After a week of meeting old friends and making some new ones, the Escapade is over and we move on heading out to our next destination -- the Black Hills of South Dakota.
As we leave Gillette we are immediately awe struck by the thousands of ore cars and locomotives on the railroad tracks all around the town. At last count we saw eight trains, each one had over one hundred ore cars and four locomotives; some were full and others empty. After a few more miles we saw the reason for all these trains -- a monstrous hole in the ground. The green grasses on the edge of this chasm are in stark contrast to the red earth along the top five or six feet. The rest of this giant pit is black (coal). This scene is the rationale for all the young men we have seen around town, with the soil of hard work on them and their clothes; they are working the mines and energy is coming out of the ground headed for power plants across this nation. I am glad I own shares of Burlington Northern because it looks like the railroads will be busy for a long, long time.
The wind blew us out of Wyoming and continues to whistle through the awnings of our motor home. We are staying for a week at Rush-No-More Campground, about seven miles south of Sturgis, South Dakota, where the infamous motorcycle rally is held every year in August. In just a few weeks from now every wannabe biker wearing dew rags, leather chaps, greasy t-shirt, denim vest, heavy boots and chains attached to wallet and keys will be roaring up and down the road with a similarly dressed female attached to his back, covering up the words on his t-shirt: “If you can read this, the bitch fell off.” I guess you can’t blame her for covering up what he thinks of her. Don’t get me wrong, I dearly love riding bikes, but aspiring to be a bad-ass Hell’s Angel goes against my law and order self. Besides, I don’t like my woman smelling of grease and exhaust.
Drive down the main street of Sturgis and you will see biker bars, tattoo shops and curio shops selling trinkets from china with Harleys, skeletons and slutty women emblazoned thereon. You must get off the main street of town to find that this is really a nice little town with schools, playgrounds and neat, tidy homes. From Main Street to the back streets it seems like a parallel universe showcasing good and evil.
After a week of meeting old friends and making some new ones, the Escapade is over and we move on heading out to our next destination -- the Black Hills of South Dakota.
As we leave Gillette we are immediately awe struck by the thousands of ore cars and locomotives on the railroad tracks all around the town. At last count we saw eight trains, each one had over one hundred ore cars and four locomotives; some were full and others empty. After a few more miles we saw the reason for all these trains -- a monstrous hole in the ground. The green grasses on the edge of this chasm are in stark contrast to the red earth along the top five or six feet. The rest of this giant pit is black (coal). This scene is the rationale for all the young men we have seen around town, with the soil of hard work on them and their clothes; they are working the mines and energy is coming out of the ground headed for power plants across this nation. I am glad I own shares of Burlington Northern because it looks like the railroads will be busy for a long, long time.
The wind blew us out of Wyoming and continues to whistle through the awnings of our motor home. We are staying for a week at Rush-No-More Campground, about seven miles south of Sturgis, South Dakota, where the infamous motorcycle rally is held every year in August. In just a few weeks from now every wannabe biker wearing dew rags, leather chaps, greasy t-shirt, denim vest, heavy boots and chains attached to wallet and keys will be roaring up and down the road with a similarly dressed female attached to his back, covering up the words on his t-shirt: “If you can read this, the bitch fell off.” I guess you can’t blame her for covering up what he thinks of her. Don’t get me wrong, I dearly love riding bikes, but aspiring to be a bad-ass Hell’s Angel goes against my law and order self. Besides, I don’t like my woman smelling of grease and exhaust.
Drive down the main street of Sturgis and you will see biker bars, tattoo shops and curio shops selling trinkets from china with Harleys, skeletons and slutty women emblazoned thereon. You must get off the main street of town to find that this is really a nice little town with schools, playgrounds and neat, tidy homes. From Main Street to the back streets it seems like a parallel universe showcasing good and evil.
Spearfish, South Dakota, is the westernmost city of the Black Hills. Small town atmosphere and friendly folks is only part of what makes this our favorite city so far. The D.C. Booth Historic National Fish Hatchery is part of the Spearfish City Park. If you like peaceful streams flowing through green meadows, and ponds full of monster size rainbow trout, this U.S. Fish and Wildlife nature center is a free gem. I did not know that our government was into rearing fish before the turn of the last century and that there was ten Pullman railroad cars converted for the transportation of fingerling trout throughout the nation. These fish cars were abandoned due to road system improvement and the fact that trucks were cheaper.
We dearly love to find little eateries that serve up charm along with good food, and just such a place was Two Pine Lodge off Main Street in Spearfish. A large outdoor patio for dining made our day as a thunderstorm dumped buckets of water on the surrounding vegetation. The food was terrific and the prices were cheaper than ‘Crapplebee’s’.
“Rapid,” as it is called by the locals, is short for Rapid City. Major infrastructure construction has the roads throughout town all cobbled up. On one trip we made a complete loop of town three times due to road closures, only to finally come to the realization that the empty lot in front of the town’s only mall is where a Dairy Queen once was. No Blizzard fix for us.
Rapid is a very nice Midwest town, spread out over several miles there are about four different areas and folks are very proud of their particular area. We hope other restaurants in town are as good as the Fire Station in downtown Rapid where we found good food and service and a great outdoor area perfect for people watching. Friendly faces abound here, always there to help you in any way they can which is typical for Dakotans. The tour trolley is $1 for all day; we rode it to get the lay of the land and get some background. Rapid was nearly wiped off the map in 1972 by a sudden, unexpected flood. After burying over 200 dead residents went to work cleaning up and implementing plans to make sure nothing like it ever happened again. Today the areas close to the river are restricted to use as golf courses and parks -- miles of parks.
Initially we thought three weeks would be plenty of time to visit the Black Hills, but, wow, were we wrong! This is beginning to feel like work! But someone has to do it, right?
Hot Springs is a quaint little town squeezed between rock walls. People used to come here to be cured by the “healing” waters, but it appears the only real healing that went on here was to the land owners’ wallets. Today merchants sell Chinese goods and
T-shirts in every little shop in this interesting, historic town. The real gem here is the VA hospital and retirement home, situated above the rest of the town and adjacent to a National Cemetery. The well-kept, manicured yards and buildings here stand in tribute to the much maligned Veteran’s Administration.
Have you ever had several donkey heads sticking through your car’s windows? We were stopped by the side of the road in Custer State Park when these freeloaders decided we should give them the apples that I was cutting up. Connie almost choked one when she tried to role her window up. The donkeys are greedy but harmless -- now that was a fun experience. Later on that day we marveled at the three tunnels on Highway 16A and 87 that look out directly at and perfectly frame Mt Rushmore’s fab four. The tunnels were all one lane and varied in height from 10’ to 12’. Needless to say the tunnels are not RV friendly. At one point we ran into an RVer on his way towards one of the tunnels. I jumped out of the car and waved him down. Lucky for him because he was about to pass the point of no return, but fortunately I was able to flag him down in the only area where he stood a chance of being able to turn around. The poor guy had to unhook his tow vehicle and do a lot of jockeying back and forth on a steeply curved road in order to get turned around, but at least he could do it. If he had gone a short distance further he would have had to back down that steep road for a long way. The signage here is definitely not what it should be, particularly for drivers of oversized vehicles.
While we were visiting the Black Hills we learned of the death of Connie’s uncle Lester. We had planned to visit Lester and the other South Dakota relatives in Woonsocket in another week or so, after we completed our visit to the Black Hills. Losing Uncle Lester, a warm, gentle soul and our personal favorite of all the uncles, was incredibly sad, but it brought Connie’s Dad back to the farm for a visit with his one, remaining brother. We loved connecting with our family in South Dakota, but we have decided we won’t ever do it again in the summertime. NEVER!!!!
No one has ever seen a thunder storm unless they have experienced one in the great Midwest. We have had several during our stay here and the one last night went on from dusk ‘til dawn. I swear that at one point the thunder lasted for ten minutes, and about 10 seconds later it started all over again.
Hold the presses, that last storm was just a precursor of what was about to happen to us at 2:00 A.M. Yes, there is a two o’clock in the morning. We awoke to the sound of high wind and a loud flapping noise. I threw on pants and a shirt and went outside to locate the source of the noise. The second I stepped out of the RV I was instantly wet and having a hard time seeing or standing up because of the high wind. The awning on our RV was whipping up and down like a giant serpent, and lightning was dancing all around me, adding a surreal look to the scene. It was then I saw a vision of me looking like Charleton Heston as Moses in “The Ten Commandments.” Getting hold of myself, I finally realized that the only thing I could do was to move the car close enough so that I could tie the awning to it. The car was the only thing that could possibly hold the awning down so it didn’t rip off the side of the RV. After a quick tie-down job I went back in the coach and tried to get my heart rate down to something under 300!
The next night we witnessed a tornado. Fortunately for us it was a few miles away, but the sight was something akin to Disney’s “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” In non-stop fashion, lightning seemed to spin around clouds that were at one instant white and then black and again white. We watched, mesmerized, as it went on and on, and we knew we had witnessed something totally awesome. In the morning we learned that we were in the center of not one, but three tornados around the county. The one we saw was reported to be 200 yards wide and to have stayed on the ground for several minutes. I, for one, am happy to be alive and in one piece, and
With the proper amount of duct tape applied to the awnings, we quietly crept away from Woonsocket headed south and west. Entering Nebraska we found humidity and 110 degree weather; this was definitely not enjoyable, especially while spending the night at the ‘Wal-Mart Astoria.’ This was probably one of the hottest and noisiest stops we had ever made, and I shall certainly let Sam know of my displeasure!
At last we made it out of the Nebraska heat but, unfortunately, we found that Colorado was more of the same – heat and humidity. We spent two nights at a state campground on Jackson Lake which was also another unique experience -- I called it ‘West Nile.’ Oh yeah! Have you ever seen mosquito carpet? Mosquito carpet is large spider webs with about a million mosquitoes spread evenly across. As I was removing the spider webs from the sides of the RV I realized the mosquitoes were all alive -- imagine lying there waiting to be the next meal of a spider! Well, I guess everyone has to eat.
Finally, here we are in Idaho traveling the same route the pioneers traveled on their way to Oregon and California. We are going to Oregon hoping to fix our “wagon” at the plant where it was manufactured. Along the way we stopped to tour The National Oregon/California Trail Center in Montpelier, Idaho, a living history museum with beautiful paintings depicting the trials of those brave souls who first journeyed from the east in search of a better life out west.
Spearfish, South Dakota, is the westernmost city of the Black Hills. Small town atmosphere and friendly folks is only part of what makes this our favorite city so far. The D.C. Booth Historic National Fish Hatchery is part of the Spearfish City Park. If you like peaceful streams flowing through green meadows, and ponds full of monster size rainbow trout, this U.S. Fish and Wildlife nature center is a free gem. I did not know that our government was into rearing fish before the turn of the last century and that there was ten Pullman railroad cars converted for the transportation of fingerling trout throughout the nation. These fish cars were abandoned due to road system improvement and the fact that trucks were cheaper.
We dearly love to find little eateries that serve up charm along with good food, and just such a place was Two Pine Lodge off Main Street in Spearfish. A large outdoor patio for dining made our day as a thunderstorm dumped buckets of water on the surrounding vegetation. The food was terrific and the prices were cheaper than ‘Crapplebee’s’.
“Rapid,” as it is called by the locals, is short for Rapid City. Major infrastructure construction has the roads throughout town all cobbled up. On one trip we made a complete loop of town three times due to road closures, only to finally come to the realization that the empty lot in front of the town’s only mall is where a Dairy Queen once was. No Blizzard fix for us.
Rapid is a very nice Midwest town, spread out over several miles there are about four different areas and folks are very proud of their particular area. We hope other restaurants in town are as good as the Fire Station in downtown Rapid where we found good food and service and a great outdoor area perfect for people watching. Friendly faces abound here, always there to help you in any way they can which is typical for Dakotans. The tour trolley is $1 for all day; we rode it to get the lay of the land and get some background. Rapid was nearly wiped off the map in 1972 by a sudden, unexpected flood. After burying over 200 dead residents went to work cleaning up and implementing plans to make sure nothing like it ever happened again. Today the areas close to the river are restricted to use as golf courses and parks -- miles of parks.
Initially we thought three weeks would be plenty of time to visit the Black Hills, but, wow, were we wrong! This is beginning to feel like work! But someone has to do it, right?
Hot Springs is a quaint little town squeezed between rock walls. People used to come here to be cured by the “healing” waters, but it appears the only real healing that went on here was to the land owners’ wallets. Today merchants sell Chinese goods and
T-shirts in every little shop in this interesting, historic town. The real gem here is the VA hospital and retirement home, situated above the rest of the town and adjacent to a National Cemetery. The well-kept, manicured yards and buildings here stand in tribute to the much maligned Veteran’s Administration.
Have you ever had several donkey heads sticking through your car’s windows? We were stopped by the side of the road in Custer State Park when these freeloaders decided we should give them the apples that I was cutting up. Connie almost choked one when she tried to role her window up. The donkeys are greedy but harmless -- now that was a fun experience. Later on that day we marveled at the three tunnels on Highway 16A and 87 that look out directly at and perfectly frame Mt Rushmore’s fab four. The tunnels were all one lane and varied in height from 10’ to 12’. Needless to say the tunnels are not RV friendly. At one point we ran into an RVer on his way towards one of the tunnels. I jumped out of the car and waved him down. Lucky for him because he was about to pass the point of no return, but fortunately I was able to flag him down in the only area where he stood a chance of being able to turn around. The poor guy had to unhook his tow vehicle and do a lot of jockeying back and forth on a steeply curved road in order to get turned around, but at least he could do it. If he had gone a short distance further he would have had to back down that steep road for a long way. The signage here is definitely not what it should be, particularly for drivers of oversized vehicles.
While we were visiting the Black Hills we learned of the death of Connie’s uncle Lester. We had planned to visit Lester and the other South Dakota relatives in Woonsocket in another week or so, after we completed our visit to the Black Hills. Losing Uncle Lester, a warm, gentle soul and our personal favorite of all the uncles, was incredibly sad, but it brought Connie’s Dad back to the farm for a visit with his one, remaining brother. We loved connecting with our family in South Dakota, but we have decided we won’t ever do it again in the summertime. NEVER!!!!
No one has ever seen a thunder storm unless they have experienced one in the great Midwest. We have had several during our stay here and the one last night went on from dusk ‘til dawn. I swear that at one point the thunder lasted for ten minutes, and about 10 seconds later it started all over again.
Hold the presses, that last storm was just a precursor of what was about to happen to us at 2:00 A.M. Yes, there is a two o’clock in the morning. We awoke to the sound of high wind and a loud flapping noise. I threw on pants and a shirt and went outside to locate the source of the noise. The second I stepped out of the RV I was instantly wet and having a hard time seeing or standing up because of the high wind. The awning on our RV was whipping up and down like a giant serpent, and lightning was dancing all around me, adding a surreal look to the scene. It was then I saw a vision of me looking like Charleton Heston as Moses in “The Ten Commandments.” Getting hold of myself, I finally realized that the only thing I could do was to move the car close enough so that I could tie the awning to it. The car was the only thing that could possibly hold the awning down so it didn’t rip off the side of the RV. After a quick tie-down job I went back in the coach and tried to get my heart rate down to something under 300!
The next night we witnessed a tornado. Fortunately for us it was a few miles away, but the sight was something akin to Disney’s “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” In non-stop fashion, lightning seemed to spin around clouds that were at one instant white and then black and again white. We watched, mesmerized, as it went on and on, and we knew we had witnessed something totally awesome. In the morning we learned that we were in the center of not one, but three tornados around the county. The one we saw was reported to be 200 yards wide and to have stayed on the ground for several minutes. I, for one, am happy to be alive and in one piece, and
With the proper amount of duct tape applied to the awnings, we quietly crept away from Woonsocket headed south and west. Entering Nebraska we found humidity and 110 degree weather; this was definitely not enjoyable, especially while spending the night at the ‘Wal-Mart Astoria.’ This was probably one of the hottest and noisiest stops we had ever made, and I shall certainly let Sam know of my displeasure!
At last we made it out of the Nebraska heat but, unfortunately, we found that Colorado was more of the same – heat and humidity. We spent two nights at a state campground on Jackson Lake which was also another unique experience -- I called it ‘West Nile.’ Oh yeah! Have you ever seen mosquito carpet? Mosquito carpet is large spider webs with about a million mosquitoes spread evenly across. As I was removing the spider webs from the sides of the RV I realized the mosquitoes were all alive -- imagine lying there waiting to be the next meal of a spider! Well, I guess everyone has to eat.
Finally, here we are in Idaho traveling the same route the pioneers traveled on their way to Oregon and California. We are going to Oregon hoping to fix our “wagon” at the plant where it was manufactured. Along the way we stopped to tour The National Oregon/California Trail Center in Montpelier, Idaho, a living history museum with beautiful paintings depicting the trials of those brave souls who first journeyed from the east in search of a better life out west.
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