The Baseball Trip 2012 / Day 5

Monday, July 30

Oh I have seen things, 400 miles of a vast wasteland, sand hills and scrubland and farm and open range all under the terrible spell of the heat and drought every ounce of water sucked from this Earth black cattle huddle together behind the giant soybean processors leaning into the only shelter available. There is some bad mojo along this Indian trail. The corn is sick and withered some farmers taking it down now - cutting their losses-chopping it up for feed there is no market for these weeds. A grove of trees provides no relief, stripped naked of its branches by cyclone, small piles of wood bleached and brittle. An old bus rots in the middle of a field, abandoned decades ago, the rust peeling and mingling with the topsoil. Somebody must have committed unspeakable acts to have this place so cursed - windmill blades scratch the sky, spinning silently, creating aberrant wave patterns, disorienting the birds, disrupting human sleep. There is nothing here but dust and ruins and restless ghosts.

Favorite Sign: Honk For Rain

Before the long journey into Colorado we stop at Abby's for breakfast. Abby's Cafe is tucked off to one side of a gas station. The food is good and the service is too. Heading out of South Dakota we cross the Fort Randall Dam and Reservoir on the Missouri River. It's part of the same system originally proposed by the aforementioned Francis Case.

Ft. Randall Dam

Random Observation from Randy:

"Historical Marker: Lewis and Clark drank the last of their whiskey here."

South Dakota is a weird state. Apparently, anyone with a lean-to shack can open a casino. A town looks like a ghost town; no gas station, no bank, no restaurant...but it has a casino. Little Quonset hut looking buildings no bigger than a Burger King. We saw a shack tacked up to the back of a Shell Station with a sign that said, "Casino: Gamble Here." The government guilt must be formidable.

And another thing. Those little Gator ATVs must be street-legal in South Dakota. All across the state people are driving these things on the streets and highways like there was nothing abnormal about it at all. What's up with that? Some lady came out of the Dollar General with the back end of one of those things loaded up with paper towels and laundry detergent and God knows what-all. It's like every town in the state is a retirement community.

The temps rise but stay just under 100 degrees.

Favorite Town Name:

Hardscrabble, NE

Crook, CO

No update on the Ron Paul/County Fair/Grand Opening counts. That's because there was nothing really to see. Here are some pictures from the wasteland:

We rolled into eastern Colorado in the early evening and made a camp at Jackson Lake State Park, about 15 miles west of a town called Fort Morgan. It was quiet and clean but the lake was way low. Most of the "beach" you see in this picture should be under water. You can see the lines across the sand where the water levels have receded.

Tomorrow a short drive into Ft. Collins to see Evan.