I am going to post about my current trip, simultaneously with the remaining segments on my spiritual journey of last month.  The purpose of this long jaunt is more about specifically connecting with people- my family and my cyberfamily.  There were critical elements of that social connection in the last trip, also, but my struggle with myself took center stage.  There will be spiritual aspects on the current trip as well, especially when I stop for some hikes, on my way back west.

I had intended, on Saturday, August 24, to attend a picnic for my American Legion Post, until about 1 PM.  Rain intervened, and while I didn’t get out of town until 1, anyway, I drove as far as Santa Rosa, NM, before calling a halt to Day 1.  Here, I found a good motel, American Inn.

Santa Rosa and its sister city, Tucumcari, are good places to rest, going back and forth from Arizona to anywhere along the mid-southern corridor.

There was someone waiting for me in Amarillo, though, so I did not avail myself of Santa Rosa’s blue lakes or Tucumcari’s dinosaur museum. I kept on, to the Blue Front Cafe, and an hour or two of banter with my old friend, Texas Tidbits, aka Wes H.

Once 2 PM rolled around, the cafe closed, Wes and I gabbed for about twenty more minutes outside, and I was on my way again.  After hearing from my Oklahoma City friends that everyone was either busy or sick, I rolled through the north Texas plains, which are rougher than you might think.  This is, after all Tejas, and nothing is all that easy, except the bantering.

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I stopped briefly at a Texas Travel Center, west of the hamlet of Alanreed, took the above two photos, and had a White Knight moment, helping a woman unlatch the hood of her Ford.  It took me about ten minutes of investigation before locating the latch release, but, one and done.  I was to cross the entire state of Oklahoma in one fell swoop, before landing for the night, at a Knight’s Inn, as luck would have it, in Fort Smith, AR.  One does, however, have to oblige the Sooner State with at least one photograph, however, so here is the Oklahoma Visitor Center, in Midwest City, where I stopped and said prayers for my sick Oklahoma friends, and for the people in Moore, who are still rebuilding.

Next:  Fort Smith National Historic Site

Going across the length of South Dakota, one could easily get the impression there is a void, aching to be filled, either by hydraulic fracturing, as in its northern neighbour, or by patented corn, as in Nebraska, to the south.  In the midst of this seeming void, near the hamlet of Belvidere, I looked heavenward, and was answered by these:

After a satisfying meal at JR’s Cafe, just off I-90, I drove on to Mitchell, best known as the hometown of the late Senator George McGovern.  I got a good night’s sleep and spent the first part of the morning looking around Mitchell’s downtown.  Here, one finds the Corn Palace, a favourite of families with school-age children.

You can see, it’s impressive and kitschy at the same time.  Also impressive, at least to me, is the left-over steam pipe from an old school building, on the south edge of downtown.

While I enjoyed a nice lunch at Grandma Max’s, in Sioux Falls, and enjoyed the banter of the truck drivers as they flirted with a pretty waitress, I did not have time to explore South Dakota’s largest city.  My destination on Monday, July 22 was Pipestone National Monument.  So, I drove over that way, via a back road that took me through Garretson, SD, and scenes like this;

Something tells me that the farms, and their steadfast, hardworking adherents, will be back.  The good people of the soil have always ebbed and flowed like prairie grass.

Next:  Pipestone National Monument, MN

The first time I visited the Black Hills, with Penny, in 1984, we avoided Custer, SD, because we were both so disgusted about Little Big Horn.

I went there this time, because it had plenty of motel vacancies and I needed a shower.  The next day, July 21, I enjoyed breakfast at Baker’s Bakery, the food being far more imaginative than the establishment’s name.  A bustling, and engaging young man named Seth was my server, and applied himself very well to making his guests feel at home.  The chorizo  omelet was a sheer delight.

After breakfast, I walked around Custer.  Here are some things I noticed.  Below, is Custer County Courthouse.

Next, one of the first settler’s homes in town.

Local rocks are well-displayed at this shop, which was closed that Sunday morning.

Custer’s downtown was just starting to stir.

The town’s very own hill was clearly marked.

Buckhorn Mountain was not marked, but rose prominently, to the northeast, nonetheless.

Custer, the town, is a lovely, welcoming place- a far cry  from its namesake, the General.