High Plains Drifter

I hope you read part I....

"Beyond the wild, impartial skies."

-- Michael Williams, "Solamnic Death Chant," Dragons of Winter Night

July 4th, our nation's independence day. I was celebrating it by driving across the unforgiving high plains, somewhat following the Lewis and Clark trail, a lone woman in a little four-banger turbo sedan, equipped with enough electronic gadgetry to put even my high school students to shame.

I left Spamtown USA around 7AM, hitting I-90 and continuing west into the high plains of South Dakota. I didn't have a particular itinerary until I was coming up on Rapid City, and this time, I was determined to be there early enough to see the Badlands. I wasn't sure how long the trip through the park would take me, nor was I sure what exactly there was to do besides see the land, but I just knew I wanted to do it.

Stopping at a welcome center/rest area, one of the welcome center staff gave me a bunch of information to take with me, some of it for my parents (since my mom is still trying to convince my dad to go further than the Mississippi in their conversion van RV). The woman at the welcome center was very helpful, giving me a map, highlighting the best route to take from the Badlands to Mt. Rushmore.

My only stop after that was at a scenic viewpoint in the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands, just before the Badlands exit.

A lone tree on the plains, Buffalo Gap National Grasslands

Cactus hiding in the grasses

Little blue flowers

I 90 stretches away in the distance

I arrived at the entrance to the Badlands National Park around 2PM Mountain Time and paid my park entry. Within the first few miles, I was astounded. Greg McCance's description of it being a "very cool, humbling place" doesn't do it justice.

Big Badlands

Big Badlands. This is the first viewing point when entering on the east side.

The Wall

Just beyond Cedar Pass. It smelled incredibly cedar-y here.

This place just has a harsh beauty to it, like the salt flats.

 

I went by the visitor center to look at postcards and the fossil workshop. I picked up some hot sauces and a book on stargazing in the national parks.

We'll see how "hot" this is...

Then, I was off again. At one point, I put the GoPro on the roof of the car too.

Along the fossil trail, they had displays like this showing examples of some of the fossils they'd discovered in the park.

 

The Yellow Mounds (with the bit of pink above the yellow) were strange.

I can't imagine what the first Europeans to come across this land must have thought. Many tried to scrape out a living here -- for $180, the US government gave settlers five years to survive on plots of land in the West -- but many failed. In the middle of summer, it's hot but dry, and the winters are not very easy either. People who tried to live here, whether they succeeded or not, must have really needed to escape from where they were.

All in all, I spent nearly four hours in the park, and I didn't stop at every viewpoint. From the Badlands, I meandered through Rapid City up through Keystone and to Mount Rushmore. My initial impression was that it was smaller than I'd envisioned, but after the vast expanse of the Badlands, I may have just been expecting too much.

It's odd how the idea of a lens really makes it look like it's there

 

 

So much of what was said by Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt still holds true today.... but no one wants to listen, much less live by it.

Original idea

From the Presidents' Trail

I debated whether I wanted to stay until dark, as I hadn't eaten all day, and I wanted to make sure I made it to Bozeman, Montana at a reasonable time on Thursday. There wouldn't be any fireworks because of the dryness of the area (and there were enough wildfires in Colorado and Montana already), but I thought it would be neat to stay until the lighting ceremony. I grabbed a bison burger and a Moose Drool and waited until dark. 

Andy might not like it, but I did

The lighting ceremony had technical issues, so instead of starting at 9PM and finishing around 9:30, it didn't actually start until close to 9:45PM. By that time, I was essentially committed to spending the night in Rapid City, so I made the call to Choice. Unfortunately, rooms weren't cheap, so I just used hotel points instead.

Twilight on the historic viewing terrace

I should have brought a tripod to get some decent night pictures with long exposures on my DSLR (especially of the night skies), but I didn't think about it until too late. After the lighting ceremony, I dawdled a bit to let the crowds leave, and swung by the gift shop. 

And so we see the character of too many politicians....

One of the other things I got was a pair of small flags, one Maryland and one Nebraska. The cashier said to me, "From Maryland? Whereabouts?" I told him Baltimore to which he responded, "Westminster here." I was incredulous.

"Really? I grew up in Union Bridge, and went to Western Maryland College!"

"Union Bridge is basically owned by Lehigh, aren't they?" When he said that, I knew he was a for-real Carroll County guy. Such a small world.

It took forever to get out of the parking garage, and once I did, it was a quick thirty minutes back to Rapid City, where I checked in to the hotel and crashed. Montana's a big state, and that was next on the slate.

So, bright and early Thursday morning, I set out for Wyoming and the US212 cut-through to Montana. I gas the WRX up in Belle Fourche and kept moving, and just outside of Broadus, I see a roadblock ahead.

US 212 NORTH

CLOSED DUE TO FIRE

DETOUR MT 59

The turn off to 59 is right there, and I see a sign saying the I-94 junction is some 70 miles away. I don't have cell service, so I can't bring up my Google maps to see how far out of the way this is going to take me, but as water trucks are passing me to go by the road block, I know I don't really have much choice, other than to go back the way I came. I take 59.

Before long, I can actually smell the smoke, and looking to my left, I can see trails rising from the wildfires creating a hazy storm-cloud effect.

Smoke rolls into the sky

It takes over an hour to reach I-94, putting me east of Billings. I could still smell the smoke, strongly, from I-94 up until I met up with I-90 again.

I plug along, touching base with "findurpath" from NASIOC, whom I'd be meeting for a late lunch in Bozeman. He'd seen that I stopped in Livingston last year, and wanted to meet me in person, so we arranged to rendezvous in Bozeman when I came through, which would be about 3PM. In the meantime, I get a phone call from Sam Strano... "Where are you?"

"Um... partway between Livingston and Bozeman.... Why?"

"How far is that from Glasgow?" 

I'm thinking, How am I supposed to know... Montana's big. I say, "I don't know. Why?"

"The train ahead of us derailed, and I don't think I'll make it to Packwood before Saturday since they have to load us on busses to get us to another train to get around the derailment."

Sam's picture of the derailment of the BNSF freight train

Yikes. I look at the Sparco Evo passenger seat with all the junk in it, and start thinking of how to help. "I'm supposed to meet up with someone in about 20 minutes. Let me look at where you are compared to me and I'll get back to you."

I check my Google maps, and see that Glasgow is about 3 hours away, north and somewhat east. I call back, and he says that he's also been talking with Shelly Monfort about how she can help out too. He is pretty sure that she's going to come out and pick him up. "If you're sure on that, that's good, but let me know if anything comes up," I tell him.

I meet up with James Jong in Bozeman and we head over to 406 Brewing for some drinks, then downtown for a late lunch at Santa Fe Reds.

The tasting room at 406 Brewing

Deliciousness

Outside Santa Fe Reds

I wanted to get further west before stopping for the night, so we opted to take some photos of our cars in nearby Lindley Park rather than hang out for the weekly music-in-the-streets thing that was going on.

CGM Subies rule! Photo by James Jong

They look like siblings! Photo by James Jong

After trying to help a guy out whose battery was dead ("Do you have a 10mm wrench?" "Why yes, I do!... Oh wait, okay, just try this adjustable wrench"), we parted ways, me with a growler of 406 Brewing's Belgzman IPA.

I drove as far as Missoula that night, grabbed a six pack of Bayern Amber Lager and struggled to fall asleep. I'd be in Packwood the next evening.

It didn't help me sleep any better, unfortunately.

And So It Begins....

"There's a breathless hush on the freeway tonight
Beyond the ledges of concrete..."

-- Lawrence Ferlinghetti, "Wilds Dreams of a New Beginning"

The Dover Evolution SuperShootout was pretty much a disaster for me. Yeah, I finished third in STU in the first four runs, and improved my times with the two last chance qualifier runs, but overall, I finished the event fatigued beyond belief, suffering borderline heat exhaustion, and just overall frustrated with my driving. I didn't even stay for the challenge competition, despite Pat making it in on the first day's times and my codriver Josh Luster making it in on the LCQ runs. I just wanted to sleep, and when I got home, sleep I did. Five beautiful hours of a "nap", and when I woke up that evening, I realized something.

The Packwood ProSolo. It was here. And I hadn't even started packing. Hell, I hadn't even done laundry.

I knew I wouldn't be able to leave right away, since there was supposed to be a contractor coming to install a new storm door on the back porch, so I figured if I had to be up and awake at 8AM on Monday, I'd be able to do the packing and loading of the car then. It's not like I have to overthink what I'm bringing. There are the obvious things -- tires, jack, tools, underwear, helmet -- and the hardest part is just making sure I pack enough stuff. I mentally go through my routines to try to make sure I don't leave out anything that is crucial (and I still did forget one thing, but it wasn't a critical thing), and when I was all done with packing my bags, and loading the car..... the storm door install still wasn't done. 

And I was supposed to meet up with a bunch of friends in Cleveland for dinner. I start posting on Facebook to give the guys an idea of when I'd be leaving.

And finally, I was able to get on the road just after 2PM, putting me in Independence, OH just after 8PM. Most of the gang was already there, with Blair and Sean coming a little after I did. 

Sean wisely adheres to the 50 ft restraining order even with a cardboard cutout.

After watching some parking lot shenanigans that were not involving any of our group (shocking, I know!), and actually seeing Paul's BRZ in person (but funny, I don't have any pictures of it!), Paul gave me a box of beer, and I headed off to spend the night at Megan Biddle's place on the other side of town. 

this was just one of the beers Paul gave to me; the others included black IPA and chocolate stout

Tuesday came up too quickly, but I got on the road before any traffic issues arose (or, if they did, I didn't notice, considering my daily experiences in the Baltimore/DC area). By 9, I was in Indiana, and as I entered Illinois, I didn't have to deal with any of the problems of Chicago morning rush hour. While there was a little bit of a backup downtown, it wasn't anything serious (I think I slowed to 30mph), and before long, I was in Wisconsin.

I was zipping along, wondering what I should do with my time. Last year's trip to Mt. St. Helens was probably out, since Andy had to work on Friday, the Windy Ridge observatory was still closed due to snow, and I already had tentative plans for Thursday in Montana. Then I saw a road sign for The House on the Rock, which jiggled my memory. Wasn't that one of the places in American Gods? I wondered to myself. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it was one of the scenes in Neil Gaiman's novel, and if you've ever read anything by Neil Gaiman, you know how outright odd his landscapes can be. I decided to make the detour and took the exit for US 14 to Spring Green.

"Take Highway Fourteen west to Spring Green. We'll be meeting everyone at a place called the House on the Rock. You been there?"

-- Wednesday to Shadow, American Gods

Like Shadow, I wondered what was so interesting about the House on the Rock and what it looked like. And as prepared as I was for strangeness, Gaiman's words still don't convey what this place is. It's just... weird. Creepy weird in some areas, fantastical in others. Beauty is juxtaposed with the macabre at every turn. It's like a museum gone insane through curation by carnies. 

The back of the entrance, leading to the Alex Jordan Center and the Main House

 Japanese style garden between the Gate House and the Main House

 "This is a roadside attraction," said Wednesday. "One of the finest. Which means it is a place of power."

 Hand carved Shesham wood from India in the Alex Jordan center and the Main House

One of the upper sanctuary-like rooms in the Original House.

 A beautiful stained glass lamp on a table that resembled a church window

The Infinity Room. Built in 1985, it's the "newest" piece of the House

It was windy when I made my way to the Infinity Room, which was dizzying in its design. The room also swayed ever-so-slightly in the gusts, adding to the surreal feeling of being there. The Infinity Room was the last piece of the first tour, so then I made my way back down to enter the Mill House and the increasingly bizarre world of Alex Jordan.

While in the Infinity Room, I received the news that Greg McCance would not be making the event. Between fixing his own ESP WRX troubles (he was getting a motor built after his died at an event after the El Toro ProSolo) and getting ready for Nationals, he just didn't think it was a good idea to spend the money to go to the event. I was disappointed, as I really would like to see what he could get out of the car, but I understood. 

That would be pretty much my only contact with the outside world that afternoon, as my cell service was essentially nil throughout most of the House. Considering the ethereal (or infernal?) nature of the place, I wasn't exactly surprised.

 The Streets of Yesteryear recreates a 19th century street

The Streets of Yesteryear are eerie in their silence and dimness. It's like a borderline nightmare where there is activity all around, but you're not part of it, in that all of the buildings appear to be functional businesses, but when you go to enter them, they are closed and empty. And pervading the air around is carnival like music, produced by an enormous machine at the end of the street. 

The street leads to another anomaly called the Heritage of the Sea, which is dominated by a massive scene of a whale fighting an octopus with a tiny (but life sized!) ship caught in their wake. All along the walls are gorgeous models of various ships, ranging from the doomed Lusitania and Titantic, to the Civil War ships Monitor and Merrimack and more recent aircraft carriers and British ships. 

A Mercedes gullwing, a tiled Lincoln Continental, hot air balloons and a monstrous Rube Goldberg machine were found in the Tribute to Nostalgia that followed. 

"Every ending is a new beginning. Your lucky number is none. Your lucky color is dead. Motto: Like father, like son." -- Shadow's fortune from Esmeralda

Like Shadow and Wednesday, I continued from the Atrium Restaurant "down a red corridor, past rooms filled with empty chairs upon which rested violins and violas and cellos that played themselves, or seemed to, when fed a coin." You get four tokens with your entry (if you do the "Ultimate Experience"), and you can buy more along the way (25c each), and most of the big displays like the Mikado and the Blue Room require at least two tokens. Throughout, there are also clockwork "stories," including the one described by Gaiman when Wednesday and Shadow meet up with Czernobog, "The Drunkard's Dream."

The Mikado

Heading out of the jangling music, there is a single room of the Spirit of Aviation with hundreds of model planes and a helicopter, then you head down to the Carousel.

The Carousel figures prominently in Gaiman's novel, and it does not disappoint in how over the top it is. It is billed as the world's largest carousel, and it sits there spinning, spinning with carousel music wafting throughout the area. No plain horses on this ride; each is handcrafted and range from cats and manticores to lizards and gryphons and anything in between. 

This taste of the Carousel is just that; from the initial glimpse, you head to the Organ Room.

"They wandered through a blood-colored room filled with old theatrical organs, huge organ pipes, and what appeared to be enormous copper brewing vats, liberated from a brewery."

-- Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Giant stein

There was a reprieve from the bizarre with Inspiration Point, then it was into the Dollhouse Room and the Circus Room before finishing up at the Carousel one last time.

Inspiration Point

 

Before the extremely freaky Doll Carousel, there are several galleries of replica crown jewels, and exotic (and likely dangerous to the user) weapons.

I didn't really get any good pictures of the Doll Carousel, but that's okay, because it was just creepy, like clowns. So, after the last glimpse of the Carousel, I walked out into the brutally hot day for a few final looks at another garden, and it was back to the road.

Always weird to see something you own on display somewhere else. Yes, Pat has a Lego phone.

 

 

All in all, I was probably there for a good three hours, and I know I didn't see -- or hear -- everything. 

Back on the road, I made a quick stop in a little town on US14 for some Wisconsin microbrew, opting for the Central Waters Ouisconsing Red Ale and the Rush River IPA.

Despite the protests of Mike Brausen that I should stop in Bloomington, MN, that was a bit out of the way for me, especially considering how I wanted to go to the Badlands and Mt. Rushmore. So, I stuck with I-90, and got as far as Austin, Minnesota -- the home of Spam -- before stopping. A quick jaunt over to Watts Cookin' for some walleye and Alaskan Amber, and I was done for the night.

Next up : the Badlands!