One More For The Road

[{"type":"text","text":"The crash is understandable. The post really did jump out at him....."}]

One more for 9 21 24

Cowboy State Daily is Wyoming’s largest newspaper with Wyoming’s most experienced journalists. 

<title>One More For The Road: Saturday, September 21, 2024 | Cowboy State Daily</title>

The crash is understandable. The post really did jump out at him.....

One More For The Road: Saturday, September 21, 2024

 The crash is understandable. The post really did jump out at him.....

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily reporter, Jackie Dorothy.

Jackie Dorothy

Wyoming Life

In the early 2000s, Zariah Whiteplume recalls how she would have to go to the "water hole" on the Navajo Reservation just so her family could wash dishes and have water to drink.

“I remember visiting my great-grandmother in New Mexico and we barely had any electricity,” Whiteplume said. “We had no running water, and it's so crazy that we used to go in an outhouse, and haul water.”

Whiteplume, 22, has known poverty all her life in two places: The Navajo and Wind River reservations. The experiences have led her on a quest to make life better for both her tribes, the Northern Arapaho and Diné (Navajo).

“I know there's still so many tribal members who live like that out on the reservation,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “I feel like I came a long way but when you're young you don't really realize that you are poor. It’s just the way it is.”

Whiteplume wanted to change that, so she began 

lectrical engineering degree with a focus on renewable energy. 

Members of her Diné family attended United Tribes Technical College in Bismarck, North Dakota, and persuaded her to visit. 

discovered her love for math was a strong asse

as recruited to the engineering program. 

[{"type":"text","text":"This past spring, she graduated with her pre-engineering degree."}]

“It's a very demanding degree, but I'm also proud to say that I'm one of a few of the young women in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math),” Whiteplume said. “United Tribes brought me opportunities I thought I would never have.”

Thanks to her Diné connections, Whiteplume was able to intern at the Los Alamos Nationa

o summers. This year, she transferred to the Sandia National Laboratori

“I want to come back to my community and engage with the youth,” she said. “We need to introduce more of our kids at earlier ages to the sciences but also incorporate our cultural ways.”

Whiteplume said she hopes to build a bridge between h

This process is called Traditional Ecological Knowledge, or TEK, and can be used to ensure proposed renewable energy fits community priorities, respects culturally significant places, and meets local needs rather than imposing outside solutions.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Sharing Her Culture"}]

As she pursues her education and dreams of a future sharing her passion of math and science to children on the reservations, Whiteplume is also staying in touch with her cultural identity through hoop dancing.

She has performed before various audiences, including

“The elementary kids from around the Bismarck school districts get most excited whenever I come out,” Whiteplume said. “That means a lot to me.”

Whiteplume was 8 when she first began learning to hoop dance with Jasmine Bell and her team of young girls on the Wind River Reservation. Over the years, she has had numerous mentors. In middle school, her teacher was Ann Abeyta in Fort Washakie. 

“Hoop dancing is a healing dance and people enjoy watching because of how skilled you have to be to do the dance,” Whiteplume said. “When I dance, I pick up the hoops with my feet and I don't ever bend down to pick up the hoops off the ground.”

Whiteplume said what makes the dance so special is telling her own story. Each year, she adds a hoop; she 

“I always get nervous before I dance and my parents always remind me that when I dance I'm not only healing myself but I'm healing everybody else around me and to keep my family members in mind,” she said.

Whiteplume said she makes a purposeful effort to always have positive vibes when dancing. Once she begins, rather than concern herself with the technical aspects, she pays attention to the drum group and its music while keeping her thoughts centered on family.

[{"type":"text","text":"“It just flows naturally,” she said."}]

Whiteplume spent her early years dancing around Lander and the Wind River Reservation. After she graduated, she said it was heartwarming to hear from locals who said they had watched her grow up through her hoop dancing.

When Whiteplume was in high school, she was asked to hoop dance for the opening of a show.  Red Berry Woman, a contemporary fashion design company owned by a Hidatsa Sioux. Assiniboine and Crow woman named 

, then asked her to model in the show, leading to another opportunity to showcase her heritage with others.

“Indigenous designers are telling their story and representing their own tribes in their art,” Whiteplume said. “They will use geometrics and florals and just intricate designs that they create themselves, which I think is beautiful.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Cultural Exchange"}]

Whiteplume said that the biggest performance of her life came when she hoop danced in June in Tokyo. She was invited to perform at an all-Indigenous international fashion show.

Whiteplume performed and modeled as part of the Cultural Enrichment Segment for Hitechmoda Productions, a fashion show for Indigenous designers to showcase their art. She was invited to dance specifically by “Ally’s Ribbons,” a designer from the First Nations in Canada who specializes in ribbon designs.

Because Whiteplume didn’t dance until the second segment of the show, she was also able to model for C. Lysias Designs of the First Nations of Canada in the first segment. She described the outfit as a beautiful leather skirt paired with a Pendleton heart neckline top.

“It was cool to see a mixture between Japanese designers and our Native designers,” Whiteplume said, explaining that geishas and other Japanese-themed artists were also featured alongside the Native artists.

Whiteplume said one of her most memorable experiences wasn’t at the show itself but came afterward when she visited an otter café and was able to have an experience that tied her back to the pow wows of her childhood.

“One of our pieces of regalia that we dance with as Native people are otters,” Whiteplume said. “I always wanted to interact with a live otter, and it was so special to be able to pet and feed some of these creatures.”

Whiteplume said she will continue to hoop dance and model to keep in touch with her cultural identity and share it with others. She has been invited to be the head lady dancer at the Fremont County Fair on July 27.

But her main passion is showing kids on the reservation that it is cool to be a young woman in STEM and to use her engineering skills to better their lives by introducing renewable resources in a culturally sensitive way. 

"Engineering is a lot of hands-on work and solving problems using math," Whiteplume said. "I am still in a bit of shock when I realize that I'm doing it. I'm going to be an engineer."

Contact Jackie Dorothy at jackie@cowboystatedaily.com

Zariah Whiteplume 3 Zariah in Tokyo 7 26 26

<title>Wyoming People: International Model Grew Up On Reservations Without Running Water | Cowboy State Daily</title>

Zariah Whiteplume grew up without running water or much electricity on the Wind River and Navajo reservations. This summer, she was hoop dancing and modeling in Tokyo, Japan. “I know there's still so many tribal members who live like that,” she said.

Wyoming People: International Model Grew Up On Reservations Without Running Water

Headshot of Cowboy State Daily's Feature Reporter, Andrew Rossi.

Andrew Rossi

Around Wyoming

Anyone who turns off Wyoming Highway 120 toward Clark will find a paved two-lane road heading all the way to the mouth of the Clarks Fork Canyon. The road extends for 8 miles through some of the most riveting scenery in northwest Wyoming.

[{"type":"text","text":"Then it abruptly ends."}]

The pavement comes to a stop at a bumpy dirt parking lot. The only way to go any farther is by foot, on horseback, or in a sturdy off-road vehicle.

[{"type":"text","text":"It’s officially County Road 8VC. Many locals know it as Canyon Road."}]

It’s also known as “The Road to Nowhere,” “Webster’s Folly,” and “The Road of Death.”

One thing it isn’t is a highway connecting northwest Wyoming to Cooke City, Montana, which is all it was intended to be.

Why the road was never completed is a complicated legacy of the forever unfinished Clarks Fork Road.

[{"type":"text","text":"“It doesn't have a good history,” Cody historian Bob Richard said."}]

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Crucial Connection"}]

It was 1962, and the Wyoming Highway Department (WHD) wanted a road to connect Cody and Cooke City, which would become Wyoming Highway 296. That would give local and tourist traffic access to the Northeast Entrance of Yellowstone National Park.

[{"type":"text","text":"Constant Edward “Bud” Webster had a bold vision."}]

Webster was an influential rancher and car dealer from Meeteetse. He ran Cody’s Chevrolet dealership for 65 years, longer than any other individual in the nation to that point.

[{"type":"text","text":"“He was a leader in our community,” Richard said."}]

Webster wanted the new road to run along the bottom of the Clarks Fork Canyon, following the original North Route to Cooke City through the Absaroka Range.

“It was his favorite project,” Richard said. “Bud was the chairman of the Wyoming Highway Department at the time, and it was his idea to put a road up through the canyon. He developed it.”

Webster was so eager and influential that the Clarks Fork Road began construction. 

[{"type":"text","text":"It would never be finished."}]

By 1969, 8 miles of the Clarks Fork Road had been laid out, leveled and paved up to the mouth of the Clarks Fork Canyon.

At the same time, 37 miles away, construction was underway at the west end of the route. A junction was built at U.S. Highway 212, following the south bank of the Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone River into Sunlight Basin.

That’s when the controversy started to blow, much like the wind in the canyon.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Canyon Vs. Summit"}]

Even when construction began on either end of Wyoming Highway 296, there was controversy about where the middle should go. Should it follow the Clarks Fork through the canyon, or head up and over 8,060-foot Dead Indian Summit?

This was the debate over the “Canyon” and “Summit” routes. Ronald Tabler, a research hydrologist with the U.S. Forest Service, explored both in a 1972 report he prepared for the WHP.

“An obvious advantage of the Canyon route is that it would avoid the blowing and drifting snow conditions that prevail on Dead Indian Pass,” he wrote. “The principal advantage of the Summit route, according to its proponents, is that it would have less esthetic impact and preserve the unspoiled beauty of the canyon.”

Tabler said he prepared his report “in response to public concern about the corridor location.” There was plenty of that to go around.

Based on existing historical records, public opinion was highly against the Canyon route.

In 1972, lifelong Wyomingite and “heavy tax-payer” John Bugas submitted an opinion piece to The Cody Enterprise. In it, he laid out his argument against the Canyon plan.

“It would make as much sense as cutting a highway up the Grand Canyon of the Colorado or the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone,” he wrote. “A highway up the canyon not only is undesirable, (but) it is unnecessary for the needs of the traveling public.”

Bugas’ other reasons to oppose the Canyon route were excessive costs, “desecration” of the canyon’s beauty, and the frequency of landslides and rockfalls.

“I have seen three instances of rock and landslides on both sides of the river that would wipe out any – repeat, any – manmade structure except one of the nuclear bomb shelter type.”

W. Lyle Whiting published his own op-ed in 1972 calling the Canyon route “undesirable,” even after WHD finished the first 8-mile stretch from Clark to the canyon.

“The first section … seems practical until you get near the mouth of the canyon,” he said. “The wind has made the last part of (the road) unusable. The top has actually blown off the road.”

When the Cody Chamber of Commerce did a public opinion poll that same year, only 21% of participants supported the Canyon route. The remaining 79% preferred the Summit.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Chief Joseph’s Highway"}]

After years of debate, the Canyon route was abandoned. Between 1977 and 1992, the existing road over Dead Indian Summit was graded and surfaced into the highway as it exists today.

Wyoming Highway 296, the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway, was dedicated Sept. 12, 1995. The 47-mile highway took 27 years to complete and cost nearly $30 million.

The road over Dead Indian Summit, connecting Cody and Cooke City, had existed for decades.

It was famously used by Chief Joseph and the Nez Perce Tribe in 1877 as they fled eastward from northeastern Oregon to avoid being captured and sent to a reservation by the U.S. Cavalry.

Ironically, Chief Joseph and his tribe eluded capture by following the route Webster wanted for the highway.

Gen. Samuel Sturgis, who intended to intercept and capture the fleeing tribe with 600 cavalry, found that “no trail could possibly lead through” the Clarks Fork Canyon. The tribe saw the unguarded opening, cleverly tricked Sturgis to reposition near the Shoshone River, and used the canyon to escape into Montana.

Richard remembers the old road well. It was functional, but far from glamorous.

“It used to take me a full day to get to Cooke City when I was in high school,” he said. “You didn't travel it when it rained because of the 6 or 8 inches of mud, and it was closed during the wintertime. You only traveled when it was dry.”

However, even developing that route was controversial. Richard remembers many people opposing any permanent road between Cody and Cooke City.

“Everybody that lived in the Sunlight Basin fought it,” he said. “They didn’t want it paved because they felt it would increase the traffic, and I don’t think it did that much.”

Webster was at the 1995 dedication, but by then the abandoned 8-mile stretch of pavement near Clark was already known as “Webster’s Folly.” He didn’t seem to mind and is still credited with spearheading the effort that eventually led to Highway 296.

What little existed of the Clarks Fork Highway remained a curiously well-designed road to nowhere 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Tragic End"}]

Around 2 a.m. on May 5, 2002, five people left the Edelweiss Riverhouse in Clark and drove onto Canyon Road.

When the pavement ended, the 1999 Mercury Cougar they were riding in went off the road and through a barbed wire fence. The vehicle was airborne for 90 feet before landing, rolling several times, and stopping in a boulder field 15 feet below the road.

“The only way I knew it was a Cougar was because I saw the emblem at the side of the road,” David Doyle, then the Park County undersheriff, told The Cody Enterprise the day after the wreck. “The car is totaled.”

The victims weren’t able to get assistance until 8:08 a.m. One of them followed the road back to Clark so they could reach Park County Dispatch.

By the time first responders got to the scene, three people were dead: Amanda Kay Deberg, 20, of Cody, and Justin Mark Anderson, 25, and Michael Lee Sponsel, 18, both from Clark.

[{"type":"text","text":"The other two victims were seriously injured but survived."}]

Lt. Len DeClerq said the vehicle was traveling at 66 mph when the crash occurred. It’s believed that whoever was driving didn’t know how abruptly the road ended, and couldn’t stop.

Alcohol was another contributing factor. Mike Sponsel, who lost his son and stepson in the crash, admitted some of them had been drinking at Edelweiss before the fatal crash.

[{"type":"text","text":"Richard remembers the tragedy well."}]

“The kids got drunk at Edelweiss, were going way too fast, and hit the end of the road,” he said. “They were drunk, and they died there.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Nowhere, No Chance"}]

What killed “The Road to Nowhere?” There are multiple factors to consider, but the idea was borne on ill-fated winds from the beginning.

While public opinion was strongly against the Canyon route, Richard said he thinks the canyon itself dissuaded the WHD from pursuing it further.

“It’s too windy,” he said. “I don’t know how high the winds get up there, but that’s probably what ended it.”

Many people who opposed the Canyon route cited wind as enough of a reason not to pursue it. Because the topography of the Clarks Fork Canyon makes it 

The Canyon route stayed alive for as long as it did because of Webster. However, even his influence and enthusiasm couldn't overcome the significant obstacles.

“He was on the WHD board when those decisions were made, but too many people opposed it,” Richard said. “After a while I think the WHD said 'no more'.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Always At The End Of The Road"}]

Ultimately, the route to build a highway through the Clarks Fork Canyon was deemed too expensive, treacherous and controversial.

[{"type":"text","text":"Nevertheless, the same stretch that was finished is still there."}]

“The Road to Nowhere” is still paved and maintained, offering easy access to the mouth of the canyon and what lies beyond. The dirt parking lot is the staging ground for the Morrison Jeep Trail, a 22-mile trek into the mountains considered a difficult “must-do” for off-road enthusiasts, and it's a great spot to see bighorn sheep and mountain goats.

The route Webster intended also remains intact as a hiking and riding trail. It runs along the northern edge the Clarks Fork to the Hunter Peak Ranch and Campground, south of the U.S. 212 junction where construction started in 1968.

Twenty miles of the Clarks Fork River were added to the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System in 1990. That has ensured it will remain free-flowing, devoid of any development, to preserve its natural beauty.

Richard understands why “Webster’s Folly” was doomed, but he regularly takes tours to the end of the 8-mile road. 

To him, the attempted Clarks Fork Highway is a fascinating piece of Wyoming’s history that will forever remain unfinished.

Road to Nowhere IMG 0997 7 26 26

<title>The Story Behind Wyoming's Ill-Fated And Tragic "Road To Nowhere" | Cowboy State Daily</title>

In an attempt to connect Cody and Cooke City, the Wyoming Department of Transportation built 8 miles of road in 1969 and then stopped. The "Road To Nowhere" became known as "The Road of Death" after a car with 5 people drove through the road's end.

The Story Behind Wyoming's Ill-Fated And Tragic "Road To Nowhere"

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

Renée Jean

LANDER — Sophal Thompson put her Fourth of July flags out early this year. By early May, she had one on each of her handmade tables, because she was that excited to celebrate America’s 250th anniversary.

She hasn’t taken them down yet, and she’s thinking she might just leave them there. They tell a quiet story, one she loves to tell.  

“I just love America,” she told Cowboy State Daily. “I appreciate everything here.”

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are not taken lightly by Thompson. 

She grew up in Cambodia and remembers hiding underground when bombs came. This was during the years of conflict after the Khmer Rouge era, when fighting between factions made daily life dangerous.

Villages across western and northern Cambodia were caught in the crossfire. Families routinely dug subterranean dirt bunkers beneath or next to their thatched homes so they could dive underground at a moment’s notice. They might have to stay there for mere hours or days to survive the shrapnel.

Thompson is not sure her exact age. She might have been 5, 6 or 7. But she does remember how terrified she was that she or someone she loved might die. 

She’d already lost her mother when she was 2.

“My mom didn’t make it,” she said in a soft voice. “My real, real mom who gave me a birthday. She passed away because we had no medication. There was no medication, no doctors, because they killed all of them. The Khmer Rouge killed all the smart doctors. Killed all the teachers.”

With no money, no medicine, no doctors or nurses, there was no one left to help her mother survive. 

“My uncle, my dad’s brother, was killed. They killed him because he was a famous boxer,” she said. “He was smart, very successful. They killed all the famous, the smartest, all the rich people.”

Thompson said she first heard about America she was 7 or 8 years old.

Her grandfather had managed to escape the nightmare sometime in the 1970s, before she was born. He finally managed to find her dad. 

“Somehow, he escaped to a camp where Americans try to save us,” she said. “They could put many people in the plane so my grandpa, he just escaped with his family and came to America. Otherwise, they would have all been killed.”

It took him 25 years to find his surviving relatives in Cambodia. 

“When we finally connected, that’s when I heard about America,” Thompson said. “I wanted to go to America. I wanted to be with my grandpa. He is my second grandpa.”

Thompson saved every penny she could from raising livestock on her family’s rice farm. English lessons were $1 an hour. That was a lot of money for a child, especially in a country where $10 could buy a month of food for her whole family.

“My dad told me, like, if you don’t learn English, you can’t speak to people,” she said. “You can’t work. So you have to learn English.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Arriving With Just $10"}]

When Thompson finally boarded a plane to the United States, she had just $10. 

“Just to make sure, just in case you might be hungry on the way,” he told her. “So you can buy a snack at the airport.”

In Cambodia, that was still a lot of money. 

But in America, as she soon discovered, it didn’t go far.

“I applied for work right away,” she said. “I’m not going to waste my breath sitting around. I have to work.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"That’s been her attitude ever since. "}]

When she was a young mother, she opened a day care so she could watch others’ children alongside her own. 

Childcare, she quickly saw, was so expensive it took half her paycheck. A day care seemed only logical.

It didn’t take long for word to spread. She was licensed for up to 10 children — and quickly filled all those spots. Before long, she was juggling two daycares at once.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Dreaming Of A Laundromat"}]

After her children grew older, Thompson decided to try a new kind of business altogether. For years, she ran the Antler Steak House — a restaurant in a gas station. 

“I was cooking seven days a week and training people every other day,” she said. “That was tiring, and I never got to see people.”

So she sold the restaurant and started dreaming up a new business idea, something she’d felt the town always needed when she was a young mother.

That something was a laundromat. But not the boring place she remembered going to with her children.

“I had a baby and my apartment didn’t have laundry,” she said. “So I would pack my baby back and forth in the car. And I always wished that the laundry had a welcome sitting area — like a place to hang out and play with my baby, watch television or listen to music, and get an ice cream or a smoothie for the kids.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"Coffee And Conversation"}]

That’s how On-Site Laundry was born, and that’s why it doesn’t look like a traditional laundromat. 

The first thing you notice is a set of barstools and a menu listing several flavors of boba tea, as well as other drinks ranging from beer or cocktails to Thompson’s own favorite, Cambodian coffee.

That menu item is a creamy and sweet conversation starter. 

“I had a gentleman come in who didn’t know where I’m from and look at my menu,” Thompson said with a chuckle. “He was like, ‘Cambodia … why are you serving Cambodian coffee?’”

The man had such a look of perplexity, Thompson wasn’t sure what to think. Was this the start of a compliment, or a complaint?

“Then I found out his wife came from Cambodia,” Thompson said. “So I told him I’m from Cambodia and I want to introduce Americans to Cambodian coffee. It’s really dark and strong and a little sweet.”

Before too long, her new friend had brought his wife to the laundromat for Cambodian coffee and conversation.

“That’s what I really like about being here,” Thompson said, beaming. “I get to meet a lot of different travelers. Different states, different countries. I like to visit with them.”

On-Site Laundry has been in business for a year, but it’s already become a popular gathering place for hikers and bikers doing the Continental Divide Trail or the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

“Oasis is a good word for it,” Haleigh Swabowicz said, munching on a plate of chicken fingers and French fries. “Like you never see anything like this. It’s such a cool concept.”

“It’s an oasis,” walking trail friend Willie Hammond agreed. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

The duo found the business listed on an app for Divide Trail hikers that highlights useful and interesting places, complete with ratings and recommendations.

The rating for Lander’s laundromat is high — and well-deserved, Swabowicz said. 

“To have a shower laundry place is spectacular,” she said. “And food? Like, I don’t even need to leave here.”

Air conditioning doesn’t hurt at all either, Hammond said. 

Nor do toilets and chairs, Swabowicz added, laughing. 

“Hiking the Great Divide makes you appreciate so many things so much more,” she said. “Like having a toilet, what an amazing thing that is! And chairs. Oh my gosh, sitting in a chair is such a luxury for us now.”

The cool decor was also not lost on the hiking duo, who said it gives the place a nice “vibe.”

That decor, Thompson said, was built by hand. Her own hand.

“This building was old,” she said. “We had to put everything brand new. The floor, I was just learning. I did that. But I had never done flooring before.”

She also built the tables and stools by hand, as well as a Ramen bar and the lunch counter where people gather to order food and drinks while waiting on their laundry. All of the wood is burned to give it a cozy, kitschy feel, and that’s something else Thompson did herself.

The tables and stools have also been popular. Customers beg to buy them, she said. 

She finally let four of them go, and already has orders for a few more — though she doesn’t take many orders. She’s not in the furniture business after all.

She also assembled the art on the walls, having no money to buy expensive artwork.

“When we opened this up, we were kind of like broke,” she said. “We put every penny to this place. So I told my husband, I’m just gonna do everything handmade. You can’t go spend a thousand bucks on pictures. But I didn’t want it to be boring.”

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"},{"type":"bold"}],"text":"When Grit Meets Freedom"}]

On the front counter, there’s a tiny white piggy bank, but it’s not for tips. It’s for Cambodia.

“I’ve been collecting for a couple of years now,” she said. “And I’ve been sending the money to the hospital. Cambodia is still a very poor country.”

Sophal Thompson grew up in Cambodia and remembers hiding underground when bombs came. She saved every penny to take English lessons and had $10 when she arrived in the U.S. Now, a successful business owner in Lander, she says: “I really, really love America."

One More For The Road: Saturday, September 21, 2024

In case you missed it

More in One More For The Road

One More For The Road: Sunday, July 26, 2026

One More For The Road: Saturday, July 25, 2026

One More For The Road: Friday, July 24, 2026

One More For The Road: Thursday, July 23, 2026

Most read