Colorado-Wyoming (English/Anglais)

(Version Francaise)
(All photos are clickable to view larger)


I flew out of Orlando to Denver, on June 5, 2012. I was nervous; nervous to fly as usual.
The first rough spot was going through security. I had to put the backpack with the ashes on the conveyor belt and that was just too much to bear. I tried to tell the agents what was in it before they asked, but they were busy talking so they asked me what was in the bag; I couldn’t talk as I was crying, so I handed the TSA agent the envelope I was supposed to show them, which said “Cremated remains of Christine Bornert”. I had been thinking about the last time we had flown together and I had concluded that it was when we moved to the States, 11 years ago. This was not how we ever traveled.
The flight was pretty uneventful. After over 3 hours of flying, I saw the Rockies take shape on the horizon, a large, dark mass of mountains, far in the haze, but definitely there; a bit less impressive from above.

I waited forever in line at Budget to get my rental car –a Ford Focus. But finally, around 1 or 2 PM, I took the road towards Longmont, our old digs. The GPS took me off I-25 at 119, the southern side of Longmont. I went up Main Street and to Baker Street, where our old apartment still is.

Then I looked for lunch and ended up buying a sandwich at Safeway on Hover, close to road 66, which I then took towards Lyons. Road 66 ends at 36, which goes up a canyon towards Estes Park. In between Lyons and Estes Park, is a small mountain community -Pinewood Springs- where my mom used to live with her husband. I stopped at the 1^st house they lived in, which is visible from the road. It had been repainted beige –instead of red. The sight of it was also too much to hold tears, it really hit me hard.

I then took the driveway towards the 2^nd house they had, and for some reason it wasn’t as emotional. I probably had gotten it all out at the 1^st one. The house is further from the road, deeper in the hill. It hadn’t changed from what I could see. There was a new house next to it, which I remember being talked about, years ago when they had purchased their home; the old owner also owned the lot next to it and had planned this new house. A cute dog came up to me and I petted him. I wondered if he was Max’s replacement, but I don’t think he was. Max was my mom’s husband’s dog and they had fallen in love with each other.

I turned around and continued on to Estes Park. I only stopped there to set the GPS towards Loveland and Caprissa’s place and to call her, but she beat me to it. The weather was stormy, but the sun was out. I got some rain in the canyon. I cried a lot during that drive down the other canyon, on road 34. That blast from the past drive had moved me quite a bit.
I arrived at Caprissa’s just on time to view Venus’s transit across the sun, around 4:00 PM. Her landlord Bob is a big astrono my buff and had his telescope set up for the event. He had invited neighbors to a viewing party and I got to see it and even take a picture of it through the telescope. It was really an awesome sight.

Caprissa took me to her quarters downstairs and showed me my room. It had a nice mountain poster on the basement window well, so I had a room with a view!

I gave her mom’s wooden horse, that she had had since I can remember. I do not remember where it came from, just that it had always been there.

We had dinner –fruits and snacks- and talked for a while before going for a walk, around the lakes of the area.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

I woke up early because of the time difference. I got ready before Caprissa got up and saw her before I set off. She told me an interesting bear story of hers… She’s hilarious.

It was a beautiful, clear morning, with temperatures in the mid-60’s. I left at around 7 AM, towards Cheyenne, on I-25.

I stopped at the Wyoming border to take a picture of the sign. Mom was home.

I got on I-80 towards Laramie, and avoided Cheyenne: I knew I would be back. I did stop at a Visitor’s center to get a brochure of the Snowy Range, since it was the goal of my trip.

I stopped on the highway to photograph the lone pine tree, which I didn’t remember from our prior travels. I saw the Vedauwoo area, a bunch of rock formations where Blake took us the year we met him in Cheyenne.

"There aren't a lot of trees in southeastern Wyoming, and there were probably even less when the Union Pacific laid its tracks there in 1867. So when the railroad men saw a plucky little Limber Pine that seemed to be growing out of a granite boulder, they actually jogged the railroad sideways to preserve it. They called it "Tree in the Rock" and the name stuck, even though when you visit the tree it looks to be growing from a dirt-filled depression between several big rocks.

The railroad was eventually moved south, and the old road bed past Tree in the Rock was used as a wagon trail, then as the Lincoln Highway, and now as Interstate 80. The freeway splits around the tree, which has its own little parking area in the median and a spiky fence to protect it. It's called simply "Tree Rock" by its unromantic modern sign, which notes that "Limber Pines can live as long as 2000 years."

I went into Laramie to get a Subway sub to go for lunch. The GPS took me into town which was nice. It seemed like a nice place. Then I was off to Highway 130, towards Centennial. The road to Centennial is very bare, all prairie on either side, with herds of horses, cattle and a few antelopes. So good to see them!

Centennial is right at the foot of the mountains, at 8,074 ft (2,461 m) and the road starts going up from there. It goes up to about 10,800 ft, at Libby Flats Observation point.

From http://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/mbr/about-forest/about-area/?cid=STELPRDB5126870 : “The mountain ranges of Colorado can be seen from the Libby Flats Observation Point. At Snowy Range Pass, nearby Medicine Bow Peak, at 12,013 feet, towers over the byway. Travelers are close enough to the peak to explore the glistening year-round snowfields. It is easy to see how this part of the mountain range got its name.”

I stopped there and went to the actual observation point. The view was breathtaking. It was pretty windy and cold; it must have been around 10:30 AM. There were only two other people there, a couple. The weather was clear and I could see the far away ranges, to the South and West.

I kept going on the road, which took me closer to the big peaks and the lakes (Mirror Lake and Lake Marie). I was going downhill now, and after re-entering the forest, I deciding the turn around as I was past the good spots. I took Forest Road 200, a dirt road that went deep behind the peaks. It looked nice, but this wasn’t it. It had to be a bit more spectacular. I turned around and got back on the main road then stopped to eat my sub at Lake Marie West parking lot. This wasn’t it either: the terrain was too rocky and too exposed. Plus it was slightly busier, even though most people were probably hiking up –I saw a few cars, no people. I went to Lake Marie East anyways and even started going with the backpack but turned around. No, this wasn’t it.

I stopped again at the next parking spot. There was a little trail to an old miner’s cabin –at Medicine Bow Peak Overlook, but this still wasn’t it. I ended up where I started, at the Libby Flats Observation Point. There were beautiful mountain flowers on the ground, growing small but intense.

From http://www.goin2wyo.com/POI/srsb_2.html : “The Libby Flats Observation Point and Medicine Bow Peak Overlook are located at the highest point on the Snowy Range Scenic Byway at 10,847 ft. The mountain ranges of Colorado, the Sierra Madre Range and the Continental Divide can be seen from the Libby Flats Observation Point. "Tree islands" or krummholz are unique to this area. High winds and harsh conditions stunt the growth of these trees, leaving branches to form only on the leeward side.”

I took the little trail that looped around and went off of it, because even if there was very few people, I wanted to be completely alone and not visible from the road or the view point. I didn’t go very far, but enough trees and rocks were hiding my presence so I stopped when I found this big rock:

This was the place.

I set up the camera and got the balloon out first. She had blown a few for the kids shortly before her passing and I had kept two of them, with this day in mind. The flight really took out a lot of air. One of the two I had brought was completely empty and the second one had but one breath in it, but it was enough for the purpose I intended, which was for her last breath to be released in her beloved Wyoming.

Next, I got the buffalo hide out. She had picked it up in Yellowstone, on our very first trip, in 1996. I lay it next to the rock and then got her ashes, in the temporary urn, with a dove on it. I started spreading them, kind of under the rock but the wind took some. There was a lot and it was a bit stuck. I saved some for myself and to maybe leave some at Frontier Park in Cheyenne. I tucked the buffalo hair further into the bushes that grew under the rock, small thorny bushes and figured it would stay there unless some animal dragged it out.

 

When I was finished with the ashes, I read the poem I wrote a few months ago, first in English then in French. I wrote it in English first, so maybe that is why I got more emotional with that version.

I noted the coordinates the GPS gave me, but when I looked them up online later, they appeared to be wrong; too far south. I know where I left her remains.

I turned to talk to her, but instead said “No, you’re not there.” I do not believe she saw me; I believe she is asleep until Jesus returns. Maybe she will know of this trip one day. I did it for her memory, for her family and friends, and also mostly for me. I needed this journey.

I left probably shortly after 1 PM, back the way I came from. I had places to hit in Cheyenne and I was meeting Ginny and Layne around 4 PM.

In Cheyenne, my first stop was at the Pastor and his family’s house, who had hosted us for several Frontier Days. I didn’t seem to have changed much, except for the color (and according to Karyl, a new concrete wall outside).

2012

1997

After calling Layne and arranging to meet at 4:30 PM, I took Yellowstone road towards the Frontier Days Park, and saw ‘our’ Pizza Hut.

Got to the Frontier Days and parked at the headquarters, by the bronze status of Lane Frost and another cowboy that I don’t remember. I walked towards the arena and got in through the back. It was open so I went in. I started crying, seeing it for the 1^st time in years, all empty and full of weeds. A truck drove by and after it was gone I stepped in onto the outside track, where the wagon races used to take place (I don’t know if they have them anymore). I walked behind the East stand. It looked like a ghost town. All windows to the food concessions were boarded up, and the pens were full of weeds. I guess they only clean it up for the Frontier Days. The fenced up area by the chutes where cowboys get ready, which I know to be so noisy and full of leather, was empty and quiet.

Past it, towards the south, I saw an open gate to the arena and since no one seemed to be around –except a man in a bucket up on the B stand- I reached into my fanny pack to get a handful of ashes and walked in. I ended up behind a white wooden fence and crouched there to leave the ashes there. I could have walked into the arena, but didn’t want to be noticed and I figured it would be a little less disturbed there. I mixed it in with the dirt and took a picture.

I walked around some more and tried to get to the other side, but the underground tunnel was shut so I headed back to the car.

I went downtown and ‘over the bridge’ to get gas. ‘Over the bridge’ is where ‘our’ cowboy bar is, the one Dave had recommended us and that the pastor’s family was worried about; I guess this is not a very good part of Cheyenne, but during the Frontier Days it’s not noticeable. I didn’t go that far, I didn’t feel like it and my time was running out.

I headed back to town and the Emporium. I parked and walked there. I don’t know why I didn’t take a picture, I was too eager to get in and get my hug from Ginny! I broke down a bit, I thought I was down crying… so good to see her. Her daughter Layne, whom I had never met, pulled up and came in and also gave me a big hug. I hugged Melinda too –never knew her name until then, but remembered her face. Layne got her camera out and filmed our conversation. We talked about our story, their story. It was nice reminiscing and honoring the memory of my mom and Dave, who passed away last August at age 82. Dave had always been our Cheyenne connection ever since the first time we met him, outside the store, peddling souvenirs. Such a character!

Ginny and Layne took me to Little America, a resort and restaurant down the road, not far from I-25. The atmosphere was very nice, a little on the luxury side, quiet and inviting, in beautiful red tones. We got seated by a window with natural light to flood our table. We talked and ate. I had a Cheyenne burger, because I was in Cheyenne after all.

Before I left, Layne took me to the gift shop, and her and Ginny each picked a little token with a design and a word: Ginny got Friends, and Layne got Believe, because that is what her Dad always told her. She told me they only do that for family –the tokens are a family tradition of theirs. Ginny was not satisfied with “friends”, I don’t know what she had in mind, but she said it was all she could find.

We hugged again before I left for Colorado. A storm of hail was coming that night, and one was also pounding the Denver area.

Ginny

In the store, The Emporium in Cheyenne. Layne, Ginny and me.

1997, The Emporium with Dave.

I got to Caprissa’s at 8 PM. I found her later outside –I hadn’t noticed her when I came in. We talked, I told her about my day and showed her my pictures.

I don’t think this trip brought any healing per se, but it was a very positive experience and my God was there with me every step of the way, every tear shed, every little breaking of my heart; He holds me together, every minute of every day. The pain I feel is very deep, but I have this Rock in Him, this comfort, and this hope.

I took with me a very important thing Caprissa said to me also: we shouldn’t identify ourselves to another person or a job title, because those can be taken away. By extension, our true identity is in Christ who will never forsake us. I am so thankful for these shared moments with the people God put in my path and for the time honoring my mother in her beloved Rocky Mountains, God's very own cathedral.

I shot a few videos. The quality is not good because it was so windy (hard to hear anything I say) and the 1st one may make you motion sick, since it is taken from the car :-)

The poem I wrote and read:

In your home, there are endless prairies,

Massive buffaloes and tall mountains;

The wind blows on green grass and bald rocks,

And the air has the smell of freedom.

It’s called Wyoming, ‘large prairie place’,

For spirits bigger than the Rockies,

This vast radiant land, not of your birth,

You carried in your heart forever.

This was the place to water your soul,

Thirsting for freedom and open space,

Bucking and kicking your way through life,

Like a wild bronco no one could stop.

I wanted to say “Good ride, cowgirl,

The sweat and the tears were all worth it,

To see your face shine with pride and joy,

Your heart exploding for the Wild West.”

You were shaped with Wyoming dust

And it has called you back since your youth.

Here you are again, for good this time,

Before the Lord takes us in His Light.

Now I lay you here, where you belong,

With a Wyoming hole in my heart;

My friend, my roots, my love - My mother.

I cannot wait to see you again.