After returning our bikes in Palisade, we headed out the northwest corner of Colorado en route to Dinosaur National Monument.
That was a pretty neat spot. A hundred years or so ago, an archaeologist discovered a wealth of dinosaur bones buried in the desert. There are all kinds. The belief is that there was a big flood which washed a bunch of dinosaurs down into a basin, where they all drowned and their bones were buried.
There is now a building built right over the spot, and you can go into the lovely and temperate conditioned air and stand in awe of the variety of fossils arrayed before you. When we were there, there was even someone up on the wall with something that appeared to be scientific equipment, a pad, and a pencil. Whether she was doing anything or whether it was for show I will never know. But I like the idea that there is still active scientific research happening on that very spot.
From there we attempted to visit the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge in southwestern Wyoming. To get there, we drove north out of Utah, through the Flaming Gorge Reservoir and the Ashley National Forest. It was a beautiful drive. I love that part of the country.
Unfortunately though, mosquitoes love me, and they were EVERYWHERE when we got to Seedskadee. We hopped out to see if the visitor's center was still open (it wasn't), and we were immediately swarmed. You couldn't swat a hand at your leg without killing a half dozen of them. We ran for the refuge the truck and killed all the mosquitoes we could catch who managed to sneak in behind us.
Then, as we were quiet listening for more buzzing, we heard what sounded like raindrops. But it wasn't raining - so what was that?
It was the crazy kamikaze mosquitoes dive-bombing the windows and the windshield trying to make dinner out of us! Gravel flew behind us as we high-tailed it out of there.
That left us with an important question to answer though: where would we sleep? It had been a long day of driving, and there isn't much around in that corner of Wyoming. Our plan the following day had been to head west towards Salt Lake City. Our present options were to backtrack southeast towards the interstate, or to head southwest on a smaller road to a town called Granger. Heading westerly was in line with our plan, so that's what we decided to do.
Now, on the way up the road to Seekskadee, we kept seeing signs for a mysterious company. For the purposes of my computer's safety and hopefully not being hacked, I'll call it Cyberdyne. There were signs all the way up the road, every mile or so, that said "Cyberdyne" and often nothing else. Obviously this was a thing, but we didn't know exactly what. It was a weird mystery.
We Google-mapped our directions to Granger, which routed us on a gravel road for 8.8 miles, whereupon we made a left onto the road into town. As we turned onto the gravel road, there were more Cyberdyne signs, but this time with added language: "PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 9 MILES." Okay Cyberdyne, sure, it's your road. But we're turning in 8.8 miles, so no biggie.
There isn't much in this part of Wyoming. There are some rolling hills, but you're not in the big mountains.
PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 6 MILES
We're cruising slowly down this gravel road in what is now pitch darkness, no light from anything but the truck headlights. We're trying to puzzle out exactly where on the map we are.
PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 2 MILES
Then, as we crest a small hill, we see Cyberdyne. It was a monstrous industrial development looming in front of us. Blinding spotlights looked for anyone who shouldn't be approaching, and smokestacks reached for the stars. It was a hulking beast. Scary music came from somewhere, possibly inside my own head.
Remember that road we were supposed to turn on to get to Granger? Turns out that was also a private road owned by Cyberdyne. So, fearing for our lives and brain waves, we donned our tin foil hats and headed back down the 8.8 miles of gravel looking for a place to camp.
It was late. We were tired. It was getting windy, which makes driving on the open road difficult in a vehicle that big. As S drove, I puzzled my way through the history of land grants along the western railroads. Here's what I learned: as a way to promote the building of quality infrastructure, the federal government, which still owned much of the western land, gave away every other square mile to a private railroad company or developer. This created a checkerboard pattern that extends for several miles on either side of the subject railway, with alternating private and public ownership. Much of the land retained by the government was later given away in an effort to draw homesteaders west.
The problem this created for us at 10:00 on a Tuesday night was that we were looking for a place to camp, and sure as hell didn't want it to be on Cyberdyne's private property. There are no markers along the road, though. "Entering public lands," "entering private property." Wouldn't those signs be nice? Yeah, but they don't exist. Instead, I was looking for a sharp bend in the road or a dry creek crossing that might indicate our exact location along the 8.8-mile stretch, so I could then determine with certainty whether we were on public or private land.
(I would just like to give a shout-out here to the Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer series -- great map books!)
Eventually we found a small offshoot road that went up a steep hill in one of the public land square miles. On top of the hill were two large gravel piles, and we parked between them. We had a pretty good lookout, but were also tucked in and hidden between the gravel piles. We felt good about that.
Finally, sleep....
That left us with an important question to answer though: where would we sleep? It had been a long day of driving, and there isn't much around in that corner of Wyoming. Our plan the following day had been to head west towards Salt Lake City. Our present options were to backtrack southeast towards the interstate, or to head southwest on a smaller road to a town called Granger. Heading westerly was in line with our plan, so that's what we decided to do.
Now, on the way up the road to Seekskadee, we kept seeing signs for a mysterious company. For the purposes of my computer's safety and hopefully not being hacked, I'll call it Cyberdyne. There were signs all the way up the road, every mile or so, that said "Cyberdyne" and often nothing else. Obviously this was a thing, but we didn't know exactly what. It was a weird mystery.
We Google-mapped our directions to Granger, which routed us on a gravel road for 8.8 miles, whereupon we made a left onto the road into town. As we turned onto the gravel road, there were more Cyberdyne signs, but this time with added language: "PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 9 MILES." Okay Cyberdyne, sure, it's your road. But we're turning in 8.8 miles, so no biggie.
There isn't much in this part of Wyoming. There are some rolling hills, but you're not in the big mountains.
PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 6 MILES
We're cruising slowly down this gravel road in what is now pitch darkness, no light from anything but the truck headlights. We're trying to puzzle out exactly where on the map we are.
PRIVATE ROAD BEGINS IN 2 MILES
Then, as we crest a small hill, we see Cyberdyne. It was a monstrous industrial development looming in front of us. Blinding spotlights looked for anyone who shouldn't be approaching, and smokestacks reached for the stars. It was a hulking beast. Scary music came from somewhere, possibly inside my own head.
Remember that road we were supposed to turn on to get to Granger? Turns out that was also a private road owned by Cyberdyne. So, fearing for our lives and brain waves, we donned our tin foil hats and headed back down the 8.8 miles of gravel looking for a place to camp.
It was late. We were tired. It was getting windy, which makes driving on the open road difficult in a vehicle that big. As S drove, I puzzled my way through the history of land grants along the western railroads. Here's what I learned: as a way to promote the building of quality infrastructure, the federal government, which still owned much of the western land, gave away every other square mile to a private railroad company or developer. This created a checkerboard pattern that extends for several miles on either side of the subject railway, with alternating private and public ownership. Much of the land retained by the government was later given away in an effort to draw homesteaders west.
The problem this created for us at 10:00 on a Tuesday night was that we were looking for a place to camp, and sure as hell didn't want it to be on Cyberdyne's private property. There are no markers along the road, though. "Entering public lands," "entering private property." Wouldn't those signs be nice? Yeah, but they don't exist. Instead, I was looking for a sharp bend in the road or a dry creek crossing that might indicate our exact location along the 8.8-mile stretch, so I could then determine with certainty whether we were on public or private land.
(I would just like to give a shout-out here to the Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer series -- great map books!)
Eventually we found a small offshoot road that went up a steep hill in one of the public land square miles. On top of the hill were two large gravel piles, and we parked between them. We had a pretty good lookout, but were also tucked in and hidden between the gravel piles. We felt good about that.
Finally, sleep....
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