A little behind, now in Montana...
10)22(05 its 1121pm
I-90 relentlessly pulls West, mile after mile of flatlands, billboard after billboard, big sky overhead, the clouds pushed by North wind down with taste of ice finally in the air.
We spent five days days in Minnesota, kind of by accident, but a good accident, the accident that Minnesota is gorgeous, the weather was gorgeous, and the sights were amazing.
We found that the camping of Minnesota was some of the best so far. Our first state park found us rolling along dirt roads underneath the sparkling golden fall trees. The colors all around the Mississippi River Bluffs State Park were blasting into the sky and the warm weather pushed a gentle breeze around it all. The park sits on a perch above the Mississippi river where it twists between Wisconsin and Minnesota and the views down to the river are fantastic as you walk gentle paths through the gentle aspen and ash forest. We stayed there two nights and had enough time to settle into putting our scrapbook in order, making mobiles out of aspen bark and apples, and taking long walks among the falling leaves. Our neighbors were kind and interesting, and interested, and it was a great couple of nights.
We crossed the whole state in a day and made our way to the Southwest corner of Minnesota. And then...
South Dakota, oh, South Dakota, what do I make of you, so desperate for attention and granted, deserving it, and yet longing with its kitsch and hardiness to be taken seriously. Taken seriously thank you and pass on through and have a cup of 5 cent coffee but don't drink it or you may be seriously regretting it. The speed limit is 75, the towns are not closer than 30 miles apart, and the 'towns' themselves, well, a Flinstones backdrop of motels and diners and tourist traps. You find yourself reading billboards for entertainment, even though they say the same thing again and again, attractions 400 miles away begin to advertise from the Minnesota border and pound at you, every 5 miles or so: Wall Drug, Reptile Museum, Mt. Rushmore, 1880's Town over and over again until you get there and you find yourself thinking "wow, I've got to go see that". And then you do, and you know, its a heck of a lot more entertaining than the freeway rolling by at 73 miles per hour. 73 because it turns out the truck and its little four cylinders and a back packed full of firewood and blankets and all the other stuff we need just can't quite zip along in the face of steady South Dakota wind. Amazing that the pedal can be to the metal and big rigs hauling 15 new cars zoom by you. And you go up a hill for a while. And down. Yippee.
It is really actually beautiful though, the vastness of the place, the endless places that you'll never set foot on and no one else will either for a long time, and if they do they'll probably wonder what they're doing out there, in the middle of nowhere, which is pretty much everywhere in the plains outside the farms wrapped in bony trees. The clouds give you lessons on perspective and light, and you get plenty of time in for non thought.
And so it is that we're finally close to the border of South Dakota, even though its only our second night here mind you, and ready to head West further still.
Last night we crashed in the ultra budget but clean and weird Sioux Motel, where across the street we had a few Rolling Rocks in the Rusty Spur Saloon while the locals filtered in in cowboy hats and filled the place up chatting over greasy cheeseburgers.
Today we drove into the wonderfully desolate and eerie Badlands National Forest, now completely vacant in the late October post tourist season. We stopped into the Circle Ten cafe where we were easily the only customers of the day and enjoyed home cooked biscuits and freshly grated hash browns. We drove and drove twisting through the landscape that feels like the dusty corner of the earth with hills and spires of dirt and clay like pre giant gothic cathedrals washed under a couple of ice ages. The wind blew constant 25 miles per hour and the air tasted icy, piles of buffalo dung littered the straggly sagebrush gardens and it felt like if anyone had been to the place we hiked out to today it was a cowboy taking sleeping on his hat after a long cattle drive.
I-90 relentlessly pulls West, mile after mile of flatlands, billboard after billboard, big sky overhead, the clouds pushed by North wind down with taste of ice finally in the air.
We spent five days days in Minnesota, kind of by accident, but a good accident, the accident that Minnesota is gorgeous, the weather was gorgeous, and the sights were amazing.
We found that the camping of Minnesota was some of the best so far. Our first state park found us rolling along dirt roads underneath the sparkling golden fall trees. The colors all around the Mississippi River Bluffs State Park were blasting into the sky and the warm weather pushed a gentle breeze around it all. The park sits on a perch above the Mississippi river where it twists between Wisconsin and Minnesota and the views down to the river are fantastic as you walk gentle paths through the gentle aspen and ash forest. We stayed there two nights and had enough time to settle into putting our scrapbook in order, making mobiles out of aspen bark and apples, and taking long walks among the falling leaves. Our neighbors were kind and interesting, and interested, and it was a great couple of nights.
We crossed the whole state in a day and made our way to the Southwest corner of Minnesota. And then...
South Dakota, oh, South Dakota, what do I make of you, so desperate for attention and granted, deserving it, and yet longing with its kitsch and hardiness to be taken seriously. Taken seriously thank you and pass on through and have a cup of 5 cent coffee but don't drink it or you may be seriously regretting it. The speed limit is 75, the towns are not closer than 30 miles apart, and the 'towns' themselves, well, a Flinstones backdrop of motels and diners and tourist traps. You find yourself reading billboards for entertainment, even though they say the same thing again and again, attractions 400 miles away begin to advertise from the Minnesota border and pound at you, every 5 miles or so: Wall Drug, Reptile Museum, Mt. Rushmore, 1880's Town over and over again until you get there and you find yourself thinking "wow, I've got to go see that". And then you do, and you know, its a heck of a lot more entertaining than the freeway rolling by at 73 miles per hour. 73 because it turns out the truck and its little four cylinders and a back packed full of firewood and blankets and all the other stuff we need just can't quite zip along in the face of steady South Dakota wind. Amazing that the pedal can be to the metal and big rigs hauling 15 new cars zoom by you. And you go up a hill for a while. And down. Yippee.
It is really actually beautiful though, the vastness of the place, the endless places that you'll never set foot on and no one else will either for a long time, and if they do they'll probably wonder what they're doing out there, in the middle of nowhere, which is pretty much everywhere in the plains outside the farms wrapped in bony trees. The clouds give you lessons on perspective and light, and you get plenty of time in for non thought.
And so it is that we're finally close to the border of South Dakota, even though its only our second night here mind you, and ready to head West further still.
Last night we crashed in the ultra budget but clean and weird Sioux Motel, where across the street we had a few Rolling Rocks in the Rusty Spur Saloon while the locals filtered in in cowboy hats and filled the place up chatting over greasy cheeseburgers.
Today we drove into the wonderfully desolate and eerie Badlands National Forest, now completely vacant in the late October post tourist season. We stopped into the Circle Ten cafe where we were easily the only customers of the day and enjoyed home cooked biscuits and freshly grated hash browns. We drove and drove twisting through the landscape that feels like the dusty corner of the earth with hills and spires of dirt and clay like pre giant gothic cathedrals washed under a couple of ice ages. The wind blew constant 25 miles per hour and the air tasted icy, piles of buffalo dung littered the straggly sagebrush gardens and it felt like if anyone had been to the place we hiked out to today it was a cowboy taking sleeping on his hat after a long cattle drive.
posted by lukejanela at 10:53 AM
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