Day 4/5 (8/22-23/07), Oglala and the Epic Drive

Our fourth morning was a good one. Not only did we get a nice, dry sleep (some of us under the stars), but we were also able to take showers in clean facilities. We also knew we had some cool shit to see, namely Mt. Rushmore and the Badlands. Despite the warm showers and sights in store, there was a collective sense of dread, though, for we knew that we would be driving straight to Philly upon leaving the Badlands. As mentioned earlier, we were now about a day behind schedule. And since the wedding required us to be in Pennsylvania by a certain time, we knew that to make it in time we were going to have to skip a good part of the country.

After showering and packing up the car, we headed for Mt. Rushmore. On the way, we stopped for sausage and cheese biscuits and coffee at a little country store/cafe. This provided the fuel we needed to see Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln etched in stone and make our way to the Badlands. Although not being very patriotic (and a bit irritated that the "founding fathers" were given such a big monument in the heart of Indian territory), I found Mt. Rushmore to be pretty impressive. It is much larger than I expected, and it has stunning detail. What's better, there is no hiking involved, thus allowing us to see the monument, take some pictures, and make our way to the Badlands without losing any more time. The monument also provided another opportunity for Pegasus to get some fresh air and see some history.

It wasn't long before the rolling, wooded Black Hills leveled out into the dry and bare plains of South Dakota. On occasion, a small farm would break up the monotony of the dry, arid landscape. Some of the farms sported extensive plots of sunflowers, with a few stretching as far as the eye could see in one direction. When the desolate landscape reemerged, the prairie dogs took over. And I mean, TOOK OVER. These little rodents were all over the place, stooping above their holes and staring at us as we drove by. The stark plains eventually gave way to red and white colored canyons and small ravines, as well as hoodoos (spire-like formations jetting out of the ground) and little gullies. It was here, before finding ourselves in the heart of the Badlands, that we drove through the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, home to the Oglala Lakota Nation (Sioux for those not hip to Native history). While no interesting sights were seen here, it was moving to drive through such sacred and historic land. It was here that the US government broke a treaty and took away 7.7 million acres of reservation land when gold was discovered in the black hills. It was here that the government took control of an additional 350,000 acres to practice their bombing during World War II (with the remnants of bombing, as well as some remaining live munitions, much of this land is uninhabitable). It was also here that the FBI killed American Indian activists in the early 1970s on the site of Wounded Knee, the same spot where nearly 200 Lakota were massacred by the US Army 80 years earlier. Yikes! To say the least, the history is deep on the Pine Ridge Reservation.

After driving around a bit on the reservation, we headed back through the sunflowers and prairie dog fields and into the heart of the Badlands. While Glacier and Yellowstone were great to see, and beautiful in their own right, the Badlands were so unique and unlike anything that I had seen before. The multicolored hills (red clay, white sand, and light green shrubs), hoodoos, and ravines were awe-inspiring. Unfortunately, the similar colors and repetitive landscape did not provide for great pictures, as the many hills blended in to one blur when snapped by the camera. At one point, Maggie and I decided to climb one of the many narrow peaks. We nearly got ourselves stuck on top, and almost died while braving the rocky terrain on our way down. The area would have been a great place to watch the sun set and camp under the stars, but due to lack of time, we were forced to hit the road as we continued on our way to Philly. Before leaving the Badlands altogether, though, we couldn't pass up one last photo opportunity; this time with a wild antelope...or so we thought. As we saw the wild creature on the side of the road, about 20 yards ahead, we slowed the car to a creep until we were just beside it. Before Nate was able to take a photo, we soon realized that the "wild" animal had a weird contraption wrapped around its neck. It turns out that the contraption was a collar, and the antelope was indeed just a goat (presumably from one of the farms). So much for another wild animal pic.

We were soon out of the Badlands and making our way through the eastern half of South Dakota. As it got later, and peoples' stomachs started rumbling, we stopped for dinner in "1880 Town." Yes, the town, which was comprised of a gas station/market and a motel attached to a restaurant, was actually called 1880 Town. I think it was trying to capture the essence of an old west town, but it failed miserably. However, being in the middle of nowhere, we had no idea when we'd be able to eat next. So we stopped in 1880 Town, whose claim to fame is having set items from the movie, Dances With Wolves. Unfortunately, we soon found that the restaurant, which is housed inside the caboose of an old train, was closed for renovation. We asked the gas attendant where we could go for dinner, and we were told our best bet would be Murdo. On the way to Murdo, while Nate was driving, a deer decided it wanted to cross the freeway just as we were approaching it. As I saw it make its move from ahead, I shouted to alert Nate, who nearly had a heart attack as we came feet from running into the deer at 80 MPH. If the deer, like most do, had stopped in the middle of the road and stared, it would have been toast. However, the stars must have been aligned in the deer's favor, because after stopping briefly in the road and taking a peak at us, he continued on his way, just barely escaping certain death. It took Nate and I about 10 minutes before our heart rates returned to normal levels.

We arrived in Murdo, SD with high expectations. We left with filled with hatred and, some, with volcanic stomachs. A word to the wise when visiting Murdo (only the Lord knows why one would do this): do not eat at the Family Star diner (don't let the AAA approval fool you). Our waiter was horribly rude to us, the cooks put something in our food (and came out of the kitchen to stare and laugh at us while we ate), and half of us had violent reactions to the food. The other two were just disappointed with the quality of food. After eating, we decided it would be a good time to let the car cool down a bit and check all of the fluids. So, while we let the car sit, we found a park and broke out the wiffle ball and bat. Unable to play a game with four people, we decided to play a home run derby, of sorts. Basically, each person would get a chance to hit the ball 10 times. When Stacey began the game, she launched her first hit off of Nate's face and neck. While not totally prepared, Nate's reaction time did not allow him to block the ball, which left a red mark as a reminder. Stacey's next hit: right at my face (fortunately I was able to block it). Fuck, Stacey, can you not hit the ball off of our faces?

Anyway, after some wiffle ball hitting, we headed to the gas station to fill up, check the fluids, and tear up the bathrooms with partially digested food from Family Star. We were then on our way. We had more than half of the country to drive through (or, as we soon came to say, the whole right page of the map). For the first stretch of the drive, I sat up front with Nate as he drove. He introduced me to a lot of obscure music that I had never heard of (but grew a liking for). After hours of listening to CDs and an iPOD, we decided to give it a break and see what was on the local radio. By this time we were in Minnesota somewhere. As soon as the radio is turned on, a public service announcement comes on, exclaiming a tornado warning for the states of Indiana and Illinois. Nate and I immediately looked at each other with excitement, for we were headed in that precise direction. When the public service announcement was over, I scanned the channels and, to my delightment, I found the Giants on the air. It must have been because we were so close to Illinois, and they were playing the Cubs. Nonetheless, it was awesome to listen to my team so far from home.

As we drove through Minnesota, Maggie eventually took over the driving, with Stacey switching into the passenger's seat. I was woken a couple hours later to the erratic swerving and acceleration of the car. We were in Madison, WI and Maggie had two things on the mind: peeing and McDonalds. As we raced around Madison, we eventually found both, however not without Nate and I being confused and scared for dear life in the back seat. With all the speeding around and U-turns to find them, we lost track of which direction we came from. So, to find our way out of Madison and back on to the freeway, Maggie again proceeded with a multitude of U-turns and gas-break-dippin. We eventually found our way, and I was soon asleep. I again woke a few hours later as we drove through Chicago (at rush hour...shitty). I woke to the sound of a man yelling, "I'll stick it up your ass, jackass." Yes, there was a road rager driving along side of us for about 15 minutes as we made our way through the city. He was not yelling at us, rather the guy in front of him, so it was quite entertaining. He must have called the guy a "jackass" 20 times, as well as telling him to "hurry up" and warning him of things he was going to "stick up his ass." Unfortunately, to make Philly on time, we had to skip Chicago, so the road rager was my only memory of the city.

It was when leaving Chicago that we discovered how freaking expensive it is to drive on the East Coast. The only way to get from Chicago to Philly, without going out of our way, was to drive on toll roads. Being from the Bay Area, I'm accustomed to the concept (all the bridges have a toll), but the turnpikes on the East Coast are serious money-making operations. Any time you want to exit from the turnpike, you have to pay a toll. What's more, every 20 miles or so, there are toll plazas which collect anywhere from 30 cents to a couple dollars. I think we ended up paying $19 for the stretch of the turnpike we were on..

As we approached the early afternoon, it began to get bloody hot. Again, my bum became sweaty, sticky and, presumably, very stinky. So, when we decided to take a break at a park in Ohio, I took a swim (bath) in the river that ran through the park. For fun, I walked up stream so I could let the current carry me back down the river. Unfortunately, the water wasn't deep enough, and I only scraped my back on the rocks that eventually stopped my trek downstream. At least I got to soak my bum off.

After everybody ate, and I dried off a bit, we were back on the freeway. Other than a brief torrential downpour, there was nothing of importance in Ohio or western Pennsylvania. By night fall, we were approaching Philly. It was about 10PM when we finally got to Ambler Township (still don't really know what a township is). We were welcomed to Maggie's home by her mom and grandma (dad woke up briefly to greet us, too). After starting some laundry and catching up with family, I think we watched the Departed. In no time I was out, sleeping in the guest bed, cherishing the best sleep I had had in almost a week.

Day 3 (8/21), Pegasus Revealed

My morning started at 4AM, to the frightening sound of a mad man stomping toward my tent. There are always moments when camping, in which you fixate on certain sounds and scare yourself by thinking of the different things they can be (bigfoot, a bear, the Blair Witch, etc). Usually, when rational thinking takes over, you can say to yourself, "Oh, that's just a pine cone falling from a tree, not bigfoot throwing things at me." Or, there are other times, such as hearing sniffing sounds and faint growls, when you can say, "Shit, that could be a bear." Well, the mad man walking toward my tent was an example of the latter. The steps, obviously from a biped, could be heard in the distance, slowly getting louder and louder. Judging by the sound, I could tell that something was definitely walking in my direction...and with purpose, I might add. He finally reached the campsite. Not wanting to overreact (by jumping out of my tent and flashing a knife, for example) or wake the other three, I laid silently in my tent, hoping that the mad man would not do a jig on me or light my tent on fire (normal thoughts, right?). Luckily, the mad man had second thoughts and just continued walking through the campsite. The adrenaline rush from lurking mad men, coupled with another night of rain and a leaking tent, made it hard to fall back asleep.

At the first hint of daylight, I hopped out of my tent and walked to the showers. I could not wait, as my stinky butt-sweat (the result of sitting in a warm car for prolonged periods of time) was beginning to really gross me out. When I got to the restroom area, I had a hard time finding the showers. I looked all over, but with no results. How could this be? I thought this place had showers. After finally coming to grips with the prospect of not showering, I took a wash rag and went to town in the bathroom sink. When done, I dried up and patted myself down with baby powder (this is the only way to conquer the bum-sweat).

When I returned to camp, everybody was up and trying to air out their soggy tents. Nate confirmed that someone did indeed walk through the site in the middle of the night. However, when looking around, I realized that I had placed my tent right in the middle of a path that connected the main road to the other campsites (see what late-night arrivals to camp do), thus making the mad man not so mad.

After packing up the car (a morning routine that became quite annoying), we checked out the map and planned our route for the day. As we were already half a day behind, we decided we had to make it to Mt. Rushmore (and see it) by night fall. But first, we had to see what Yellowstone had to offer. Our first stop was the Mammoth Hot Springs. The springs, which are essentially a series of small vents for thermal activity under ground, sport streams of steaming/boiling water, terraced landscapes formed by the calcification of minerals, charred trees, and a god-awful smell of sulfur farts. The wooden walkway that leads you through the springs, let us see what is, basically, volcanic activity up close and personal. Aside from the smell, it was pretty cool.

As we drove through the park, we passed a series of thermal ponds, open meadows, and forested hills. Fresh off the disappointment of not finding a "real" bear in Glacier, we were intent on finding one in Yellowstone (Yogi or Booboo would have sufficed). This did not happen, though, as the buffalo and mule deer dominated the park. After taking a bunch of pictures of buffalo along the way, we had one more stop to make before leaving the park: Old Faithful. The most famous of all geysers, Old Faithful is another thermal vent like the hot springs. However, whereas the springs have no underground constriction (and are in a state of continual spew), geysers face some constriction beneath ground and, when the pressure builds, will spew at intervals. Old Faithful, surrounded by hundreds of onlookers, erupts about every 90 minutes. At its peak, the boiling water, heated from the magma below ground, rises to an average of 145 feet. After a minute and half, the spray subsided and the onlookers clapped and cheered. It was with some of these onlookers, that our travelling companion rooster, Pegasus (stolen from a friend's backyard), got some of his first exposure (photo opp) on the trip. Nobody could understand why we were carrying around a fake rooster, so we told the story of how we stole him from a friend and sought to take as many pictures of him as we travelled across the country. Highly amused, the cheering tourists just had to take a picture with him.

As time was ticking, and we had already seen the main attractions, it was time to leave Yellowstone and make our way to Mt. Rushmore. The drive to South Dakota was long and hot (more bum sweat). We drove through Big Horn National Forest, as well as a bunch of small towns in central and eastern Wyoming. To keep ourselves entertained, we played "BOMB." The objective in BOMB is to tout your movie knowledge. The first person says a movie, with the next naming an actor from that movie, followed by the next person who must then say a another movie with that actor. The first person to get stumped, without repeating any actors or movies, earns a letter. The first person to spell "BOMB" loses. This only kept us entertained for little while.

When BOMB lost its appeal, the Canadian Club Whiskey took its place...or at least for Nate and Maggie, who went to town on the bottle while Stacey pretended she wasn't falling asleep at the wheel, and I stayed awake and sober out of concern that I might have to drive. As was customary for our trip thus far, we didn't even cross the border into South Dakota until after sundown. We realized that we were again going to miss our target by quite a few hours. So, this meant that Mt. Rushmore would have to wait until the next morning. Our priority now was to find a camping spot. Lucky for us, Stacey, while falling asleep and screeching around the twisty, Black Hills roads, stumbled across "North America's best campground, hands down." So says the Jewish man from Chicago who offered to shine his car's headlights on our site while we set up camp. This dude was solid. Not only did he offer to brighten our campground, but he donated hot embers from his fire so we could get one of our own going. He was wrong about one thing, though: no way could this place be mistaken for "America's best campground." The Game Lodge campground wasn't a dump by any means. However, the expansive lawns with paved roads cutting through them, as well as the abundance of RVs and lack of space, did not make for a very outdoorsy experience.

The Game Lodge did have showers, though. So as we pitched our tents, we could not have been happier with our campground. In no time, our tents were up and we were finishing the bottle of whiskey, along with the warm beers that had sat in front of the car's sun-beaten, back window all day. As we sat around the campfire, Maggie asked us to tell her stories about ghosts and some our most shameful tales from growing up. At the end of the night, we were grateful for two things. First, we knew we could look forward to showers in the morning. Second, there were no clouds in the sky, nor any rain in the forecast. We had our first clear sky of the trip. It was so nice out, Maggie and I decided to sleep outside of our tents. By far, that was the best sleep that I had had on the first three days of the trip.

Day 2 (8/20/07)

Our first night camping saw rain and ill-prepared tents. While everyone had some leakage, Nate got the worst of it, for his borrowed tent had virtually no water proofing abilities and allowed for the rain to pool up inside. Not only did his tent get wet, but his sleeping bag did as well. To say the least, he did not wake (if he slept at all) a happy camper.

With the rain still lingering in the morning, we had no chance to let our tents dry out before packing up for our day's drive (after being back in Portland for a few weeks now, I'm still working on getting the mold out). After throwing our belongings in the car and tying down the big stuff to the top, we drove the Going to the Sun Road on our way out of the park and toward our next destination.

The Going to the Sun Road could easily be one the most scenic 50-miles I've ever driven. As it turns out, the night's rain was a blessing, as it washed out most of the smoke that was in the air from surrounding wild fires, thus revealing stunning views of the northern Rockies. So scenic was the drive, Maggie felt compelled to stop every 20 yards to take a picture (thus contributing to the 450 pictures she ended up with at the end of the trip).


Before finally exiting the park, on our way to Yellowstone, we stopped at a lodge to buy coffee and look at some souvenirs. While in the gift shop, Nate was lamenting the disappointing absence of a bear sighting in Glacier (there is an abundance in the park). Still seeking to restrain a bear, Nate, while in the gift shop, seized his last opportunity before leaving the park. We found a Grizzly guarding the souvenirs and went straight into an emergency floor hold (one of the many skills we picked up at our job) with the furry thing. Amazingly, it didn't put up much of a fight and we felt all the more tough after the fact.

Before long, we were again in the car headed for Wyoming. The drive to Yellowstone was long and pretty uneventful. The only point of interest along the way was the Blackfeet Indian Reservation, where we stopped in the town of Browning. With its rows of dilapidated mobile homes and liquor stores with people begging for change, the town was pretty depressing. We did not let this keep us out, though, as we got some lunch there and went to a Native crafts museum.

We finally arrived in Yellowstone at 10PM. As we would soon find out, our late arrival times would become a theme for the trip (we had planned to get to the park in time to see some sights...instead we had to set up camp in the dark). We found a campground that Maggie said had campgrounds. The thought of showering in the morning made me giddy, so the campground was an easy choice. After a long day of driving, it did not take us long to set up our tents and call it a night. We again went to bed with the sound of rain pattering our tents.

Day 1 (8/18-19/07)

The first day of our trip really didn't start until day 2. Maggie, Stacey and I picked Nate up from work at about 10:30 PM. We took him to his apartment downtown, where he showered and gathered his belongings. From there, we stopped briefly at Maggie's so she could pick up a dress that was to be delivered to her sister in Philly. By the time we actually left Portland, it was midnight, thus actually putting us on our way on August 19th.

That night (early, early morning), we drove through Spokane, WA, Couer D'Alane, ID, and a bunch of mountain towns in smoke-infested Montana. I say smoke-infested because the whole state, seemingly, was covered by a big cloud of smoke, resulting from the wild fires that had taken over the mountains. Since the smoke blocked whatever views there were to see, we decided to entertain ourselves by digging through the care package that Gretchen made for us. In it, we found the popular teen magazine, Quiz, a few CDs, a list of tasks we were to complete while on the road (scavenger hunt), and some mini liquor bottles (that, after drinking, we were to fill up with some remnant of the trip). We popped in one of her mixes to find it had the mega hit, Rump Shaker, along with other fan favorites, Wind Beneath My Wings and Fergie's, Fergalicious. It was a joyous music-listening experience.


When finally in Glacier, we found ourselves a campsite (later to be the main thoroughfare for droves of kids running to and from the bathroom) big enough to accommodate four tents (nobody wanted to share, for we really hate each other deep down and feared it would come to surface before the trip ended). Not wanting to waste any time, I asked a ranger which trails she would recommend for quick viewing pleasure. Instead of actually helping us, she proceeded to remind us that we're in bear country and that wherever we go we should bring "bear spray (thanks for your help Ranger Dick..I was hoping to get eaten by a bear)." So, being the self-sufficient group we are, we looked at a map and found a place on our own. We headed to Avalanche Lake, where, along the way, we found friendly deer, little streams, and a couple of the annoying kids from the campground. The lake was beautiful, serene, and our first glimpse at how awesome the next couple of weeks could be. We hiked around the lake, admired the sites, stepped over a bunch of bear poop (which was a good sign, because Nate was intent on practicing his phyisical restraint skills on a Grizzly), took a bunch of pictures, and then headed back to camp before it got dark.

For dinner, I made some freeze-dried lasagna stew, Nate ate some noodles, and the others had PB & J sandwiches. We followed our meals with a couple beers, a game of rummy, some shots from mini liquor bottles Gretchen got us, and a couple hits of ganja by the creek we hiked by earlier. We then passed out and caught up on the sleep we missed while driving the night before (this turned out to be a major theme of the trip). In all, it was a nice way to start the trip, as Glacier was as beautiful as advertised.