Day 35 - This House of Sky (to borrow a phrase)

We set out under a bright, blue sky from Keystone, SD, through the middle of the Black Hills toward Deadwood, Spearfish, then, avoiding the interstate, north to Belle Fourche and on to Highway 212 through Cheyenne and Crow Country. What a contrast - the twisty, turny roads in the Black Hills to the straight-for-miles stretches out in the plains.

The first pit stop of the day was in Deadwood, notable as the place where Wild Bill Hickock was shot and buried. I had spent some time in the 90s just up the road at Lead, site of the Homestake gold mine, which was initially discovered in 1874 by geologists travelling with General George Custer. Until it closed in 2002, it was the deepest (8000 feet) and richest gold mine in North America, producing more then 40 million ounces. 

Deadwood also hosted gold mining, mostly placer, and became a center for mining in the Black Hills. Illegal town from the outset, as it was on land guaranteed to the Lakota, Deadwood was rife with shootings and other lawlessness. Today Main Street maintains its frontier facade, although the nearby Hilton and Marriott hotels are clues that the facade is thin.

Spearfish straddles I90 on the north edge of the Black Hills, and just north of that is Belle Fourche, which, unbeknownst to us, is the geographic center of the nation. There are subtleties to this designation; Lebanon, KS, claims to be the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states, and Rugby, ND, is the geographic center of North America. The monument in the middle of Belle Fourche is not on the exact centroid, which is 20 miles away in a farmer's field, but the advantages for tourism overwhelmed scientific accuracy. We gassed up and zoomed on by.

Not far after Belle Fourche, we crossed about 20 miles of the northeast corner of Wyoming and doffed our hats toward Liz Cheney. Into Montana, we passed the Stoneville Saloon in Alzada near the Little Missouri River, advertising cheap drinks and lousy food. We took their word for it and zoomed on by.

Driving through southeast Montana was wonderful. Although this picture seems to show the country is pancake flat, it isn't.  We drove through coulees, some with layercake rock bluffs, and dozens upon dozens of miles of rolling country clad in lush spring-green grass and wildflowers. Montana is cattle country, according to the road signs, and there were plenty of black Angus, white-faced Herefords, some bulky white Charolais, and even a few flocks of sheep. As in so many days before on this road trip, the land was beautiful and bountiful, and the sky was overwhelming.

As a fitting bookend to a day that started in Custer, SD, we drove past the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument just where Highway 212 joins I90. We'd been there in October in the late 90s and were moved by the empty spaces, the wind and a light scattering of snow - such a contrast to the confusion and mayhem in June 1876. After 35 days on the road and feeling a bit touristed out, we didn't want to spoil the memory.

334 miles today, no new plates.

One of the joys of Christmas morning is to find a new book by your stocking. Many years ago, Letters from Yellowstone by Diane Smith appeared. The story is of a young woman who applies to join a makeshift group of scientists and naturalists who are to catalog the flora of the Yellowstone area. Using her initials rather than her name, she got the job to the chagrin of her employers. What followed seems to be the story of many scientific discoveries - jealousies, differences of opinion, but ultimately the joy of discovery - all set in the idyllic setting of Yellowstone at the end of the 19th century.

We have been waiting for the perfect place to sing Mustang Sally. After the drive through Deadwood, and seeing a sign for the bar, it became clear that today was the day. The question remained which version. A shoutout to Wilson Pickett and The Commitments, but we had to go with Buddy Guy and Jeff Beck. An ode to Route 66.

Buddy Guy featuring Jeff Beck - Mustang Sally HQ - YouTube