Day 32 - Buffalo to Devils Tower, Wyoming - 130 Miles

We didn't have much on our plate today as we broke camp in Buffalo, Wyoming, and traveled the few blocks to the Interstate 90 on-ramp going east. Last night we had discussed taking Interstate 90 to Gillette, but we hadn't really decided on something to see there. But when we had driven the 50 odd miles to Gillete and saw a sign on the interstate for something called the, "Rockpile Museum," just the cleverness of the name captured our attention. I said to Concetta, "let's just pull in at the museum, and then consult the map and brochures to see if we want to see anything else here in Gillete."

Concetta agreed, so that's what we did. The parking lot was a tad small for a 32-foot RV, but we pulled in next to the building so we wouldn't block the entrance. Then we made sure that there was plenty of room to back up into the adjacent front yard of the nearby museum annex. Since there were no marked parking spaces in front of the annex, we figured that cars would not end up behind us and block our exit. Later, when the lot had filled and even two more RVs (smaller) had come in as well, we were still able to get out.

For a few minutes we sat at the RV banquette and poured over our literature and maps looking to see what might be interesting for us to track down in Gillete. But in the end, we decided to go with the bird in the hand, and we locked up the rig and made for the museum's front door.

Once inside, we were immediately greeted by a super friendly museum docent who explained the house protocols, the location of the various types of exhibits, and told us what we could expect to find in the annex. To my question about an entrance fee, the nice lady announced that there would be no charge as they operated solely on donations. I dropped a ten-spot in the donation box, and then Concetta and I plunged into the exhibits using the docent's proffered maps as a guide.

If you spend any time at all in museum settings you know that you encounter all levels of exhibit quality. Sometimes a museum will try to put everything they own on display, though the actual descriptions of what you are seeing may be absent or of dubious value. Sometimes there are just too many item descriptions and you grow weary of reading everything and can't retain it all anyway. At the Rockpile Museum they had hit upon a wonderful plan to have numerous small alcoves devoted to one subject and one subject only. Whether it was quilting, WWII photography, handmade saddles, or women's millinery items, there was an alcove for each one. Even more delightful, the museum staff had left plenty of floor space between the alcoves. This last is important because it allows you to rest your eyes before tackling another subject.

Something else I discovered about the Rock Pile Museum's techniques is enhanced selectivity. Since all of the alcoves were like islands in a stream, you could easily sail right on by an alcove that discussed, for instance, well-known local restaurants, past Presidents of the Lions Club, or other subjects which would interest local residents, but not you.

This technique allowed me (I had lost Concetta by then) to move through the museum more quickly by skipping things for which I had no particular interest. This technique allowed me twice as much time to focus on the things that I did find interesting. My areas of study tend to center on transportation subjects, so this morning I could be found photographing the undercarriage of a freight wagon, walking through a Burlington Northern caboose, or doing closeups of farm implements.

Concetta and I did tour some parts of the museum together. We were both fascinated by the sheepherder's wagon. Though we had seen such early camp outfits in the past, today was the first time ever we've been able to look inside such living quarters and photograph what we saw there.

We also toured the museum annex together as the interior was a reconstruction of a city street. Lining both sides of the street was a blacksmith's shop, a printing shop, a saloon, a miner's cabin, and an automobile garage. In addition, there was a beautiful Model TT truck on the street along with more examples of sheephearder abodes. All of the displays were nicely done, and we enjoyed our experience in the annex.

I should point out that the Rockpile Museum has made quite extensive use of the new museum technique of inviting patrons to "touch" or "experience" certain exhibits. As Concetta and I travel around the country, we've begun to see greater incidence of this technique as museums everywhere try to combat declining attendance. This may ultimately prove the best way to entice younger generations through the door.

With our museum experience over for the morning, we sat down to a nice lunch right there in the museum parking lot. After that, we followed the signs back to the Interstate 90 on-ramp and sailed right back onto the freeway headed still further east toward Moorcroft. At Moorcroft we hoped to gas up the rig, then head north on Route 14 until we discovered the location of the famous (or infamous) Devil's Tower.

You may remember Devil's Tower for its prominent appearance in Steven Spielberg's 1977 movie with Richard Dreyfus and Teri Garr, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Yes, that same huge hunk of black rock, more properly referred to as the solidified inner core of a long-extinct volcano. Over the eons of time, the surrounding country rock, into which the volcanic magma once intruded, has eroded away leaving only the much tougher core still standing.

Personally, I only watched "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" one time and I was never all that impressed with the whole extraterrestrials concept, nor did I ever think that a specific sojourn to this spot on the map was worth my time. But now that I'm here, my enthusiasm is mounting. I have already scored the obligatory t-shirt depicting Devil's Tower and the impossibly small of stature gray aliens. I have shot the tower from several angles today and will shoot a few more in the morning when the sun is from the east and more effectively lighting the monolith. And I've even kicked around the idea of hiking up to the base of said monolith. The latter I may have to forgo because of my knee which has been acting up for the past few days. Perhaps the knee knew about this impulse visit before I did.

However, if we can get out of camp early enough tomorrow, we might be able to drive into the National Monument, up to the tower, and return before the hoards of tourists descend on the place. I was told in confidence this happens around 11:00 a.m. Otherwise, I may have to be satisfied with my colorful t-shirt, and a handful of long-distance photographs.

But the KOA camp here just outside the National Monument gate is pretty darn nice, though somewhat expensive at over sixty dollars. I guess the tourist season must be short here in Wyoming, so those profits must be made quickly. Still, the place has lots of room between campsites, level spots, tons of tenting space, a wildlife "hay ride," acres of grass, a swimming pool, and they show "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" each and every night for those who were far too young to see it when it came out.

Though I would probably shrink from advising you to drive all the way to northern Wyoming to visit this black monolith, I WOULD advise you to come for the scenery. Concetta and I have been in awe of the beauty of the green rolling meadows between the craggy hills, the plethora of wildflowers, and the relatively vacant highways up here. So, if you have the $62.00 bucks to stay overnight, I'd certainly say go ahead and make the trip. AND, as I personally experienced, the ice cream at the trading post across the street from the KOA is pretty darn good, though refrigerated so thoroughly that the plastic spoon was hard pressed to dig into it. I persevered, however, and so should you.

And if you do make the trek to see where space aliens will someday return to indulge in more close encounters, we wish you exciting destinations and memorable travels from the Davises, the Happy Wanderers.