Monday, August 30, 2004
Animals, Sun and Moon
08/30/04
My little sleeping spot in the aspens near Highway 28 was quite nice. The noise from the road did not interfere with my sleep. I woke up horny as hell, but let the mood pass without action.
Since I was up early and roused with excitement about a town stop, I didn't fall back into the comfortable warmth of my bag. Then my brain started to function.
I looked at the info I had. The South Pass City Historic Center didn't open 'till 9AM. I realized I had enough time to not-hitch into Lander for some breakfast and a short list of tasks. That revelation propelled my packing even more.
The dirt road which was to eventually lead me to Highway 28 took its time in getting me there, further convincing me that I was on the wrong road. Since I knew where I was going, it didn't matter. Besides, almost immediately I saw four pronghorn antelope, a sighting worth a little extra walking.
I got to the highway and had several tasks: I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and minimized my trekking poles. I stood there a few more minutes and realized I had one more task. In the center of the highway was a freshly dead jackrabbit. I could tell it wasn't playing dead because of the evidence from the car that ran it over.
A dead rabbit near my not-hitiching spot was going to hinder my ability to get a ride. So I picked up two flat rocks, grabbed the rabbit by one of its big ears and dragged it and its dangling hind leg off to the opposite side of the road. Ugh.
Not-hitching was a total bust. I even made a sign that said Lander. There was so little traffic going my way, and half of it was semis anyway.
I did not have Jonathan's map for this area because of a series of nearly unanticipateable decisions made months apart. The information I did have was that South Pass City was .3 miles off the trail, and that Highway 28 was the way to get there. Given what I could see, I was suspicious about the .3, but had to find this place because my resupply box was there.
Nearly 5 miles later, I arrived in South Pass City, which is really an historic site, not a city. I later figured out that I should have crossed the highway and continued on the CDT to South Pass City. Not having the one map, I didn't know.
Being mapless helped me learn about the history of the area and city though. Interpretive signs informed me that South Pass City is Wyoming's second-oldest city, that it was the hub of a gold rush, and that its state representative proposed the state law that first allowed women's suffrage, making Wyoming the first state in the nation to have this distinction.
Dan was a trail angel.
Once in town, I got the batteries I needed, my package, a card from Gottago, and a chance to use the private phone. For my one phone call, I called PocketMail to send and receive email. In one of those emails, Yogi mentioned the restaurant food in Atlantic City, about a 4-mile walk, and a way to connect back to the CDT from there. I was sold.
I walked the road to Atlantic City, had a $25 lunch (patty melt with fries, large salad, O'Doul's, and fish and chips without the chips), and tied up the pay phone for more than an hour.
I got several phone messages that lifted my spirits. I have a friend who is writing a novel this summer, and he proposed the analogy between each of our tasks in such a way that made me laugh.
My walk to Sweetwater Bridge was full of interesting stuff. I saw more antelope, I scared a flock of 17 sage grouse into flight, and I saw a live rabbit, just like the one I dragged this morning. Then, in this flattening landscape, I got to walk through the exciting tension of the time between the setting of the sun and the rising of the full moon. As the sun set, my shadow grew to the length of a football field.
The moon first glowed under the horizon then rose as red as the sun setting in the tropics. I've never seen such an intense moonrise.
Now I'm camped near the Sweetwater River, basically in a pullout from the road.
Unseen birds are making calls I have not heard before, a beaver is busy in the pond it created, and the cows have finally stopped bellowing. I hope no one uses this pullout during the night. If they do, I might look like the jackrabbit this morning.
