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Showing posts with label Echo Canyon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Echo Canyon. Show all posts

Monday, September 27, 2021

Evanston, Wyoming

 According to bartender extraordinaire, Lexi, Wyoming only has two seasons. 

“In this part of Wyoming, there are only two seasons,” the attractive dark-haired woman explained. “Winter and construction.”

Laureen and I had parched throats. That happens occasionally when out wandering and pondering, and we had found ourselves at the Suds Bros. Brewery in Evanston, Wyoming.

Suds Bros brewery - Evanston, Wyoming

We had driven up through Utah, entered Wyoming and found ourselves bivouacked at a campground next to the Bear River in Evanston.

 At nearly seven thousand feet above sea level, it is a town in the mountains – tall mountains.

Tall mountains in Wyoming often mean cold temperatures, no matter the time of year. Weather moves fast – we have learned that more than once in our travels.

Laureen once stated, “What a beautiful day to be out. Bright blue skies and not a cloud to be seen.”

Ten minutes later, we were running to an underpass as a seven on the Fujita Scale swept past us.

“That was close,” she said.

“Where’s our car?” I asked.

After setting up camp for the night – which means hooking up the RV, setting up dog fences, checking the hook-ups on the RV for the third time, and checking for any escape routes our very stealthy dogs would find, it was time for a walk to downtown Evanston.

The woman in the front office of the RV park was highly informative.

“Does the river walk take us to downtown Evanston?” I asked.

She looked at me. Looked at the exit door. Looked at me again. “It’s a paved path along the river.”

I nodded. “Yes, but does it take me to downtown Evanston, along that paved path.”

“Along the river,” she replied. “It does. But its paved.”

I nodded a second time; glad she had not replied that there wasn’t really a path, and that Laureen and I would have to swim upriver to the town.

Luckily, the river flowed downriver to the town. 

There is a genuinely nice and comfortable mile walk into the historic part of Evanston from the campground. The walkway winded this way and that. Tall trees stretched long branches over the walkway in certain areas, and in others we had clear views of the quickly flowing Bear River.

Beautiful Bear River

The city had installed those stop-and-work-out stations along the way.

‘Do fifteen pushups and go to next station.’ ‘Do twenty squats and go to next station.’ ‘Balance on beam for thirty seconds and go to next station.’ ‘Rub you stomach clock-wise and your head counter-clockwise and laugh at yourself.’

Nice idea, but we did not see any locals taking advantage. But then again, we may have missed the locals. We stopped and participated in about a half a dozen of the physical activities.

“I’m done,” I stated.

“You did five push-ups.”

I smiled. “With style.”

The Bear River along the paved path is not a large river, at least in mid-June, but the water was clear, sparkling, and very inviting. Inviting, if you were an eight-year-old who does not understand the concept of cold water.

“Come on, mom, it’s not that cold.”

“Wipe the icicles off your nose and get the in the house right now!”

The weather was pleasant. Our moods were pleasant. And the sight of Suds Bros. Brewery was pleasant.

As a public service announcement, while driving, stopping by a brewery isn’t the best thing to do. But when the day’s driving is done – then what the heck – taste a bit of the local flavor and enjoy. Always drink responsibly is my motto - never order more than you can afford.

The town of Evanston was created as a railroad hub in the late 1860's. The Union Pacific Railroad was constructing the First Transcontinental Railroad - known as the Pacific Railroad and later as the Overland Route, which was nearly two thousand miles of continuous railroad. The goal was to link Council Bluffs, Iowa with the Pacific Ocean, ending in San Francisco Bay.

Downtown Evanston


Welcome to the Depot Square


One of the original buildings in the Depot Square



A refurbished building in the Depot Square

There are two legends of how the town received its name. It was either named after a civil engineer for the railroad by the name of James A. Evans, or after the second Governor of the Territory of Colorado by the name of John Evans.

When asked, John Evans stated the town had been named after James A. Evans. Where-as James A. Evans stated the town had been named after John Evans. So very modest, these Evanses.

It was rather confusing, but as neither had the last name of Evanston, we may never know. 

One of the original businesses in Evanston

The entrepreneur, Harvey Booth opened a saloon and a restaurant in Evanston in 1868 in a tent, near what would later be the downtown area, but within a month, the railroad station was moved to Wasatch, twelve miles west.

Almost instantly the town dried up with all workers moving to Wasatch. But luckily for those like Booth, the railroad bigshots decided to move operations back to Evanston in June of 1869.

The town of Wasatch continued until the 1930s, but is now considered a ghost town. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, though I love a good conspiracy – could the decision by the railroad be tired to how similar the name of Wasatch is to Sasquatch?

Just pondering here.

In fact, things were going so well with Evanston that it became the seat for Uinta County in 1873, when the first courthouse was also opened.

Uinta County Library

Evanston prospered even more through the years, especially with the abundant water nearby to refill locomotives that were moving cross-county, as well as a great supply of timber needed for a quickly growing population, not only in the Wyoming area, but across the nation. 

As automobiles found themselves more and more popular, roadways and highways started etching their way across the United States.

Evanston found itself in the center of the action.

According to my research, Evanston was a major stop on the Lincoln Highway. The highway ran east to west from East Service Road to Bear River Drive, on Front Street to Harrison Drive to Wasatch Road southwest to Echo Canyon in Utah.

The old Lincoln Highway can still be seen in spots along Intestate 80, which follows the railroad tracks. I was told this by a local in Evanston, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find it. Then again, once I put down my sunglasses, I usually need the assistance of the local search and rescue unit.

In the 1980s, new life was drilled into the Evanston area with the oil boom. Natural gas has also played a large role in this small town becoming larger and larger by the year.

The town offers so much in the area of entertainment for locals and visitors. Music at the Depot Square, Wyoming Downs Horse Racing, various brewfests, farmers markets, car cruises, hiking, bike riding, and the list goes on and on – but I am not going to type of all the activities. It is a long list of things to do in Evanston, and frankly, after all that excitement, I hardly have the energy to type at all. 

Laureen enjoying one of the local parks

We had decided to take US Route 89 out of Provo, Utah to Evanston, since it was a byway instead of the direct path to Evanston via Instate 80.

According to National Geographic, US Route 89 is considered ‘a drivers drive.’ The number one drive for travelers who want to venture from the Sonoran Desert, through Yellowstone, and into Canada.

The nickname for this highway is - the untraveled road.

What other path would anyone take?

The scenery was breathtaking. Tall cliffs of varied colors towering over us. Swift moving streams below us. Clear blue skies above us. Deer, elk, and some animal which looked a bit like a big hairy ape scratching their backside on a tree.

We passed Sundance, the legendary film festival mecca, but since I don’t know Robert Redford, we didn’t stop.

As we drove through this beautiful country, Laureen looked over at me and shared a thought.  “You know, highways are for making time. Byways are for making memories.”

Truer words there are not.

We slowed down and took in the sights. We ended up in a small town, by the name of Evanston, in southwest Wyoming and knew it had been the right path to follow. 

Lexi handed me a locally brewed libation and smiled. “Evanston is a great town. We offer so much, and each year more people are learning about it. Yes, our weather can change in a minute, heck, we had a bit of snow just last week, but who cares. It is beautiful, the people wonderful, and nature is here. What more can a person ask for? Local or visitor.”

John with a snow gauge in hand

She was so right.