Sept. 1-3, 05 Uncovering Deadwood, Spearfish Canyon, Devil's Tower-Wyoming, Sheridan-great people.

Sat. Sept. 3, 2005

Refreshed despite very economical accommodation, once again acquired late in the evening on the outskirts of Sheridan, City named after a Union General of the Civil War but nobody knew why. Evidence of the western life everywhere. I headed for the city centre. Statues of cowboys on street corners. Numerous stores on main street selling western gear. Trophy heads of dozens of different game animals adorned store walls. Again, hunting is part of the way of life here. Wyoming is famous for fishing, big and small games and spectacular scenery.

I spent the morning stocking up on camping supplies and groceries ready for my trek into the mountains. I didn’t have any high rubber boots but had seems numerous signs attesting to rattlesnakes. I chose to buy a small, propane, lightweight cooking stove instead of boots. I have an electric water boiler that runs of the cigarette lighter of the car but I though I might need more substantial meals. Snakebite probability less than hunger probability. An extra flashlight and some groceries in Wal-mart and I am done.

Notable events in the area. The battle between the cavalry and Indians, named after Capt. Fetterman, whose entire troupe of 79 soldiers from Fort Phil Kearny were slaughtered by the 1000 Lakota Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians. This event preceded Battle of Little Big Horn which took place in nearby Montana which was the site of Custer’s Last stand. The Fort was built to guard the Bozeman Trail, one of the routes to the goldfields in Montana.

I wanted to visit one historic site in Sheridan so I headed for the home of Buffalo Bill Cody – the Sheridan Inn. Built in 1893 and the place that Bill auditioned for the Cody traveling road show. It was late afternoon I decided to have a Buffalo Burger in this historic setting. The building was fashioned after a Scottish Highland Inn that Cody had seen in his travels. I asked to waitress to take my picture with the original bar in the back ground and advised two persons at the bar they would not be included in the picture. With customary western hospitality, or caution, they asked me where I was from. Always a difficult question for me to answer, so I simply said I had a chequered past. Well you don’t say that to a Doctor and a Lawyer without being asked for clarification. Harry and Hugh were residents in town and I would imagine two of the more colorful characters (in a nice way). They were joined by Susan who has interests in drilling for energy and suggested that I have a ‘look’ at her company. I enjoyed a rambling discourse with all three on the state of the union, world politics, the influence on the sixties (Ginsberg, Malcolm X, and S….name escapes me, writer of Soul on Ice,)on American politics, interspersed with much humor and expression of genuine caring about maintaining traditional values on which this country was built. Harry mentioned that the Queen Elizabeth had visited here once but Prince Phillip had played polo many time in the nearby town settled by the well to do English immigrants. After Harvard the progeny go to Oxford. I asked permission to include a mention of our meeting in my log and left Sheridan with a good feeling that I had got to know it and its people in a more personal way. Thanks.

Interesting that as I write this Kate Johnson, a friend, is on her way to present a paper at a university in England and will be staying on at Oxford for a few days.

Friday Sept. 2, 2005.

At the first sign of light I breather a sigh of relief. Very nice camping area. Maybe I should drink less coffee. Onto the Devil’s Tower. Oh, how impressive. Even from twenty miles away the tower held promise of something spectacular.
It was the first National Monument in USA. A 1250 odd feet high monolith rising out of the Wyoming grasslands.
A sheer vertical rise above the ancient boulders that lie at its base. I registered to climb – there are markers that one cannot go beyond without a permit. I didn’t have the climbing gear to go to the top but could see that one could get above the tree line. There were rock climbers suspended on ropes or inching their way up in a few locations on the vertical face of the tower. Most of the tourists simply walk around the base route on paths that affords excellent views and descriptions. With water and a lunch I set off. I traversed the bolder fields and within a short time was at the base camp for one of the climbing groups.

I climbed as high as I could inching my way up, toe hold, hand hold, never looking down only up. I climbed the tower in three different places so I could see different vistas. At time I was flatted against the rocks, edging my way to another viewpoint, often higher than some of the rock climbers who were tethered to ropes. I will return to this place after taking a rock climbing course. There is apparently a way to climb without ropes but one must be very experienced and know the Tower intimately.

I spoke to a group of climbers who were from France. Iyves and his two sons who were climbing other well known peaks in the western states. We exchange Email addresses and I promised to send the picture that Iyve rappelling down the cliffs.

At the end of my climbs I bought the book of all the known routes for rock climbers that detail every nook cranny that one can insert the myriad of devices to needed to secure equipment. I thought this might be a good place to share a family experience. Thinking of my two sons and grandson. Memories of my two sons and I skydiving together from 15,000 feet on Kevin’s (first son’s) wedding day came back. Hope you guys read this. Jordan (Grandson, 11 years old) climbed the highest rock wall in Las Vegas last year and loved the experience – he can be our guide. Younger climbers have made it to the top of the Devils Tower. Note the missing possessive apostrophe in the name is the legal spelling due to an Editor’s error in the decree naming this a National Treasure.

Early evening and I am on the road west again. No particular destination as long as I end up at Yellowstone Park. Passed many interesting towns, Sundance, (yes where Butch Cassidy hung out) Gillette (mining and coal) and Buffalo; I resisted the temptation to explore why the reason for their names and finally settled at Sheridan for the night.
Once again hundreds of reminders of the


Thurs. Sept. 1, 2005

Enjoyed a free breakfast in the lounge of the Thunder Cove Motel. Choices included Waffles, Maple Syrup, 3 types of bread (tow toasters available), real butter, jams and coffee and decaf. and an assortment of teas. Impressive for the price of the night. I would recommend this motel. Chatted with some tourists from France. They were traveling on motorcycles, a great way to see the country at this time of year. In the parking lot there were American motorcyclists including one lady, riding sole, very stylishly dressed in black leathers including her Stetson hat, staying forever young on a comfortable looking three wheeler.

Well I didn’t make my return to Deadwood on the famous Stagecoach by saw many references to behaviors that were expected if one traveled on same. E.g. No talking about Indian ambushes or stage coach robberies. No drinking unless one shared the bottle. No jumping off the stage coach under any circumstances-I couldn’t imagine any reason that would make sense to leave the coach considering the first two rules.

I got to Deadwood main street in time to see the reenactment of one of the famous gun shootouts. The actors were remarkable in their portrait of life on the streets that was typical of just over a hundred years ago. The plot was as follows: drunk causes a disturbance. Sheriff arrives, talks nicely to drunk. Drunk becomes belligerent because the Sheriff hasn’t drawn his gun. A local hard case takes the side of the drunk. One of the badge less guys makes move and explosions rip the air and would be hero is lying dead on the dusty street. Calamity Jane rushes in and slumps of the prone body and claims that Wild Bill Hickok (the Sheriff) has shot her husband. Will Bill reminds her that she only met the man earlier that evening in one of the upstairs rooms at Miss Kitties and that doesn’t qualify as a marriage. The drunk sees opportunity and advantage of getting on Calamity J’s good side and swears he will avenge the death of prone man. Bill shoots him in the wink of an eye because he’s thirsty and needs to get back to his poker game. CJ follows Wild Bill to Saloon # 10 (current location name) and continues to follow him around as a buddy but never on record as a lover. Bill is shot in the back of the head at a later date by the now infamous Jack McCall.

Calamity Jane’s well documented reputation makes the playing of her character by Doris Day a lesson in the absurd. I visited the Adam’s museum in Deadwood and saw a remarkable/superb collection of original pieces depicting every aspect of life in Deadwood from around 1876 current time. Lot’s of real photos and memorabilia of C. Jane and Will Bill. The current commercial emphasis on gambling was reinstated and legalized in the 1980’s as an effort to save the town from becoming a ghost town. The most impressive establishment today from what I saw was the Eldora do. Also the Franklin Hotel which is famous for the long list of dignitaries who have stayed there including: Teddy Roosevelt, John Wayne, Willie Nelson and Kevin Costner.

Prostitution which was rampant in the gold rush day was legally banned in the 1980’s, however, mannequins of that trade can be seen in the upstairs windows of many establishments.

I took the guided tour of the city by bus ($7) which was well worth to get more historical background especially about the buildings and city planning initiatives over the years. The trip ended up on Hill with a fifteen minutes stop at the final grave site of Wild Bill and Calamity Jane who has an adjacent plot. The century is quite extensive. Over three thousand graves. The town of Deadwood only has a population of 6, 000. There is a Jewish section and a Chinese section, reminders of the diverse immigrant populations that settled in the west.

Next stop was the adjacent town of Lead pronounced Leed, referring to the fact that when quartz was found it would lead to gold. Lead was a highly productive gold mining town from 1876 to late 1990’s. The mine is still owned by Barrick, who have spent $56 million dollars to date winding down operation and making the area safe environmentally. I took the Homestake mine tour which included visiting the open pit which is over one half mile wild and thousands of feet deep. The company has been an excellent employer over the years as is evident by the workplace, the community facilities provided to the workers, and the safety record. Although we didn’t go into the mine which has been sealed and is being naturally flooded the top side equipment and installations were most interesting. Homestake has thousands of patents related to it production and many times are on display.

I chose a route recommended by many to leave South Dakota – Spearfish Canyon. Clarification: it had not been recommended that I leave South Dakota just that when I did….

Well worth the slight detour from Hiway 90. A winding road evoked an involuntary gasp at the beautiful views after each turn in the road. Sandstone cliffs, dare I say a thousand feet in places, rising from the Belle Fourche River, bathed in the rays of the setting sun. I stopped halfway up the canyon. at Roughlock Falls which were pretty but not spectacular. However, the story behind the name refers to the method by which the early prospectors wagon’s were hauled up the precipitous slopes along the river edge. The river bed providing an ad hoc path at certain times of year.

Darkness settled in at the end of a good day in this part of the Black Hills. With tired muscles I relaxed while driving and enjoyed the wide open grasslands which were interspersed with conical eruptions about a hundred feet or in height. The highway stretched endlessly – I know that sounds cliche-ic, but it did. The speed limit was 75 MPH. Naturally many drivers were going significantly faster than this as was evident by the enormous red stains on the asphalt, which stretched for hundreds of feet and were even visible in the headlights; evidence of vehicle and wildlife meeting unexpectedly. There are numerous types of deer, antelope, kudos, big horn sheep, and other beasts wandering the planes. I slowed down. To a comfortable 60.


Headed west and crossed into Wyoming. Following the sunset and the routes of the early settlers of the west. I found a campsite after dark in the hills about 20 miles from the Devils Tower – my next destination. Now, whether the name of destination was a factor in the name of the campsite I had my creepiest night ever. The campsite was a National Forest site. It was totally deserted. I arrived at 10PM and self registered. The price had been reduced to $8 because they had cut the water off. I left $5 in the envelope and a Pentney perspective rationale for my deduction. I dutifully inserted the envelope into a locked steel tube and was prepared to argue my point in the wee hours of the morning when the park ranger inspected the coffer.

So into the woods, I chose campsite #24. Nothing with 6’s, 13, or other spirit enducing mathematics. I could barely see the stars because of the thick canopy of pine trees. I have seen two horror movies in my life. One in my early teens that convinced me that I didn’t have the stomach or the nerves for the genre. The other was this summer with my grandson. I had unfortunately, out of curiosity picked up a used copy of the Blair Witch Project. Jordan (Grandson) said he would like to see the movie. A bonding moment. We could discuss it after ward. I should have phoned him from the forest for moral support. I kept thinking about that dammed movie. This place looked as though it was the movie set. I hadn’t at that point read about how the Devil’s Tower got its name and kept thinking that there might be a relationship between my campsite and the local attraction. I didn’t bother setting up my tent – I cranked my driver’s seat into rest mode and crawled into my sleeping bag. I left the window open just enough to pick up the sounds of the forest. I prayed that another camper would arrive, but then I thought they might not be legitimate campers-now recalling the horrific scene in Easy Rider when Hoffer and Fonda experience the inhospitalities of a remote rural community. Mind running rampant, afraid to attend to natures call and venture across the campsite to the ominous looking outhouse, I drifted into a fitful sleep.