Ruby Goes to

Posted Aug 2, 2005

Part 2

It was too hot in Laramie to stay in the car while Jim got the geological survey maps, so I sat under a tree and worked on knitting the sweater vest. It was hot inside the car, too. We kept the windows open for a long time, changing over to the AC when it was just too hot; but as long as the sun was beating through the glass of our windows right onto us, the AC didn't make a big difference. I was starting to feel the altitude, but it didn't really hit me until we reached the highest point on the entire Interstate system, 8,000+ feet, a location marked by a huge bust of Lincoln.

Lincoln? What was Lincoln doing in Wyoming? Jim had already used the facilities and chatted with the staff and taken a quick tour through the museum while I was still working my reduced-oxygen-bemused way through the plaque that explained that Lincoln was behind the Union Pacific Railroad, and the railroad was instrumental in the settlement of Wyoming, and the man behind the precursor of the Interstate System had been such an admirer of Lincoln he called his continent-spanning network the Lincoln Highway.

It wasn't until I got to talking to Trice about alternatives to driving out there that I appreciated the irony. There is no passenger service by rail into Wyoming any more.

I was hungry for chocolate. It seemed to me someone, probably my friend Katherine who used to live (and hike!) in Colorado, had told me chocolate soothed altitude sickness. There were no vending machines at the rest stop, but Jim guided me through the museum, which was full of interesting info about the ecology and the railroad and contained the information that Wyoming's high plains ecosystem was home to 150 species of animals. I was impressed that 150 different sorts of critters could survive with no free water to speak of; but in absolute terms I thought it was a rather small total. I still need to check my statistics. I'm pretty sure Illinois has more than 150 species of birds.

We descended 1000 feet or so and found ourselves at a quick stop, where I was able to confirm the restorative powers of chocolate. Jim encouraged me to get a Gatorade, too, reminding me that I was sweating, even though I wasn't sticky.

We drove through an alien landscape. Unless we were descending through the tilted strata of a gorge or road cut, the high plains stretched out on either side of us, scrubby with sagebrush, graced by the occasional wildflower, ringed by distant mountains. We shook our heads, half-roasted by the sun beating through our windows, and every once in awhile one of us would burst out, "I can't believe anyone ever moved here on purpose!" We came to a stretch of roadway with some low trees and a dusting of greenery. I looked eagerly for a stream, but saw none, although a roadside marker we didn't stop to read proclaimed this to be "Ice Slough". Shortly after that the sun at last moved behind us and the AC could start to do its duty, and we stopped at another rest stop, as eager to replenish our drained water bottles as to relieve ourselves.

There was a map of the area on the rest stop wall, which explained that the pioneers had stopped at Ice Slough, dug down 18", and hacked out chunks of ice to drop in their water barrels and enjoyed ice water for a day on their long trek across Wyoming into Oregon. So we'd been traveling on the Oregon Trail, I thought to myself, a little groggy from the heat and the vibration of the car, a headache coming on, moving slowly from the altitude. I tried to imagine myself back then, in a slat bonnet and ankle length calico dress, to envision a time of no air conditioning, of foot travel and horsepower and oxpower, when Wyoming was an ordeal to be begun in early July if you were get to where you were going before winter overtook you. I shuddered, and muttered to Jim, "I can't believe anyone moved here on purpose!" Isn't it wonderful how travel broadens one?

"You know why they call them settlers?"

I couldn't quite remember the answer. "Why?"

"Because they went as far as they could, and then settled for that!"

We rolled down Riverton's main street around supper time, looking for North 3rd East (I'm not making that up). By then, my stomach was queasy and my head hurt too badly for me to be much help navigating. The problem is, N 3rd E doesn't quite make it to Main St, so you have to navigate around a few undivided blocks between 2nd and 5th, if memory serves. Anyway, Jim rose to the challenge, and I dreamed of a sinking into a tub half full of lukewarm water and filling it up with nice cool water to cool down, and then of tumbling between cool sheets.

We pulled up to their driveway, and Jim opened the gate for me. Mike and Trice and Sam were sitting out back waiting for us, and as I stepped through the gate their two little dogs set themselves firmly on all fours and greeted me with frenzied yapping. I'd forgotten about Demi, a slender, short haired, spotted terrier who hadn't grown any more sedate in the five or six years since I'd seen her. The new dog was a fluffy little lapdog puppy.

My first impulse was to get back in the car, start crying, and hope Jim would turn around and take me back to Carbondale. But I shook it rapidly. The din increased for a few minutes as the humans castigated the barking dogs, and then the critters settled slowly down. "Got any aspirin?" I asked weakly, and Trice hugged me and whisked me off for the grand tour while Mike fired up the grill.

Jim had brought Mike's son Sam a copy of Civilization, (which I, in my sweet, wifely way, call the Game from Hell out of jealousy.) I occupied myself before dinner helping them get it installed, and hanging out on the back patio, astonished and grateful that it was actually cooling off as the sun sank toward the horizon.

My stomach felt a little better after I'd wrapped myself around a steak, and the food and the aspirin were calming my headache. I still felt, not dizzy, but as if, if I made any sudden moves, I'd become dizzy. I didn't have the gumption for a shower or bath, so after dinner I excused myself and trundled off to try out the cozy bed, wondering if I'd be up to the challenges of sightseeing, wondering if I shouldn't have stayed at home and let Jim come by himself.

I was so tired, I couldn't have slept any sounder if I could have come back and told myself that the worst was already over.

By Ruby Jung, even the background. All rights reserved to the story. If you care for the background, you're welcome to copy and use it.