Road Trip Rainbows on the Wyoming Plains

In Southern California, we don’t experience much weather. It’s sunny and temperate most of the time. We “freeze” when the temps drop below 50 degrees in the winter and “melt” when the thermometer moves past 85 degrees during summer and fall. We have some rainstorms, but mostly we experience drought conditions. Occasionally, have windy days that do some minor damage before they move out to the sea or toward the mountains. Snow covers the local mountains during winter, but people are seldom stranded.

In short, we Californians (who live on the coast near the beach) are stymied when we come across weather extremes of any kind, especially when driving. So, imagine the extra challenges we faced on a recent springtime road trip in America’s upper western states. In a two-week period, we encountered snow, sleet, wind, thunder, lightning, and rain – moving between hot, sunny days and frigid, freezing days – sometimes experiencing all of these in the span of a few hours! Each was a memorable experience, but it certainly stretched our driving skills to new levels.

The craziest and most magnificent weather we encountered was on the plains of Wyoming as we drove from Cheyenne toward South Dakota.

For the first hour, we marveled at the vast, flat plains, which alternated between shimmering, silver-toned wheat (think “amber waves of grain”) and endless emerald hills that rivaled the tones of green fields we saw in Ireland. The vast, open spaces stretched in every direction. Like a ship that sails toward the horizon but never seems to draw closer, we traveled for great distances seemingly making no progress in our journey.

The wind was constant. It took extra muscle power to hold the steering wheel straight against the gusts that threatened to blow us off the road, especially when in the draft of an 18-wheel truck. When our nav system announced it was time to get off the northern bound main highway and start our trek east toward South Dakota (our destination), my husband was relieved that the narrow, two-lane road was less windy, and he could give his arms a rest.

His relief lasted about 10 minutes, when, after reaching the crest of grade, the road narrowed further, and the wind picked up again. We also discovered we were on a major trucking route. (They were slow moving and hard to pass.) But the biggest alarm was that we were heading from a brilliant blue, cloudless sky toward skies so dark, the storm clouds looked like what I imagine a tsunami does from a distance. The thunderheads resembled the crest of a giant forming wave, and we were heading directly into it like a fearless surfer paddling toward the swell that threatens to swallow him whole. I had never seen anything like it.

It looked like we were driving into a tsunami.

I strained my eyes to see if any of the dark shapes appeared funnel-like, worried about tornadoes, and searching for ditches on the side of the road to lie in if one formed and headed our way. (And, yes, I got visions of “Wizard of Oz” scenes and heard the duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh soundtrack whenever the witch appeared.) Remember, I am from Southern California. We don’t have tornados. (Spoiler alert: the feared tornado never formed! But the drama was far from over.)

The lighting and thunder began as the rain changed from soft drops to a deluge. The windshield wipers did nothing for our visibility. It felt like we were driving through a waterfall or a never-ending carwash. Worse yet, when freight trucks passed us going the opposite way, they created a tidal wave of water that forcefully hit our car and a draft wind that threatened to blow us off the road. And, because we couldn’t really see them coming, it was a shock each time. We had a quick debate. Do we pull over and wait it out or press on through the eye of the storm? Should we turn back? What if we got stranded? What about all the trucks on the road? Could they see us? In the end, we drove at a snail’s pace behind a truck, watching for his red break lights (which looked like pink puffs of cotton candy floating in front of us). It was harrowing…and humbling.

About an hour later, we moved past the worst of it. The sky was still mostly black and still pelting rain, but visibility vastly improved. As we drove along the curvy road through the foothills, the sun would intermittently burst through the dark skies, reminding us it was still the middle the afternoon. Suddenly, through the water-spotted window, we saw a full double rainbow appear in the distance over the roadway like a welcoming archway promising a brighter stretch of highway ahead. I quickly snapped a shot through the windshield before it disappeared.

A couple miles later, another one unexpectedly appeared. This time we pulled over for the photo op. Ten minutes go by. Another one! We had never seen so many rainbows. As soon as we would drive past (or through) one, another would pop up to take its place. Sometimes they would be set against the dark cloudy backdrop and sometimes they would be backed by blue sky. Each was a little different but no less spectacular! Wait, there’s another one. The rainbows appeared so frequently, we lost count and eventually quit taking photos.

I’ve included a sampling of the photos we took that day in the span of about 90 minutes. The photos do not do the rainbows justice.

The earth never looked so alive. Not just the colors of the rainbows but also the landscapes, which looked like highly edited photos or like something straight out of an incredibly vivid dream. No human replication of what we saw could truly depict the supernatural scene that unfolded before us.

Rainbows have come to symbolize many things in our culture. For my husband and I, a rainbow is a reminder of God’s promises and his amazing creation. We were blessed to have witnessed such an awesome display of beauty and wonder. We’ve made some scenic drives in places all over the world, but this is by far the most scenic to date!