Granddaughter Marley at the Upper Falls of the Yellowstone River

I honestly thought I’d never visit Yellowstone again, having been there at least six or seven times in my adult life, but then I never counted on grandchildren.

Marley, the only child of our daughter Elizabeth, has become somewhat of a camping and travel partner for my wife and I. At nearly seven, she loves the outdoors, sleeping in a tent or truck camper, and campfires, as long as there aren’t mosquitoes around.

It was on and off again planning a trip see our son, family and grandchildren who had just purchased a home in Morgan, Utah. Originally, gas was hovering around three dollars a gallon when talk of the trip out west was first hatched. By the time gas reached nearly five dollars a gallon, the trip was off. However, after some arm twisting by my wife Judy, I relented at the last minute and the trip was on again and my wife picked up Marley that Sunday evening.

We took off Monday afternoon and made it as far as Iowa to the world’s largest truck stop, Iowa-80, where we spent the night, The next day we drove through Iowa and Nebraska and just made it to the first rest area inside Wyoming before we called it a day. We rolled out the bed rolls in the back of the camper and that’s where we spent the second night. By 4 p.m. on Wednesday we arrived at our son’s home and spent the 4th of July weekend in Morgan, Utah.

On the way back home, I had planned to fish the “Miracle Mile”, a little stretch of trout haven in the upper Platte River north of Rawlings. Well maybe the next trip out, as plans got changed, and at 68 years old, my “maybe next trips” are getting fewer. Funny when you’re in your 30’s, 40’s and 50’s life seems infinite, but once you get past 65 you begin to realize you’ve probably got more fishing trips behind you than ahead of you.

Morgan is quaint little, all-American western town and home to the Browning Arms Company. It lays between two mountain ranges that still had snow on their peaks. From Patrick’s front porch you can view the Weber River and the mountains beyond. From the back porch the Wasatch Mountain Range is plainly visible. So far mule deer, elk, and California quail have strolled through his two acres from the western sage brush beyond his back yard. Every morning you would hear quail and the Sandhill Cranes down by the river.

We fished the Weber River, but the fishing was not good because snow melt had swollen and discolored the river. Upstream on one of the smaller tributaries called East Canyon Creek, I did manage to find a couple of brown trout that were eager to take a small caddis fly.

The towns and villages in Utah are fond of placing the towns first initial on a mountain side above town in white rock for all to see. And so it was with Morgan that had a giant white M on the mountain that could be seen from miles away.

This red, white, and blue town makes the most out of 4th of July with all-day events at the county fairgrounds, parades, fly overs, music, and contests. Perhaps the most unusual and entertaining, and judging from the crowds, quite popular, are the cardboard boat races down the Weber River. Community organizations, churches, and merchants all build floating devices made of cardboard of every design imaginable to compete in the boat races. The only rule is it must be made of cardboard and float, at least for a short while. The course is about 200 yards long down the Weber River just outside of town. Some of the better carboard boats made it all the way down, while some of the lesser built carboard boats barely made it out of the starting gate. It was spectacle to observe, and a lot of laughs perhaps only topped by the spectacular fireworks the town puts on at dusk. From the driveway at Patrick’s, the grandchildren were emersed in fireworks for nearly an hour. Even the local park just down the road had fireworks.

Sadly, the next morning we were to continue our journey as Patrick had to return to work and us back east, but in no particular hurry were we. One of the things I like about Morgan is the Green River at Flaming George Reservoir is only about three hours away, perhaps even better Yellowstone, the Tetons and Jackson Hole are only half a day’s drive north.

So, with five or six days to kill and a little granddaughter who has never seen a wild buffalo or bear, and wanted to see Old Faithful, I had to think back about 30 some years ago when her mother was her age and we took our first trip out west. At the time I had a new 1989 Ford pickup, with a four speed, dual gas tanks and a camper top. I still consider it the best truck I ever owned. Little Elizabeth, the baby of the family, sat in the front bench seat between me and her mother. The two boys, Ben and Patrick, rode in the back of the pickup with a camper shell all the way there and back. The truck had a sliding back glass which made possible the exchange of communication, cold drinks and sandwiches from the cooler. I don’t recall the two boys ever complaining the whole way there and back. We took I-90 to the Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, Devils Tower and the Big Horn Mountains, through the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway and the Beartooth Byway into Yellowstone and camped at Slough Creek campground. As a family it was really our first big adventure.

So north we turned from Morgan through the Monte Cristo Mountains toward Jackson Hole on another family adventure. We passed the Salt River Range, stopped for lunch in Afton, and after passing through Star Valley we arrived in Jackson Hole around five that evening.

We parked at the town’s public parking which is only about a block or two from the town center which as you know has four archways made entirely of elk antlers. Each arch has a matched set of moose antlers hanging below the arch with the words “JACKSON HOLE, WY”. Jackson Hole is home to the 25,000 acres national elk refuge, established in 1912, in which thousands of elk come to the refuge during winter. Come spring the Boy Scouts, under special agreement, collect the shed elk antlers and sell them at auction with 75% of the proceeds returned to the refuge, where they are used to maintain the natural food supply. Over 10,000 pounds of antlers are auctioned each year with some sets going for as much as $75 per pound.

Jackson Hole is good place to get a quality cowboy hat, a high-priced fly rod, and some stylish western wear for the range or that cattle drive you may be on. I settled for a few trout flies and some updated maps. You can also get a good steak in Jackson Hole.

After I studied the map over ice cream, we headed north out of town following the Snake River into the Grand Tetons then turned east past the elk refuge following the Gros Ventre River upstream. After maybe 20 miles, most of it dusty gravel, we came to a dirt two-track leading to a small tributary of the Gros Ventre River where we set up camp for the night. Within walking distance of camp, a bridge crosses the creek and from that dusty gravel road standing on the bridge you can look upstream as far as you can see to the snowcapped mountains of the Gros Ventre Wilderness from where the stream flows.

If I ever disappear for a few months that’s probably where I’ll be. The stream has Snake River Cutthroat trout and is cold as the melting mountain snow from which it comes. The wilderness has elk, mule deer, pronghorn, black bears, probably some grizzlies and wolves too. You always carry bear spray in this neck of the woods. A .357 or a .44 magnum isn’t a bad idea either once the bear spray runs out.

Time always comes with restraints and moving on was one of them. I could have stayed there a month but the next morning we broke camp and headed to Yellowstone.

Part 2 of Reliving Yellowstone will be in next weeks issue of The People’s Defender.

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