Bighorn Basin’s Greatest Hits

As we planned our westward exit from The Bighorn, we took a look at the travel atlas to see what was a plausible destination.  We were planning our approach into Yellowstone, and the two routes that presented were towards the western entrance via Cody (190-miles), or towards the southern entrance via Dubois (270-miles).  For reasons that completely elude us to this day, we choose the longer route that took us through some of the most unrecognizable names in Wyoming.  

We broke camp from our Bighorn boon-docking site and headed westward on 16.  The day was overcast and the temperature bottomed-out at 46F when we reached the 9,685-foot pinnacle of Powder River Pass.  The western departure from the Bighorn did not provide any driving breaks as the eastern side did with its series of descents and plateaus.  The next 10-miles of driving would be an intense 8% grade with a double-hairpin switch-back at the halfway point.  Even with the transmission in a lower gear, and Hank’s exhaust brake singing baritone all the way down the mountain; we had to make an unscheduled stop at a pull-off to let the brakes cool down.  

Beyond the double-hairpin switch-back the road began to level to a manageable grade, as we rolled through the sheer canyon walls bisected by Ten Sleep Creek.  As the towering canyon walls began to shrink in size, the horizon ahead began to open up and the moderate cliffs began to show more variety in colors.  

We continued to follow the river trail—littered with sporadically parked vehicles of fly fishermen hiking down to their favorite spots—and arrived at Ten Sleep.  Ten Sleep is a small town of less than 300 and was a Native American rest stop during travels across this region.  It derives its name from the fact that it is 10-days travel—or “10 sleeps”—from this location to Fort Laramie, Yellowstone National Park, and the Indian Agency on the Stillwater River in Montana.

The geography made a sudden change, with the rocky granite being replaced by colorful worn clayish cliffs that were very similar to those across The Badlands.  With the exception of a large mountain range to our east, we could’ve easily mistaken this area for The Badlands.  This stretch of colorful pastel land continued for several miles until we crossed Big Cottonwood Creek—and suddenly it was like watching The Wizard of Oz backwards.  The pastel colors changes to dull beige with an erratic pattern of sage across the ever-flattening hills.  The horizon became increasingly large, with the largest natural shadow coming from solitary cedars making infrequent cameos.  The predominant structures were miles of power-lines extending into the barren landscape and oil wells.  This was a dusty, deserted land that would’ve been an excellent option for filming the Mad Max trilogy.

After several miles the dusty wasteland abruptly disappeared and was replaced by lush green fields of corn and sugar beets.  We had arrived at Worland.  Worland is a town of around 5,000 who make their living off oil and sugar beets.  The Bighorn River runs to the west of Worland, and if “Egypt is the gift of the Nile,” then “Worland is gift of the Bighorn River.”  The lush greenery that extends to the municipal limits sits directly in the shade of a vast network of irrigation systems.  Without this irrigation network, Worland would look like the previous 10-miles.  Probably the most unfair feature of Worland is the weather.  The summers are hot and dry, with the average high in July of 89F (record: 107F) and the average low in January of 3F (record:-50F).  There is no month where the average temperature is between 70F-80F.  Extreme living indeed!

Unable to continue westward (as the highway abruptly became a north/south option), we merged onto Route 20 and followed the Bighorn River.  The Bighorn River is a large river that enables this region to have a sustainable agricultural presence.  The long green ribbon of cropland that borders both sides of the Bighorn River provides a contrasting reprieve from the distant arid plains where irrigation has yet to reach.

After another 30-miles of southward travel we arrived at the town of Thermopolis.  Thermopolis is home to the world’s largest mineral hot spring—and unlike other “hot spring” tourist traps—this one is 100%, absolutely free.  They even have a big city park where you can soak your bones in the natural noodle bowl.  It is such a large hot spring venue that it appears to be a type of water park when entering the city from the north. With the geothermal activity bringing steamy water to the surface, and rare dinosaur artifacts discovered nearby; this place must have been really rockin’ at one time.

The Green Belt ends and the Wind River Canyon begins

With 90-miles of travel behind us, we were ready for another drastic change in the scenery; and we got our wish.  Upon departing Thermopolis, we entered the Wind River Canyon area.  This aquatic juncture—known as “The Wedding of the Waters”—is where the Wind River becomes the Bighorn River; and it serves as the eastern border of the Arapahoe & Shoshone Reservation.  The Wind River is a fast-flowing white-water river bordered by lush vegetation and steep cliffs that wind through this very windy gorge.  The highway parallels the twisting river, and in some instances goes through the adjacent mountainside.  These cozy tunnels with arched tops and a paucity of shoulder space made everyone momentarily cringe as we squeezed Glory through these narrow and unmovable passages.  One of the most impressive sights along this route are the enormous “house-sized” boulders that sit in the middle of the Wind River.  They look completely out of place until you follow the trail of scree that follows towards a place in the mountain where a large cavity now exists.  In some of these areas you can see where the highway and adjacent railroad track have been recently repaired due to the monstrous-sized boulders bring total destruction from above.  To witness an event such as that must have been both jaw-dropping and pant-staining.

Giant boulder (just right of roadway marker) rest in the Wind River

Nervous navigation through mountain tunnels

As we followed the Wind River, we came to another abrupt geological change.  The canyon opened-up to reveal a large body of water that was surrounded by a high desert plateau that stretched into the horizon.  The large body of water—Boysen Reservoir—was the result of damming the southern end of the Wind River Canyon.  Again we were looking at relatively flat terrain speckled with sage, except now we had a 300-Million gallon pond to our west.  

We followed the arrow-straight rolling highway to the crossroads of routes 20 & 26, where sits the small town of Shoshoni.  Shoshoni warrants a dot on the map—but not a large one.  The 2010 census listed the population at 649; 45 more than the census of 1910.  It is a very old town that has not had a make-over…well…ever.  .  The summers here are hot, the winters cold, and the rain scarce.  You gotta admire the moxie of folks who live in such extreme conditions and still seem to enjoy life.  Somebody should bottle that.

Twenty two boring miles southwest of Shoshoni is the “rendezvous" city of Riverton.  I’m unclear as to why the governing body decided to describe this city of 10,000 that is equidistant from any big city as “the rendezvous city,” but it sure does sound…French.  It is a large enough city to warrant its own Walmart, and with only 12 stores in the entire state of Wyoming…I guess that says something.  We considered Riverton as a bed-down site for two reasons: it had a westward road towards Yellowstone; and we were tired of traveling.  Unfortunately it did not have any RV parks that were favorably rated, so we grabbed a bag of road food, fueled Hank, and continued towards southwest.

South of Riverton our road narrowed and changed numbers to 789.  Another Fifteen miles southwest and we had reached the “small dot” town of Hudson.  As we drove down the 4 blocks that make up the main drag, we passed Svilar’s Bar and Dining Room.  We would later find out that the best ribeye steak for miles around are served at this establishment.  Although we didn’t dine there, that claim is believable based solely upon the number of cars in the parking lot and along the street.  Apparently the entire 400-person population of Hudson was dining there that night.  Across the street from Svilar’s was the Union Bar.  I don’t pay a lot of attention to small town bars, but this one was surrounded by 6-foot chain-link fencing that was topped with razor wire.  I’m not exactly sure what goes on inside this establishment, but I'm guessing you better bring your "A-Game" when you step through that door.  Since my "A-Game" is currently in temporary storage in Victoria, Texas, we just kept driving.

It had been a most unusual travel day; a day that proved to be the most interesting driving day to date.  We started in the high mountains; traversed steep gorges; rolled through Badlands-type terrain; crossed through desolate and dusty oil country; trekked through sugar beet fields; witnessed geothermal hot springs; navigated narrow tunnels and white-water adorned with boulders; rode the high plains beside gigantic reservoirs; saw one of the dozen Walmart's in the state of Wyoming; and found a place to get a great steak and a fist-fight.  The town of Lander lie 10-miles ahead.  We found a small road-side RV park with full hook-ups and settled in.  Since we had been boon-docking for awhile, we needed to stock-up on a few things and were curious to see what hidden treasures we could find in this out-of-the-way town.

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