So very Wyoming |
We set up our camp chairs in the motel courtyard, which faced the North Platte. It was so peaceful and serene. I do believe the North Platte is much prettier than the South Platte. It was the first time I’d seen that river. We drove around town (which didn’t take long), filled up on gas, and stopped at a place called Duke’s Bar & Grill for an early dinner. It was Sunday afternoon, and it looked like they roll up the sidewalks fairly early.
Well, after spending the night on what must be the most uncomfortable motel bed in all of Wyoming, we decided to get up stupid early and drive to Casper. Dave and I were tossing and turning quite a bit and around 3 am, Dave said he was thinking of taking a shower and hitting the road. We packed up, silently, and were off by 4 am to start the 2.5 hour drive to Casper. We wanted to make sure we made it all the way and were hoping to land a spot at the fairgrounds in Casper.
Venus and the red lights |
Next we went north on 487, where at last we ran into the traffic we expected, although not much. A light but steady stream of cars apparently coming from Laramie met us and we all zoomed merrily up the highway as the sky began to lighten a smidge, here and there. We made it to the fairgrounds early. As soon as the gates opened, we picked a parking spot and set up our temporary encampment, then wandered around to check out the facilities and enjoy our fellow eclipse chasers.
Our peeps for the day |
One thing that surprised me was how the colors changed all around us. The shadows were stronger, the grass seemed a deeper green, but the rest of the environment was muted and diffused, sort of an eerie silvery-gray color. We both wore black t-shirts and they weren’t even hot to the touch. The temperature dropped and the ever-present birds, hopping around looking for morsels of food dropped on the ground, all disappeared to their lofts in the trees. The crowd of people, which had previously been playing guitars, singing songs, telling stories and laughing, all grew silent. Just then, a hot air balloon, flying low, began to float over the fairgrounds. So perfect.
See the lens flare? |
Much like the first time I saw the Grand Canyon in person, I cried when it happened. I was awestruck, tears streaming down my face, and I experienced the sensation of being insignificant and interconnected, all at once. I kept saying to myself, it’s so beautiful, I can’t believe it, oh my God it’s wonderful. It really was stunning, like nothing I’ve ever seen before, almost otherworldly.
It was over much too quickly, everyone agreed. Some people left right away, ready to the hit the road. We stayed for a while longer but not until the end. One more trip to the restrooms for good measure and we headed out, hoping not too many people would be on the same road home, which I learned is called “the back way” to/from Casper. No such luck!
Hundreds of cars ahead of us as we passed a wind farm |
It took us nine hours from the time we left Casper until we made it home. Apparently we fared better than others, as I heard stories of people taking upwards of 12-14 hours to get home, presumably on I-25. And here’s a fun footnote about the folks who watched at Glendo: apparently it took 3-4 hours to get from the Glendo State Park campgrounds along the frontage road and onto I-25. Yes. Just to get from the reservoir to the highway. And you can see the reservoir from the highway. Holy cow.
I hope you can see this video by NPR:
It’s a collection of experiences across the country. I watched it this morning and cried, again, remembering an experience I will never forget.
Keep Calm and Stare at the Sun |