After leaving Rattlesnake Canyon at Pass Creek Station, the trail headed off across the beginnings of desert country. After a stretch of alkali dust came the oasis at the dreaded crossing of the North Platte, then the desolate lands subject to some of the worst Indian danger of the entire Wyoming portion of the trail - this "Central Route" being selected as less susceptible to Indian attack than the original route over South Pass to the north. The stations from Sage Creek west of the North Platte to Bridger Pass Station were often abandoned due to Indian raids; cavalry escorts from Fort Halleck in the east and Fort Bridger in the west were common along this stretch.
When not under danger from Indian attack or bandits, there was always the boredom of long stretches of rough, waterless, unchanging desert landscape to occupy oneself.
Coming up next: Bridger Pass Station to Duck Lake Station
Think cold. Think some more cold. It was even colder than that.
Must have been Christmas/New Years. I forget which way I was headed: east for Christmas, west coming home. I'll guess I was heading home.
I've been stranded more times in Kansas due to blizzards than any place in all my years in the mountains - not even while I lived in Montana; this was just another occasion. At least it wasn't Salina this time ...
Coming across US34, I got past Phillipsburg in a near-blizzard but hit the storm head-on along about St Francis near the Colorado border. Had followed a snowplow to the state line but that's where they turned around and where I discovered Colorado wasn't even bothering. Snow was above the truck door in places. The Kansas fellows told me they were giving up as well and best advice was to head south on KS27 to Goodland; they had just cleared it - I'd better get on down that way before the road closed again. I-70 runs past Goodland and I'd be able to find a place to crash where I wouldn't be stranded in the middle of nowhere for a few days if I couldn't go on.
I-70 was shut down. Not really a surprise - I've discovered that on occasion the interstates shut down before the local highways ... which may have been the reason I was on 34 instead of 70. Or maybe because I prefer 34 to 70 - I don't recall now.
I don't go out that time of year without being prepared to get stranded - sometime I may tell of the time I was caught between two major avalanches - so I spent the night in the truck. No point looking for a motel; travellers on I-70 had sucked up what was available and "The highway is closed" prices were in effect.
It was >cold< out. Sleep was intermittent; run the engine long enough to get the cab warm - and prevent the radiator from freezing. Windows cracked a bit; the cab cooled off quick. Re-start the engine. Repeat as necessary. Probably every 15 minutes to half-hour.
Anti-freeze to 20 below is not much good when it gets far below that. 35 below is what I later heard. Cardboard on the radiator time.
I have this thing for trains. Unreasonable, unexplainable, but there it is.
So along about not-quite dawn - gave up on sleep, better to have the engine running and wheels turning anyway - I wandered around the RR yard in Goodland and vicinity waiting for the gates on I-70 to be opened. The storm has passed, the temperatures dropped, and it was looking to be a glorious sunny day (and it turned out to be).
The RR left the engines running all night. Wonder why? ...
Someplace in the vicinity, I took this photo. I look at it now - maybe 30 years later - and I still feel the cold. Maybe that's just me and my memories. That stillness of bitter cold, freeze your lungs cold, squeaky snow like fingernails-on-a-blackboard cold, what-the-hell-are-you-doing-out-in-this cold. And I'm out and about taking photos instead of in some warm local breakfast joint, stuffing myself with coffee, eggs, bacon, biscuits-and-gravy.
So this being the first of March, expecting unseasonable temperatures of near 60 today here in the Idaho foothills, and winter perhaps almost over - not that it really got started this year other than a week of pogonip in December and a few inches snow for the week after Groundhog Day - I though it was time to share this picture of what I didn't experience this year.
I enjoy the memory; I don't need to enjoy the experience anymore.
