Love Tour 2011: The Adventure

The Hikers: Joe, Lauren, Devin, Griffin, Logan, Lincoln, Kaysie, Jamie, Max, Jacob, Hudson, and Cari.

There is a little place up in the Pryor Mountains above Cowley called The Ice Caves.  As a child, I heard my brothers tell of "going to the ice caves" with their friends, but in all the years I lived there, I had never been.  Last year, the day before leaving, I said as much to my brother Joe.

"What!?" he sputtered, as if I had just told him I had never breathed.  "Okay.  Next year when you come back, we're going to the Ice Caves."

I don't always believe my brother, Joe.  It's not that he lies, it's just that he is the eternal optimist and doesn't always foresee the realities that can get in the way.  "Okay...you promised.  I'm going to hold you to it," I warned.

This year, he was as good as his word.  We made it to The Ice Caves, and, as it happens in our family, it became something of an event:

"Ice Caves.  Tonight.  4 o'clock.  You comin'?"

"I don't know..."

"C'mon!"

"Okay.  Sure.  We'll go."

This conversation occurred when anyone walked into Mom's kitchen, and the "we'll" turned into 18 people and a picnic supper.

Now, I did say Joe was the eternal optimist.  "We'll leave around 4:00 and be back by 8:00," he assured us.

Uh huh.  Due to a road closure, terrible roads, Devin's (my nephew) failure to gas up, and Randy's (my other brother) old man driving, we got home at 11:00.  In that amount of time, we could have driven the entire length of the state.

Halfway there, Devin says, "I don't know if I'm going to have enough gas to get back."

"What?  Why didn't you fill up?"

"I didn't know we were going to have to go through Bridger.  This is taking forever."

"Well, you better stop, leave the car here, and we'll ride with someone else so you can make it back."

We loaded our group in with Cari and Jacob, leaving Devin's vehicle in the middle of nowhere until we could return.  In total we crowded 9 people into the suburban.  Devin and I shared a seat.  It was cozy to say the least, and maybe there was a tiny bit of complaining.

"Why is Randy driving so slow???" I whined as we watched him carefully maneuver around yet another giant pothole.  We were, literally, inching our way up the mountain.

"Can't you get around him?" voiced another.

"I think I could actually walk faster.  I'm not kidding."

"You know Karen's got be having a fit.  They love their car."

"You know she's going to have to wash it and vacuum it out tonight."

"Well she's waving.  That's a good sign."

"How much longer?" a child cried from the back.

"Maybe forever," an adult answered.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

"I don't know."  The roads are not only primitive to say the least but also completely unmarked.  It is just a seemingly random spattering of dirt roads that cross each other once every several miles.

"It doesn't seem right.  It seems like we should have caught up with the others by now."

"I don't know.  I'm just following Randy."

"Yes.  We know.  He's taking forever."

"I am losing it back here."

Finally we arrived and unpacked the food.  The scenery was gorgeous, and for some reason fried chicken always tastes better in the mountains.

Top Left: The whole gang.  Top Right:  Devin, my seat buddy.  Bottom Left: Lincoln chowing down.  Bottom Right:  Karen and Randy.

After our bellies were full, we recovered our humor and were ready to set out on the short hike to the cave.  Now, dear reader, I have questioned how--or even if--I should share this part of the story.  However, I feel the deep need to explain Griffin's lack of pants in some of these photos.  All I shall say on the topic is this:  He started the trip with pants.  But, just as we were preparing to hike, there was a not so small accident in the outhouse.  Okay?  And after spending some time in there with him and suffering what I can only explain as a giggling fit of hysteria, I determined that we should simply dispose of them.  So no pants.  Or socks for that matter.  Thank heavens for the extra length on his borrowed jacket.  That is all I will say about that.

The hike to the caves was an easy jaunt on a dirt path, but it provided views that gave, and I shall quote Anne Shirley here, "scope for the imagination," which was just what I needed after the outhouse.  Wildflowers danced on every side, and pine trees stretched as far as the eye could see.  When Griffin and I finally caught up with the others, they had already descended to the cave.  Logan could hardly contain her excitement.  "Mom!  Mom!  Come look at this!" she called.

It was a curiosity of nature.  The temperature dropped 30 degrees once you stepped inside.  The floor was covered in ice, and frozen stalactites dripped from the ceiling.  My brother pointed out the hole in the floor near the back that connects to the lower room of the cave.  They have covered it over with a grate, but word has it you can get a key in the town of Bridger if you want to explore it.  I don't know if that's true, but I wouldn't put it past 'em.  Wyoming's funny like that.

All too soon it was time to head back home.  The sun was setting and we had a long drive ahead of us, which, according to Logan, was the only negative of the whole adventure.

Up from the cave.

 

But I have to say I didn't mind it at all.  I loved every minute of it. Thanks to my big brother, I finally saw The Ice Caves, and it was an adventure to remember.