Busch(ed)

The family was exhausted.  Stopping to see the massive ball of string was the final straw.  They were "over it."

But I had one more trick up my sleeve.  A dear friend secured tickets for the Cardinals-Cubs game.  It was a Saturday matinee game, with a 3:15pm start, between two bitter National League rivals.

While driving Friday afternoon across Missouri towards St. Louis, we heard on the radio that Saturday's game would be postponed until 6:15pm.  Not good. We planned to drive after the game and get closer to home.

We were already a day ahead of schedule, deciding against an Iowa fair on Friday.  The gang was ready to be home.  Really ready! I was sensing rebellion in the ranks.  What could I do?  I thought about the dilemma while zooming across the Show-Me state.  We're baseball fans, but after four weeks on the road they weren't interested in another game.  They wanted to get our dog and sleep in their own beds, in that order.

Fearing mutiny, I hatched a plan:  1)park near and visit the Arch, 2)walk 5 blocks to Busch Stadium, 3)get tickets at Will Call, and 4)trade them on the street for Friday night's game.  It was a tall order, as it was 6:30 when we parked the RV at the edge of the Mississippi between the Arch and a docked riverboat casino.  This area looked sketchy; I wasn't sure if the Paddy Wagon would be safe..  I had reservations about the "parking attendant," thinking he could've been hustling tourists.  "Parking" was embroidered on his knit polo shirt.  Why wasn't he sitting inside the small air-conditioned booth?

I was relieved when the Park Ranger at the Arch said I had indeed chosen the safest place to park the RV.  I could stop worrying about the Paddy Wagon and focus on trading with the real hustlers on the street outside the stadium.

The game started just about the time I got my tickets at the window.
"You guys stay here, and take some notes."
I donned my game face and marched across the street to find an active market.  I found some "floor traders" under what looked like a buttonwood tree.

Watcha got?

John:  Yo, I need to trade 4 tickets for tomorrow's game for tonight's game.
Scalper #1:  Oh really?
John:  Yeah, these are four good seats, together.   Everybody's gonna want tomorrow's ticket.
Scalper #2:  For real?
John:  Whatcha got, my man?
Scalper #3:  Sir, tonight's ticket is hot.  That's what folks want.
John:  Funny you still got 'em.

Just then, the crowd cheered as Cardinal first baseman Lance Berkman hit into a fielder's choice for an RBI, scoring the third run of the bottom of the 1st..  We were standing near the outfield section and a group of homeless watching the jumbo monitor were dancing a jig.  All citizens of Mound City hate the Cubs.

John:  It's 3-0 Cards.  This game's over.  In 15 minutes, you'll wish you traded those tickets to me.  You're holding confetti, dogg.

Scalper #4:  Here; I'll trade.   You're not a Cubs fan, are you?
John:  Not tonight.

We enjoyed a great game in club level seats, and the Cards won 4-1.  That's a winner!

There was also great entertainment on the street after the game:

A very happy crew walked back to the river under the iconic arch after the game.

The Arch

Last National Park visit

World's Largest Ball of String

"Hey, hey, easy kids. Everybody in the car. Boat leaves in two minutes... or perhaps you don't want to see the second largest ball of twine on the face of the earth, which is only four short hours away?"
 -Clark Griswold

After some research, it appears there exists some controversy about exactly who's amassed the largest ball of twine. Not wanting to take sides or rekindle this old rhubarb, we opted instead for the world's largest ball of string.

Ballers

 
It's displayed at O'Malley's Irish Pub (Weston MO) now, a perfect place for it.

A sign mounted outside of O'Malley's:

If you're going to drive a man to drink,
please drive him here. 

Down to 4

We were glad Grandmom could join us for part of our trip.

After leaving mom with the good folks at American Airlines in Omaha, we hit the road for our last stops before our final leg home.


We had planned a surprise of the kids in St. Louis.

But maybe we could squeeze in one more roadside attraction before our return to Mound City.

Omaha Stake-out

Mom wanted to take us to dinner at a special steak house in Omaha, but we were chasing sunlight, and wouldn't reach Nebraska in time.  We stopped in Sioux City and had dinner at Eldin's.  This local restaurant among a sea of familiar chain restaurants was perfect after a long day on the road.

Holland got a chicken-fried steak and ate every bite, save the two she gave me.  It was absolutely perfect; I was reminded of my southern roots.   It was like the scene in Ratatouille when the censorious critic is immediately transported back to his childhood by a single bite of the mouse's simple creation.

We mounted up and drove to the Omaha area.  Mom needed to be at Epply Airfield at 9:00am the next morning for her flight.  We boon-docked in Council Bluffs, IA, across the Missouri River from Omaha.

This appealed to the historian in me.  Council Bluffs served as a final departure point for most of the pioneers heading west from 1840-1870.  The Mormon Trail started here.  The hand cart we saw in the Virgin River Valley in Utah?  Probably bought and assembled right here in Council Bluffs.

I couldn't find a quiet place nearby, so I settled for the front of a very busy TA Travel Center truck stop.  The generator remained on all night, providing power for the A/C and a constant din to mitigate the truck refueling activity.  It was easily the worst camping spot of the entire trip, but it was 11:00 pm and I was exhausted.  At least it was safe; the remainder of Council Bluffs didn't engender that feeling.

Wait a minute, man!

Now I was really testing the limits of of the kids' patience.

Just outside the Badlands National Park, there is another national park near I-90.

The Minuteman Missile National Park is dedicated to the nuclear missiles that were stored in "silos" and aimed at targets in the USSR.  This cold war-era operation is captured well in the film and artifacts housed at the museum.  The crews were subjected to days of monotonous waiting interrupted by seconds of sheer terror.  It took the coordinated effort of four individuals to launch these irrevocable nuclear payloads.

The START treaty signed in 1991 led to the deactivation of 150 of these missiles in South Dakota. Who talks about the Cold War nowadays?  This was the children's first exposure to this 50-year threat to the planet.


http://www.nps.gov/mimi/index.htm


Holland scored her last junior ranger badge of the trip.  Still going strong!

Goodbye to an old friend

I finally had to bid adieu to an old friend in the Badlands.

I've used this old polyester-woven chair at sporting events and other gatherings for years.  This was a rare creature amongst the newly-fashioned chairs with their compact features, drink holders, and foot rests.  It always got a laugh with friends and strangers alike.

While I had threatened to reweave and extend the life of this relic, the stark truth is I couldn't locate a Roses, Kresge's, Zayre's , or Ben Franklin 5 & 10 on the trip.  The Jockey Lot (Anderson, SC) is likely the only place on earth with a reservoir of NOS (new old stock) repair kits.

Last sit as dry rot claims another victim.

I decided to give it a proper burial in the Badlands, by stripping the fabric and recycling the aluminum.

Hiking the Badlands

 This morning, we got up early for our hike.  We dropped mom off at the Lodge gift store, and hiked the Notch Trail.  On our way to the trailhead, we saw a wild turkey and her dozen chicks:

I'd read about the rungs on the Notch Trail and thought the kids would enjoy this last hike of the trip.

More challenging going down.

Badlands of South Dakota

Cruised in the Paddy Wagon to our next stop, just off I-90.  I had no expectations, really.  I was quickly learning the Department of Interior knows a lot more than I do about preserving treasures.  This branch of government is really doing a great job on what is likely a modest budget.  I've also come to learn that if two (or more) National Parks are in close proximity, there are likely good reasons not to expect redundancy.

But the Badlands?  Could it be "all that?"  Was its popularity due to an edgy name?  Was it an inside job by the hyperbolic Wall Drug marketing team? 


You know the drill:  Visitor's Center, stamps, ranger workbooks, movie, and then 20 questions with a ranger at the desk.

It was hot, like 105+ hot.  The campground at the National Park had electric hook-ups.  That means air conditioning without noisy generators (banned after 8pm).  But it also means I get an itch to run some trails!  After tying up the Paddy Wagon and giving her 110 volts, I was off for 60-90 minutes of trailrunning.

I ran on the Castle Trail off of North East road and was really enjoying the solitude.  I was extremely focused on the ground while running, on high alert for snakes.  The trail was very narrow, with tall grass on both sides.  There are signs at each trailhead with an artist rendering of the prairie rattlesnake;  I figured the place was crawling with them - literally!  I was really hoping to see a rattler on this trip, but I don't think happening on one while running is a good situation.  Their first reaction to fast motion may not be their telltale warning sign.

Then, out of nowhere, I encountered a Big Horn Sheep.  No camera, no pack, no witnesses... just me, my water bottles with warm water, and the sheep.  It was such a pleasant surprise.  The sheep was prolly 40 yards away, and was simply grazing on abundant grass.  I enjoyed the sight and wished the others were with me.

Just another reminder of the benefits of taking the path least traveled.

Wall Drugged

There were several obligatory stops on our trip: Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, ........ Wall Drug.

This tourist trap became famous for giving away ice water to parched travelers in the 1930's. It's also located near an entrance to the Badlands National Park, our next destination.

My real motive for stopping there was to try to assist my mom's quest to buy a western-themed wooden key chain.  While I don't doubt the existence of such an artifact, I'm beginning to harbor reservations about its availability.  Thus far, Mom's request has only drawn blank stares and bewilderment from seasonal salespeople and concessionaires.  She's even stumped veteran Native American crafts purveyors with her specific request.  I felt confident the brilliant marketing machine at Wall Drug would have several SKUs of these things to satisfy even the most discerning tourist.

No luck on the key chain, but they had ice cream!

I was now batting 0-4 in South Dakota, as Wall Drug stocked no such item.

But Wall Drug is long plenty of other kitschy goodness!

After consuming several glasses of ice water, we were ready for Badlands.

Wind Cave National Park

Our third stop in the Black Hills was at the Wind Cave NP.  Again, I was worried that it wouldn't measure up to the previous spots. Who's ever heard of the Wind Cave?   I was afraid it would "blow."

Blow hard.

We camped at the Elk Mountain campground, inside the park.  This was very different from previous camping spots.  This park is basically on the edge of the prairie, and the camping area is surrounded by lush grasslands.  The stars were spectacular.  Prairie dogs abound, as you can imagine.  In an effort to check the 'dog population, the park has re-introduced the black-footed ferret to the area.  There was a ranger-led hike at 9:30pm in search of these elusive ferrets, but we were too bushed after a very long day to join the fun. 

The tours of the cave are first come-first served.  We had a huge advantage by staying at the park, but I really wasn't concerned.  The campground wasn't very crowded.  I already knew a senior ranger on a first-name basis, as he was recruiting us for the ferret vigil.   We got to the visitor's center at 8:45 and scooped up tickets for the 9:20 tour.  We watched the movie and the kids began completing the ranger workbooks.  Mom would stay either at the center, or in the RV.  We parked under some trees for shade. 

The tour at the wind cave was led by a newly-graduated ranger on his first National Park assignment, but he was a very experienced "caver" and maintained a very engaging 90 minutes for our group of about 20.  This cave is very complex, and contains 80-85% of the world's boxwork, delicate formations on the cave's ceilings.  We had a great time and really enjoyed how different this "hike" was from all the others on our trip.

Turns out the complex labyrinth has only one natural opening.  The cave inhales or exhales, sometimes forcefully, based on the outside barometric pressure.  Wind speed can be as high as 70 mph at this orifice.  Pressure and temperature (53 degrees) remain constant within the cave.

Brrrrrr....chilly willy

Returning to the visitor's center after the tour, the place was teeming with people.  It was very busy and subsequent tours sold out very quickly.  I was thankful we'd had an early start. 

Ranger hat fit like a glove.

The Wind Cave did blow. 

But only because a sunny, high-pressure system was in charge above ground.

It might suck when you visit.

A Crazy idea?

I was worried that the Crazy Horse project would be a disappointment, a tourist trap, a complete waste of time.  It's been going on for 65 years and won't be completed for another 40-50.  Give me a jingle when it's done, would ya?

I'm glad I was wrong again.  The movie showed a lot of interview footage of Korczak Ziolkwski, the Boston-born sculptor engaged by the Lakota (and the rest of Native American leadership) to develop this monument.  Ziolkowski looked liked the quintessential "mountain man." His long grey beard and leathery countenance, however, were simply a facade for his unmistakeable Boston brogue.   This is another great American story:  a man of Polish ethnicity, understanding the plight of the American Indians, and dedicating his life to a project that will honor the greatness of a their culture.  All the while, refusing to accept government funding to expedite it's consummation.

While it's fashionable to sympathize with the Native American people today, it certainly wasn't when Korczak blasted away the first rocks in 1947.

 I hope I'm alive to get that call.

Artist model juxtaposed with work site in background.

Classic Gardner-Denver compressor used on the site in earlier days.

Rushed for More?

I was starting to worry that Holland and Whitney were exhausted from our maniacal park-hopping schedule.  We had maintained a grueling pace, and I wasn't sure if the Black Hills and Badlands would measure up to the previous parks. 

If they had those reservations, they were quickly extinguished.  Mine too.

Mount Rushmore was an opportunity to revisit some major historical events, the leadership that shaped them, and their lasting ramifications for our country and the world. We took the walking ranger tour and learned a lot about Gutzon Borglum, the artist, and why he chose these four faces to represent our country's progress up until 1927.

Dream fulfilled

Afterwards, we speculated what faces could be added, or if Borglum would choose differently today.

Mom quickly ruled out "Mattress Jack."

"Nothing kids, Grandmom is just voicing an opinion."

Crossing the Big Horn Mountains

I awoke early and fired-up the Paddy Wagon before the others woke.  I wanted to make some time; as we had a very busy day planned for the Black Hills area.

We'd stopped in the middle of the night, and couldn't see a thing.  This was a stunning place to camp, right above the rushing whitewater of Tensleep creek.  This is the kind of locale I envisioned staying every day of this trip; too bad we didn't get a chance to enjoy its beauty.  80 miles later, I had to describe it to the others.

There is a 50 and 100-mile race in the Big Horn Mountains that I've considered in the past.   Now I really want to go back and run it.

Next stop: South Dakota!

Five asleep in Ten Sleep

We roared out of Cody after devouring dinner.  I was hoping to go from buffalo burgers to Buffalo, WY  (I-90), but a storm slowed our progress.  We were treated to nice sightings of pronghorn and deer, and an unusually bright double rainbow.  We could see both sides, with the illusion of driving right through it.

The Leprechaun headed to the promised land.

The others fell asleep while Karen and I tried to cover some ground.  The two lane road was very dark and full of wildlife. We saw a friendly raccoon and a busy owl on the road.  While these were exciting to see, they were a bit unsettling for a tired driver. 

Looking for a place to stop and sleep, we rolled into Ten Sleep WY.   It was 11:00 and the town was completely deserted except for some late-night cowboy bars.  We decided to keep moving, as we were entering the Big Horn Mountain area.  Sure enough, we found a very adequate overlook vista on Ten Sleep Creek.  The road had very little traffic and provided a quiet place to stop. 

Etymology of Ten Sleep, WY:

 Ten Sleep was an American Indian rest stop, so called because it was 10 days travel, or “10 sleeps,” from Fort Laramie (southeast), Yellowstone National Park (west-northwest), and the Indian Agency on the Stillwater River in Montana (northwest). There are numerous archeological sites throughout the area, with frequent discoveries of artifacts such as arrowheads, pictographs and petroglyphs

Cody, WY

I had read about Cody and though it would be fun to visit the famous Irma Hotel, watch a gunfight, and enjoy a buffalo burger.   There are tourist places galore at the NW entrance to Yellowstone, but I was hoping for a touch more authenticity by traveling down the road to Cody, about 100 miles from the park.

We educated the kids on Buffalo Bill Cody, an famous impresario of the late 19th Century.  His touring Wild West Show was known far and wide and solidified Cody's celebrity status.  He was one of the most widely known people of his era.  His show introduced the world to the sharpshootin' Annie Oakley.

Cody built the Irma Hotel to attract and entertain folks traveling to Yellowstone and the west.  It anchors a charming downtown full of shoppes, restaurants, and outfitters.

As we entered the central business district, we heard gunshots.  Karen wasn't sure if  a buffalo burger was worth the risk.  I assured her it was the tail-end of the nightly gun-fight, replete with cowboys and saloon girls in period costumes.  This all takes place before a decent-sized crowd on a wide street adjacent to the hotel. 
While I was disappointed the kids missed the action, I didn't let it deter us from waiting for a table at the boisterous restaurant. Stuffed animal heads adorned the walls and the large, wooden bar anchored the room.  The joint was jumpin', as I'm sure it is every night, immediately following the show.

We all enjoyed buffalo burgers and fries, and the quirky atmosphere of tourists in this landmark diner (OK, I'll admit I didn't officially interview the others)

Bears!

We left Mammoth Hot Springs headed for South Dakota. There are several ways to get there, but we chose the NE entrance to Yellowstone.  This is the famed Lamar Valley known for abundant wildlife sightings.  As soon as we departed Roosevelt Tower with gas, we saw the hallmark traffic jam up the road.  It was indeed a bear sighting, but we were a touch too late. The park ranger kept traffic moving as best he could.  The bear had disappeared over the hill.

Lo and behold, about a mile down the road, we spotted a bear on the hill, headed DOWN the mountain towards the road. Finally, we'd get a front row perch to watch from the relative safety of the road.  The kids, of course, dismounted to get an unimpeded glimpse and capture photos.

It was exciting for all to see a black bear.  Even Grandmom was able to see a bear without hiking a trail.

Gringo Fire

I bought some wood at the campground office when I first checked in, but honestly it was green.  I wanted a huge fire, and was determined to find some dry wood to fuel it.  Unlike other parks, Yellowstone allows wood-collecting.  Whitney and I loaded the baggage compartments under the Paddy Wagon with some seriously dry wood.  We got busy with our pyre upon returning to the camp site.

The perfect gringo fire fills the entire pit and doesn't have much smoke to annoy its worshippers.

My awe-inspiring conflagration was not only the envy of our campsite neighbors, it would grill succulent chicken, tasty popcorn, delicious 'smores, and support our singing efforts.

Whitney's booty dance while Jiffy-popping over the fire.

But even the heat of my creation couldn't completely keep the huge mosquitoes at bay.  Mom opts for the burka as an added layer of protection against the steroidal mosquitoes.