We have arrived. It's been a while since we have had internet access so the blog to follow has been a long time coming. Since last posting we have traveled through South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho and arrived in Washington yesterday (Thursday).
South Dakota was beautiful. A strange scene arrived as we passed over the Missouri river in the middle of the state. As we crossed the bridge the land before us seemed to swell in rolling hills that has been lost in the past miles of flat open land. The prairies lay beyond the hills. We pulled into Fort Pierre National Park (the site where
Dances with Wolves was filmed) and attempted to find a place where we may be able to venture further into the open grasslands beyond the highway. Turning onto a dirt road we soon were interrupted by a man in a pickup truck telling us, very kindly, that we were on his land (and retrospectively it would appear in his driveway).
Leaving the Fort Pierre behind us we continued into the Badlands. It's hard to describe the Badlands for anyone that has never seen them. It is honestly as though from the calm and stagnant plains an eruption of clay appears on the horizon. A side road and $15 allowed us to see the area further. Layers of shaded clay were stacked in upon each other, jagged at the top. Some of the most beautiful scenes were those where a plateau of grass lay on this sharpened clay. The 30 mile highway swayed through the clay and we exited with a proper farewell from wild mountain goats sitting atop some of the final formations. Wyoming was cold and we stayed in Gilette, though the country side was a series of hills and plains. Montana was to be a 500 mile route. The highlight was unquestionably the battle site of Little Bighorn. My only problem with the site was the question of the condolences that I was or wasn't supposed to have. I felt as though I was supposed to feel pride in Custer's Last Stand. Pride in a man that slaughtered the Sioux, the Crow, etc.? But atop the highest peak was a monument to just this. And scattered throughout the plains were the markers for fallen soldiers. The only monument to the Native Americans was a circle found on the opposite side of the hill, seemingly hidden by the much more visible American Soldier monument.
We spent the night in Butte, Montana; a strange town that had a small town feel but was spread out to be somewhere around 20 blocks. The next day we drove straight to Wenatchee, Washington, spent the night at a camp site. Though some nice connections we are now living (for the next few days) at a nursing home in the nicest room we've occupied in a week. Tomorrow morning we have a 7:30 breakfast date with Grandma Fishburne and a 9:50 coffee and cinnamon rolls date with the same. So home for the next few days is the Colonial Vistas.
South Dakota was beautiful. A strange scene arrived as we passed over the Missouri river in the middle of the state. As we crossed the bridge the land before us seemed to swell in rolling hills that has been lost in the past miles of flat open land. The prairies lay beyond the hills. We pulled into Fort Pierre National Park (the site where Dances with Wolves was filmed) and attempted to find a place where we may be able to venture further into the open grasslands beyond the highway. Turning onto a dirt road we soon were interrupted by a man in a pickup truck telling us, very kindly, that we were on his land (and retrospectively it would appear in his driveway).
Leaving the Fort Pierre behind us we continued into the Badlands. It's hard to describe the Badlands for anyone that has never seen them. It is honestly as though from the calm and stagnant plains an eruption of clay appears on the horizon. A side road and $15 allowed us to see the area further. Layers of shaded clay were stacked in upon each other, jagged at the top. Some of the most beautiful scenes were those where a plateau of grass lay on this sharpened clay. The 30 mile highway swayed through the clay and we exited with a proper farewell from wild mountain goats sitting atop some of the final formations. Wyoming was cold and we stayed in Gilette, though the country side was a series of hills and plains. Montana was to be a 500 mile route. The highlight was unquestionably the battle site of Little Bighorn. My only problem with the site was the question of the condolences that I was or wasn't supposed to have. I felt as though I was supposed to feel pride in Custer's Last Stand. Pride in a man that slaughtered the Sioux, the Crow, etc.? But atop the highest peak was a monument to just this. And scattered throughout the plains were the markers for fallen soldiers. The only monument to the Native Americans was a circle found on the opposite side of the hill, seemingly hidden by the much more visible American Soldier monument. 
We spent the night in Butte, Montana; a strange town that had a small town feel but was spread out to be somewhere around 20 blocks. The next day we drove straight to Wenatchee, Washington, spent the night at a camp site. Though some nice connections we are now living (for the next few days) at a nursing home in the nicest room we've occupied in a week. Tomorrow morning we have a 7:30 breakfast date with Grandma Fishburne and a 9:50 coffee and cinnamon rolls date with the same. So home for the next few days is the Colonial Vistas.
