N. Scott Momaday wrote that the Devils Tower "engenders an awful quiet." At 5,112 feet high, the granite monolith is sacred ground for many American Indian tribes. President Theodore Roosevelt recognized the geologic importance of it when he declared the tower and surrounding area as the first national monument in 1906.
Andy and I walked the 1.3-mile Tower Trail and the 2.8-mile Red Beds Trail, circling the monolith twice. We read about the six-sided columns that make up the tower as being the most stable geologic formation and how the tower has the tallest and widest columns anywhere in the world.
"I think I understand what Momaday meant," I told Andy. "It's like Mother Earth reaching up to connect with the sky. The awesome size is almost saying, 'I'll survive no matter what.' It's almost thumbing its nose at the world."
We watched two climbers free climb a few hundred feet from the top, using the crevices to inch themselves upwards. The quiet was inspiring.
Friday is Field Trip Day. Three school bus loads of kids pulled up as we finished the first hike. The teenagers were probably on a geology study, but we didn't wait around to find out. We liked that "awful quiet."
"We're in sagebrush country," Andy announced as Little Red cruised along I-90 west of Gillette, Wyoming. By evening we had covered 3,783 miles--11 states in 25 days.
As we crossed Crazy Woman Creek and looked out on the horizon, the Big Horn Mountains loomed ahead--a long black silhouette lined by heavy grey clouds.
"It could be snowing there," said Andy. "They are high enough."
"Do you really think so?" I asked. Even though it was brisk at the Tower and sprinkles threatened all day, I don't think it dropped below the mid-60's. My geography kicked in. "I guess it would explain why it has been getting more and more arid though," I reasoned.
By the time we reached Buffalo, Wyoming, the temperature had dropped to 51 degrees.
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