#“Parting of the Ways” Emigrant Cut Off Historic Site

[lovz2hike]

Montana Deer Hunt 2022

Our second year applying for Montana and we didn’t get a tag for the Mule Deer Buck so we each got a tag for a whitetail doe.  Our plan was to go no matter what even if we didn’t get drawn for a buck because they such an amazing youth program. So we loaded up the kids and headed to Montana.  This would be Alyssa’s 4th year hunting and Reagans 1st ever big game hunt.   The drive to Montana from…

[bsawinart]

Another photo from the Pioneer Historic Byway

Pioneer Historic Byway retraces some of the steps taken by Idaho’s early pioneers and early-day Yellowstone Park visitors. Along the way you can see the remnants of the first grist mill in Idaho, one of the original Yellowstone Highway markers, the 100+ year old Mormon Oneida Academy, a section of the Oregon/California Trail, and many other historical points of interest, documenting early settlement in this portion of Idaho. Starting in Franklin, Idaho’s first city, the Pioneer Historic Byway follows the path of early pioneers along parts of the Oregon Trail. The route meanders along Bear River to the first Yellowstone route, revealing Mormon settlements and historic military campaigns along the way. Attractions include Red Rock Pass, Niter Ice Cave and Soda Springs.

The route passes one of the original Yellowstone Highway markers, a century-old Mormon Oneida Academy, and the first gristmill in Idaho. These historical points, along with major geologic and military sites, speak to the first settlements in Southeast Idaho. Located in southern Bannock County, south of Downey, Red Rock Pass is a low mountain pass that holds some geologic secrets. As the spillway of ancient Lake Bonneville, this pass sits between two mountain ranges—the Portneuf to the east and the Bannock to the west. It was cut through resistant shale, limestone, and dolomite and takes its name from the red limestone seen on bordering cliffs.

Rumored to be used by John A. Dalton and his family, a refuge from rival Native Americans in the area, Niter Ice Cave is now a roadside attraction. The cave was formed from lava flows eons ago and hosts a lava field in the middle of a flat field. Just a few miles from Grace, Niter Ice Cave is a must for families and adventurers. It is a popular destination for spelunking.

The byway passes through Soda Springs, named after hundreds of natural springs of carbonated water located in and around the city. The springs were a famous landmark along the Oregon Trail in the mid-19th century. The city is also known for Soda Springs Geyser, which was unintentionally unleashed in 1934 by town leaders who wanted to create a hot pool. Instead a geyser was released when they drilled into a chamber of highly pressurized carbon dioxide gas and cold water. The geyser is now released every hour, showing off a consistent height and volume that shows no signs of ebbing.

Situated in the foothills of Portneuf Valley, Chesterfield was established in 1880 and is now known as a Mormon ghost town. The town was developed by Chester Call, who was looking for grazing land away from Salt Lake City. Most of the historic homes have been restored to their original state. A tour of the Pioneer Historic Byway honors the footsteps of early emigrants along the first Yellowstone route.

[aceprosecuties]

Your recent post about Simon going to japan had me curious. Would you share more headcanons you have about his childhood, or his family?

OH BOY DO I 

I think about Simon’s childhood and the Blackquills a lot and so under the cut is kind of lengthy and a lot about his parents and honestly I probably could think of more but I figured I would put this up first since it was already getting kind of long aha. 

(also I don’t have first names for momma and papa Blackquill yet oops)

I go back and forth on exactly how Simon’s motherand father met, but I think the version I like best is that they met ingraduate school.  Simon’s mother (whosemaiden name I like to say is Yuugami in honor of Simon’s Japanese name) wasborn in Japan (I go back and forth on her hometown) and stayed there until shehit her early/mid-twenties.  She was ahistorian and linguist and eventually decided that she wanted to study in theUnited Kingdom for her graduate studies.

She emigrated and got accepted into a universityin London, where she was aiming to get her doctorate.  Here she met a fellow graduate student withthe last name Blackquill who lived in the same apartment building as her; hewas studying chemistry and was a citizen of the United Kingdom.  Despite their different academic interests,they hit it off and became close friends and eventually lovers.  He was usually shier than her and she would askhim to show her different places around London – at first she would ask fortouristy things, and he would oblige, but as they got closer, he startedshowing her different sites and places that were more personal.  

He tried learning some Japanese to converse withher in her native language, but he never really was very good at it.  It never stopped him from trying, though.

They eventually got married soon after they bothreceived their doctorates, and decided to stay in the U.K., since they eachreceived lucrative job offers there. Simon’s mother was able to finally bring her husband to Japan for awhile before they started their new careers; when they returned, they found outthat she was pregnant.

Aura Blackquill was born nine months later; asshe grew up she resembled her father a bit more than her mother.  While her mother’s hair was thick and black,her father’s hair was a dark purple, and she inherited the small mole that hehad on his neck.  The one thing shegained from her mother was her grey eyes. Aura ended up being quite a tomboy and developed a fierce interest inscience like her father.  She was closerwith her father than her mother, and wasn’t all too interested in learningabout her mother’s culture, and instead would beg her father to take her intowork with him whenever possible.  Shelearned the language, but as she got older she didn’t really wish to useit.  She sometimes butted heads with hermother about a lot of things due to their strong personalities.

Mrs. Blackquill then got sick, and while sherecovered, the aftermath of said sickness made it difficult for her to getpregnant again, despite her and her husband trying and wanting a secondchild.  They gave up on the idea after itbecame too much to deal with emotionally; Aura resigned to being an only childeven though she would sometimes get excited (in a tsundere sort of way) aboutthe idea of a younger sibling.

They were happy, their little family.  Aura was headstrong and intelligent and bothher parents were proud of everything she accomplished – she won her elementary school’sscience fair three years in a row,after all!  

When Aura was nine, her mother seemed to havefallen ill again, which worried both her and her father greatly…but only for alittle while, because when she returned from the doctor she announced that shewas pregnant.

Her pregnancy with Simon was somewhat moredifficult than with Aura, and they at times were afraid that Simon wasn’t goingto make it; he was born a few weeks earlier than he should have been and stayedin the NICU for some time.  His motherstayed with him the entire time; his father and sister were there as much asthey could be.  

Simon was brought home and, just as his sisterresembled their father, he started growing up to resemble their mother.  He inherited her thick black hair anddeveloped a fascination with her culture that Aura never really had.  He would constantly ask her for stories aboutJapan, and she would tell him historical tales of the samurai that wouldenthrall him and would stay with him through adulthood.

When they visited Japan, it was Simon who wouldeagerly run around pointing at things and asking about stories and history; bythe time he was five he was speaking Japanese far better than his fourteen-yearold sister.  His mother would call himher little samurai and while she didn’t know any swordplay, she found somewherenear their home where he could begin learning when he was old enough.  

Aura of course teased her brother, who was farmore sensitive than she was.  He wouldcry easily at sad movies and Aura would roll her eyes and call him a baby.  But she also was fiercely protective of him;no one else was allowed to tease her little brother.  Only shewas allowed that privilege, and everyoneknew it.  

Simon also loved animals from a young age,particularly birds.  While Aura wasindifferent to them, Simon would constantly beg his parents for a pet.  They refused only because they traveled a decentamount, and Simon would always get angry at the denial.  He refused to eat meat despite how much hismother and father would try to get him to at first, and has remained avegetarian ever since.    

Overall, though, they were a very happyfamily.  

Unfortunately, it wasn’t always to be; when Simonwas eight and Aura was seventeen, their parents left this world.  Their mother had some research to presentback in Japan, and their father took off to go and support her.  They didn’t want Aura or Simon to miss muchschool so they did not allow them to accompany them this time.

The plane crashed, and there were no survivors.

Aura and Simon left the U.K. to go to the UnitedStates, where some of their paternal relatives lived.  It was an awkward year with them, as theywere not at all close with their extended relatives, and it took until Auraturned eighteen and her gaining custody over her little brother for them tomove and find their own place.

The Blackquill siblings had two very differentgrieving processes: Aura was angry.  Angry at her parents, angry at the world,angry at herself for not saying the things that she should have before theyleft…she was just angry all the time.  This culminated in her wanting to doeverything to expunge traces of her parents from herself; her interest in sciencestayed, but traveled from chemistry to robotics.  She began dressing differently and spent a very long time training herself to nolonger have a British accent.  Sherefused to use British slang and told herself she would never travel back tothe U.K. or to Japan ever again.

Simon was just sad.  He cried a lot and Aurawould sometimes yell at him for doing so, and other times would hug him as hedid.  He missed his parents greatly anddidn’t want to ever forget about them, so he retained his British accent andslang and still kept up with his Japanese and would still read samurai lore asmuch as he could.  One of the biggestfights he had with Aura was when she refused to let him go to Japan when he wasfifteen.  While she said it was becausethey didn’t have enough money and because he was too young, he yelled at herand said that just because she wanted nothing to do with their parents didn’tmean that he had to as well.    

He developed an interest in law as the main thingthat separated himself from his parents, but he still wanted to be considered asamurai and so incorporated that into his style.  Aura of course continued to call him a nerdbut they were close, in their own way.  

Aura decided that she wanted to get her master’sin electrical engineering/robotics, and decided to attend a nearby universityso that she could still take care of Simon. It was here that she met Metis Cykes, a doctoral student in psychology,and the two became fast friends…after realizing she had a big crush on Metis, Aurasometimes thought about how their meeting seemed to mirror her parents’, and itwas the first time in a while that she allowed herself to be happy whenthinking about them.

Since Metis was also part-Japanese and enamoredwith Japanese culture, Aura introduced her to Simon, who took to her as quicklyas she had.  

After they graduated they both received joboffers at the Cosmos Space Center, and Simon pursued his desire to be aprosecutor.  He eventually asked Metis ifhe could apprentice under her in psychology, hoping that he would be able togain an advantage in the courtroom, and she said yes…also agreeing to teach himsword training, much to Aura’s dismay.    

[irenenorth]

New Post has been published on Irene North

New Post has been published on http://www.irenenorth.com/writings/2018/03/sometimes-you-have-to-climb-high-to-feel-your-feet-on-the-ground/

Sometimes you have to climb high to feel your feet on the ground

Courthouse and Jail rock are two of the most famous landmarks of westard migration. The Oregon-California, Mormon, and Sidney-Deadwood Trails passed by here. So did the Pony Express trail. Courthouse Rock was mentioned in many diaries. It was sometimes referred to as a castle or solitary tower.

During the past few weeks, I have seen some of the most difficult days in my life. A dear friend parted this world and is no more. He left behind him a wake of love and questions. He could not see the love that surrounded him and I cannot ever blame him for taking his life. I have been there. I know. I understand. But there will forever be questions about what happened and why. They will probably never be answered and those of us left behind must find the strength to continue in the absence of answers.

In this time, I have heard some hurtful words. I refrained from responding, but they cut deep and I needed to get back to what I know to be true.

In my life, the Earth, its soil, the vastness of the outdoors has strengthened me through tough times. It is a way to escape the world, the vulgarity of false kindness, to take time standing as one with nature with the geologic wonders we take for granted every day.

Paul and I made the decision to travel just south of Bridgeport to spend a couple of hours at Courthouse and Jail Rocks. I chose to take the long way. The journey was, in more than one way, a new one. It was a different path, a different highway, than we had traveled before.

As we neared the Wildcat Hills, I shoved my foot to the floor. The speedometer increased to 80 mph. The extra speed is needed to get over the hill without slowing down to a crawl. Ludovico Einaudi’s Giorni Dispari was half way finished when we reached the apex of the hill. The wide open of Banner County lay ahead of us, embracing us as we descended into the valley.

As we drove on down the road, my change in music selection was paying off. Mostly instrumental, the music calms the anxiety within. Turning East onto Highway 88, we began the thirty-three mile journey to the rocks.

To the north, bits of green poke through the tan-colored land. Spring is trying to arrive. Clouds gently kissed the Wildcat Hills as they passed overhead.

A golden pheasant with its bright blue and red head sauntered along the south side of the highway. An osprey collapsed its wings as it settled on the top of a wooden post marking the limit where nearby cattle could graze.

A nodding donkey slowly moved up and down, pulling oil out of the ground while local birds took turns playing chicken in front of my car.

A field of calves, nary an adult to be seen, ate grass in a field east of Redington, oblivious to vehicles passing by, except one. A calf near the fencing at the edge of the road locked eyes with me as I approached the field. Cinematic Orchestra’s Arrival of the Birds played on my radio.

The young black calf with a white face watched me as my car got closer. We looked into each other’s eyes and turned our heads to maintain the moment, if ever so briefly. Forced to return my eyes to the road, I glanced in my side view mirror as I drove away from the field. The calf was still looking at me.

We continued toward our destination.

“Ooo, the rocks,” Paul said, breaking the conversational silence. They were to the left of the road and loomed over everything nearby. As I turned to glance at them, something caught my eye. To the right, a hawk was in the middle of grasping its claws around a power line. Its feathers fluctuating in the wind. It struggled to hold on as it shifted uneasily and tightened its grasp on the line.

As we arrived at Court House and Jail Rock and stopped to take a picture of the entrance marker, Paul had to touch it. He does that. I won’t bore you with the Geology lesson I received.

We turned north. A few moments later, we turned back west onto a dirt road that lead to Courthouse and Jail Rocks. H3Ctic’s Unbreakable took us up the dirt road to where we could begin our hike.

Looking East at Jail Rock. British guy for height reference. He is 5’9″ or 1.75 meters.

Courthouse and Jail Rocks rise more than 4,050 feet (1,230 meters) above the North Platte Valley. They are composed of clay, sandstone, and volcanic ash.

Looking North toward the city of Bridgeport from halfway up Courthouse Rock. My Toyota Yaris looks tiny from my location. According to the National Park Service Courthouse and Jail Rocks are the erosional remnants of an ancient plateau that bisected the North Platte River. The site is more than 4,050 feet above sea level and rise more than 240 feet above nearby Pumpkin Creek.

The rocks are listed in the National Register of Historic Places and in the Nebraska Natural Areas Register.

Do you see it there in the distance? Emigrants on the westward trails would be looking for it. From Courthouse Rock, you can see Chimney Rock, even on an overcast day.

Hey, Nick and Rebecca. You’re assholes. Stop defacing landmarks. Yes, I understand people have been doing it for thousands of years. That still doesn’t make it right.

At this point in time, Paul and I diverged from each other. I began looking at the makeup of Courhouse Rock. I told him he could go ahead of me if he wanted. Whenever I say that, we usually find ourselves separated. I was intrigued by the erosion patterns. He disappeared.

The soft dirt gave way to the weight of my body along the trail. The ground beneath me changed from solid and steady to soft, pliable sand. My feet sank into the ground, leaving marks behind. The smooth dirt was a reminder of the fragility of the land, the people, and the birds in the sky.

I had hoped to see more of the animals that are native to the area and who regularly climb on, over, and around Courthouse and Jail Rocks. It is the wrong time of year for snakes, so a good time for humans to hike the area, but the other local residents, such as deer, were nowhere to be found.

I wandered around a little bit, climbing up, down, and around Courthouse Rock. I looked around and couldn’t see Paul. I called out to him several times, but no answer. I didn’t feel a need to panic. I took a few steps forward and was about to call for him again when I saw something about thirty feet ahead of me. Suddenly, I didn’t really care where Paul was at.

After looking at the bones for a while, I heard a cough in the distance. I recognized it. I looked up, but didn’t see Paul. I yelled his name.

“What?” was the reply. I still didn’t see him. Then, his head, covered by the gray hood of his sweatshirt emerged from behind the rock. He was on a trail near the top of Courthouse Rock.

“How the hell did you get up there?”

“I don’t know. I just followed the trail.”

“Well…be careful.”

“I’m fine.”

The British billy goat running around near the top of Courthouse Rock.

Paul continued walking East to the other side of Courthouse Rock. When he neared the end, he turned around and came back to the middle. He paced back and forth a few times.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“I’m not sure how to get down from here.”

“Just go back the way you came.”

“I’m not sure which way that is.”

Welp. This outing is no different than any other. If Paul leads, he gets lost. I was sure we were going to be here for many hours as he tried to figure out how to get down.

I think Paul has lived in America for too long. He then did the most American thing one would expect. He just started climbing straight down the edge of Courthouse Rock. No path? Didn’t matter. He was coming down.

Paul had already climbed down from the level above. When he reached this location, it was a straight fifteen foot drop or climb back up and go around. Despite how it looks, this is not a gentle slope.

When given a choice, Paul always takes the most difficult option.

This is the moment Paul fell off Courthouse Rock. I was pretty sure I was taking photographs of his last moments on Earth. The grassy area is inbetween where Paul is falling and the ground. He actually has about another eight feet to fall.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep.”

Paul stood up immediately. He brushed his ass off and then his hands. He looked back up at where he had just fallen from. Then he looked proudly at me and smiled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you just go back around.”

“I dunno.”

Paul made his way back down off the rock and rejoined me. We began walking back to the car when he had another revelation for me.

“I hit my head too,” he said. “If it doesn’t stop hurting, I might need to go to the hospital.”

“It’s okay. Bridgeport has a hospital.”

The cool temperatures of the morning had turned our hands and faces red. Even Paul’s hooded sweatshirt and my hooded jacket, the wind licked our skin just enough to to make it cool to the touch. We chatted on our way back down to my car and cranked up the heat to get warm on our two-mile drive to BurgerWerx for lunch.

“I kind of need to pee,” I said as we climbed back into the car.

“I already took care of that,” Paul said.

“I hate you so much,” I said.

Just like in Florence, Italy when Paul peed against a church, he did so again. This time against Courthouse Rock.

As we arrived at BurgerWerx for an early lunch, Paul got out of the car and said, “my butt really hurts.”

Paul stood up straight and stretched as he exited the car. He was still holding his backside, complaining he was in a bit of pain.

“My head still hurts, too,” he said. “Hopefully, I don’t lapse into a coma.”

I rolled my eyes as closed the car door. We walked into BurgerWerx for lunch.

Paul took a photo of me checking a message on my phone. Hair messed up from wind – check. Getting ready to eat a tasty burger – check. Wearing my new favorite shirt – check.

Well deserved lunch at BurgerWerx. This was our first visit to the place. Not bad. Probably will go back.

As we sat down to eat, Paul begin turning his left hand over and over.

“Did you hurt your hand, too?”

“Yeah. And my head hurts. I might have a concussion.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“Split those rings in half, will ya?”

Paul took half the onion rings and pushed the container over to me. I dumped them out onto the paper my bacon cheeseburger was sitting on.

In between bites of burgers, fries and rings, we chatted about Geoffrey and how to move forward from here. We reminisced about taking him out for Indian food in Denver for the first time. I couldn’t believe he had eaten so much for such a skinny little kid. He loved the spiciness and abundance of flavors.

The air outside was still chilly. The weatherman predicts snow for Sunday. It’s certainly cold enough for snow.

Taking the easy way home along Highway 92, several hawks had perched themselves on electric poles along the highway. If I was alone in the car, I would have stopped for every single one to try and get pictures. I pointed them out to Paul as we made our way past McGrew.

“Hey, the Pink Palace,” he said. “I still want to eat there.”

“I know.”

Instrumental music filled the recycled air inside my car. The Scotts Bluff National Monument could barely be seen in the distance. The overcast day obscured most of the bluffs along our way.

It’s still chilly outside. We’re awaiting the arrival of the snow. The ground beneath us is solid here in town. On any adventure, you must be careful of which way the soil moves. It can take you in unexpected directions or keep you in place just long enough to recognize the beauty of it all.

Sometimes you have to climb high to feel your feet on the ground and see what lies ahead.