Welcome to Bubbaland-Texas Observations

In the last almost six months since we've been here, we've learned a few things about rural Texas.  It's an area of extremes.  Weather from draught to floods, rich to very poor-sophisticated cowboys to real hillbillies and there can always be beauty and wonderful people in unexpected places.

Eight miles away is a town of Dawson, population 807.  Like most boonie towns the only buildings not boarded up are the town hall, police, perhaps a post office or masonic lodge and of course lots of churches.  I was advised this is where the closest Laundromat is (sometimes sorry I wanted more space in our rig than a washer & dryer).  Found out this place is only step up from washing my clothes on a rock in the stream.  Was advised by a fellow patron which of the old washers were good so you wouldn't lose your $1.50 and which of the four dyers are functioning and there was no change machine.  So past decaying store fronts, I walk to the local bank which is the biggest, newest and cleanest building in town for quarters.   I can only wonder how can a nice bank like this be here because I don't know who in this town could have money!   Well, anyway, what made this an unexpected pleasure was a local woman I met, Francis, a beautiful person full of local gossip (like the demented soul who sits on the curb and howls like a wolf).  It was unbelievable that this educated person lives alone without running water in this day and age.  But believable that I didn't use this facility again.  Instead I drive more than 25 miles to the next nearest Laundromat where can watch a soap while at the same time pour it in the washer. 

Living out in the boonies where even the park rangers agree the locals are somewhat backward, you see different sights like dogs sleeping on the road, old beautiful plantation houses next to tumble-down shacks, and lots of Texas lawn art we call litter.  I've become especially aware of litter since our volunteer work here is primarily to eliminate it.  Impossible!  The residents here take advantage of the excellent fishing but only take their catch back home not their trash.  I've picked up so many single flip flops and fishing lures, I could open a store catering to one legged fishermen.  It bugs me that the only thing I've gotten besides reappearing garbage is poison ivy-three times so far.

What else I've gotten is allergies.  But I'm not alone, Elroy has 'em too.  Texas is known to possess some of the highest numbers of allergy sufferers.   Had to get medicine from the vet for Elroy so he would stop chewing on his feet-thank heaven I only sneeze. . .  He can run free here and spread his scent everywhere.  I'm still trying to understand how he can control his sprinkles.   He must have an internal pee gauge because he always has enough to dribble again and again.

Talking of pee, I've got to tell you about the restrooms here in the park.  I walk around here a lot and needed to use the facilities one day.  They do have running water in the bathrooms but only have pit toilets.  I bared my butt to feel a cold wind on my privates as I was seated.  The shock of frigid ventilation in a usually warm area was astonishing to say the least.  How can other people stand it?  If campers stay here for a long time, do they get constipated?  I can understand odor eliminating jets of air but this was way below the belt when you're not expecting it.

Well this adventure will be ending soon and another to look forward to when we travel on to the Black Hills.  Stay tuned.

On the Road Again.

Just like Willy Nelson, we couldn't wait to hit that long stretch of highway and find our next adventure.  First out of Spearfish SD we revisited the Bad Lands.  Now when you come from Detroit, the name just doesn't seem right.  Actually the Bad Lands has its own beauty and awesomeness that a Detroit ghetto (a real bad land ) can't compare.

The Bad Lands is a pristine wilderness with a rich heritage from prehistoric hunters, the Great Sioux Nation and later to homesteaders and ranchers.  We didn't have time to explore much of the 65 million years of erosion resulting in unreal formations and colors.  But always enjoy the jack in the box type-gophers and were surprised by mule deer crashing down a hill in front of our truck.

Travel Tidbits:
1.  Elroy is the best traveling dog in the world-sleeps 90% of the time.
2.  Gas in Missouri was less than $3.00/gallon-$2.92 to be exact.
3.  South bound I-29 in Iowa was still closed in September due to flood damage from the Missouri River.
4.  Some states have follow me-cars in construction zones, I guess they think the public isn't smart enough to obey signals.  Well waiting for one in Kansas, we meet Little Thunder holding a stop sign.  We found out about his wife (Navajo from New Mexico) and all the assorted details to pass the time.  I'm so proud of myself by not responding to the urge to ask who Big Thunder was.  Notice I can resist the temptation to be a smart ass sometimes.
5.  You know you're heading South when the crops change from corn and soybeans to cotton.
6.  I like small unincorporated towns with signs for tent revivals.
7.  What's the relationship to the number of churches in the South to the number of adult book stores often with arcades, videos and open 24 hours?
8.  Why did we cross the Mississippi river 3 times going East?
9.  Ron was right a couple times.
10.  You learn things like Casey Jones was a real person with a home and museum in West Tennessee-thought he was just in a song.
11.  Trouble at a gas station.  When you've had 3 different addresses in 3 different states in the last 2 years, which zip code do you use as credit card ID check?  Overloaded the gas pump computer and it took 2 BP guys help to buy gas.

After all of this, we finally end up close to our daughter in Fort Campbell military campground in TN.  This is a nice place just outside the gates but has changed since the last time we were here.  The ongoing military aggression has obviously heated up.  I felt like we were in a war zone.  Between 2 shooting ranges we heard
big booms, machines guns, and assorted rife fire all day long.  Not to mention the helicopters and plans overhead giving us interference on our cells and TV.  Oh lord, what I would of done for ear plugs.

The surprise.  Our 16 year old grandson, Kieron, has a new car-a 2006 red mustage GT that sounds like a souped up muscle car.  Now get this.  He doest have a drivers license or even a permit yet.  But his dad, remembering his youth I guess, has purchased it for him.  Kinda like buying a train set at Christmas for a 6 month old.  What do you think?

One of the best things when you travel is accidently coming upon something special.  In an Alabama campground we experienced a combination Blue Grass Festival and revival.

Music all night long with the good ol'boys.  Notice they sit in a circle and take turns picking a new song-just like the good old days.  Just bring your own lawn chair and sit down and enjoy the music and company.  But exhausted, we left early before we the revival started.  Maybe we can be saved next time.

 Enough already-time to say goodbye.  Next time I'll talk about Texas.

Sturgis after the rally

 

The guy that air brushed female nipples is gone (Sturgis requires some modesty-you see) but it still can be an adventure in sensory overload.  First of all we went to the motorcycle museum showcasing antique, classic, rare and unusual bikes from 1900 on.  It was hard for Ron to pick his favorite one but hely really was partial to the classic Indian brand.

                            
Originally Sturgis was built to supply near by Fort Mead with provisions and ladies of the night.  We didn't tour Poker Alice's House previously a poker room and brothel that separated many soldiers from their paychecks-but we rode on.  Fort Mead is an intact outpost built in 1878 to help control the gold rush when the Black Hills was still Indian land.  Lots of old buildings and a neat museum.  Can't stay long since Elroy's left in the warm truck-so we rode on.

This tme we stopped at Bear Butte rising 2000 feet above the high plains.  We should of guessed it was a special place when we spotted prayer cloths in the trees and heard drums beating and chanting from the top of the mountain.  Many tribes consider it a holy mountain even today.  Ron told me the Indians are probably getting ready to scalp yeller-haired women.  Don't tell him that I didn't believe him  Can you believe dogs are not permitted on the trails or mountain.  I was hoping when Elroy did his business in the weeds that the spirits weren't watching.  Then we rode on again-this time with fingers crossed.

Next to the largest biker bar in the world, Full Throttle (heard location of a TV program).  You can't miss this if you're ever in the area.  Hugh outdoor arena with some of the most unusal items used as sculptures.  The guy at the bar told us it's the best job he ever had.  I can imagine why-he's proanably seen more female body parts than an obgyn.  We were greeted by the bar mascot-a donkey named Emmett.  While I was petting and sweet talking him, Ron nugged me to look down.  My eyes got big-very BIG.  You won't believe it was giant and long.  And thank goodness it went down when I took this picture.

and then we all rode on. . . .

Sturgis Rally---OH MY!

You just won't believe it!  Bikers everywhere.  Doing stuff-sometimes naughty-but always in a difinite party mode.  Motorcycles almost outnumber cars and the low rumble is constantly changing volume.  Like wolves, they're usually in packs prowling the beautiful scenic drives and chasing from one venue to the next.  Seems like millions of them-an envasion in the Black Hills for the last 71 years.

Our campground is loaded-sometimes the park and sometimes the occupants.  Unbeliveably they have squeezed more campers that ride in here before-numbers are down this year.  There are million dollar rigs here to people sleeping in vans, tents and utility trailers.  We've been told this is the quietest campground around and a police car sits at the entrance all night to keep it that way.

We see some tricked out bikes.  But I wonder if this guy just couldn't make up his mind what he wanted to drive.  What do you think?  Elroy and I were passing a similar crazy mock cycle, The Pink Elephant, on one of our many walks when he decides to tinkle on the front tire.  OMG! The leather clad and bearded  tough looking owner is just over there as I'm tugging on the leash to escape with thoughts of bodily harm and or humilation.  (you know their reputation)  In fear of consequences, I gratefully noticed that he is busy talking to a friend and didn't even notice us.  So if you ever see a really wierd looking motorcycle named The Pink Elephant, tell him Elroy sends his regards.

People watching is great.  Can't believe how many trikes, 3 wheeled motorcycles, there are here and how many women are driving big machines.  They come in all sizes but generally in the plump mature set.  Activities last for 3 weeks-didn't know they are still partying 1 week before and after the official dates.  Well if you could take advantage of entertainment at the famous Buffalo Chip, bikini cycle wash, bras for charity, pitchfork fondue, full throttle saloon, wall of death, bloody mary biker buffet breakfast, drag compeitions, get loud party, demos, displays, tours, beer belly contest, daisy duke contest, hangover contest, exhibits, stunt riders, burnout contest, motorcycle jump and world record attempts, machine gun shooting, and half naked girls and shameless old  women. . . .you'd be tempted too.

Some of the campgrounds charge up to $150 a night and the local restaurants and stores all raise their prices.  Even the local TV stations daily list the emergency room visits, deaths and DUI's.  Got to show you a couple more pictures and then have to make sure Ron's heart isn't beating too fast.

Looking for Robert Redford and finding something else. . .

 I've always been in love with Robert Redford since I've seen his movie, The Great Gatsby, and he was laying face down on an air mattress in his wonderful swimming pool.  Visualize this!  His little cheekies like molded perfection-my vote for the world's best butt.  So now you can understand my excitment when we planned a trip through his town of Sundance.  Now this is where the Sundance Film Festival is held and maybe if I keep my eyes open and cross my fingers, I can get a glimpse of his wonderful ass.  NOT TO BE!
I got educated and disappointed all at the same time.  There are supposedly lots of towns by the name of Sundance and R.R. lives in Sundance Arizona not Sundance Wyoming.  But what I found on this trip is something else.  One of the world's largest natural phallic symbols - Devils Tower.

 

Rising up against the sky out of the rolling plains grassland, this behemoth stands alone and is awsome.  Did you know it is the offical first national momument and the core of an ancient volcano?  Also Devils Tower is a sacred Indian site and brave climbers reguarily scale the vertical rock face.  When we were there, these climbers looked like ants going up a tree trunk.

Jody and Kiel while visiting from Tennessee seemed to enjoy the prairie dog village here too almost as much as Devils Tower.  Of course we had to take them to Mt. Rushmore.

and Crazy Horse

plus Custer State Park

Then what do you do out West when Kiel buys a cowboy hat but go to a chuckwagon supper where they could pan for gold

and put Jody in jail

Have to admit the place is awfully quiet since they've gone home and I couldn't find Robert Redford.  But wait!  Is that a rumble of a Harley I hear?  Yes, it won't be quiet long.  Found out the Sturgis Rally is really for 3 weeks not one as I expected.  And they've started their engines and are a coming. . .later

South Dakota is our new home state-are we traitors?

Yes, we changed our drivers licenses and mailing address to a state that has their local baseball team known as the Pheasants.  Sounds kinda wimpy when you're used to the Tigers and the Lions.  But here in South Dakota the cowboy mystic is still almost as huge as in Texas and its best to giggle in private.

We're adjusting.  The Black Hills is in the eastern edge of mountain time zone.  Which means the sun shines before the roasters crow around 5 :00.  My eyes are on the same schedule and if you know me, I don't do well with less sleep since I like to stay up late.  Ron solves this problem by sleeping on the job at the museum when its slow.  I can't.  Heavy sigh!

Another thing the siren from the very close fire department always blasts at 3 minutes before 7:00, 12:00 and 6:00.  Why can't they correct their mistake?  Don't they know it should let loose exactly on the hour?   They can't be that dumb.  Should I tell them?

Also trying to adjust to the crazy weather here in the northern plains.  Some weeks the storms are projected every-I said-every day.  Temps of 80 or 90 is fine but those black clouds come in fast with heavy down pours almost drowning the proverbial cats and dogs and sometimes pelts them with hail.  Then-get this-the sun comes out and says oooops-sorry.

Have to admit they have beautiful trails and parks here along the Spearfish creek which in Michigan we would call a river and in Texas today called a miracle.  Elroy likes his walks.  First we have to go to the hatchery above to scarf up the spilled fish food.  And then into the park where he's looking for strangers to give him more petting.  Kinda like going to the singles bars for humans except he sometimes gets his drinks from mud puddles

Can you believe I've started walking on these trails for 4 miles several times a week with "the" girls who I think used to be Army drill instructors.  Now I'm accustomed to a leisurely stroll with Elroy stopping at various trees to water and brown piles to smell.  But its changed.  The thoughts of the Batan death march (slight exaggeration when temps and humidity are high) go through my mind and some of my body parts are starting to talk to me 24 hours a day.  So far the results are only increased hunger and aching bug bite and salve-encrusted legs.  Got to go and try to stretch out that cramp again.  But first want to show you some scenery.

Can't hold wild horses or even Elroy

As soon as Elroy was leashed and let out of the truck at the Wild Horse Santuary, something made his senses go crazy.  I could barely keep hold of his leash as something in the air seemed to want him to run and run fast.  Was it the sense of the place to be wild and have freedoom or the pungent smell of horses or both-I don't know.

As I'm writing this (have to admit I'm old school and hand write stuff to compose), I was interrupted to give a guided tour of this grand old 1905 neo-classical house.  A party of 9 from MN.  I enjoy asking the kids a trick question in the kitchen-where's the microwave.  Even adults start looking around!

 Visitors ususally get a tour from Ron at the railcar before me and he is known to have them ask me a question-like where's the ghost or did I take my meds today.  Funny when it was reversed recently and strange females were giving him a kiss because it was his birthday.  A tradition he's decided that should be continued often.  I wonder what our leader will think if they overhear one of his stories to the public.  "If you have a question please ask and if I don't know the answer, I'll lie so good you won't tell."  etc. etc.

Back to the horses.  This 11,000 acre ranch is home to hundreds of unwanted and over populated mustangs primarily from state and federal lands across the country.  It's their last chance of a home instead of a glue factory or such.  The old school bus brings us close to them in the fields and all of the cameras inside start clicking.  Most of my pictures are of horses butts with heads down chomping on grass.  But they are absolutely beautiful and so many different colors and sizes.  Recently they phased out the Horses Helping Horses program where gentled yearlings were sold to help the bottom line in this non-profit.  The poor economy stopped the sale of new foals and also the stallions fun at the same time.  But they still have a few yearlings and 2 year olds for sale if your interested.

Behind the horses on the cliff are pictographs some hundreds of thousands years old.  Both Indians and settlers carved their mark here in the canyon by the Cheyenne River.

When we finally got back to the truck, what do we see but Elroy sitting in the trucks front seat behind the steering wheel ready to go.  I just don't know if he wanted out of there or wanted to join the horses.  But I do know one thing, he doesn't drive.