The Faces

In September, my dad called me one Sunday and told me that he and my mom needed a change of scenery.  Would I be interested in accompanying them to The Faces (Mount Rushmore) in October?

The Faces is a place of family legend.   Long ago, my great aunt Phyllis went to the Faces, and determined that my grandpa and grandma needed to see it too.  She talked about it all the time, and they turned her down over and over again.  Finally, she convinced them to go on a long, rambling road trip, with The Faces as the final destination.  Both Great Aunt Phyllis and Grandpa Beard were famous for being horrible distracted drivers.  About two hours into the trip, somewhere in the Uinta mountains, so before they’d even left Utah, Phyllis and Grandpa got in such a heated argument about driving that Grandma Beard told them to turn around and take her home.  They never made it to The Faces.  When you grow up with a story like that, you need to go to The Faces.  It's destiny.

At Laaaaast!

October is a great time to go to a tourist trap like the Faces.  Because it was the off season, we stayed in a nice hotel two minutes from Mount Rushmore.  The only downside was that the town had basically shut down.  There was only one remaining restaurant left open, but at least we had that.

We also went and saw Crazy Horse and attended a performance of a Native American dance.  Once again, because it was the off season, my dad and I and most of the rest of the tourists were pulled up on stage and taught to do a dance.  Too bad I didn't show my mom how to work my camera. ;)

We took a detour on our way back, and stopped at another place my dad had always wanted to see: Devil’s Tower.

It's so tiny!

Or not.

While we were in the car, we talked a lot about pioneers and wondered if any of the roads we were on followed the pioneer trail.  On the last day of the trip, from Casper, WY, to Utah, I saw a sign at the side of the road and called to my dad that we needed to stop.  We were at Martin’s Cove, a famous spot on the trail for Mormon pioneers.

My parents and I trundled out of the car and headed to the visitor’s center.  We were stopped on our way by an older man, one of the tour guides there.  He said that he couldn't normally do this during the busy season, but as it was the middle of October and no one was around, would we like him to give us a driven tour of the trail?  We were delighted.  He drove us around, told us the history of some dangerous river crossings there by the Willie and Martin handcart companies, and then drove to a little alcove and stopped.  He told my dad and I to get out of the golf cart; that we needed to walk this part of the trail.  He’d take my mom to the other side and they’d pick us up.  The alcove was where about 500 people had tried to camp in the bitter snow while they waited for help to arrive from Salt Lake City. 

Monument commemorating those who braved the icy river to help others across.

One side of the valley where people camped while they waited for help.

The other side of the valley.

Most Mormon teenagers go to Martin’s Cove or some other place at least once to do a handcart /pioneer trail reenactment.  I never got a chance to do that, so this unexpected stop on our trip was a great treasure.  I loved seeing The Faces because I grew up with the story of my grandparents’ unsuccessful trip with Great Aunt Phyllis.  But Martin’s Cove might be the highlight of the trip just because of the unexpectedness of it, and because I’d grown up with the stories of what happened there too, and like my grandparents, had never made it.  Until now.