What's I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T?

7/16/2010
10:30 pm
A tourist tragedy of epic proportions has struck. I have been laid low by advanced technology and I am not ashamed to admit that I have been cut to the emotional bone and cannot quit crying over the incident.
I accidently reformatted my camera card while trying to set up a scene and lost every single picture I have taken for the last 2 days. No more whimsical shots of the deer drinking out of the Little Big Horn River. No video of the young Crow Indian boy wearing a beaded tie and so skillfully narrating the Battle of Little Big Horn; complete with swooping arms showing the movements of the troops and tribes, causing a sudden rise of goose bumps among the audience. All of it gone. He was so dramatic about it. Y’all would have enjoyed it. No family pictures of David and his family or me with my Montana cousins. No more illustrated walks through the Hardin Museum, no more mountains striated pink and red and white. The truck we saw burn up? Gone. Signs welcoming us to the Cheyenne Nation? Gone. The crappy shots of washes, coulees, and ditches? Gone.
As Bob pointed out; I still have my own memories. There are sights that are burned into my mind’s eye that are mine to keep. But it’s just not the same. I wanted so much to share these pictures with those who can’t make it out here to be with us and enjoy such a wonderful time.
I cried, I wiped my tears, I had a good talking with myself over the silliness of losing it over a bunch of pictures, and I listened to Bob tell me it was OK to be upset. (I MUST be menopausal!) He also told me he’s willing to drive back about 30 miles and let me get some shots that I had yesterday. Is this guy awesome or what? It’s such a nice thing to do for such a “special” wife. (one who obviously suffers from anal cranial lock up.)
I think the lesson for me in all this (once I got over my crying spell) was two-fold. First I believe that this little episode may be God’s way of telling me to get out of the camera and into the trip. I had over 600 pictures on that camera. That’s just nuts. I am here, live and in person, and I do NOT work for National Geographic or any other publication that requires me to have these pictures. I am here with my husband and bikes and I need to get myself back into real life. The second lesson is that the Adversary will go to great pains to harm you when you least expect it. Every morning I get up and thank God for a new day. I ask Father to bless our vehicles and to keep us from harm while we are traveling. I ask that He keep me in His safe and loving embrace as I whip down the mountain and shoot out of the curves onto the next road. God has protected me from deer, stupid drivers, and massive wind. So of course something has to go wrong or Satan thinks he’s losing his touch. If I cry about it he wins. If I laugh in his face; I win. I prefer to laugh. Besides; is it goofy to get that upset or what? There is a shitload more things in this world to cry over than deleted digital images. Milk, for example.
I refuse to let something so silly kill my vacation. I have decided that I will take Bob up on his offer to ride back about 30 miles. We will do that today. Then I’m going to get up in the morning and we’re going to ride to Devil’s Tower where I will moon the devil, tell him to kiss my happy Christian ass, and then I will play the song from Close Encounters over and over in my head until I can’t take it anymore. (I only mention the last part because it’s already happening. Aarrrrggghhh!!!)
Anyway; off to a new day. I WILL be taking pictures but I refuse to be obsessive about it.

7/17/10

We went east to Broadus, 3 miles from here, to get gas before back tracking to Ashland for pictures. I asked the young lady behind the counter at the gas station where about the best place to eat in town and she unhesitatingly said “The Judge’s Chambers one block down.” Wow!! Who would have thought one could get a gourmet meal in the middle of Nowhere, Montana? Lamb Panini made with home-baked bread, Irish white cheddar cheese and a sun dried tomato pesto all served with a real salad. The lamb was raised by the chef, who also happens to be a rancher the other 4 days a week, and was properly butchered, dressed, seasoned and cooked right there on her own land. I had the home smoked ham and Irish white cheddar Panini served with the same salad. All the veggies in the salad were from her very own organic garden and picked fresh yesterday. This is nothing short of a miracle when you consider that she told me the last frost up here was July 1st. Bob had the Crème Brulee for dessert, while I had a black sweet cherry dish. We both finished with a cup of the best coffee I’ve had in ages. The chef is Ginger Johnston-Held. She had her twins working for her in order to practice their server skills. They are 9 years old and they were making beau coup tips.
The restaurant itself is the former house of a judge. The house has been lovingly restored and it is evident that a lot of work has gone into it. The floors are the original hardwood and all the windows are the lovely old double hung solid oak framed windows of the 1920s era. The house isn’t very big; I imagine the dining rooms could hold maybe 50 people max. It would be the perfect place for an intimate dinner party. The beauty of it is that you feel like you could show up in jeans and a T-shirt (which we did, since we were riding the bikes) or show up in your Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes and they wouldn’t look twice either way.
After such a wonderful repast we went back to the next town west of here which is Ashland. That was where we stopped to get gas yesterday before the disaster struck (the horrible loss of the pictures) and also happens to be the end of the Cheyenne reservation. I had walked about three quarters of a mile the day before to get a picture of the sign announcing that you were entering the Cheyenne nation and to me it was one of the biggest losses resulting from my stupidity. Bob was happier with today’s result as his bike and mine are both in the picture this time. I wasn’t willing or able to go back far enough on the highway to get the pictures of the multi-colored mountains but that’s ok. If you really want to see them I guess you can Google “Montana Interstate 212” or “Cheyenne Nation” or some such key word and there are bound to be pictures available. They will probably be even better than mine since I was shooting through a windshield full of bug juice.
The campground we’re staying in is called “Wayside”. We just happened to notice it, and in fact damned near drove by it, and we decided that at 5:30 on a Friday night we probably couldn’t get a better shot at a full hook-up camping spot so we stopped. We’re right next to a horse farm and some lady keeps driving in and out with bee hives on the back of her truck. The guy running this place (owner? I think so) said there are actually two ladies who come here every summer with their hives and then they load them up in the Fall and take them back to California for the winter. This campground is for sale; I’ve been having fantasies of Bob and I running it and trying to figure out all the things we would have to do to make it financially viable. The restrooms are rustic but very clean, as are the showers. At least I think the Men’s showers are useable; I personally haven’t been in there. There is no wi-fi, which could cause a hassle getting campers since everyone is on the grid these days, and the laundry room isn’t fit for use, but the sky is as full of stars as it can get and the landscape is very pretty. It really is very peaceful here and the coyotes stay in the hills instead of bothering the campers. The deer in the filed look small enough to be goats and don’t tend to come too close. Apparently the only thing I really need to worry about is the neighbor’s cat trying to get into the garbage cans down the lane. I’m OK with that. We’re entering the outskirts of the Bad Lands and Black Hills which are more rolling than the jagged, massive boulder- type mountains we’ve been in for the last couple of days. I’m planning on getting some of that thar Black Hills Gold while I’m here if it isn’t too horribly expensive. Most of my souvenirs have been rocks. I have about 10 or 15 of them now in varying sizes from each state we’ve been through, although I have bought some T-shirts and a few sundry items as well. Our magnet board is filling up quite nicely and I’ve managed to kill off at least a tree or two getting postcards.
Irony: I hate tourists but I love being one. Go figure.

7/18/10

We were planning on going to the Devil’s Tower today by motorcycle but the more I think about it the more I wonder if Bob and I can take the 4 hour ride. It’s “around” 2 hours there and 2 hours back, according to our helpful host. When you add in the walking time, etc. then we may be too beat to even come back to camp. Bob is improving but I just don’t think he has it in him to endure something like that. Hell, we only rode for about 40 miles yesterday and you would have thought he towed this whole rig up a mountain he was so exhausted when we got back. I think today will be a cleaning day. Our laundry bag is crammed as far as I want it to go with dirty laundry and the bugs in the trailer are bugging me. I need to sweep, mop, etc. and I think I would prefer to do it here since our next stop will be in the Black Hills. I kinda hate to leave this place it was so cheap. We paid around $35 a night at the KOA (which is why we did a few nights of rest stop camping and thank goodness for Jeff and Dave!) but this place is only $22 with full water, electric and sewage. Yeah, I know, I’m really roughing it. I remember my dad making fun of people with full hook-up. “That’s not camping!” he would say. Dear Dad: I love you very much but you can keep the crappy 5 gallon jug that we had to carry water in for over a mile. Thank you so much for the experiences and skills you taught me so I CAN survive without a stove or shower, but frankly I’ll take a nice comfy bed and plenty of privacy over playing Rebecca Boon, Pioneer Woman, any day of the week.

7/18/10 8 pm local

We were sitting here looking at the sunny sky when I noticed on the horizon some clouds moving in. This was about an hour ago. We’ve been sitting here all day doing pretty much nothing although I took the opportunity to clean the Dawg Haus really good; swept, mopped and changed the sheets, etc. I suggested to Bob that we might want to go ahead and take down the screened canopy we’ve had up for the last two days since the winds here get pretty fierce. Then I noticed the storm moving in so bob turned on the weather band on his radio. Damn that thing is handy! We had to get out the map to see where they were talking about but it was obvious we were in for a bad one. They were predicting 70 mph winds and golf-ball sized hail so we decided to go ahead and load up the bikes as well. Those boards on the trailer get very slick when wet and I sure as hell didn’t want Bob sliding off the trailer while putting the bikes on it. The storm came by but only lasted for about 20 minutes. Afterwards there was a beautiful double rainbow. One of them could be seen almost from end to end; a perfect arc across the sky and bigger bands of color than I have EVER seen in Indiana. It was so beautiful. I hope the pictures do them justice. Even if they don’t I know that it was a present from God; letting me know that the loss of my pictures was not that big a tragedy when I consider all the beautiful and miraculous things in this world. I am truly blessed.

As a bonus: now all we have to do in the morning is get up, drink some coffee and head out since we’re already packed. Heh heh heh.

Things I've seen that make me think:

Little Big Horn battlefield made a tremendous impact on me. There was a young college student, a Crow man, telling about the battle and giving detials that I had never known before. The entire grounds are littered with gravestones; they simply say a 7th Calvary soldier fell here and a date. No names, nothing to distinguish one from the other. After the battle the women and children stripped all the soldiers naked and so when the reinforcements came there were only nude bodies on the battle field waiting for burial. There are markers for the Indians as well but most of those have names. These markers have been researched by historians of the tribes. I didn't realize there were so many survivors left well into the 1920s. The whole thing made me literally cry. The stupidy and wastefulness of it is beyond comprehension.

Indian schools:
We went to visit one on Saturday. It pissed me off to think of those kids being ripped from their homes because some yahoo thought "civilization" was such a big deal. The school itself reminded me of a Deaf school the way it was laid out. The biggest difference was that Deaf kids WANT to be in residential schools. Indian kids wanted to stay home. It made me angrier than I thought it would. It looks like the school is still in operation; the gorunds are kept very nicely. Do the kids have a choice these days? I like to think so.

Living in Montana :
The people here are friendly and very hard workers. They don't treat the tourists, such as yours truly, like a pain in the ass but they aren't too overly friendly either. They just don't have time to deal with it. I love the work ethic I've seen here. Storms crop up quickly and fade just as fast. The growing season is short and just as likely you will lose your crops to grasshoppers as you will to frost. This place, really all of this northwest territory so to speak, certainly beckons me to challenge myself. Could I make it here or am I just a creature of comfort with delusions of a toughness I don't posess?