Ola Sacramento!

Quite some time ago I adopted a policy against apology. I don't give them and I don't accept them, at least in principle.

This entry is a rather belated greeting, as we arrived here 14 days ago, two weeks ago, on the 15th, pretty much as we had planned. Our household belongings, traveling separately in a moving van, didn't arrive until the 16th. That was both fortunate and unfortunate. More about our abysmal experiences with All In One Moving later.

Cody, and the approach to Yellowstone

It was pretty dreary as we hightailed it outa Worland. It was not too long before we rolled into Cody, Wyoming, so named because it was the home of Buffalo Bill Cody. Yeah, Yeah, big deal.

As we rolled westward along the North Fork Highway, out of the town of Cody, and into mountains, however, the landscape began to change. We were winding through a narrow mountain pass, along the Shoshone river. The wind was whippin' and the river, which was more like a brook, was a long way down. We went through a short tunnel, and when we came out we were looking at the Buffalo Bill Reservoir. We pulled over and discovered that we were at the Buffalo Bill Dam.

It was freezin' ass cold, and very windy, so we didn't stay long. Continuing west along the North Fork Highway we rolled through Wapiti, and as land began to take on a spirit of it's own. We were approaching Yellowstone.

Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Ten Sleep ...

After the badlands we headed north, stopping for a very pleasant breakfast in Rapid City. Our waitress was pathologically nice.

Then onwards towards Mount Rushmore, and the Crazy Horse National Monument. It was raining softly as we headed back out on the road towards Wyoming.

As our little vehicle climbed high into the mountains, the dreary drizzle began to clear, and the air grew colder; more crisp and clear. We found ourselves in a most serene and beautiful place; Ten Sleep Canyon. As we emerged from the canyon, late in the afternoon, we came upon the tiny little town of Ten Sleep, Wyoming, population 287.

By early evening we were rolling into Worland, Wyoming, and figured that we wouldn't reach anyplace more likely to have lodging anytime soon. We stopped at the Motel 8, and Sheryl found out where the cheapest place in town was, and we went there. It was cheap in every sense of the word. The sign sez it all. I think T & C means Town and Country. That's us.

South Dakota

We didn't cross the border into South Dakota until well after dusk. We stopped in Sioux falls to eat dinner, and sleep at a friendly Motel 6. Motel 6 is generally fairly pet friendly, but this one even offered little green poo poo bags. After a fairly lurid breakfast, we were back on the road.

After western Minnesota, the landscape of eastern South Dakota was pretty interesting, but still quite flat. We followed the endless parade of signs to "Wall Drug", just because we didn't know any better. Wall Drug is your standard tired old tourist trap. We had a late lunch there and moved on, ...south to the badlands.

The badlands was absolutely breathtaking. Stark naked beauty.Quiet, humble, but windy and bustling with life and activity, if you listen and watch. We encountered a big old bison. Buffalos are more like cattle, think water buffalo. This was a big tatonka, majestic, sweet, and sad. To me, he spoke of the majesty of this great land, despoiled and discarded by..., well, by us.

There were prairie dogs. Fairly well camouflaged, they made themselves known by their cute, little squeaks, which, upon closer listening, were more evocative of the cry of the hawk. Quite communal, these busy little characters, worked and played well together, sharing space, but not food. There were warnings that they were carriers of the plague, which, I assume, meant the bubonic plague. Not desiring to be adorned by buboes, we kept our distance. Cute but deadly.

The context for all of this, the badlands themselves, sang softly, and danced lightly, in the sun. Large on a scale well outside the realm of common experience; intense, unforgiving, unwavering, but sweet and generous with their own beauty. These lands demand respect, but also encourage joy. It is a holy place. This is our holy land. The holy land of the new world.

By the way, these videos, and more, as well as links to still pictures, can be found at YouTube by searching for "unconxio.us".

Minneapolis

We continued southward and westward, past the not-so-great lakes of Wisconsin. We stopped for the night at Rice Lake, Wisconsin, and dined at the Roman lounge there. Surprisingly, the spaghetti and pizza was not draped with american cheese food product, like all the breakfast items were.

Aside from Rice Lake it was all pretty rural, with each town boundary marked by a sign stating the tiny population, many less than 100. It was pretty much the same as we drove past the not-so-great lakes of southeastern Minnesota, finally making Minneapolis, where we hung out, and had dinner with Sheryl's delightful cousin Chrystopher, and her daughter, Lisa.

Minneapolis is a really cool city. Pity it's so cold in the winter. Thursday morning after a fun breakfast at a somewhat punkish diner, Sheryl and I took a bike ride around the University section of the city. It's extremely bike friendly, and, despite hosting the RNC that week, quite progressive, which is more than I can say for Sac. The food was downright decent, a welcome relief from cheese food product laden eats of the more rural areas.

That afternoon, after tying up some of the dangling loose ends of the lives we left behind, we were on our way, past more of the not-so-great lakes of Minnesota, into the flat desolation of western Minnesota. It's a big state, and from what we could tell, most of it is occupied by acre upon acre of cornfields. As far as the eye could see, corn, corn, corn. Not much traffic, the odd semi here and there. Pretty desolate. It's gotta be pretty rough in the winter.

U.P.

After Niagra falls we made the mistake of trying to take a shortcut across Ontario, and spent most of that evening in Homeland Security Hell. We shook it off, however, and made our way to Michigan's upper peninsula, over the magnificent Mackinac Island Bridge, and arriving late that afternoon. We stayed in the charming town of St. Ignatius, self-described as a drinking town with a fishing problem. As we wended our way across the beautiful U.P. we learned about pasties; little meat and vegetable pies popularized by the Welsh miners who were hearty enough to populate this area, and marveled at the fact that this was a fresh water shoreline. The great lakes are fuckin' HUGE.

My only previous experience with one of the great lakes was in Cleveland, not the country's most attractive great lakes shore. The Northern Shores of Lakes Michigan and Huron, along Mackinac Island, are quite beautiful, and fairly deserted. Looking out onto the lake water, it seemed like looking out over the ocean. I guess that's why they call 'em the great lakes.