if I missed a few of them, I saw as many as I needed.  Among the curiosities at hand is the sulfur-dioxide odor emanating from the mud pots. Upon olfactory contact you will immediately be drawn into a sensory memory of high-school chemistry class. By far, my favorite spot was the falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River.

As I was alone, I did not take advantage of the main dining rooms offerings.  But my experience in other parks has been nothing short of epicurean bliss.  I did trade at the hotel deli which offers sandwiches, site made cookies, prepacked snacks and of course, Starbucks coffee (no blended drinks).

  

Yellowstone 2018-8

Up and Over

Have you ever been to Jackson, Wyoming?  Pretty impressive, huh?  I have been there once before and continue to be in awe at the stark, ragged, granite spectacle that is the Grand Tetons.  You will instantly recognize the scene that follows, even if you have only witnessed the forbidding wall on television or in a photograph.

 

Backside of the Grand Tetons

From Idaho Falls there are several ways to get over or around the big titties and into Jackson Hole (A niggling point of geographic correctness is due here: Jackson Hole is a geological feature, a depression among mountain ranges that serves as the headwaters of several rivers.  Jackson is a town in Wyoming, located within Jackson Hole.  If you wish to reinforce the locals’ notion that all flatlanders are idiots, you go right ahead and refer to Jackson as Jackson Hole.  The merchants there really don’t care as long as you buy the overpriced gewgaws that support their community.) I have oft wondered at the nature of the backside (the western slope) of the Grand Tetons so I chose the route that put me right through the grinder.

Wilson, Wyoming

I left Idaho Falls via U.S. 26 to Swan Valley.  I then turned northeast on SR-31 to Victor where I changed course to SR-22 (I am not sure where the state line is, but the highway begins in Idaho and ends in Wyoming).  At the bottom of the pass (unnamed on my maps) you enter the Wyoming town of Wilson.  This is a winter resort area well placed for jittery drivers to recollect their wits after crossing one of the most challenging passes I can recall… and I’ve crossed a bunch of them.  I spoke with a trio of locals out front of the general store and learned that two of them were among the original founders of the settlement.

State Route 22 continued into Jackson where I was surprised to find the town full.  There was nary a parking spot in the town and the sidewalks were teeming with tourists.  To say the least I was surprised as it seemed too late for skiing and too early for mountaineering.  I headed north into Grand Teton Nat’l Park which seems to be merely an adjunct to Yellowstone.  There are great views of the namesake mountains and both parks are included in the entrance fee so, why not?

My original plans for accommodations were to stay at one of the myriad private motels that cluster just outside the entrance to any National Park.  Think again pathfinder!  The nearest commercial inns are in Jackson, about fifty-miles away (and previous observation suggested they were full).  At this point I was in Grand Teton Nat’l Park and decided to take a whirl at the in-park accommodations.  I pulled into the first village I encountered. Inside the lodge I was greeted by a perky clerk who enthusiastically informed me that Grand Teton lodging facilities were not yet accommodating guests.  I ask her if she could check availability of rooms in Yellowstone.  With a hint of glee in her voice she informed me that the lodging concession in Yellowstone was contracted by another company and their reservation systems did not communicate with each other (It seems that news of the internet success of Priceline et al had not reached the wilderness of Wyoming) and I would have to communicate with the other Park.  Her obvious self-satisfaction at having artfully dodged any effort to serve her customer while being cheerful and engaging was clear evidence she was a top-tier graduate of her employer’s customer satisfaction training curriculum.  With a warm heart I bid her adieu and thanked her for her efforts, I think.

Shortly thereafter I crossed into Yellowstone Nat’l Park and stopped at the first settlement I encountered, Grant Village.  It was obviously yet in the seasonal prep stage.  This convinced me to take more direct action. I called the Yellowstone reservations center while sitting in the vacant parking lot.  I was very lucky to make contact with Naomi who, with no indication of condescension in her demeanor was able to book me into a Lake Village cottage for one night.  I asked her if she could expand that to two nights but she unable to find anything.  That was okay.  I had my foot in the door.  If anyone could cajole a desk clerk into helping out a wayward traveler, it was I.   

Yellowstone 2018-7

Going the Distance

Mapping the route from Susanville, California to Wyoming and Yellowstone was no mean feat.  It is a fur piece and there are no major connecting highways.  Susanville does not lie directly on U.S. 395 but is just a tad west. The easiest way to explain it is “the triangle of confusion” (Is he going to the Bahamas?): entering from the south, U.S. 395 doubles back on itself a few miles outside of Susanville.  In the meantime, the traveler must enter the town via CA-36 with no obvious indication that one has changed route numbers. The natural progression then when leaving Susanville is to drive north while U.S. 395 is racing speedily eastward. The navigation system was struggling to find the words that would alert me to this situation; apparently TOM-TOM does not build stupid, jackass, or f#$%head into its argot of navigation language. Being the seasoned land navigator I boast to be, it wasn’t long ere I recognized the problem and eschewed the GPS guidance for my trusty AAA Map (free to members) and solved the riddle. A few turns here and there put me back on U.S. 395 en route, well I wasn’t sure.

U.S. 395 traveled north into Oregon and continued for about one hundred miles to junction with U.S. 20.  They join for twenty-eight miles then separate at the town of Burns.  One might be asking why this detail is necessary (Yeah, I was wondering at his wandering!): It’s because there is nothing else to write about.

This night, I stayed at Burns, Oregon because I was afraid that the blank space on the map might drop off the edge of the earth in the dark of night.  I can honestly say this was among the three most desolate stretches of highway I have ever traveled.  If I had been told I was in Nevada, I would have believed it. The blankness was so overwhelming I honestly cannot bring to mind the motel in which I stayed. It reminded me of a Twilight Zone episode. I kept a wary eye on the road shoulder but didn’t see William Shatner.

The next morning the highway crossed Stinking Water Pass (El. 4,968 ft).  It then descended into a lush green valley with rolling hills and irrigated farming plots. It was what one would expect from Oregon.  I stopped for breakfast at the Oasis café in the farming town of Juntura (pronounced Jun-tur-ah, with a hard “J” according to the citizens, despite the word being Spanish for juncture).  The special was cinnamon roll French toast. I was over the heebie-jeebies; only in a safe world can cinnamon roll French toast exist.  Just before crossing the border into Idaho, U.S. 20 joined I-80 which carried me past Boise and on to Mountain Home, the community attached to Mountain Home Air Force Base (go figure).

The next morning, as I was gassing up for the day, I witnessed an Idaho Highway Patrol unit charge onto the freeway going CODE-3.  For the uninitiated, this means he was using his emergency lights and siren to clear traffic.  This is usually an indication of a life-or-death matter.  I finished my pit stop and proceeded southwest.  After a few miles, traffic began to build, slow and then come to a complete stop. “Damn!” I thought to myself, “this is a fatal accident and were going to be here for hours while the Patrol Officers collect evidence.”  Isn’t this what I left California to get away from?

A few miles later I had approached close enough to interpret the scene.  There was a fire fighter standing on the shoulder with a couple of civilians watching the wheel bearings of a small utility trailer burning.  I’ve never connected the concept of excitement to Idaho; now I have first-hand experience that supports my suspicions.  The whole delay was being caused by looky-loos.

About thirty miles east of Boise, U.S.-20 detaches from I-84 and continues east as a rural highway joining U.S.-93 at Craters of the Moon Nat’l Mon.  This is a lava field created by the most recent eruption of the Yellowstone super volcano (about sixty million years, give or take an eon). I believe I covered this in Wyoming 2010 blog.  Once again, the visitors’ center restroom is the star attraction.  I continued on another eighty miles or so to Idaho Falls, Idaho.  It seemed to be the typical agriculture support city, but with a huge Mormon Temple.  The edifice speaks for itself in terms of culture.  Not a lot of tattooed skate boarders hanging out in the supermarket parking lots.

Yellowstone 2018-6

Reconsiderations

From Carson City, U.S.-395 continues on to Sin City, Jr., Reno.  Not being a gambler and wanting to avoid unprofitable ventures, I am glad the highway breezes around the downtown area on elevated roadway.  The route then veers northwest in a beeline back to California. The desert soon falls away behind and the climate zone soon turns alpine.  This is lumber country, so grab your axe and swing along.

Susanville., CA

What serves as a metropolis in this part of the state is Susanville which seems to be named for the Susan River (Oh, those explorers are known for their ability to make connections like that).  There are two industries of note:  Logging and tourism. As I had arrived in Susanville during the breakfast hour, I opted to try my luck at a local eatery named (wait for it…) The Lumberjack.  While clean and efficient, the décor harkens back to an era before IHOP and Denny’s cornered the corner on corner diners and restaurant owners felt obligated to contribute to the local cultural ethos.  In this case it was a gigantic lumberjack seemingly poised to smite with his mighty axe any wanderer who attempted to sneak by unfed.  As a bonus, the waitresses wore red and black flannel shirts and black slacks held judiciously in place by suspenders: Corny? Yes! Entertaining? Immensely!

Story of My Life

The after-breakfast plan was a trip to Lassen Volcanic Nat’l Park.  The park is a side trip of about ninety miles west of Susanville on CA-44.  It is a pleasant drive initially, but soon all of the trees began to look alike.  Pressure was beginning to assert itself against my bladder walls, so arrival was extremely timely.  Unfortunately, the park had not yet opened for the spring.  Thank heavens the visitor center was open.  There was a self-pay notice at the unmanned entry gate.  For those unfamiliar with the U.S.P.S fee pay honor system, it consists of dispensing empty envelopes which the tourist will then fill with cash and deposit into a locked receptacle.  I walked into the visitor center and seeing nary a ranger in sight, used the restroom and left, stiffing the government for $20.  These fees have ballooned in recent years. Crest fallen that I had missed yet another chance to throw myself into a gurgling cauldron of lava, I headed back to Susanville.

I secured lodging for the night (bug free I was assured) at the Best Western.  It seemed a bit of local reconnaissance was in order. Susanville is one of those towns that is just big enough to have spawned the de rigor national chains and I eventually ended up at the Target store.  I recall needing something but cannot bring to mind what it was.  I reckoned it was time to do some strategic review and plan assessment and where better than Starbucks.  I dialed up the computer guidance system of my vehicle and initiated a search for the nearest location. After all, I had just paid $200 to update the map set in my five-year-old Yukon.  Much to my embarrassment, it was one driveway away from my current location.

My original plan was to tour the length of U.S. 395 then swing back southeast and visit Yellowstone National Park.  As I sat on the hard, wooden seat at Starbucks, tracing the distance from Susanville to the Canadian border, I began to have doubts that I retained the stamina to pilot that route.  The primary event of this odyssey would be refocused to the first jewel in the crown of The National Park System, Yellowstone.  (Mr. Sulu, lay in a course for Old Faithful.)    

Yellowstone 2018-5

And Points North

Today would be largely spent covering ground.  I have been along this route, or pieces of it, many times over the years.  My plans do not cover stopping over at any of these towns or attraction, but for the uninitiated US-395 traveler I offer these points of interest in order from south to north:

Manzanar National Historic Site – this is one of the internment camps to which ethnic Japanese were relocated after the United States entred World War II.  Although most of the detainees caught by this panic driven policy were native born American Citizens, they were stripped of their freedom and property without due process of law.  The camp is being rebuilt and as of 2018 the recreation hall, some dorms and guard towers have been restored.  The recreation hall houses an exemplary interpretive center that is quite moving. A must see!

Independence, CA – One of the towns along US-395. Home to Fort Independence and the Eastern California Museum.

Big Pine, CA – Western terminus of Death Valley Road (yes, it crosses the Inyo Mountains to Death Valley National Park). And the western terminus of Ancient Bristlecone Scenic Byway, access to the Ancient Bristlecone Forest; a must for you budding naturalists.

Bishop, CA – As described in an earlier post plus the Laws Townsite Historic Railroad Museum four miles out of town on U.S. 6.  If you are a toper, you must visit at least one of Bishop’s many saloons for a libation.  You must!

Mammoth Lakes, CA – Ski Mecca in winter.  Sportsman’s paradise in summer.

June Lake, CA – People who fish really like the place.  Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Lee Vining, CA and Mono Lake – this little hamlet is the eastern terminus of Tioga Pass Road (CA-120) from Yosemite.  The pass is closed each winter; the opening dates are dependent on snowfall. Mono lake is a vestige of the havoc rent on the Sierra watershed by Los Angeles DWP diversion described in a previous post.  Although the actions are now considered quite destructive environmentally, they did create a landscape hard to match.

Bodie State Historic Park – Look for the signs directing you to CA-270.  These buildings of this large mining town are largely in the same condition as when the mining operations ceased thanks to the high elevation and arid climate.  If you have found yourself disappointed by ghost towns yielding only a few rusted relics and obscure adobe building foundations, this will restore your ardor for antiquities.  It is several miles east of US-395, but the turnoff is reasonably well marked. If you are in Bridgeport, you missed it.  Road not recommended for Ferraris, et al.

Bridgeport, CA – a place to turn around if you missed the turnoff to Bodie.

After Bridgeport, the population really thins out and opportunity for adventure off the main route belongs to the intrepid explorer.  There is a quaint little place on the map named Holbrook junction… but truth is, I blew right passed it, knowledge limited to its presence on the map. Shortly beyond that, U.S.-395 steals into the State of Nevada.  To the west is Humboldt Toiyabe Nat’l Forest and Lake Tahoe. U.S.-395 traverses several miles of flat farmland then rolls into Carson City, the capital of Nevada.  There is no shortage of historical attractions in this town.  If you are planning a trip to this area, allow for enough days to explore the historic districts of Carson City, Lake Tahoe and Virginia City (home of the Comstock Lode). This was not my first visit here so my needs were rather simple: A chocolate malt near the State Capitol and a bug-free motel room that cost way too much.

 

Yelowstone 2018-4

Searching for the Old West

Having vanquished my foe, I put the day’s plan into action.

Alabama Hills

For several years, I have been reading about the Alabama Hills; a movie shooting location from the early days of Hollywood. The “ranch” has served duty in some of my favorite movies; Westerns of course, but also other genre.  Humphrey Bogart made his breakout role in High Sierra as what else, a holed-up gangster.  Cary Grant, Victor McLachlan and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. saved the British Raj in director Howard Hawks’ Gunga Din. And Spencer Tracy meted out one-armed justice against bigots Robert Ryan, Lee Marvin, Ernest Borgnine and Anne Frances in Bad Day at Black Rock. And there are countless others.  If you have any interest in film history, you should to a little research to discover which of your favorite movies were filmed here.

You will automatically recognize the terrain.  It lies between the town of Lone Pine the and the Sierra Nevada tors.  The best way to describe it is other worldly.  Although most of the movies filmed on the site were Westerns, the odd shaped boulders look as if they were rock monsters suspended in time, awaiting the wave of a magic wand to bring them to life. Alas, there are no remnants of sets constructed for filming.  There are a series of interconnected dirt roads which are accessible to anyone.  I would recommend a higher clearance vehicle, like a SUV.  But even mini-vans and sedans can handle most of the roads.  Access is easy. Exit Lone Pine heading west on Whitney Portal Road; then right onto Movie Road.  After that, follow which ever track suits you. When finished, return to town by whatever route you like.

 

Alabama Hills

I have one more goal associated with my visit to Lone Pine, a visit to the Museum of Western Film History. This moderate sized but nicely done tribute to the films shot in the Alabama Hills is located at the Southern end of town on the west side of U.S 395.  It is easy to spot, they have made the façade of the building look like a 1930’s era movie house, complete with marquis.  The museum contains artifacts form movies shot here from the early days right up to modern megahits like Iron Man and the Star Wars franchise. But its most important function is as the epicenter of the Lone Pine Film Festival occurring every fall.  The duration of your visit to the museum is dependent on your knowledge of the material.  The less familiar you are, the more time you will spend reading display cards. I breezed through in about an hour.

                            

Having completed my self-assigned workload, I decided to take a short trip north on U.S. 395 to Bishop to indulge in Schat’s Bakery.  I knew I would acquiesce to the morning rush if I waited until tomorrow. Bishop is about fifty miles north of Lone Pine. It is a much larger town whose primary revenue comes from tourism, fishing and hunting.  It is a jumping off point for the ski areas farther north.  Schat’s bakery is famous among U.S. 395 travelers for its German themed pastries and confections

I selected a slice of chocolate cake, and as it seemed that it might enhance the epicurean experience, I asked if they had ice cream. The gentleman assisting me, speaking with a pronounced European accent said no but informed me that they were installing a gelato machine this summer.  I left it at that and ordered a bottle of milk to accompany my cake.  Anyone who believes gelato is a reasonable substitute for ice cream demonstrates anti-American leanings. I enjoyed my cake and drove back to Lone Pine occasionally checking the rear-view mirror to see if I had picked up an FBI tail after my visit with Herr Schat.

When I returned to my motel room, I discovered another visitor dragging its belly across the carpet. This time it was a black spider, and fresh off my victory against the cricket, I felled it in one deft move.  I don’t know if it was a black widow but it sure had the body configuration.  I was not inclined to maneuver it onto its back to see if it had the red hourglass on the underside of its abdomen.  “Kill ‘em all and let God sort it out”, that’s my motto.”  The killing blow left little evidence for species identification.

That night, I awoke feeling as if something was crawling along my leg.  I jumped out of bed, turned on the light and thrashed the bed clothes.  I found no evidence of bug presence.  But as I fell into an uneasy sleep, my thoughts were that it might be time to reassess my fondness for kitsch motels and look to something of a higher standard.