End of the Road Trip

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After 2400 miles over six days we arrived at our destination, south of Bozeman, Mt at. a good friends’ cabin on the Gallatin River. As you can see from the photo, the real aim of the trip for George was fishing—this fine 16” brown trout was taken (and released) on the first day of our visit. However, there is no internet here in the Gallatin Canyon (yea!!!) and so this final installment from our road trip is a bit late.



The final day started in Deadwood. We left our bed and breakfast and walked to the top of a hill overlooking the town where we visited the gravesites of Wild Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane—really! We then took a tour of one of the many historic homes in the area, build in the 1870s it was one of the first with indoor toilets and central heat! We then left Deadwood and headed northwest, leaving South Dakota with the first stop at Buffalo, Wyoming where we had a fine lunch at the Busy Bee Café (some of you may recognize this as a location used in the Larimore series). Then on to Sheridan, Wyoming where we were encouraged to visit the King Saddle Shop and see the museum in the back. What a place! It was filled with what had to be over 1,000 old saddles, wagons and carts of all descriptions, and fine leather-tooled goods. We talked with one of the saddle makers and a guy making lariats; there were thousands of those hanging on the walls. You could spend a day here, but it was time to move on so we could get to our final planned stop.



The Little Big Horn National Monument on a windy, sunny, Montana day left us with much to ponder. Here soldiers, doing what they thought was their duty, and American Indians trying to protect a way of life they loved, battled in what was the last victory for the Indians. Prompted by the defeat of Custer’s troops, in a battle that was rife with errors endemic of the entire interaction between Europeans and Native Americans, the federal government decided it was time once and for all to eliminate the Indian tribes. The news of Custer’s defeat in late June made it to the celebration in Philadelphia of the young nation’s 100^th birthday on July 4 and cast a pall over the events that may have partially led to the reaction.



Walking the battlefield, reading the markers of fallen warriors, both soldiers and Indians, visiting the memorials to both sides, we wondered how it could have been different. There is no easy answer here, I recommend the book Empire of the Summer Moon for one of the best accounts of the wars and their end, but clearly young men died again in wars that were not of their making. The saddest moment was listening to a descendent of one of the Indian warriors describe how his grandfather told him, with tears in his eyes, of “watching one of the soldiers shoot his horse to use it as cover to hide behind and knowing that that young man would never see another sunrise.”



From there, after a meal of a Crow Indian Taco and fry bread, oh I love that stuff, we made the final run across Montana along the Yellowstone River which provided a steady supply of insects with which to smear the windshield until we could almost not see out.



It was a great trip. As always, the places you don’t count on surprise you. Like the little town in Iowa where the term ‘tractor’ was coined by a salesman for the things. Or the lady at the Jolly Green Giant statue who offered that while she did not know where there was a post box she would gladly take our postcards with her and mail them from work after she finished volunteering here. The park in Clear Lake Iowa that volunteers keep going. The thriving main streets in one town after another. One thing that struck us was the pride people in each place had about the place where they lived. They wanted us to know what was good about it, why they were there, why, even with the inevitable problems every town, city, or county has, they choose to live here—and that maybe we should consider it too.



OK, now the political statement, so it might be a good time to stop reading.



The other thing we are struck with, yet again, is how wonderful this country is because we never did put up walls, or make people pass a religious test, or insist that skin color would forever determine who is or is not a citizen. We watched Muslims spread blankets in a gas station parking lot and, behind the shelter of their van and U-Haul, bow to Mecca for evening prayers; we visited a church that leaves its doors open all day just in case you might want to pray; a monument to founders of this nation who saw it through some of its most trying times and championed public education and free national parks; stood with Native Americans and their fairer skinned fellow citizens as we all bowed our heads in sorrow at lives lost as our ancestors fought amongst one another. It is a great country, made great not by walls or statues or roads or guns…but by people, who try to find a way to make homes for their children and in so doing make good places for us all.

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Photos

Gallatin Success
16" Brown on a GW Dry

Final Sunset
Note bugs on windshield

Comments

[Martha Bawn]

As always I enjoy following your escapades. Sounds like u saw some most interesting places. We leave tomorrow to head to Asheville to see the Arnold group and then to the beach. I hope we see some interesting places to share with others too.