Independence Rock, Wyoming

Independence Rock.

During a week-long BLM course in Casper, I sprinted out the door after class one afternoon to make the 50-mile drive over to Independence Rock, an important wayside for mid-19^th century pioneers on the California, Oregon and Mormon Trails.  The saying was that if you reached the rock by the 4^th of July, you stood a good chance of getting through the mountains before winter.  Travelers by the thousands stopped here for a good rest on their westward journey to a new life.  And many of them left their names carved in the rock, including perhaps, my great-great grandfather, Elisha.  The granite dome rises 130 feet and spreads across an area 300 yards wide by 600 yards long.  There are several easy places to scramble up, although one ought to take care not to forget the way down.  I wandered around the broad summit till sunset looking for my gr-gr-grandpappy, to no avail, although I’m sure we shared a very similar view of the Sweetwater and North Platte River country.  I met a number of deadends on the descent, until finally a ledge led me down to a steep slab and a patch of brush.  I scurried through to the trail, wondering how common those prairie rattlesnakes might be that I’d just read about at the trailhead.