Hot Springs

HOT SPRINGS

Hot Springs County the second county trip; Hot Springs County is located in the northern central part of the State, it is surrounded by Washakie, Fremont and Park County. It is the smallest county in size. The county is approximately 2,006 square miles 2 square miles of which is water.

June 27^th 2008

John and I had driven to Sheridan the night before so we could take our time and benefit from our second county trip. Around noon after several errands and an oil change we decided to start our trip. This trip was slightly different from Niobrara; we had several new ideas about pictures, things to collect and places to visit.
From Buffalo we headed west on Hwy 16 to Ten Sleep. The mesmerizing thing about driving through the mountains is it can never get old. Wild flowers littered the side of the road, the bright yellows, oranges, and purple made the backdrop of our drive surreal.
The steep drop of winding road headed down the mountain gave the Escalade an impressive 99.9 miles to the gallon, John asked me to take a picture of the mpg and send it to Ivan… “Tell him it’s the Mobil full synthetic oil we just had changed”.
After our short drive through of Ten Sleep we continued to head west to Worland on Hwy 16. The mountains transformed to rolling hills that eventually leveled to plains, the day remained sunny with a slight breeze, the drive couldn’t have been more ideal.
After a short stop in Worland we were back on the road this time headed South West on Hwy 20 our next stop would be our traditional county sign photo op.

Inside a few miles of the border the topography began to once again evolve. Miles from the hwy on either side of us were these vast red tinted cliffs that broke the skyline.

Continuing south on Hwy 20, we drove pass the turn off to Kirby, Gebo and Crosby. Gebo was a ghost town mentioned in several of the recent Wyoming books I purchased prior and during our trips. The book that I needed most, was accidentally left behind in the turmoil of our packing, this small mishap would be a great excuse for John to continually taunt me for the duration of our expedition.Almost as a gate to Thermopolis an enormous red dirt hill with the white words that stated “Worlds Largest Mineral Hot Spring” and an arrow pointing down towards the pools, welcomed motorist to the town. The distinctive sulfur smell was only faint at this point nothing like it would be when we would actually tour the park.

Our first stop would be the courthouse, as with any county we had visited or would visit on this trip, this was our first tradition. For this small town of 3,100 their court house was exceptional, the square four story sandstone and limestone building was built in 1938 and completed in 1939. Between the first and second floor windows were the Ten Commandments, justice and peace symbols etched into granite square. The front lawn of the court house was awe-inspiring, a four-foot granite slab of the ten commandments was positioned next to an seven foot by thee foot war memorial to all the veterans in hot springs county. The words “For God and County – Hot Spring Chapter” along with the names of all who severed were etched into the front and along the sides of the stone. Both John and I felt the same deep felt appreciation for small communities like this one, this type of thing makes us both feel a strong sense of pride to live in Wyoming. This courthouse unlike the one in Niobrara had a display of the County Plates, we introduced ourselves to the three women working in the treasures office, and gave a short explanation of our trips. They allowed John to come around the counter and take a close-up picture of their license plate display.
Across the street was the post office and it too was superbly built, however the stone was not the sandstone white, it was the same color as the hills that surrounded Thermopolis.
Our second stop was the chamber of commerce, we were both hoping to find another “Whiney” who could give us their own count of the town history. Instead there was a pleasant younger woman, John nick-named “Blew-Eyes”. (Blew eyes according to John… One blew left the other blew right, the colorful way of saying cross-eyed), we thanked her and headed outside. The building was located next to a small covered wagon with “Welcome to Thermopolis” painted on the side and a large mineral dome.
A little after our photos were taken we headed back into town to check into our hotel and get started on our town tour. The Roundtop Motel had one room cabins, complete with kitchenette, 12” television and a 1960’s Serta Mattress most likely purchased from a local garage sale. John hauled the luggage in, and I took Cash for a brisk walk around the block, after the new smells were covered with Casho-smells we loaded back up and drove downtown.

Thermopolis has two main roads in their downtown area which is separated by partition, a large bronze cowboy statue is situated in the central part of the median. Below him are brands of all the local ranchers in Hot Springs County.

We choose a shaded area to park the Escalade so Cash would catch a small break from the sun.
The first store we ventured into was Storytellers a small locally owned bookstore/coffee shop. The amazing thing about local shops in small town Wyoming is how welcomed they make you feel.
After purchasing some more Wyoming history books, and two chilled coffee drinks we continued our window shopping, until we came across Broadway Bygones. The simple fact that there were three sample plates displayed in the window was a great indication John and I were meant to explore this place.
On one side of the store there were manikins in wedding dresses, early 1900’s furniture, rows of antique china, silverware and Wyoming memorabilia dating back to the late 1800’s. The other side of the store was completely filled with Timber Jack Joe’s belongings. Timber Jack Joe was a Wyoming Icon, fundamentally the last true Mountain Man. Ironically enough he was born and Raised in Gillette Wyoming.
Interestingly, I met Timber Jack Joe and Tuffy too in the Little Big Horn Days Parade in Hardin Montana many years earlier.
John was completely fascinated with his story, even more so that Timber Jack Joe’s collection of license plates was for sale. We picked out the best in the collection and purchased the Wyoming magazine that featured Timber Jack and his life story.
After the clerk filled us in on local stories of Timber Jack Joe and the significance he had on this state we thanked her and continued our downtown shopping.
Four Winds Antique store is a two story building filled with so many varieties of treasures that we had to openly ask for license plates, after we were directed to the two different areas that contained the plates, a young man approached John and began asking him a variety of questions regarding his hobby. As it turned out, he also collected Wyoming plates, rather for a different reason. He had turned them into birdhouses, dust pans, photo albums and several other household items.
Never one to stop a good plate-inspired conversation John gave him a business card and explained his purpose for the plate collection. The man was intrigued and offered to sell him a 1988 license plate index book of Hot Springs County.
Matching to every store before this one, we had a great conversation with the owner, she gave us honest advice on local restaurants and other places that we might find desired plates.
Once more we headed back to our little cabin that we would claim our temporary-home for the trip and examined our new-found riches.
The newspaper had eight garage sales listed, all of which were potential plate havens.
We decided to take the advice from all the locals we talked to and try Prospectors an Italian restaurant for dinner. The atmosphere was unlike any before the walls were covered with micro-brew signs, fishing and hunting posters. The themes ranged from small Italian villa to hunting and fishing lodge.
The advice we received was dead on, the food was phenomenal! The homemade spaghetti and meatballs John had was just as incredible as my chicken piccata. As John and I allowed our food to settle, we reflected on our day and planned our garage sale hunt for the next morning.
Unlike most Wyoming towns there were no bars in the downtown area, so we drove around town looking for something that would be considered a good watering hole.
The Flying Dutchman was just slightly out of town, and only had a few cars parked in the front. The five locals sitting at the bar all turned to look when the door chimed after we walked in. We ordered our drinks and listened to the conversation of the couple that continued after we sat down. Two drinks and half an hour later, we thanked the bar maid and went off to explore the next place.
Mac’s Bar just down the road from the Dutchman had a different parking lot, this time we had a difficult time finding a place to park.
The first moment we walked in John knew he had found his favorite Hot Springs County Bar. Ray Wylie Hubbard’s unique voice singing “Snake Farm” poured from the Jute Box, Scrubs season four was playing on the big screen above the bar, a Shiner Bock poster was advertised next to the cooler and they actually had Mike’s Hard Lime, one of the few drinks I will have more than one of.
Within an hour we were invited to play a game of darts with a couple who’s music taste could only be compared to the Great John Paul Stalick II.
The popcorn machine in the corner proved to be too tempting and I eventually gave in, even the popcorn was perfect, movie theater-style popcorn.

Karaoke started up, similar to Lusk, some patrons were easier to listen to than others. I couldn’t help but encourage John to get up there and create a new fan club. A success as always, John’s Folsom County Prison had people up on their feet dancing, clapping and singing along. The first ovation of the night, John returned to our darts game… ready to pick another song.

The closer we got to midnight the more fun we had, even if we lost every game of darts we played. A small group of young girls came in and started to play hip-hop on the once great jute box, after the second rap-crap song we agreed it was time to head back to the cabin and get some rest for tomorrow.

June 28^th 2008

Cash who had been much more rested than either of us decided that 8:00am was late enough to sleep in. We had at least two body parts that had either been completely cramped up or too stiff to move. We groaned and slowly moved around, garage sales started an hour ago and if we wanted anything good the sooner we could get to them the better. One short shower and a two block walk with the dog, we were still sore but moving at a faster pace.

I read from the paper as John drove around looking for the houses. The first was unsuccessful, undeterred we continued to our second sale. Fortunately the second stop was across the street from the quonset hut the owner of the Four Winds suggested to us a day earlier. John’s two plate success at the garage sale was followed by our discovery of what was un-officially Thermopolis largest flea-market. The two small rooms in the front of the Old Feed store had shelves upon shelves packed with antiques, collectables and every era of tools, household items, toys and collectables.
The door in the corner of the room had a promising look to a much larger room. After I made my way through the maze of shelves I discovered it wasn’t just a larger room it was easily a five thousand square foot open room literally packed with furniture, equipment and plies and piles of books, antiques, collectables, historical pieces, clothes, shoes, dishes, cookware and more. It was clear to me that it could possibly take hours to find what we were looking for. As John shuffled through the stacks of possessions, I found my way back to the front where I had asked the lady if she knew where the plates might be hiding.

She directed me back to the stack she had found earlier, and explained that this was once a feed store her husband had owned. He was as you might guess a “collector”, The feed store slowly dissolved and his new hobby, auction buyer of anything and everything started to take its place. She revealed to us that her husband became very sick and died a year earlier. She was keeping herself busy with this place and tried slowly to organize what was once her husbands greatest pastime.

The third stop was again unsuccessful, nevertheless we ended up purchasing several great 1970’s circa trucker hats for James.
Our fourth stop also a dud, but gave us a great lead. A man who had overhead us talking about plates informed us he had plates that he would sell. We agreed to meet with him an hour later and set off to find the other garage sales that again turned up nothing.
Dave Smith was a enjoyable older gentleman that turned out to be the man who donated the plates to the museum and created the display of plates for the court house we took pictures of the day before.
Overall our garage sale escapade was a success, though only one had plates we met some great people, and made a few connections.
The wax museum had overfifty life size influential, historical figures of the west, From Jim Bridger to Sacagawea. Our tour was short but educational non the less.
Hot Springs County Historical Museum was carefully displayed, with a war hero sculpture placed in front of the building to the Wyoming and American flags proudly flown from the pole. The side of the building had an eight foot rifle and a nine foot bow and arrow fastened to the outer wall.

Inside the building we chatted with curator, paid our fee and began the self-tour. The display cases were filled with archeological artifacts and dozen of pioneer-era tools. A large cherry wood bar was positioned on a large wall in the main room. The bar was the original from the Hole-In-The-Wall Saloon often visited by Butch Cassidy.Just around the corner was our jack-pot. The entire wall displaying a more than adequate run of county 15 license plates. We did our best to take pictures of what we could and finished making our way down stairs.

Half of the basement was arranged like the main floor. An impressive display of arrowheads lined three walls of one of the smaller rooms, while a large area was set up similar to an old west town. Each room had artifacts from pioneer times, ranging from barber shop, general store, bank to a dentist office. John and I agreed, this was an impressive museum for a town this size.

Across the street was the museum annex, the first building was original Padlock school, the school was in pristine condition, the inside was like stepping through time. The students desks were lined in neat rows facing the teacher’s desk, directly in front of the blackboard. Books filled the shelves that lined the room and maps covered parts of the walls. There was also an open railcar and a petroleum exhibit filled with pictures of the start of the oilfield and equipment used to produce some of the first oil in Hot Springs County.
With our new book in tow we began to drive North West on hwy 120 to Hamilton Dome, Owl Creek Oilfield. As John drove, I read him small facts on our great State, until we came across a school house that was identical to the Padlock school at the museum annex we were just in. Either of us could see a No Trespassing sign posted anywhere, so to both of us it was fair game. The small two track dirt road leading the school, clearly hadn’t been used in some time. The closer we walked up the school the more the sparrows began to pour out of every window. Seven large windows on each side of the building and two small windows on either side of the front door, this was a standard 1920’s school. The last time it was used by something other than birds had to be at least 75 years. Hamilton Dome resembled Lance creek in more ways than one, the backdrop was scattered with pump jacks, some new others old. The upper Cottonwood Creek road, led us in a loop around the abandoned buildings and more pump jacks. Back onto to Hwy 120 we headed north to Grass Creek. The pump jacks became more sporadic and the barren dirt fields slowly started to turn to a lush green. With only five hours of daylight left and four more sights to visit, we once again headed back to Thermopolis.
John and I had driven through Wind River Canyon once before last October, however the brilliant green lining the river was something we missed our first time through. The most difficult part about this canyon is the simple fact you cannot drive slow enough to take in all the beauty God stuffed into this five mile drive.
On our way back into town, John spotted a junk yard, his uncanny ability to just sense where these places are located never cease to amaze me. The further back we traveled on the dirt road, the more this place revealed. The variety of vehicles, equipment and even houses was surprising to say the least. After surveying what easily seemed like miles and miles of possible plate potentials we decided to come back the next day, and finish our town exploration before it would get dark.
Gebo was surprisingly easy to find, we drove down the paved road that was once the main road, a couple of small twists and turns led to a hill that revealed what appeared to be seven stone foundations. John and could hardly fight back the excitement, this would be the first time in our county trips that we found a true ghost town. We pulled up the historical marker that enclosed a small description and a picture of what the town use to be. The stone houses all lined the top of the hill, they were identical in proportion, the roofs and doors were missing, but the windows were pronounced.
We walked as far as we could without crossing the two wire fence that marked the line to the private property that contained these pieces of history. Further down the hill were small wooden structures that held as entry ways to the coal shaft. They had been closed off for some time, nonetheless fascinating to see.
Cash who had been leash-less and surprisingly well minded at the time took off running after a small prairie rabbit at speeds only comparable to an antelope. Both John and I yelled for him to come back. Covered in dirt and panting controllably Cash returned with a smile. Before any other small animal convinced him to turn cheetah, we loaded up and went looking for Crosby.
Crosby, sister town to Gebo also started as a coal mining town abandoned in the early 20’s, would be slightly more difficult to find. The paved road slowly faded to a two track dirt road that eventually turned into a four wheel drive only trail. We drove as far into the hills as the Escalade would allow before we gave up and headed back. John spotted what appeared to be a wooden culvert hidden below a side road. John parked the escalade directly on top, I slowly crawled out of the vehicle and worked my way down to the bottom of the ditch to get a closer look at this anomaly. The wooden culvert was shaped in an octagon and had been built with several two by fours nailed together.
With only two hours of day light remaining we found our way back to the hwy and turned off on the Kirby road. Kirby was similar to any Wyoming small town with under a hundred people. One main road that was paved, the rest were dirt roads that led to drive ways. All of the people we had talked to the day before that had suggested the Prospector, had also mentioned Butches Place. We were seated right way and immediately had service, “Our burgers are the best!” she informed us as we picked up our menus. A quick glance over the two page menu, we both agreed to order the best burgers. The patties were not only thick, they hung over the kaiser patty that it held, seasoned perfectly and garnished with everything but tomatoes (due to the Salmonella outbreak). We finished our meal, and determined that if we wanted to see Lucerene the last town of our trip we should drive over before the sun disappeared. The only evidence of a town we could find was a small wooden sign along the railroad tracks that read LUCERENE. With the exception of two ranches and a trailer the town had been all but dissolved.

Too exhasted to explore anything else, we headed back to our home away from home cabin put on some comfy clothes and relaxed for the rest of the evening.
The next morning for the first time in as long as I could remember I woke before our beautiful black lab. Slowly pulling back the covers I crawled to the edge of the bed and tip toed my way into the bathroom. With my contacts in and pony tail up, I slipped on some shorts and tennis shoes and grabbed Cash's leash. The fastest way to wake up a hyper-active dog is gently rattle a leash. With plenty of rest I decided a good long walk would be refreshing.

When we returned to the cabin John was organizing and admiring all the plates we found. "Let's go back to that Junk-yard!"