diamondville and kemmerer and fossil butte national monument

When I was thinking of where to stay the second night of my trip, I decided I needed to stay somewhere between Idaho Falls, ID and Green River, WY. A friend didn't like the sound of the latter town, since she was aware of the Green River (WA) killer and any mention of the word gave her the willies. And, I don't think I wanted to travel all the way from Idaho Falls to Cheyenne in one day on the day before the Spelling Bee. So, I ran through the map and decided that Kemmerer, WY would be a delightful place to spend a night. I could then visit the nearby Fossil Butte National Monument the next morning before heading in to Cheyenne.

If you enter into Wyoming by Idaho 26, which becomes Wyoming 89, you do so through the little town of Alpine, WY and then a series of Mormon towns heading down the valley between ID and WY, such as Etna, Thaine, Grover, Afton, and Smoot (related to the Senator from the 1920s?) before breaking into an incomparably pretty valley above Kemmerer. I wanted to go through Afton, WY because that's the home of Rulon Gardner, the Olympic gold medalist in Greco-Roman wrestling. I figured that the town would be festooned with all kinds of "Rulon greetings" and would celebrate their favorite son on the town welcome sign. But to my disappointment, and confusion, not one mention of Rulon Gardner was visible to the casual driver through the town, though they DID take pains to point out that Afton had the largest elkhorn arch in the world (it spanned the state highway. I wondered for one split second whether it was the ONLY elkhorn arch in the world...) as well as the largest "Intermitting Spring" in the world. I didn't stay around to watch the latter intermit.

Arriving in Kemmerer

I was pretty tired upon arriving into Kemmerer at 6:00 p.m., and so I eagerly sought my motel for a relaxing warm shower and rest before dinner. I was going to stop at the Fossil Butte National Monument, but I decided that I would begin the day with that tomorrow. So, I arrived at the motel to check in. When I had called to make a reservation the previous month I was not given a confirmation number. I asked for one but the clerk said, "Just say Betty signed you up." Not wanted to offend local tastes, I agreed, and greeted the woman who was at the front desk with, "Hi, I have a reservation for the evening. Are you Betty?" She allowed as she was not; Betty had gone home for the day. No matter. She had two reservations that still hadn't shown up for the day and she looked at me and said, "Are you Tom or Frank?" I said I was neither. A quizzical look crossed her face. "Who are you, then?" I told her my name, and that I had made a reservation with Betty a month ago.

She checked the official motel log--a spiral bound notebook with each page headed by a day (June 16 for today), and numbers 1-14 written in pencil down the left margin standing for the rooms in the motel. After each number was a name of a guest. Then, at the bottom of the page were notes on payment plans or times of arrival of the guests. My name was not in places 1-14. But, my name was in the "notes" below, along with my credit card number (I hope that no one steals the notebook--though I made her cross out my number right then and there), neatly written in pencil. I asked what that meant. The woman said, "That means you have a reservation." I asked, "Which room am I in?" She said, "You don't have a room." I guess I was missing her logic, so I let her explain. Well, she didn't explain. She just tried to call Betty, who didn't happen to be at home.

Then she looked at me, "Well, I don't have a room for you tonight." Then, as if to take away the seeming contradiction that had been created, she said, "This is the first time this has ever happened." I have not compiled a list, but if I did, I know that this would have been about the tenth thing that had happened to me and no one else in the past six months. I felt a slight surge of energy, as if I was somehow being singled out specially by the world for this unique treatment. So, I asked the woman what she could recommend? She suggested the "Energy Inn" in Diamondville (population 716), a thriving suburb of Kemmerer (population 3,500). Diamondville is defined as the place where Pizza Hut and Subway are located; the town of Kemmerer, by contrast, has the Cafe downtown. The Energy Inn is so called, I believe, because the first sign I saw upon arriving in the motel listed the fees for hooking up your car/pickup batteries if you stayed the night. Thankfully I was here in the middle of June; I think this area could be pretty forbidding in January.

Before I left the motel where I had a reservation and no room, however, I said to the woman, "I am expecting a phone call tonight. My son or others may be wanting to keep in touch with me, and I want to make sure you forward the call when it comes in tonight. Would you do that for me?" She looked at me, "Sure, if they call before 7:00 p.m. (which is 6:00 p.m. Pacific.) I asked her what they do for incoming phone calls after 7:00 p.m. She said that the message tells them that the motel office is closed and that people should try to call back tomorrow. So much for staying in touch.

Conclusion--From the Energy Inn

So, I sit here tonight, at the Energy Inn, with internet connection and communication with people from the outside world, though I was solemnly warned that if I made a call it would cost me at least a dollar a minute. No matter. I can email to my heart's content and search the internet for stories on the places I have visited over the past few days. All in all, I am happy with the motel. My room looks out on the main drag of Diamondville. It is now midnight and a car hasn't gone by in at least 30 minutes. Should be a good night's sleep. Not the way that I, and Betty, anticipated it, I am sure, but still very good.

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