Devil’s Tower, Wyoming
(August 26)
[Note: two posts today]
Devil’s Tower is as sacred to rock climbing enthusiasts as it is to local Native American populations. Therein lies unending conflict. Within view of prayer cloths and beads dangling from the pine trees clustered at the base of the Tower, climbers etch their way up one of 240 climbing routes. At least one per day summits the 867 foot monolith.
My sympathies lie with the climbers, I’m afraid. It was exhilarating merely to watch them, their grunts echoing down to mesmerized onlookers.
But I also understand the Native American side of the story. This thing erupts out of an enormous expanse of grasslands. While rotund Prairie Dogs play within view, this formation of 4, 5, 6 and 7-sided granite columns looms and mystifies. It’s as random as a palm tree in the middle of Death Valley.
After walking and gawking around it for a couple of hours, we were on the road again. Destination: Yellowstone. But first, a monotonous trek across Wyoming.
I say monotonous, but not really. For starters, the
Bighorn Mountains divide the drive in half like the backbone of a spiny-backed spinosaurus. Our trusty, small-engine Civic chugged its way to the top of Powder River Pass (9666 ft.) with the Little-Engine-That-Could determination.
And while the terrain on either side of the Bighorn Mountains is monotonous, it is by no means boring. Undulating mounds and ravines in every shade of yellow, brown and green roll on as far as eye can see, pocked with dully colored sage brush reminiscent of basketball sized pin cushions. It is overwhelming in its immensity, if not in its vivacity.
A confession: I began this road trip expecting to be disappointed. I was convinced that I would not see anything that compared to the beauty I beheld in Africa. I am humbled as I admit that my breath has been taken away daily by the majesty and variety I’ve encountered, compliments of a Creator who did not reserve beauty for the African continent alone.
Even the South Dakota Badlands and Wyoming “semi-arid, high-alpine plateau” (as dubbed by Aaron, who also described it at one point as a gigantic abandoned gravel pit) have awed me. Although I previously disregarded them as parched, desert wasteland, their texture, extremity and ruggedness have bequiled and overwhelmed me.
May my wonder turn to worship.
- Alyssa
--i'm sorry i couldn't go. i'm also excited seeing all the pictures and reading about all of the adventures that you're both having. i must admit...i'm jealous. 
, Keefe.
