Rock Hunting

We left Hays, Kansas yesterday knowing that we did not have as long of drive as our two previous days - only 350 miles or so to Isaac’s as opposed to 550.  In exploring sight-seeing possibilities, Tim found some geological formations that I thought would be worth visiting.

Not too far west on I 70 was the exit to see Castle Rock.  Once at the bottom of the ramp, the sign indicated that Castle Rock Road went in both directions.  Very helpful.  Wave and Google Maps were also less than helpful being totally stumped by Tim’s entry.  In our confusion and misdirections, we confirmed that we can argue under any circumstance, including being in two different vehicles talking over bluetooth.

Eventually we found a tourist sign stating that Castle Rock was 15 miles south of the town but failed to mention that most of that was on dirt roads.  You’d think that on such flat ground a “stand-alone” geological feature would be easy to find. Not so much. Eventually we could spot, in the far distance, something rising from the flatness.

Last night, in reviewing information on the internet, I am not sure that we saw the specific feature called Castle Rock.  We were at the geological site, but I don’t think we viewed that exact formation. Without clear directions, we drove on a rutted path up the elevation and stopped when there was a place to pull over.

It was so very quite.  No road sounds, no air traffic, no human noise in any way.  Much to the nervousness of my husband, who knows my propensity for falling, sliding, and bumping, I carefully worked my way down to a ledge in the midst of the chalky remnants of a prehistoric age.  

These striated cliffs and pillars are the reminders of a time when Kansas was part of the sea. 80 million years ago in the Cretaceous Period Kansas seas held plesiosaurs and a host of other life. Water and later wind worked together to make these formations.  The wind continues its work. Castle Rock itself had several feet of its original spire broken in a storm ten years ago.  

I sat on my outcropping - closed my eyes and allowed the sun to warm my face.  The strong breeze cooled me even as the day heated to the 90’s.  So quite.  So lovely.  The details.  The fossilized  shell and tiny creatures strewn all around.  Nooks and crannies hollowed out by badland winds.  Another time and yet our time.  Here for our awe - to realize how amazingly complex and long our Creator has been creating, is still creating.  

I don’t have much patience for folks who want to put God in a box and say that creation happened 6,000 years ago “according to the Bible.”  What a simplistic and erroneous interpretation of Divine power.  I don’t have much patience for folks who want to rely on scientific hypothesis, ignoring the Divine Will in big bangs, black holes, and colliding planets.

Ancient sea and centuries of wind.  Sculptures of the most exquisite sort, holy and sacred.

Getting off the top of this thing was something of a Laurel and Hardy move.  We realized that the ruts were getting too deep for our XB and Corolla so we had to back down the road with only our mirrors in our over-loaded vehicles.  Once the ruts were not so deep we did snappy 3-point turns and headed back, calmer than we came. Richer for our experience.

Farming in Kansas

From my own historical readings, I know that Kansas raises some corn, a lot of cattle, maize, and a few other things. Until yesterday,  I forgot that Kansas also raises electricity at its wind farms.

We passed by the largest wind farm in Kansas just outside of Salina on our #PDXbound trek.  Turbine after turbine on top of small rolling hills for miles.  Facing not in uniform direction, some of the turbines looked as if they were grouped in conversation. Massive, we could see them for miles before we were actually near.

We did not have much wind yesterday (thankfully for our traveling in overloaded vehicles), so the blades turned lazily in whatever drafts exist that far off the ground.  I couldn't stop thinking that it looked like a giant child had planted a cluster of pinwheels in the sand and had run off to tell Mommy or Daddy of their great work.  (read "The Food of the Gods and How it Came to Earth," by H. G. Wells)


For years while in West Virginia, I had watched as one at a time these huge blades were transported west on I70 on elongated tractor trailer trucks. One at a time, "Oversided Load" posted on their bumpers, westward ho went the turbine blades.  I marveled at their size and wondered at engineers who designed and contractors who built such big machines.

Now I know where the blades went.  Over 150 wind turbines (of two makes) sprinkle 25,000 acres here in the middle of Kansas, providing lots of electricity. (I don't understand electrical units.)  The Smoky Hills project allows the landowners to collect royalties, the utility companies to collect payments for electricity provided, and for us to gain a little less dependence on fossil fuels.

When Tim connected our electricity for the apartment in Portland, he had a choice of paying a tiny bit more to make sure our electricity comes - as much as possible -  from wind farms such as these.  As I gaped in awe driving past these elegant, giant pinwheels, I thanked God for wind.  I gave thanks for the very breath of God that blows over creation giving us all that we need.