 |
| today's route |
The usual route would have taken me yet again through Mitchell, but I decided I’d already done that enough and took side roads that weren’t even highways – 413 Avenue and 250 Avenue. They took me past fields of tall corn and short soybeans and scattered farmhouses.
Even once on SD-37, which was 4 lanes divided, it was still the same countryside.
I crossed the James River twice.
After turning west on SD-34, I drove through Woonsocket again, pop. 655, and on past Lane, pop. 59. These were all clearly farming communities along here. Just past Lane I saw a machine harvesting corn. I would have thought it was too early in the year, but apparently the corn didn’t think so.
At Wessington Springs, pop. 956, we stopped at their City Park for a walk. In one corner I saw a building with a historical marker on it, saying it was a 1936 Fieldhouse that was built by the WPA using stone hauled from local fields. The sign went on to say the WPA was a governmental organization formed to create jobs during the Depression. And I realized that the Depression, which happened before my lifetime but was burned into my parents’ brains so I know a lot about it, is now relegated to the “ancient history” category for a big chunk of today’s population and they need to have it explained. Odd what time does.
I saw 2 cows in a field butting heads with each other and lots of other cows were running over to the scene. I wished I could stop and see what those other cows were planning to do.
I passed lots of bee boxes, more fields of corn and soybeans, sunflowers, harvested hay, grazing land – all the usual South Dakota scenery. I passed a herd of cows where all the adults were chocolate brown and all the calves were pale tan. Genetics at work, I guess.
I heard on the radio that some Native Americans don’t speak English. I’m very glad to hear that their own languages are being revived enough for them to use them daily, but I’m surprised that the elders have been able to escape learning English, especially with the old boarding school set-up.
I passed a sign saying” Welcome to Crow Creek Hunkpati Oyate Reservation, and then on to the town of Fort Thompson, pop. 1,375. This town is the capital of the Crow Creek Reservation, but my route didn’t take me actually into town. I was heading for the Old Ft. Thompson Recreation Area on the Missouri River. I think when I was first planning this route I’d gotten it mixed up with Lake Thompson Recreation Area back over near De Smet. This morning, when I’d looked online for more information about where I was going today, I found some very negative comments about the campground at this Old Ft. Thompson area. People said it was a free campground but in terrible shape and not recommended unless desperate.
When I got there, I learned that it was a Corps of Engineers facility, which I would have expected to be in good shape. But maybe they’ve shut this one down, at least partly. For instance, there were restrooms, but the buildings were coated in graffiti so much that I’d’ve had to be desperate to go into them. The Missouri River is indeed there, and there’re picnic areas along the banks, but the whole place seemed desolate and forbidding. I’d planned to walk the dogs there but changed my mind.
Back on the road, I saw an unusually tall antenna protruding from a very small building in the middle of a field. About a dozen cows were congregated around the building and I wondered why. Was it a small TV station and the cows were waiting to go on the air?
I passed people selling “sweet juicy peaches.” The Colorado peaches I’ve bought in a couple of grocery stores have been very sweet and juicy. I don’t know if this is the perfect time for them or if these particular peaches are special – but they were really delicious.
Dexter used to spend all his time while we were on the road in the front passenger seat, but no more. Now he goes fairly quickly to lie on the stack of beds I’ve stuffed between the 2 seats. It doesn’t bother him that Gracie’s already there, but it bothers Gracie who always gets up, wanders around the cabin until Dext is settled, then comes back and crawls into the front passenger seat. She’s much bigger than he is, and unlike him she sleeps stretched out instead of in a ball, so the front seat isn’t at all well-suited for her. But that’s apparently her preference over sharing the center beds.
Today she did something I haven’t seen her do before.
 |
| Can you see that both her paws are pushed against the door? I can't imagine how that's comfortable, but she rode that way for quite a distance. |
At Highmore, pop. 795, I saw yet another branch of Agtegra Cooperative. They’re all over the state.
I heard on the radio that the reason we shouldn’t put tomatoes into the frig is that it interferes with the chemical processes that give tomatoes their flavor. I wondered why the ones from the frig always seem tasteless regardless of ripeness, and that’s why.
A small deer crossed the road in front of me and disappeared into a cornfield, reminding me powerfully of Field of Dreams.
I watched a machine vacuum up grain in a field and turn it into a round bale, which it then produced out its rear end. (I could almost hear a sound effect for it: bloop.) I wished I could stop and watch – or better yet, ask the farmer questions. He saw me passing and watching his equipment, probably wrote me down as the ignorant city person I am.
And then on to Lake Louise, tonight’s campground. Once again there was no one at the entry gate and, once again, there were no campground maps there, so I had to just wing it when trying to find my campsite, which I did of course.
No comments:
Post a Comment