Independence Rock and Martin's Cove

 

On Monday morning we said our goodbyes to the Whartons and headed off back toward home. We knew, however, that our vacation wouldn't be complete if we didn't stop in at the two famous historic sites between Casper and Rawlins: Independence Rock and Martin's Cove. Traveling toward Rawlins you pass by Independence Rock first, so that was our first stop. The kids were so excited about climbing on the large, loaf-shaped granite monolith and, after Merritt scrambled up the side quick as a wink and I complimented him on his sure-footedness, he declared, "I climb like a mountain goat!" I can't disagree with that, he didn't slip once and showed no fear.

We enjoyed hunting around for names from the days of the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails.  Since the rock has only been a historic site since 1961 you can find names from later dates, but they aren't the interesting ones.  It really is an amazing thing is to stand at the top and look for miles in every direction and know that the scenery (minus the visitor's center and highway) is unchanged from the days that scores of pioneers, including ancestors in Chad's family and my own, stood and surveyed the same landscape.  Our feet could have stood in the same spot, we could have clambered up the same side of the rock, our hair could have been tossed by the same strength of wind.  It was a wonderful moment when we touched history.

Grant in a tree at the picnic area.

After making a few wrong choices in what direction we should go to get down off of Independence Rock, our feet were once more on level ground and we got back into the van for the short drive to Martin's Cove.  The area now has a lovely green space with picnic tables where we ate our lunch and enjoyed a respite.  It was interesting to note the changes there.  The Visitor's Center has grown marvelously since I first visited as a teenager, even since my last visit eleven years ago.  That time we actually walked out to the cove pulling a handcart.  The feeling at the cove where so many died is both somber and sacred; the sacrifice and faith of those pioneers left an indelible mark.  On our way back, Chad and I actually pulled my mother in the handcart because her hip, which at that time was soon to be replaced, was paining her badly.  This time around we did not walk out to the cove...somehow the thought of dragging four children on a five mile round trip hike didn't sound like lots of fun.  Instead we watched a video, toured the Visitor's Center, found the names of our ancestors (both Chad's and mine) who had been in the Willie Company (as well as Chad's ancestor who had been a rescuer), visited the blacksmith's shop where we received prairie diamonds, and had the kids pull a handcart along the small trail in the park located near the visitor's center.  The experience impressed the children and I look forward to when we can visit again and partake of more that Martin's Cove has to offer.

A loaded handcart in the Visitor's Center.

My family: the Gadds; Chad's family: the Dorney's.

A view of Devil's Gate.

Pulling a handcart...Merritt is doing most of the work.

Our greatest treasures; if we have them we have everything!

 We said our goodbyes to Martin's Cove and all the kindly missionaries there and set our faces firmly towards home.  We arrived on our own doorstep to find a lawn in need of mowing, a garden that had grown by leaps and bounds, and our own beds to sleep in once again.  What a great trip!