Thunder Mountain Monument

You see all sorts of things driving, natural and man-made, many times you are driving so fast you either don’t want to risk pulling over or don’t want to lose time by turning around. Sure, I will remember these things, but photographing makes the stories.

Missed shots such as: a property entrance from the road- you’ve seen these things, they are tall frame-like-things with the name of the farm or ranch on the top of it. They have all sorts of names “Bar 4 – Ranch” or “Moosehead – Ranch” – sometimes the names just beg for a photo and a “funny to me” caption. Example: near Manville, WY is a sign for “Hidden Valley – Ranch” the obvious caption is “thanks, I prefer Blue Cheese” (….crickets … I’ll keep my day job).

Another missed shot was a derelict home/farm. In the middle of now where, no cell signal, the last town is 30 minutes back, turning around and photographing this place felt risky. From the looks of things, also in southern Wyoming, appearing untouched for decades. A quintessential farmstead straight out of a John Wayne flick (think the movie “The Searchers,”) complete with log cabin, a couple of outbuildings, and livestock pens. It just seemed like a property caught in a lost moment in time. You can just envision life there.

Then there was Thunder Mountain.

Blazing down I-80, an odd structure on the left off the highway catches my eye. Tempted just to pull over and shoot it from across the road, but I am making good progress since last night and decide to take the off-ramp and go back.

You drive down a gravel road and find a makeshift fence of rusted things (old gas pumps, car parts, lamps, washing machine – things…). There is a sign saying “Thunder Mountain Monument” donations $2 into a small tube placed high on the fence door. There are no other cars and seemingly no one around for miles.

I must have walked around, photographing and exploring this place for nearly an hour. Full of curiosities and “junk” all cemented and configured into structures and art pieces, posted warning signs for wearing shoes because of broken glass and sharp objects on the ground. What the hell is this place‽

In the middle is a small covered picnic area, a guestbook is on the table alongside a wall with weathered and faded pictures posted and falling behind plexiglass.

Walking around this folk art property offers details from different angles, distant and close up perspectives. I am having a blast photographing this place.

On the edge of the property is a caravan with a barking dog. I don’t see anyone at first, and I can’t tell if it is part of the place or a random campsite.

After getting all the shots I think I wanted, I pass by the campsite and notice someone moving inside the RV. I wave a few times, not sure if the person sees me, I start to leave. Turn around one more time after hearing the barking a little louder – the person in the RV came out.

Walking over is Fred Lewis, the curator, and his ferocious guard beast, named Lucy.

We talked for a while. Fred explained what happened with this property, how it came to be, all of which is detailed, along with other pictures (inside the structure and what the place was like before the fire in 1983) on the monument’s website.

Fred is a childhood friend Dan, the son of Chief Thunder Mountain (the artist’s name). Dan hired Fred to live on the property and could not have been a more helpful guy. He explained that the place used to be green and beautiful, there was a large pond next to the Spanish villa structure and that the family lived in the three-storied memorial. There isn’t much left to photograph inside the home today; the website has pictures of what it was before the fire. Amazing!!