Sundance (WY)

Wyoming: Big Skies, Barb Wire, and Open Ranges

While I was doing all the pre-flight checks on Hank and Glory, The Navigator was entering our projected destination into the mapping program.  Regardless of our route, we only had a 2-hour trek ahead of us on this day.  It was up to us to decide if we wanted to spend those two hours covering 80-miles of Interstate, or 100-miles of Black Hills secondary roads.  Decisions...decisions [eye-rolling sarcasm].

We made the westward turn onto Hwy 16 at Custer and slowly drove past the crowds of moto-pilgrims who had taken a pause in their pilgrimage to Sturgis.  The town was getting a much needed infusion of "new money"; hopefully enough to ward off adding to the roles of failed and abandoned businesses that dotted our exit route out of town.

Sincere or Sarcastic?  Only the proprietor of (the former) Budget Burger knows.

Hank began the climb that would carry us over The Black Hills and into Wyoming.  The grade was indeed steep, but nothing that we hadn't experienced in Tennessee or Arkansas.  As we made our way into the higher elevations, the beauty--as well as destruction--of natural forces unveiled before us.  

"A tree falls the way it leans.  Be careful which way you lean." ~ The Lorax (Dr. Seuss)

The terrestrial landscape before us--carved eons ago as the Earth passed through puberty--was beautiful to behold.  The steeply smooth profile of yet-to-be eroded soil building upon itself as the elevation gains, forming layers of an earthen meringue that blankets. Eventually these smooth hillsides will succumb to the torrents of nature and reveal the austere Badlands scenery hidden below the (still) fertile ground above.

The scattered remains of a once thriving and vibrant forest.

The erosion phase of this transformation is firmly underway, with the introduction of wood-boring insects and the complete destruction of large tracts of forests.  All you can do is stare in sullen awe at the expansive hillsides littered with the remnants of a once vibrant forest.  Tree-sized pick-up sticks haphazardly strewn down the hillsides, leaving the soil and animals exposed to fend for themselves against the harshness that nature will most certainly bring again.  I've never been much of a volunteer tree planter, but the violent transformation occurring to our forests could change that.

After climbing to the apex on our winding asphalt trail, we were on the downhill toboggan run into Wyoming.  The scenery abruptly changed from the (mostly) green elevated outcroppings to long, worn hillsides painted in the light-brown pastels of native grasses.  Seasonal rocky creek-beds picketed the arid stretches of pasture; sneaking under the 3-strand barb wire and dispersing across fields accustomed to temperamental irrigation. 

Cowboy Humor

This was not the touristy haven that we'd left behind--this was cowboy country.  In the later part of the 1800's, this area was the northern edge for open range grazing--an  area between North Texas and Wyoming that was used to fatten cattle for domestic consumption and international export.  This era in American history produced the Western Lore of the infamous cattle drives and the birth of cattle companies.  Fences were prohibited as to let the cattle move across the expansive tracts of public lands.  The combination of severe weather and westward expansion brought the end to The Great Plains cattle drives; but today's ranchers still utilize these public lands to continue the American tradition of open range ranching.

We took a northward trek at Newcastle (WY)--the halfway point--and an hour later we were slowly motoring through the town of Sundance.  Made popular by Hollywood by the 1969 movie "Butch Cassity and The Sundance Kid," Sundance actually derives its name from the Lakota Owíwaŋyaŋg Wačhí, or "Sun-Watching Dance."  

[Factoid: The Sundance Kid is the outlaw nickname for Harry Longabaugh, a member of Butch Cassity's "Wild Bunch."  Alan Hale, Jr.--most notoriously known for his portrayal of The Skipper on the television series Gilligan's Island--played Harry Longabaugh in the 1957 movie, The Three Outlaws.  This brings the total number of Gilligan's Island references in our blog to 3.]

Sundance is a quiet little town that sits due south of Bear Lodge Mountain.  It has just about everything you need to live a comfortable life, and none of the things that you need to live an overly comfortable life.  The Dog Pound is a small fast-food shack that serves-up ground-round burgers, home-cut fries, and hand-made shakes.  I could eat there until my cholesterol matches Hanks odometer.

"A dyslexic man walks into a bra."  ~ Author unknown

A block away is The Turf Bar & Lounge--a dark and smokey watering-hole that hasn't had an upgrade since Harry Longabaugh walked the local streets.  We normally don't frequent bars, but when I asked a local where I could buy a bottle of vino, I was directed towards The Turf.  When I walked into the smoldering saloon, the dozen or so geriatric locals stopped their conversations and diverted their attention to the stranger who had just breeched "their Turf."  I looked around for a display of retail wines, but the only bottles I saw were the ones behind the bar, and the ones currently being emptied by aged beer drinkers.  Realizing that I had been "punked" by a non-drinking local, I retraced my steps towards the door from whence I came. 

Through the smoky darkness came a raucously scratchy voice--the kind that can only be achieved through years of sand-blasting without a respirator, or gargling with ground glass--weaving its way through the crowd of regulars.  When the raspy reverberation reached my ears, it had evolved into a question; "You lookin' for the licka store?"  The question stunned me.  Was this woman a fortune teller?  Was she going to direct me to the basement of The Alamo?  I cautiously replied, "Yes Ma'am."  Holding a half-burnt cigarette between her index and middle finger, she pointed the small smoking scepter towards a narrow doorway behind the bar and bellowed in a gravelly intonation; "Ya gotta go behind the bar."  

Admiral Ackbar's infamous phrase, "IT'S A TRAP!" rushed through my mind; as I proceeded with caution through the caliginous cantina.  I walked on the "working side" of the bar and into a small room where two ladies were selling liquor out the drive-through window--the only source of light in this room.  They too possessed a life-long passion for driving Phillip Morris stock through the ceiling, and seemed a bit surprised that someone would make an out-of-vehicle cameo appearance in their libation lair.  They had both kinds of wine--white and red--so I bought one of their below-average wine offerings and paid their above-average price.  

Kristy & The Boys kicking' it by the campfire at Reuter Campground

Our last stop before setting-up camp was at the local U.S. Forest Service office.  Kristy did the honors of engaging with the rangers and picking up a few maps that would be valuable in the coming days.  We headed northward up Sundance-Warren Peak Road to the (USFS) Reuter campground.  This was a "dry camping" venue similar to those in South Dakota, but we weren't planning on staying long.  This was our scouting camp for our first attempt at being completely off-the-grid.  We were about to embark on our "boon-docking" phase.

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