From the Mobil East Wing, with Custer, Crazy Horse, Rushmore, Baby Bears, Hamburgers, and Deadwood

Greeting to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.

As Johnny and I climbed back up into the Rocky Mountains from the Northern Utah valley town of Tremonton, I put the sun at our back and drove into the high desert of the West, all the while still amazed at the contrast of the terrain from Toto Indiana.

With Saturday being my turn to drive the wagon, less time was available to snap the pictures. But the utter lack of change of scenery meant if ya took a picture every 50 miles the scenery didn’t change. Stark mountains thousands of feet high in the distance seem to go on forever. A mountain range in the windshield field of view I estimated in my mind to be ‘bout 10 miles in front of me. An hour later, at 75 mph, I decide to change my estimate of how far the mountains are in front of me.

The destination for Saturday night was Rawlins WY ‘bout 360 miles in front of me right on Interstate 80 meant long, long stretches of unchanging landscape. On two different occasions I measured distances of 77 and 62 miles absolute dead straight road. Had it not been for a slight degree of arch in the road bed it could have been many miles more of nothing but nothing, straight ahead.

Ya know you’re in the high desert when the sign along the way says “no services next 110 miles”, and in the high desert the signs don’t try to fool ya, they try to save your life. My 2010 covered wagon had a few amenities not afforded our forefathers who crossed this most God forsaken land before me. The availability of options such as the rate of travel, (75 mph) air-conditioning or heat of summer, Johnny and me, well, we chose the air-conditionings, navigational aids, both direct GPS as well as Global Positioning Satellite Mapping direct to my laptop computer from outer space. I that cool or what? Directions so precise ya can’t get lost, even if ya want to, and lord knows that here in the desert Ya don’t want to get lost.

Passing through this desert land, mile after mile with an un changing landscape before me, my thoughts again turn to those who’ve come this way in the distant past. From the east they came, first small numbers of brave adventures, and later by the thousands. Not knowing what lay afore them, not knowing the difficulty of survival in a land without water, not having a clue on the difficulties of crossing the Rocky Mountains. Never dreaming of the combination of heat and altitude and what it could do to the human body in what someday would be Western Wyoming.

Yet they came, men, women and children, mostly walking, animals pulling wagons, horses, cows, goats, dogs. Whatever animals the family had made the trip with the family. I find it impossible to grasp the true difficulty of such a trip. The decision to start seems to be beyond my comprehension. The prospect of a better life for the family drove people west in this country.

After seeing with my own eyes the vastness of this great land from Indiana to Utah, I’ll forever have a different appreciation for those brave men and women who settled this land we all call home.

Late Saturday afternoon I drive into a place called Little America, ‘bout 200 miles or so west of Cheyenne WY. A pleasant surprise out here in the desert, that Little America. We ate supper in a most elegant restaurant at Little America. It was nighttime in the Rockies when we pulled into Rawlins Wyoming. After sunset the jackalopes roam in Wyoming, and we was ‘em roaming.

We’re up and running north early Sunday Morning when Johnny proposed breakfast at McDonalds, a choice we’d live to regret as this day went on. The desert heat came early that Sunday Morning, by 10 o’clock the inside thermometer showed the outside temperature 101°, while showing the inside temperature at 65°. With that being said ya can kinda appreciate our choice of opting to take the air-conditioning over the desert heat. An option not available when families walked into the west. Don’t know how far ya could walk in this heat, but I’m sure we traveled farther in one hour than the pioneers traveled in several days.

We’re on our way to Custer South Dakota this hot Sunday Morning when what was to become known as the “Curse of the Breakfast Burritos” reared its ugly head. Details of the Curse of the Breakfast Burritos aren’t necessary or pleasant, suffice it to say, McDonalds’ Breakfast Burritos are not recommended by me or Johnny when ya drive north from Rawlings WY on as Sunday Morning when the temperature says 101°

After leaving Laramie WY a few days back without a full tank of gas, Johnny and I have a new appreciation for those signs along the way that identifies not services, so every time we move from place to place, we make sure the tank is full. And this hot Sunday Morning was no different. Full tanks were needed tracking north from Rawlins WY to Custer SD.

On the way we’re deciding where to have lunch, Johnny proposes one town, I propose the next one just 12 miles up the road according to my laptop computer . Johnny keeps on driving. We’re now off the interstate driving a two lane road which we’ve not seen in our lives. But the next towns sounds nice, so we’re looking forward to stopping for lunch. In a few short minutes we are within site of the sign for the town.

The only disappointment in the whole trip was not stopping and taking a picture of that town’s sign. It read: LOST SPRINGS WY, POPULATION 1 It’s hard to take a picture when you’re laughing at a road sign. And lunch, it was the next town up the road, an hour away, 75 miles in a place called Lusk WY. Shortly after Lusk WY we enter the extreme western edge of South Dakota. Still in the high plains desert of southwestern South Dakota.

An amazing transformation occurred right before our eyes as we drove northeast into South Dakota. Within 40 miles of entering South Dakota, the world started to turn green. At first just a hint of green. Not having seen green in so long, I thought it was a mirage, but soon a few green pine trees started to dot the hillsides, and before ya knew it the world turned green.

An interesting conversation ensued between Johnny and me ‘bout missing the green. After sending a few days in the Rocky Mountains with what seemed an absolute void of anything green unless covered by a center pivot irrigation system, we both agreed that seeing green vegetation of whatever source just made ya feel better. I guess ya can take the hillbilly out of Indiana, but ya can’t take the green out of the hillbilly. Green is good.

Arriving in Custer SD early mid afternoon afforded us the opportunity to visit the Crazy Horse Memorial Mountain before the sun went down. Just six miles or so out of Custer is the Crazy Horse Memorial. A mountain carving of such giant dominations it’s hard to imagine. The amount of material that has been removed from the mountain so far measures many hundreds of millions of tons, and the sculpture is far for being completed.

History lessons are to be learned at Crazy Horse Mountain. Sad history of the Lakota People, Shameful history of the white man. Back in the day when we somehow thought Indians were something less than human, something to be disposed of and no more than any other lower life form. The human tragic events at Wounded Knee speaks volumes as to how the American Indians were treated in South Dakota.

After Mount Rushmore was created as a memorial to the great men in history, the Lakota Elders decided it would be fitting and proper that the world know the Lakota People too have great leaders of their people. And so it was decided by the Lakota Elders that a monument be created of Crazy Horse. A sculptor was selected, a man who was destined to spend the rest of his life on carving the mountain.

The work continues to this day long after the original sculptor died. His wife, along with 7 of this 9 children continue the quest to complete the dream. The dream of the Lakota People, a monument to a leader of people, Crazy Horse, the Warrior Chief.

In the 5th grade I remember reading an article in the “Weekly Reader” ‘bout the Crazy Horse Memorial Mountain project. It was right then and there hat I decided I’d go see that mountain some day. It took a while to get there, but on Sunday, August 22nd 2010 at 6:15 PM nothing stood between me and Crazy Horse Mountain except the clean blue sky of South Dakota. I had come to the mountain.

With a tears in my eyes, I looked at the finished face of Crazy Horse. To give ya some idea of the enormous size of this monument, the face of Crazy Horse is 22 stories tall. On his out stretched right arm, ya could lay the Washington Monument on its side. All the carvings on Mount Rushmore would fit in the hair behind the face of Crazy Horse. And ya gotta keep in mind that Crazy Horse is setting on a horse. Big monument, that Crazy Horse Mountain. For my model building friends, to give ya some perspective of the size of Crazy Horse Mountain. The original sculptor made a model of the actual work in 1/34th scale. In this scale, the model stands 16 foot tall, do the math. Big rock carving.

An interesting fact ‘bout the Crazy Horse Monument is, unlike Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse is being built WITHOUT, I repeat, WITHOUT government funding. When was the last time ya ever heard of anything major not being funded by the government? Seems the original sculptor had a distrust for the promises made by the federal government and he didn’t want the government determining what the outcome of the mountain would be. So he refused when offered funding by the National Park Service. In light of the promises made to the Lakota People by past governments, it seems the decision not to accept federal funding was the right way to go.

With the Crazy Horse Project is being funded 100% by private donations, we done my part, Johnny and me. We each bought a piece of the mountain, a chunk of rock blasted from the mountain, and mine destined to forever sit in the East Wing amongst the other important stuff in my life. Things like my pooping moose, the pop bottle collection, the Family of Howard Dolls, my pink flamingos, the my ceramic chickens, the books, computers, stargazing equipment, and the list goes on and on, my important stuff. Sure hope I got room for the Crazy Horse Mountain Rock. I may split my rock and give half to the she if I don’t have room.

Spending time at Crazy Horse Mountain was truly a dream come true for me. Johnny on the other hand was looking more forward to visiting Mount Rushmore. Not that he didn’t enjoy Crazy Horse Mountain, he just hadn’t been waiting since he was in the 5th grade like I had.

Monday morning we ate breakfast at the Cowboy Café in Cluster South Dakota. Bout as cowboy as ya can get and still not have to get on a horse. I sat with the real cowboys and said cowboy stuff like Buckaroo, doggie and Yep and nope, while trying to sound like John Wayne. Ya know how to tell real cowboys? They got dirty hats. Don’t think anybody mistook me for John Wayne probably ‘cause I didn’t have any boots, or dirty hat. John Wayne always wore boots and dirty hats. At least the John Wayne’s I saw. And then we went to Mount Rushmore.

Truly a moving experience, the first site of Mount Rushmore. Seeing something live that ya have know about all your life is kinda neat. The movie there at Mount Rushmore is really interesting to watch. It tells the history of how the monument was carved, of the men who worked the mountain. In pictures and words the displays at Mount Rushmore demonstrate the importance of the men whose faces are reflected in the stone. Pictures speak louder than words so we took lots of pictures, and Mount Rushmore is among the lot.

There’s a place up there in South Dakota, a place called Bear Country USA. A tourist trap for sure, and Johnny and I fell into the trap, and are so glad we did. One of the most fun places ever, Bear Country USA. It’s an open zoo. Many different animals such as mountain goats, big horn sheep, mountain lions, skunks, lynx, deer and antelope playing. And the bears, my o my did they have the bears, hence the name, Bear County USA. Bears and bears every where ya looked. Walking all over the place. Running bears, playing bears, fighting bears, sleeping bears. But he fun part of Bear Country USA was watching the baby bears.

There were maybe two dozen or so baby bears in an area ‘bout 4 acres. These baby bears acted much the same as a dozen little boys and girls on the playground. Ya could just tell the little boys, rolling ‘round fighting each other, weaseling and chasing one and other. Climbing trees at an amazing speed. Four baby bears up the same tree is a site to behold. The baby girl bears, ya could tell them too. ‘Cause every once in a while they’d just go over and slap the baby boy bears. Baby Bears, sugar and spice and everything nice, hammer and nails and puppy dog tails, that what’s little bears are made of. I think babies of the world are all the same.

After visiting the bears we headed for Deadwood South Dakota. it being mid Monday afternoon and Johnny was hungry so we stopped at a little roadside restaurant that advertised “Best Burger in The Hills” The Black Hills that is. The restaurant was no larger than a trailer, 12’ wide tops, but after eating the hamburger and talking to the cook, Johnny and I told her the advertising sign outside didn’t do the hamburger justice. And with the best hamburger in the hills eaten and enjoyed, we trucked toward Deadwood.

The very first thing we done in Deadwood was visit the grave of Wild Bill Hickok. Paid a dollar a head to get in to a cemetery. Never thought I’d pay to get into a cemetery, but I did, actually Johnny did and I snuck in with him, or maybe he paid two dollars. Either way, before ya knew it we were walking up hill, really up hill, looking for Wild Bill’s grave. We didn’t have to look too hard, ‘cause for Johnny’s two dollars they gave him a map of the cemetery. The two most popular grave sites in the cemetery are Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Side by side, it was said that when Calamity Jane lay dying, she said lay me by Wild Bill, ‘cause he’s been there before.

Now Calamity Jane was, among other things, a lady of the night so when they buried her four gargoyles were placed one on each corner of the grave. The gargoyles used to ward off spirits from the deceased past. One time when a highly recognized madam passed away, rather than identifying her real profession in the Deadwood Newspaper, her occupation was listed as “local social worker” Some people think we could still use more local social workers.

Wild Bill Hickok shot dead in the back of the head while setting at a card game while holding a five card poker hand consisting of two pairs, aces and eights and a nine card. To this very day such hand is know in poker circles as the dead man’s hand.

After the graveyard visit, we made it toward the Number 10 Saloon in downtown Deadwood, determined to have a drink at the bar. Johnny had Rye Whisky and I once again had that Rot Gut Makers Mark with a straw.

The # 10 saloon was so named ‘cause at the time, there were so many saloons in Deadwood, it was more practical to just assign numbers rather than names, cause they were lined up anyway.

Monday evening was spent at Cadillac Jacks, and a good time was had by all. Tuesday morning, not so bright and not so early, Johnny and I started home. Wednesday evening we got there.

Like Dorothy said, “there’s no place like home”

Stay safe in Afghanistan

From the Mobil East Wing Custer, Crazy Horse, Rushmore, Baby Bears, Hamburgers and Deadwood.

I Wish You Well
BobbyRay