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<title>Daily Cartoon: Tuesday, August 10, 2021 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Daily Cartoon: Tuesday, August 10, 2021

Kolby fedore

Kolby Fedore

Wyoming Life

Around Wyoming

Perched atop a rocky knoll along the Snowy Range Scenic Byway in the Medicine Bow Mountains of southern Wyoming, the Libby Flats Observation Area rises nearly 11,000 feet above sea level.

Its weathered stone wall, turret facade and steep wooden staircase lead to a platform where visitors can look out at the Snowy Range to the north and the Laramie Valley to the south.

It looks more like what’s left of the ruins of a Medieval castle than a modern attraction.

For Laramie photographer David Peel, it's been a source of fascination for much of the last half-century.

"It's like an old ancient structure," Peel said. "Your mind kind of starts making up some fancy histories about it.”

Peel said its weathered stone and isolated perch above the tree line remind him of places far from Wyoming — Ireland, old European ruins and the kinds of structures that are much older than the observatory.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Mystery Of The Tower"}]

The site is managed by the Medicine Bow National Forest and was approved in 2024 as a $5-per-vehicle day-use recreation site.

It’s also not ancient. It was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the 1930s, according to F.E. Warren Air Force Base.

Aaron Voos, public affairs specialist for the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest and Thunder Basin National Grassland, said U.S. Forest Service maps mark the location as an "observation point" as early as 1956 in its records.

Engineering blueprints from 1959 show plans for a parking area, footpath, restroom and the stone observation tower visitors see today, said Voos. 

The overlook typically opens with the Snowy Range Scenic Byway each spring and remains accessible through the summer and fall before winter snow closes the road.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Where The Stars Take Over"}]

Peel said he has spent countless nights at Libby Flats photographing the Milky Way, auroras, and sunrises.

The high elevation and lack of light pollution create some of the darkest skies in Wyoming for photographers.  

"Up in the Snowies, it's nearly pristine," Peel said, adding that the tower is one of his favorite places to take photos. 

On moonless nights, the Milky Way stretches across the sky with a clarity that's difficult to appreciate until you're standing beneath it, he continued. 

Illuminated by starlight, Peel says the structure resembles a watchtower guarding the edge of the continent. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"'The Flats Of Libby' "}]

[{"type":"text","text":"Peel has lived in Laramie for nearly 47 years."}]

He's hiked the Snowies, camped beside alpine lakes and brought his children into the mountains when they were young.

[{"type":"text","text":"The observation tower remains one of the places they always returned to."}]

[{"type":"text","text":"His children thought it looked like a castle."}]

After decades of hiking, camping and photographing the Snowies, Peel found himself writing about them too.

One of his Irish compositions, "The Flats of Libby," borrowed its name from the windswept landscape surrounding the overlook .

More than 60 years after it first appeared on Forest Service maps, and nearly a century since the CCC built it, the overlook remains one of the most recognizable stops in the Snowy Range, drawing everyone from road-trippers and hikers to photographers chasing the stars.

Libby Flats Observation Tower Pat and Chuck Blackley via Alamy 5 30 26

<title>What The Heck … Is That Medieval Castle-Looking Thing On The Snowy Range Byway? | Cowboy State Daily</title>

The observation deck that looks like a Medieval castle ruin has turned heads for decades in the Medicine Bow range. For Laramie photographer David Peel, the 11,000-foot elevation and lack of light pollution make it a great place for astrophotography.

What The Heck … Is That Medieval Castle-Looking Thing On The Snowy Range Byway?

Heinz mark

Mark Heinz

Outdoors

Wildlife

A rare all-white pronghorn made a brief appearance in Goshen County, much to the delight of a couple of local wildlife watcher. But whether the animal is an actual albino remains a mystery.

Matthew Pancake and his wife, Maricela, make a regular habit of taking walks to admire wildlife, including small local herds of pronghorn, commonly called antelope.

“We’re old people, we like to get our exercise by walking,” he quipped during a telephone interview with Cowboy State Daily.

They were out on Memorial Day when they spotted a buck pronghorn with two does, and one of the does was completely white.

“I said, ‘That sucker’s white. Is that an albino?’” he said.

Albinism occurs in humans and numerous animal species. It’s essentially a complete lack of pigmentation, wildlife biologist Rich Guenzel told Cowboy State Daily.

In some animals, including pronghorn, a recessive gene can also cause a few rare individuals to have all-white hair or fur. But they’re not actual albinos, said Guenzel, who worked for the Wyoming Game and Fish Department from 1986-2011 and has a special interest in pronghorn.

It’s most likely that the Goshen County doe has the recessive gene, but isn’t an albino, he said.

Pancake said the antelope in his area seem to be a bit sparse. He wonders if herds are still trying to recover from an especially harsh winter a few years ago.

The white doe he saw on Memorial Day and the other two antelope with her all looked lively and healthy, Pancake said.

“She looked at us for a little while and then started running,” typical of what antelope do when humans are near, he said.

He’d never seen the white doe before. On Wednesday, he said he hasn’t seen her since.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Answer Is In The Eyes"}]

True albino animals have strange-looking eyes. In pronghorn, an albino’s eyes will be “reddish-pinkish,” Guenzel said.

Pancake said he "didn’t get close enough to see the eyeballs of that antelope,” so he can’t be sure whether she had that tell-tale feature.

Pronghorn rely heavily upon their vision, and albinism not only makes the eyes strange colors, it can sometimes affect an animal’s vision.

That’s more reason to think that the Goshen County doe is a recessive gene white specimen, he said.

“That’s an adult that’s survived at least one winter,” Pancake said.

He added that he’s seen only “one specimen” of an albino pronghorn, but has never seen such an animal in the wild.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"The Air Force Base Buck"}]

Guenzel has seen white, nonalbino pronghorn in a few places in Wyoming, including in the Shirley Basin and the Buffalo area.

“They’re neat to see, they’re a rare animal,” he said.

In the early 2000s, an all-white pronghorn buck that hung out around F.E. Warren Air Force Base near Cheyenne became something of a local wildlife celebrity, Guenzel said.

Sadly, that buck was struck and killed by a vehicle, he said.

The recessive gene that causes all-white fur apparently doesn’t directly manifest from one generation to the next, Guenzel said.

So, if the Goshen County doe ever has fawns, odds are good they’ll have normal-colored fur, white in the belly area, and tannish on the back and flanks, he said.

That pattern has served pronghorn well over the ages, causing them to “blend in” with the landscapes they inhabit.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Evading Predators"}]

An all-white pronghorn might be easier for predators to spot. But since she’s a full-grown doe, good luck catching her, Guenzel said.

Pronghorn fawns might be vulnerable. The adults can run at roughly 55 miles per hour for extended periods. They developed that speediness ages ago, when their ancestors had to evade 

But those lightning-fast cats, which weren’t actually cheetahs, are long since extinct. And nothing else alive today with teeth, claws and a taste for meat can keep up with pronghorn.

And pronghorn also have exceptional vision, said to be about as good as a human looking through a powerful set of binoculars.

Pronghorn are designed to deal with predation. Once they get to be a yearling or above, their survival rate is pretty good, because they can out-run everything and out-see everything, Guenzel said.

All-white bison are also head-turners, and are regarded as sacred by Native Americans.

 born in Yellowstone in June 2024 caused a stir as many visitors rushed to catch a glimpse of the rare animal.

Albino antelope 1 5 31 26

<title>‘Extremely Rare’ All-White Antelope Captured On Video In Goshen County | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Wildlife watchers in Goshen County got a rare treat on Memorial Day — a brief encounter captured on video of an all-white pronghorn. Such animals are “extremely rare," but usually not actual albinos, a biologist said.

‘Extremely Rare’ All-White Antelope Captured On Video In Goshen County

Employee kate meadows cropped

Kate Meadows

BLACK HAWK, S.D. — Six years after a massive sinkhole opened in a residential neighborhood in the South Dakota Black Hills about 55 miles from the Wyoming border, homeowners are still living in financial limbo.

The 85-foot-deep sinkhole — and roughly 100 feet wide and 650 feet long — revealed a sprawling abandoned underground gypsum mine beneath the Hideaway Hills subdivision near Black Hawk, South Dakota.

In the years since, dozens of homes have sat abandoned and deteriorating while property owners wait for answers, compensation and accountability.

Their homes are essentially worthless. Many families are still making mortgage payments on houses they can’t safely live in while a lawsuit over who bears responsibility inches through the court system.

A pending South Dakota Supreme Court decision could determine whether affected residents have any path forward financially.

“We do not yet have an opinion from the Supreme Court,” said Kathy Barrow, an attorney with national law firm Fox Rothschild, who represents the homeowners in the case.

“There is no timeline, unfortunately,” she added. “It could be six months, next year sometime.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"What Lies Beneath Hideaway Hills"}]

[{"type":"text","text":"The disaster traces back decades."}]

For more than 50 years, gypsum mining operations carved a network of underground tunnels beneath the area. ‘

In the mid-1980s, the state of South Dakota bought land there for gypsum mining activities connected to a nearby cement plant.

The state later reclaimed roughly 16 acres of mined land and reseeded it for rangeland use before selling the property to a developer in 1994. The land was eventually sold again to other developers, who built the Hideaway Hills subdivision in the early 2000s.

[{"type":"text","text":"Residents began moving into the neighborhood around 2005."}]

Just a few years later, homeowners started noticing cracks in foundations and shifting ground.

[{"type":"text","text":"Then in April 2020, the earth gave way."}]

The sinkhole opened near where resident Albert Reitz had been mowing his lawn.

Authorities initially evacuated residents from 13 homes because of concerns about ground instability.

Subsequent testing revealed the problem was far more extensive than initially believed.

Studies later determined all 153 homes in the subdivision were uninhabitable because of underground instability tied to the abandoned mine workings.

A study led by geological engineering professor Mohammad Sadeghi of Montana Technological University found additional underground tunnels beneath the subdivision and warned of continuing geologic risk. 

Researchers also raised concerns that mine workings could extend beneath Interstate 90.

[{"type":"text","text":"Meanwhile, property values collapsed."}]

“The ground is continuing to deteriorate,” Barrow told Cowboy State Daily.

She said the instability reaches far deeper than anything tied to subdivision construction.

“What the developers did was not the cause,” Barrow said. “The ground instability goes deeper than any ground the developers would have touched.”

In 2024, Hideaway Hills homeowners filed a class-action lawsuit against the state of South Dakota seeking more than $60 million in damages.

The lawsuit argues the state bears responsibility because of its mining activities and because homeowners were never informed about the risks lurking underground.

Barrow argued the land was originally intended for pasture use — not residential development — and said residents had no warning about the underground dangers.

[{"type":"text","text":"The state disputes those claims."}]

South Dakota argues it is not liable because it did not conduct underground mining operations at the site and says the mine collapse would have happened regardless of the state’s activities.

South Dakota Circuit Court Judge Eric Stawn ruled in favor of the state in September 2024, finding the state immune from tort liability claims.

Barrow argues the case was never framed as a tort claim in the first place.

A year after the circuit court ruling, victims asked the South Dakota Supreme Court to hold the state accountable. That decision is pending.

[{"type":"text","text":"Meanwhile, the subdivision remains largely frozen in time."}]

A chain link fences surrounds the sink hole. The concrete is cracked and pale with weeds growing up in the cracks. Uncut grass is brown and long.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Why Wyoming Is Different"}]

The Hideaway Hills disaster highlights a major difference between South Dakota and Wyoming when it comes to abandoned mine reclamation.

Wyoming participates in the federal Abandoned Mine Land program, an initiative designed to protect public health, safety and the environment by identifying, reclaiming and restoring lands and waters degraded by historic mining practices.

The program is funded by fees collected from every kind of coal that is produced, according to Keith Guille, outreach manager for the Wyoming Department of Environmental Quality. 

Wyoming, a coal-producing state, maintains a state-administered Abandoned Mine Land program through its Department of Environmental Quality.  

Because South Dakota is not a coal-producing state, it does not administer such a program, according to the South Dakota Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources.

Guille said Wyoming’s abandoned mine reclamation work is funded through fees collected from current coal production.

“Obviously it’s about public health and safety,” Guille said. “That’s why we do abandoned mines.”

Wyoming’s AML division routinely performs underground reclamation work by grouting abandoned mine tunnels with concrete slurry to stabilize the ground above them.

Some of those abandoned mines lie hundreds of feet beneath existing communities, Guille said.

Rock Springs is one example where underground mine reclamation has continued for years. Similar abandoned mine concerns also exist beneath parts of Gillette and the Hanna area, Guille said.

Because abandoned mines predate 1977, before modern mining regulations existed, maps are often incomplete or inaccurate, making underground reclamation especially difficult.

“It’s a moving target when you talk about underground abandoned mines,” Guille said. “It’s a long work in progress.”

Wyoming residents also have access to the Wyoming Mine Subsidence Insurance Program, which allows homeowners to purchase insurance coverage against ground collapse caused by abandoned underground mines.

South Dakota has no comparable state-administered abandoned mine land program because the federal AML system is funded through coal production fees, and South Dakota is not a coal-producing state.

For Hideaway Hills residents, that distinction has become painfully clear.

Six years after the sinkhole opened, many are still waiting to learn whether anyone will ultimately be held responsible for the ground beneath their homes giving way.

Sinkhole 4 5 31 26

<title>Six Years Later, Black Hills Sinkhole Victims Still Waiting For Relief | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Six years after a massive 85-foot-deep sinkhole opened in a residential neighborhood in the Black Hills, homeowners live in financial limbo. Dozens of homes have sat abandoned and deteriorating while property owners wait for answers, compensation and accountability.

Six Years Later, Black Hills Sinkhole Victims Still Waiting For Relief

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's business and tourism reporter, Renée Jean

Renée Jean

EVANSTON — One of the first times Jim Davis walked into the city’s historic Roundhouse and Railyards decades ago, it was like a scene from a movie. 

There was the crumbling railroad roundhouse, with its broken windows and pigeon feathers floating on the air, spinning as his footsteps stirred little puffs of dirt.

The rusted tracks disappeared into darkness. The roof was leaking, and the smell of that decay was everywhere. 

But there were rays of sunlight shining down into that darkness, and he had the sudden sense that all was not lost here. 

This was something special, something worth saving. 

Saving Evanston’s roundhouse has taken $28 million in private money and grants, as well as decades of volunteer time and effort, Davis said. 

But that’s given Evanston something few communities in America have — a completely functioning, fully intact roundhouse that he believes could be a tourism powerhouse, if Evanston ever decides to lean into promoting it. 

Everyone he has ever taken to see the building, without fail, has the same reaction, Davis told Cowboy State Daily. 

“Every single time I open the doors and walk into the roundhouse …. the first words out of their mouth are, ‘Oh my God,’” Davis said. “Their reaction was it was so phenomenal to see that space the way we were able to fix it up.”

 is a 63,000-square-foot, 96-foot-deep curved brick-and-mortar behemoth built around a post-and-beam interior.

The walls are lined with huge banks of wood-framed windows to provide natural light. It has a two-level terraced roof, and the face of the terrace is covered with windows to provide additional natural light. 

Davis likes to go up to the mezzanine level, where there’s a small kitchen area and space for parties.

“It’s just a beautiful space,” he said. “And I really enjoy taking people up there. It’s really well-thought of and the architects were so good to work with.”

Keeping it a roundhouse, Davis believes, is key to its intrigue. 

To think that inside that cavernous, multistory space lit by sunlight still that huge train cars were driven inside on tracks and then rotated by the gigantic round wheel inside to one of 28 stalls is awe-inspiring. 

All the historical photos, meanwhile, help tell a timeless legend of how America was built.

A Roundhouse Corridor That Built Southern Wyoming

Once upon a time, there were dozens of roundhouses like Evanston’s in towns across Wyoming and the West, Davis said. 

They were positioned all along the tracks, about every 100 miles. That’s about how long trains could go in the beginning without having to stop to refuel and repair. 

Over time, they became more and more efficient and roundhouses began to close. Evanston’s was slated for closure in 1926, putting at least 100 people out of work.

“We were the first roundhouse in the state to close,” Davis said. “Engines had become more efficient and they could run from Green River to Ogden without stopping in Evanston.”

It seemed unfortunate at the time, but it set off a series of events that would ultimately help save the facility.

“The city leaders thought we need those jobs now,” Davis said. “So they got on a train to Omaha, which is the headquarters, and begged them to keep the buildings open.”

Union Pacific ultimately did listen, and reopened the roundhouse and rail yard the following year as a reclamation plant, which added 200 jobs to the former 100, making for a total of 300.

“That saved those buildings,” Davis said. “They fixed all kinds of equipment for Union Pacific.”

Other roundhouses in Wyoming shut down: Laramie, Rock Springs, Rawlins, and even Cheyenne.

But Evanston’s, as a reclamation facility, kept going until 1971, after which Union Tank leased the facility from Union Pacific, and then Union Pacific quit-claimed the 21-acre property — depot, roundhouse, machine shop, yard, and related buildings — to Evanston in 1973.

For decades after that, almost nothing was done to maintain it. 

Windows broke and stayed that way. Boards were put up to block most of the rain, but roofs leaked and kept on leaking. 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"First Came The Depot"}]

Saving the roundhouse from decades of neglect wasn’t a straightforward process.

What came first was actually saving an entirely different structure, the depot.

Davis had been hired as executive director of Evanston’s Urban Renewal Agency in 1987, charged with revitalizing the town’s central business district. That included not just Evanston’s great historic downtown, but Depot Square as well.

The space, he found, was structurally sound, even if plaster was falling off the walls and years of neglect were etched upon all of its dust-covered surfaces.

What to do about it, how to preserve it, weren’t part of his expertise.

“I had a business degree in general business administration from Arizona State,” Davis said with a chuckle. “I worked in the corporate world until 1984 when I came back to Evanston.”

A chance encounter helped him with that problem. Soon after joining a national economic development board, he found himself standing in the lunch line beside an architect whose family was from Evanston.

The friendship was instant. Better still, Davis’ new friend knew exactly how to proceed with preserving the depot: assuming Davis could overcome his two biggest hurdles — community buy-in and money.

“There were a lot of naysayers,” Davis said.

Not too far in, though, Evanston was gripped by an oil and gas boom that brought big corporate players to town like Amoco and Chevron.

A planner was hired to help the city, who put together a plan for downtown.

“It wasn’t real specific,” Davis said. “But there was one paragraph, about three sentences long, about how the roundhouse could be a key element in diversifying and revitalizing our downtown.”

There was a vision, Davis realized, that could win people over, starting with the Depot.

Fixing the Depot took years, Davis said, but when it was finished, he’d built a core group of people who believed in historic preservation in Evanston. 

“That gave us the springboard to do the roundhouse,” Davis said. “When we finished the depot, we said, ‘Let’s look at the historic value of all those buildings.' And a citizen’s group was formed that wanted to save them because they saw the historic value, the uniqueness of them. 

"There aren’t many roundhouses left in the country, and, in Wyoming, Evanston had the only one still standing. Cheyenne has one section of a roundhouse, but Evanston has the full semicircle, still standing the way it was built in 1912.”

Megan Stanfill, executive director of the Alliance for Historic Wyoming, confirmed the rarity. 

Of roughly 3,000 roundhouses built in America, only 200 survive. Of those, perhaps a dozen are fully intact like the one in Evanston. 

That makes Evanston’s roundhouse a significant piece of history on a national scale.

“It’s one of the most intact roundhouses along the Union Pacific railroad,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “This one still has the working mechanisms in it as well, so it’s a very intact, contextual example of a roundhouse in Wyoming.”

Davis and the citizen’s group decided to start by defining the complex not just as a cluster of old buildings, but as the physical heart of a much larger American story. 

Davis secured a Brownfields Grant from the Environmental Protection Agency to test for contaminants and ensure the project wasn’t a hopeless Superfund site. 

That found asbestos and lead, tough and expensive to remediate, but not impossible.

Around the same time, they landed a grant to re-roof the machine shop.

“That was the first major maintenance that had been done there for years,” Davis said. “That was probably in 1998.”

One year later, Union Tank decided to leave the dilapidated roundhouse to build a new, better site. 

Now the question wasn’t just if Evanston’s Roundhouse and Railyards could be saved, it was how anyone could possibly afford to do it.

Fortunately, Davis was about to meet another person who would become instrumental to the story of saving the roundhouse.

“I had heard of this organization called the National Trust for Historic Preservation in Denver,” Davis said. “And so Bonnie and I went to Denver every six months to market our retail gift store.”

A century after Union Pacific stopped using it, decades of work has saved and restored Evanston’s historic Roundhouse and Railyards. The $28 million spent so far has made it one of the rare roundhouses in the U.S. that’s still completely operational. 

Daily Cartoon: Tuesday, August 10, 2021

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