Heather and Barry's Homepage

The closest star in the sky beat down on us as our morning call with its warm beams of radiant heat. Still feeling stuffy headed and kind of sickly, I snuggled up to Barry in hopes of being able to drift back off to sleep, but the NyQuil had warn off by now and I was doomed to another day of grogginess and feeling not so up to par. :( Barry continued to be a Super Sweetie; he made us breakfast and offered to clean up house as I relaxed, but I felt it best to do my share of the housework, so while oatmeal was hydrating on the stove and the cranberries were swimming in the oatmeal, I folded all of the blankets and put them in the blankie bag. Before I could deflate the air mattress and roll it up, breakfast was ready, and I wobbled out of the tent to the table for some yummy grub.

We took our time packing up because I was moving at a snail’s pace, but finally we were ready to go. I was high on DayQuil at this point and feeling much better than yesterday, so we began the 36-mile Scenic Loop Drive around Theodore Roosevelt National Park’s South Unit to see all the beauty that the park possessed. We began our trip by going back to Dog Town to see if the Prairie Dogs had come out to play. Boy, had they! Using both my 18mm to 70mm lens and my 70mm to 300mm lens, I played with light, saturation, and depth of field as I tried to get the Postcard Shot of the Day of the ground squirrels. When I was getting back into the car, this gorgeous large bird - a hawk, maybe? - flew overhead. Barry, who had a better position, took the camera and tried to get his Shot of the Day.

Back in the car, we started the loop. We stopped at all of the overlooks and took some pictures. There were a few hiking trails that I would have done in a heartbeat any other day, but I was still feeling phlegmy and out of it. I read him the descriptions of the hikes that were along the loop and we chose two that we thought would be exciting; Buck Hill and Wind Canyon Trail.

Buck Hill was a short little 0.1 mile trail that leads to one of the highest hills (elevation 2,855 feet) and gave a spectacular view of most of the park. It was interesting in the sense that one side of the hill was very dry with the multicolored clay rocks that define the Badlands. The other side of the hill was a greener landscape with trees that grew in random places along the hillsides. The panoramic view was picturesque, and I realized that my next toy for my camera should be a 360 degree-capture-the-landscape lens. It might be a while, though, for the toy funds are running low, and money needs to be set aside to print the shots that make the cut into the album (of which, I am sure, will be abundant). It was hot on the hill, and we made it back to the air-conditioned car before I wilted into a puddle of Heather goo. With my body intact, Barry continued on the loop until we arrived at the trailhead of our premier destination.

Wind Canyon Trail, if you follow the path the park provides, is a little 0.3 mile trail that goes up a ridge that overlooks the Little Missouri River and these magnificent wind-sculpted sandstone rocks that create a canyon. Human beings, being mortal and therefore wanting to leave an everlasting impression, have defaced this natural masterpiece by carving their names or sayings into the rock. Barry and I read the little historical kiosk that the park provides to its patrons, then slid into the sand dunes at the bottom of the rocks. The shapes and colors of this feature were captivating, and I could have used my entire 1 GB card just on this small piece of heaven, but the day was a scorcher, I was a bit droopy-headed, and there was still more park to come. With regret, I took a few last minute “oh-my-gosh-that’s-so-awesome” shots, and Barry and I made our way out of the canyon. We were about to leave when Barry heard a couple talking about the buffalo. It was then that we saw the actual 0.3 mile trail that we were supposed to walk and we did so with pleasure. Around the bend of the canyon, out of sight from where we were, a herd of bison grazed on the grassy plains across the river. Little water flowed through the valley, leaving only a bright blue ribbon of color that gave the bison some much needed beverage. At one point, a calf demanded to be nursed by its mother, holding on to her teats as she tried to get away. Another calf played in the little water that ran though the area. Its hooves barely covered, it stood there motionless for minutes as we watched the scene with delight. Off in the distance, wild horses shared the river with their companions. They, too, drank from the slivers of water that blessed the river basin. Barry, who had just the day before made a comment that he thought that the zoom lens I bought in Minnesota was going to be more effort that it was worth retracted his statement as he looked off in the distance and was able to capture the horses on “film”. Walking back to the car by way of the trail, we discussed what this land would have looked like if humans had not intervened; thankfully, someone had the foresight to pass legislation that allowed these outstanding parks to protect what nature and wildlife still exists in this country.

Back in the car again, we finished the loop, said goodbye to our first National Park this trip, and drove into the town of Historic Medora. With 100 people total who live here in the winter, the town is very small. The stores are set up to look very “Old Western”esque. We ate lunch at the Cowboy Café. I had the only things on the menu I could eat: a grilled cheese sandwich, French fries, and a bowl of fresh fruit. If desired, Barry could have had a bison burger or other typical western meat sandwich. Instead he ordered a barbeque beef sandwich, which, for the record, “was enh”. We split a bottle each of Sioux City Sarsaparilla and Cream Soda, bottled in the good old western town of New York City. After our Historic Medora lunch, we entered Todd’s Old Tyme Photo Parlor and Gift Shoppe. The entire front of the store was nothing but trinkets and toys, postcards, and, well, gift shop-type items. In the back was a portrait studio. There were old frames and three different western-style backdrops that you could choose from, costumes that graced the era to wear, and high prices for you to pay to have them take a digital picture of you and however many people you wanted to join you in your charade. It was a really cute idea and Barry and I quickly pondered asking for the “couple in the bathtub” memento. Instead, I purchased a postcard of a prairie dog saying “Hello from Medora, Montana”, wrote down a quick phrase from on of the frames, stuck our address on it, and sent it out from the Post Office that was right across the street. I figured $0.51 was a much better deal then the single 8” by 10” picture with the two of us for $28 post-tax but preframe.

We left historic Medora soon after and got on the road again. With our destination as Red Lodge, we drove west to start the long haul. Later and later it became as we drove along Route 94. It’s amazing how little life exists between Medora, North Dakota, a some-what happening town given the tourist attractions that exist there, and Billings, Montana, the first big “city” in the state along our route. Time and time again we would look for campsites and be disappointed. A plethora existed around Medora and around Billings, but in between there was nothing. And I really do mean nothing.

Around 9:30 PM or so (we don’t really know the exact time, but the sun had set and darkness surrounded us and the small little town) we stopped at a town called Hysham, as it had a “lodging” sign posted on the highway near the exit ramp. There was nothing to indicate which direction to go off the exit ramp, let alone know where the lodging was. We drove along the small country road and soon came upon a small almost hidden sign that said “MOTEL”. We flew by it at 45 mph, then found a brightly lit but closed a gas station. Thinking we might be in luck anyway, we turned around and looked for the motel. Twice we drove in circles. The town was dark and made of small, run down houses or trailers. When we finally found the motel, we turned around and got the hell out of Dodge; the place was maybe an RV park, but it was difficult to tell, and there was no office to speak of that would indicate otherwise (there was a sign that said something like “Check in at #309 ”. Determined to find lodging, we returned to I-94 and continued west. The next lodging sign we came upon was Custer. Lights existed here at more than just a gas station. We followed the sign for the motel here and came across a handful of teenagers riding their bikes in circles near the local bar. We past them twice in search of finding a home for the night; a block down the road was an abandoned and thereby closed ex-facility that was once a place to stay the night. Dejected, we returned to the road and resigned to the fact that we were going to need to drive into Billings. I took out the computer and started calling ahead for places to stay.

Just like in Bismarck, every place I called was booked, which I can’t say is a surprise given the extended road we just experienced. After about ten calls or so, we found a place called the Big 5. It was soon 11ish PM, and the lights of the city were almost blinding compared to the dark stretch of road behind us. After getting lost and navigating around a lot of one-way streets, we finally located our charming place to stay for the night. Given both the location in town and the look of the place, we carried in almost all of the gear we had in the car: both Barry’s and my suitcases, the camp stove and kitchen box, the computer, my camera bag, my cooler full of medications, and both kayaks. Barry made dinner as I typed up a blog entry (yes, I know we’re fabulously behind!), and after eating Ramen noodles, cream of mushroom soup, and green beans, we got ready to bed and gratefully fell asleep.