We have to go to Virginia City, boys.

The evening we arrived in West Yellowstone, Montana, we were disappointed in not seeing a single bear or moose. 
We saw a road sign at the edge of town, warning us to watch for wildlife for the next 10 miles. The sign baited us with a picture of a bear.
It was about dusk, a perfect time wildlife could be wandering around.
We headed up the highway.  Pointing off to the left, we saw a sign directing us to the town of Virginia City.
Megan got excited and asked how far away it was. In her mind, it represented everything about the wild, wild West.  Pa Cartwright on Bonanza saying, "I have to go to Virginia City boys."

Virginia City, although in Montana and not Nevada, the name screamed character.

Join us as we slowly go down the mountain into the historic community that rests at 5,761 foot elevation.

Let's spit out what we are about to face:
Virginia City, Montana, was part of the Dakota Territory, then Idaho Territory, before it came into into own with the discovery of gold in the early 1860s. Of course, that's part of almost every ghost town's heritage.
It was the territorial capitol before Montana was a state, pretty lawless.
Today, Virginia City is being kept alive by the state of Montana as a historic district, after inspired residents started buying up the town and old structures before their heritage was lost. 

Today, Virginia City's year-round population is fewer than 200. Not much in that scenic little valley.

Virginia City is the county seat of Madison County.  The Madison County Courthouse is the red brick building with black roof. (Notice the stone church behind the courthouse).

Nobody pumps gas here.  This is a ghost gas station. 

But people still ride their horses into town.

And their motorcycles.

All people had to hear was: Gold was found in May 1863. Thousands of people raced here with dreams of getting rich. Men, gold, alcohol, power contributed to a period of lawlessness and vigilante justice that didn't end until the Montana Territory was created in in 1864, and Virginia City was the Territorial Capitol. Eighty years later, Virginia City was one of the first preservation efforts in the West.

This is main street Virginia City, the only paved road in town. No stop lights and no stop signs on this road. But you are welcome to pull over and park your car or park your horse. There are plenty of souvenirs, saloons and history for all.

A plaque said this is the oldest stone building in Virginia City, constructed in the summer of 1863. Folklore has it that the Vigilantes met in this building and handed out justice, killing more than two dozen criminal road agents.

A blacksmith eventually took over the building, that served as a livery in the 1870s. He married the widow of one of the hanged road agents. He turned the second floor into a hayloft.

Horse drawn equipment in the building.

And lots of accessories for work horses. Sorry, we're not familiar with horses and their needs. We thought the pictures were interesting, but it would have been creepy to live or work there, following all the violent happenings in 1860s Virginia City.

The sign says St. Paul's Episcopal Church was established in 1867. Sunday worship services are at 9 a.m., as it remains an active church.

We're standing in the Virginia City Cemetery. See the gravel city streets on the other hill? We'll visit the residential part of Virginia, its two cemeteries and tell you a little more historic tidbits next time.

Megan and Dwain

The spirit of Sacajawea lives on in the Shoshone and Arapaho Reservation. You can about feel it.

They've got to ride forever on that plains up in the sky on horses snortin' fire, as they ride on hear their cry ... Ghost Riders in the Sky.

We're standing at the foot of the grave for Lawrence Large in a cemetery on the Wind River Indian Reservation. Memories on this grave tell us a good deal about his spirit. Images of horses and riders are burned on the cross; a wreath of barbed wire hangs on the cross; and the mounded, red-clay grave is covered with boots, a plaque, a cross, and other symbols, all surrounded by solar lights and rocks.

This Native American cemetery was a must-see during our trip across the West.

Who would think that in this remote location we would meet a long line of cars in a long-funeral procession? What a surprise!

We had no idea what was going on. We were on the Shoshone and Arapaho Reservation, and we almost felt like intruders in a very private moment.

More and more cars were lining up in the dirt parking lot in front of the white pipe fence, and mourners walked through the cemetery carrying folding chairs. They knew where they were going.

We pulled up to the cemetery about noon Thursday, June 12 (2014). 
Here is a news item from the Casper, Wyoming, newspaper. You won't read an obituary like this in our local newspaper.
FORT WASHAKIE, Wyoming – Shannon Maria Hurtado died in her home in Fort Washakie on Saturday, June 7, 2014. Visitation has been arranged for June 11 beginning at 5 p.m. at the family home, 28 Crooked Creek Lane. It will continue over night, same location. The Funeral Service will be 10 a.m. Thursday, June 12, 2014, in the Rocky Mountain Hall. Burial will follow in the Sacajawea Cemetery. 

As the funeral procession finally ended and a riderless horse was led back from the far side of the cemetery, we heard the faint sounds of Native American chants and singing.

Although we were more than a little curious about what was going on, we were respectful in this land of the Ancients.

Where do these powdery paths go as they meander through tall, dry grass? What has Megan found?

Shannon Maria Hurtado's obituary said burial was in Sacajawea Cemetery, and Megan has found the grave of the famous young Native American who guided Lewis and Clark to the Pacific.

Here's her grave, the tall stone marker surrounded by modest white crosses, snow covered mountains in the background and a statue (back right) honoring her.

A memorial to one of her children is to the right; the headstone of another child is to the left; and behind that headstone is grave of a grandchild. She is greatly revered by not only Native Americans but all Americans.

Here's an example of the details on some of the crosses. Farrin "Frog" Lee Surrell has a stone marker in the background and lots of little frog figurines on his mounded red clay grave.

Some crosses are white with black letters, some are more detailed. Megan's pointing to the colorful cross for Maude St. Clair Jorgenson. Someone spent a lot of time painting on that cross.

Here's the cross for Rodney Jorgenson. A couple of broken unsmoked cigarettes are on the grave, along with  a cow and an elk figurines, a horn and a cherub holding a bird.

This must be the older portion of the cemetery. No flowers, most of the markers aren't readable, and only a few paths through the burial plots. Can you imagine the impact when American Flags are billowing atop each flagpole?

Most of the cemetery was highly decorated, this jet only accentuates the color of the sky, the mountains and all of the crosses, headstones, flowers and other feelings.

Each grave was noticeably mounded; many had little fences and stones outlining the grave; bright, plastic flowers were everywhere; and lots of figurines and symbols to help identify the person's inner spirit.

Walking through this cemetery was an amazing experience. We marveled at how descendants treasured their ancestors, even in death. And they still honor them ... in the 21st Century.

If you ever find yourself on this reservation, you must follow this dirt road to the cemetery. Just stand back and marvel at this scene and all the spirits that live on in these hardy folks.

Way out west they have a name for rain and wind and fire.
The rain is Tess; the fire's Joe; and they call the wind Mariah.
Mariah blows the stars around and sets the clouds a-flying; Mariah makes the mountains sound like folks up there were dying.
Mariah! Mariah! They call the wind Mariah. - Alan J. Lerner

Megan and Dwain

Be careful! Somewhere over the rainbow could be a deadly lightning strike.

This one collage sums up this blog. The Rocky Mountains are rocked by thunderstorms and rain almost every day during the summer.

But we'll assume everyone likes to read, and start this blog in 1964 when Megan was 11 years of age.

To Megan's Mom, Tyne Tinkle, a vacation wasn't a vacation unless she went out West, and the Rocky Mountains had been vacationland since she had traveled there with her family as a small child. Megan's in the middle of this group, with her sister, Susan, on the right and cousin, Kip, on the left.

Megan has a detailed journal, that her mom wrote in first person as a 12-year-old child, about vacations to the Rocky Mountains.
For her children's benefit, Megan's mom wrote journals as a mother. We're going to share part of a page in the journal that started July 23, 1964.

If you read through the family's adventures, you'll see they saw a rainbow in the valley at Rainbow Curve at Rocky Mountain National Park. In Tyne's words:  (Two days later the pass was closed for a while because of a bad storm. A week later a woman was killed on the trail ridge drive by lightning.)

We found those ominous old journal entries Saturday night as we read about two people killed by lightning at the exact same spot - Rainbow Curve.
We bet that's a haunted place.
The woman killed Friday was 42 of Yellow Springs, Ohio, and the man killed Saturday had not been identified. The story by Reuters said: "The victims were struck by lightning at Rainbow Curve, where visitors often gather to watch for rainbows after rainstorms" on the 11,000-foot-high lookout trail.
That's what Megan's Mom wrote that they saw - a rainbow across the valley.
We didn't venture into Rocky Mountain National Park during our vacation. It wasn't on our agenda. But we drove through lots of Rocky Mountain storms and enjoyed our own rainbows.

We haven't even landed in Denver yet, on our flight from Branson, Missouri, and we're in a storm.

OK, we're obviously over the Rocky Mountains, why aren't we flying lower and lower to land?

They flew us around and around Denver - we probably passed over Colorado Springs three times - as we spent 30 minutes circling and circling. By the time we finally landed, Dwain's hands were sweaty and his face was blanched. There was definitely no rainbow in his face.

An hour later, we had our rental car, and Megan pointed her GPS toward Wyoming and that storm up ahead.

Rocky Mountain National Park is way over there, underneath the storm clouds on the horizon.

We've detoured off the Interstate in Loveland, Colorado. We didn't aim for Rocky Mountain National Park, but stopped at a Verizon store for the car charger we forgot. Not bad for us.

Uh, here's another inadvertent detour. Looks stormy ahead. The GPS was trying to route us off the Interstate onto a two-lane highway as it steered us into Wyoming.

Do you believe this still snow-covered mountain is creating its own weather? Probably.

Moon, talk about a super moon, there is nothing so bright as a moon over the high plains. It's out well before dusk. It's shining like the sun over storm clouds in the daytime.

We spent the second night in Cody, Wyoming. We were sitting at a street-side window in the Silver Dollar Bar when Megan spotted a rainbow and grabbed her phone. She had to climb up on a chair to get this image. The thing about being on vacation in a far-away spot, no one knows who you are. What do we care? Nice shot, girl.

We drove through rain at lower elevations, and fresh snow fell higher in the mountains. What a view! Light and dark, but we didn't see lightning.

Look at the storm in the distance. You can see storms building for miles ... maybe even in another state.

Now there's a phenomenon we don't see in Arkansas very often. Snow-covered mountain tops are sticking up through the storm clouds. I'm glad we're not up there.

 

This rainbow is in Riverton, Utah, a suburb of Salt Lake City. Hum, what do you see in this picture?

Here is the big picture - those big storm clouds are dropping fresh snow on the ski slopes in Park City; a Mormon temple towers over the homes and businesses on the right.

A storm just opened up, and light rain is falling over the high plains. As you can see, it's falling in one place, not on us. How strange!

More storm clouds. These are building over a expansive wind farm. How many wind mills can you count?

No, this isn't Rainbow Curve, and at least we didn't get struck by lightning. If you're going into the Rocky Mountains, be careful. Evidently lightning strikes are not uncommon, especially in particular places.

Naturally, storms delayed our departure out of Denver, Colorado, by an hour-and-a-half, but we didn't have to make a connecting flight. Then the pilot wouldn't allow any of the passengers to remove seatbelts on the entire flight to Branson.

Before the weekend's lightning deaths, the last lightning fatality that occurred in the park was in 2000, when a technical climber was struck on the Diamond on Longs Peak.


Megan and Dwain


Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby

Somewhere, over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.
Lyrics by E.Y. Harburg, 1939