October 3, 2016:

by Jennifer Bain

The dry Wyoming heat is stifling and there’s a chance of rattlesnakes and scorpions, but we are too busy being paleontologists for a day to freak out.

Oyster knives in hand, dustpans and artist’s brushes at the ready, we are chipping away at a thick limestone mud layer in search of dinosaur bones from the Jurassic era.

Andrew Rossi is our guide and trainer. This geology/theatre grad seems like a bone fide paleontologist but stresses he won’t be until he earns a master’s degree and/or publishes a scientific research paper.

He calls the state a “geologic Disneyland,” and laments “the world knows dinosaurs because of Wyoming and through Wyoming, but Wyoming doesn’t take a lot of claim for what it rightfully should.”

Rossi works for the Wyoming Dinosaur Center here in Thermopolis, population 3,200 and home to the world’s largest single mineral hot springs.

The building is tucked awkwardly beside a residential neighbourhood and looks like a glorified airplane hanger. Plans are afoot to build a spectacular new centre, hopefully with its own “Dinosnore” hotel, splash park and IMAX theatre in another part of town by 2019.

What’s really special about the Wyoming Dinosaur Center, what makes it worth travelling to Wyoming for, is what goes on outside on its 3,035 hectares. You can take guided bus trips to the quarry 10 minutes away or join digs.

Fossil hunters started finding dinosaur bones buried in layers of rock around here in 1993, and Burkhard Pohl founded the centre two years later to keep the bones in the state.

The centre doesn’t have enough staff or summer interns to do all the needed excavating, so it invites visitors to pay to unearth bones and dabble in prepping them for scientific investigation or museum display.

A private, nine-hour guided dig with lunch is the best travel money you’ll ever spend — $150 (U.S.) for adults and $100 for kids.

“We’re training people every day to do our jobs,” says Rossi, who’s just 25 and sports a Ceratosaurus belt buckle and Camarasaurus ball cap. “I’ve been into dinosaurs since before I can remember. It was my second or third word.”

My 8-year-old Hazel and I hop in Rossi’s red Ford Expedition and head to the quarry. First stop is a demonstration area full of Sauropod footprints and bones. Second stop is our dig site, complete with an outhouse, picnic table and black-netted shade structure.

“Let it be said we don’t want everybody to suffer too much,” jokes Rossi, before warning about the three S’s (sun, snakes and scorpions).

“Easy to learn, difficult to master,” says Rossi.

Visitors might miss or wreck a bone, but that’s a risk the centre is prepared to take. Besides, you run anything questionable past your guide at what Rossi calls “one of the most open and accessible dig sites in the country.”

At first we just find rocks with mineral stains, iron nodules or bits of prehistoric coal. “It’s a trial-and-error process and all we can do is keep digging and see what turns up,” says Rossi.

We soon find dinosaur bone fragments, some to take home and one that’s significant enough to assign a number to and take back to the centre. Ditto a bona fide bone that becomes “1785BS” — something we can call and check up on.

Digging may be the “best part of paleontology,” as Rossi puts it, “but the real work happens down in the lab. You can see injuries and diseases and really figure out what you’ve dug up. You might even find a new species.”

We work at three stations in the prep lab, using dental picks and toothbrushes, pneumatic air scribes and a sand blaster to remove the matrix (rock encasing the bones) from the bone surface to get clean dinosaur bones for research and display.

“I have yet to meet anyone who can exactly articulate why we have such a fascination with dinosaurs,” admits Rossi. “It’s one of those fields where you never have to grow up because you indulge in that child-like curiosity and enthusiasm every day you come to work. We’re all here because we love what we do — we never stop being fascinated by dinosaurs.”

Jennifer Bain’s trip was partially supported by the Wyoming Office of Tourism, which didn’t review or approve this story.

When You Go

Get there: To fly from Toronto, consider Air Canada’s direct flights to Salt Lake City, Utah. From there you can rent a car for the five- to six-hour drive to Thermopolis (stopping in Kemmerer to go fossil fishing) or fly to Cody and drive from there (about 75 minutes). Either way you’ll need to rent a car.

Do a dino dig: The Wyoming Dinosaur Center (wyodino.org) has mounted skeletons, fossils, displays and dioramas, and a working prep lab. It offers guided bus tours of the quarry ($12.50 adults/$10.50 for kids ages 4 to 12 and seniors 60+), dig-for-the-day programs ($150 adults/$100 for kids under 13) and “shovel ready” three-hour programs for $50. It’s open daily, but the digs run mid-May to mid-September. If you just want to see the museum, admission is $10 for adults, $8 for seniors/veterans and kids 4 to 12.

Take a dip: We regretfully didn’t make time for this, but Thermopolis is home to Hot Springs State Park and what’s billed as the world’s largest single mineral hot springs. Hellie’s Tepee Pools, Star Plunge and the State Bath House are options.

Stay/eat: We stayed at the Thermopolis Quality Inn (choicehotels.com). Grab a meal and craft beer at the One Eyed Buffalo Brewing Co. (oneeyedbuffalo.com). The Safari Club Restaurant & Lounge inside the Days Inn Hot Springs Convention Center is renowned for its collection of big game trophy mounts.

Do your research: Thermopolis (thermopolis.com), Wyoming Tourism (travelwyoming.com)