roadside shower & devil's tower

I have successfully continued to fall behind in the logging of my travels, and it has proved to be an interesting exercise in adjusting to this newfound freedom. As another good friend recently informed me, it seems as though my inner New Yorker has found some form of work and responsibility with which I have burdened myself. I have many times before brought my camera with me to parties, events, and the like and focused on capturing moments rather than being a part of them. I refuse to fall subject to that these days and will continue to write when I can.

ANYWAY... I have discovered a benefit to all this corn out here (and it's not malnourished chickens and cows being overfed). Every gas station I've encountered over the last few days offers 10% ethanol super unleaded fuel at a lower cost than regular unleaded gas. This means that I'm A) saving money and B) saving the environment. Well, maybe not saving it, but at least doing less damage than I would be doing otherwise.

And speaking of gas stations, I was in the midst of my fourth consecutive day without a shower when I pulled in a for a fill-up and saw this:


Immediately I parked my car, went inside and paid for one tank of gas and one shower, a combination I had never previously imagined ordering. I would have otherwise thought $5.00 is a ridiculous amount to charge for a shower. In this case, I found it to be 100% worth it and was grateful to have the opportunity at all. It looked like this
and was impossibly immaculate, smelled intensely of bleach, and was stocked with soap, shampoo, and clean towels. Still, my distrust and paranoia runs deep, so I brought my own supplies.

(The inherent irony in using a Marriot Beach Resort towel in this situation still makes me smile.)

With a clean start to my day, I purchased a cup of coffee and drove onward to Devil's Tower, in the midst of a swarm of bikers still in the midst of the Sturgis Bike Rally Week. Much like the Badlands, Devil's Tower breathed an extra large aura of wickedness due to the immense number of steel riding cowboys flocking there. Despite the sweltering heat, I've been unable to locate iced coffee, and so hot coffee has been the routine. What I have noticed is this: it is not just that I am addicted to coffee or that I enjoy the taste so much as it is the one thing that I have every day that reminds me of home. I don't have a favorite coffee nor do I know enough about any particular kinds to be fussy. A hot coffee with the right amount of milk reminds me of waking up and living life back in the east coast. And that is a comfort that can't be replaced these days. I have established that I can miss elements of home life without wanting them back right now. I miss home, my friends, and my family, but by no means am I ready to go back.

So, Devil's Tower...



Arriving at the park, I exit my car and encounter a nice little old couple and their granddaughter who is begging them to ask me where in MA I'm from. Overhearing her, I volunteer my info and the peppy little 10 year old volunteers a world of information about her visit to these national parks from eastern MA. I continue to make small talk with the group until our separation at the visitor's center, all the time appreciating their company but also looking forward to seeing the Tower alone.

I spent an hour or two wandering around the Tower, trying to recall if this is in fact what Richard Dreyfus and Steven Spielberg were trying to build out of mash potatoes 30 something years ago. Apparently it is still a place held sacred by many Native Americans, as their prayer feathers and beads and other artifacts are regularly added to the natural scenery. I can't help but feel a modicum of sadness about the fact that their sacred ground is simply a tour stop and playground for an overwhelming amount of tourists such as me. And as I walk and look up at the impressive structure before me, I see tiny moving objects coming from midway up the Tower. Climbers, only one at first and then many, appear and I tell myself that while I do love rock climbing, I'm both A) way too inexperienced to even think about it, and B) not too interested in such a feat in the first place. A little too crazy for me. I'll save that for my midlife crisis so that I still have something to look forward to.

On the drive out, a field of prairie dogs begs anyone and everyone to pullover to take pictures. And who am I to blow against the wind?


A few miles down the road, I see this and need to pull over, realizing that I am hungry and in need of more interaction.


This group of old timers was cooking up buffalo burgers and beans and I was pleasantly surprised with the quality of my meal. With a little prodding and questioning, they opened right up into conversation and we discussed:
- They are a group that restores wagons like the one pictured above. They're building a shed (which they later disclosed to be a museum) dedicated to said wagons. I didn't get into how drastically different a shed is from a wagon and let them go on with their enthusiasm.
- How much different it would be to drive cross country if instead of a car, I had to take one of these wagons with some food and blankets. I confessed that if that was the case, I probably would have stayed at home.
- The group of convicts that had recently escaped prison and resorted to national parks (I was about to visit) for refuge. We all joked about how the odds were in my favor and if I was in fact murdered, it would be a result of some really poor odds and very bad luck.

I stayed with them for a good 45 minutes before extending my thanks and saying good bye. They were more than happy to smile (although pose in no other way) for a photo.



As I got back in my car with my sights on Yellowstone, I felt overwhelmed, excited, satiated, and a little tired. Over the course of the next few hours, I drove through the most empty and expansive land I have ever seen on 14 en route to I-90. With this kind of cloud formation and lighting, I wondered how someone could have lived 26 years without seeing anything like it before.


Reaching Sheridan, Wyoming I felt the loneliness that is Wyoming. All this land, all this beauty and natural majesty and so few people to enjoy it. I gave in for the first time since I left and started calling hotels. I wanted to have the second half of my day to relax, refuel, and get some thoughts written down before the moment could escape me. I was thrilled when my AAA discount applied.


There is a very specific emotion related to a treat that truly feels deserved. More than once in the past I have tricked myself into believing I deserve something. I then buy it and don't feel bad. After so many days on the road, so many days sleeping in a car, so many days of driving on to see more and more and more, I truly felt deserving of spending a half a day (and a few bucks) on a nice hotel. Internet, clean sheets, a shower of my own (I guess I didn't NEED that one this morning), and of course, complimentary breakfast. I had a Pizza Hut pizza delivered to my room and spent the remainder of my day in Sheridan, Wyoming, reflecting, typing, and relaxing. In a word: rewarding.