The Flamin’ Gorgeous Flaming Gorge

We had two days left in Wyoming before heading into a brand-new state for Simon, and we were determined to end our time in the state of never-ending surprises on a high note. Little did we know how high we’d get!

Not THAT kind of high; this isn’t Colorado. But our final day’s trip did end with a long, long, drive at nearly 10,000 feet, with plenty of steep drop-offs, long ascents and descents, roads slick from the rain, and not a guardrail in sight.

Let’s forget about that part and start with the drive we took out to the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge, with its tongue-twister of a name and its wonderful visitor center. The refuge claims to have more than 300 species of birds, mammals, and fish, some of which are taxidermized and on display so you get excited about what awaits.

We saw exactly two eagles, a couple of trumpeter swans, one grouse, and a small handful of kangaroo rats (more appealingly called “gerbils” when you buy them at a pet shop). No moose, no coyote, no rabbits, no badgers, over the course of three passes along the main wildlife road (two during the day, one near dusk).

Ruthie found plenty to sniff, so she was happy.
It may have been just a bit windy.

After getting skunked (not by a skunk) during our first pass in mid-afternoon, we decided to head into Farson, where the visitor center guy told us we’d find the “best ice cream,” and a single-serving would be “enormous.”

We saw lots of wacky signs warning of local dangers, such as cows and speedy “antelope,” (which aren’t antelope at all, they’re pronghorn, but that’s an argument for another day).
Farson’s Visitor Center, right next to the only other thing in town, the Mercantile, with its big ice cream cones.

He wasn’t wrong. The place was hopping, and everyone was buying ice cream. We split a sandwich first, having skipped breakfast, and judging by the outrageous size of the ice creams we saw coming out of the building, we both opted for the Baby Scoop.

Turns out, that’s what nearly everyone else had, too.

Simon originally asked for a Single, but when the girl scooping it up started to mound a second massive scoop on top of the first massive scoop, he balked, and retreated to Baby Scoop.

Susan ate less than half of hers, Simon powered through his, and we spent a happy hour talking to the locals who joined us on the patio. One was a rancher having a treat with his grandson, and he told us all about his farm, and how he’d never been to Florida because he had no desire to “go to the other side of the world.” All the people we met were just passing through the tiny town, but insisted you “have to stop for an ice cream” when you’re here.

Our return trip to the wildlife refuge had the disadvantage of being right after a big rainstorm, and we were right in thinking we’d see less wildlife (meaning, none) because of it.

Lots and lots of looking, but not a lot of seeing.

Somewhere along the wildlife road we also missed our turn-off to the highway, and as darkness began to threaten, we had a choice to make. There had been no obvious roads turning off the wildlife road, so should we push on? Or should we go with a sure thing and make the many-miles trip back along the road we already knew would lead out of the refuge?

This is pretty much what we saw most of the way.

In this instance, we chose to backtrack, mainly because we’d passed a wreck of an RV that was camped on the side of the road, its owners were probably packing heat, and we’d be held captive if we didn’t get out before dark, since we’d been told the DNR closes the gates shortly after dusk.

The next day made up for any small disappointment we’d had, as we pointed Nippy south out of Wyoming and into the Flaming Gorge in northern Utah.

I’m a bit tired as I type this, both of us having been awake most of the night with a big thunderstorm and an antsy dog, so we’re going photo-heavy here, with captions that will do most of the work for me.

I’m putting this photo here first, and I’ll use it as a reference for how BIG the mountains we passed were, and how high the canyons walls were. This is nothing more than a large mound of rock, hardly worth noticing, but it gives you an idea of size.

On our way through Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area, we detoured down a road that led to the Sheep Creek Canyon Geological Area, a name that intrigued us, and we’re so glad it did. It turned out to be in our Top Two of astounding canyons.

It started slowly, but even so, that boulder with Nippy in front of it is about the size of a single rock at the top of this mountain.
You wouldn’t be able to see the boulder without binoculars if it were at the top of this mountain. It would just be too small.
A creek ran alongside the geological loop throughout our entire drive.
“How cool and babbling and refreshing on this hot summer’s day! Too bad I hate water so much.”
The tiny points at the top of this massive, massive mountain are enormous pine trees.
The smallest rocks sticking up at the top of this mountain – whose structure looks like it was bent in on itself – are about the size of the boulder.

We took hundreds of mountain photos, as you can imagine, but we’ll stop there. Instead, enjoy these two Bighorn Sheep, who blend into the landscape so well it was surprising we saw them at all.

This is without zooming in. You can JUST make out their white butts below the trees in the middle of the photo. That’s how hard they are to see.
This is zoomed WAY in.

We pulled off into a tent-camping area before leaving the canyon, and had the kind of lunch we were growing used to (meaning, odd). This time it was frozen carrots, cherry tomatoes, Paul Newman Italian Dressing in a packet we picked up at the lodge in Yellowstone, Triscuits, bread, and sausages.

Why? Just, why?

Finally, we reached the Red Canyon, and while we didn’t get the best light of the day, the deep red of the rock and the depth of the canyon were still incredibly impressive.

There are warnings to avoid the deep fissures all around the walkway that leads out to the overlooks.
You can just see two people on the ledge just past the small pine tree (the white dot is one person’s shirt), which gives you an idea of scale.

Our final evening in Wyoming was celebrated with a glorious, full rainbow, and some fun with a fellow camper when we noticed our shadows on the fence. Isn’t life great sometimes?

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Author: A Year on the Road

International travel writers and book authors.

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