Day Twenty-Three Recap

“As long as you have certain desires about how it ought to be, you can’t see how it is.” ~Ram Dass

We left the trailer at the campsite and headed out to Medicine Lodge Archaeological Site. The day was gorgeous and warm but not too warm and the drive only took about an hour. Medicine Lodge had been on our list to camp, but we’d had to scrap it as an overnight spot when we had those brake issues. Fortunately, it worked out as a day trip and we viewed some incredible petroglyphs (some incised art carved into the wall of rock, and some “pecked” art—which is like 3-D pointillism that gives texture and shows the animal or human en toto). There were also pictographs (painted art, though very faded) on the rock walls of the canyon. It was awe inspiring to see such ancient art, the earliest of which dates to 2,500 years ago.

While Len did some fly fishing for trout up Medicine Lodge Creek (he was itching to fish), I studied the rock art and walked the nature trail and even headed out a lonely hunting trail for about ¾ of a mile before it dawned on me that I was all alone below huge rock ledges and formations that would be the perfect den and/or hiding place for a mountain lion, which I knew they had in the area. As an individual hiker, I realized I probably looked more tasty than threatening, so I turned around and walked back to the more populated areas.

Len had taken a radio and we’d agreed to check in at noon so I radioed him and he said he was having a great fishing day. I could hear the excitement in his voice (a beautiful sound) so we both agreed he should keep fishing and an hour later when we checked back, he was ready to come in so I met him walking back down Medicine Lodge Creek. He had caught a bunch of fish and kept two good-sized ones that measured just under the 16-inch upper size limit. We’ll cook them for tomorrow night’s dinner at our remote campsite on Prune Creek.

We enjoyed a very delicious dinner in an old Speakeasy in the basement of the historic Hotel Greybull where decorations were period specific. Len especially enjoyed the salt and pepper shakers (many mismatched) on all the tables. I think a little Marie Pratt was showing through.

And your random image of the day was taken from inside the visitor’s center, which was just an old log cabin with some info inside—arrowheads and grinding stones and the like—but no people, just this bored and lonely horse at the window, looking in.

Next up: Two days at Prune Creek with zero Internet, so don’t expect to hear anything from me, Mom.