Play and Stay in Deadwood

Deadwood Territory
National Historic Landmark
Part 1

The town of Deadwood, South Dakota, a historic landmark is currently being restored to it's former glory. The cobbled streets are lined with gaming halls (80) that date back to the Gold Rush of 1876, offering games of chance, food and liquor.

The town, down in a deep gulch with a river running under it; and surround by the beautiful black hills is full of history with lots to see and do.

We arrived late in the afternoon and spent the evening walking from establishment to establishment trying our luck. Overall, we felt the games returned enough to make it fun, while not breaking the bank.

We visited Kevin Costner’s casino, the Midnight Star, then explored the Lucky Nugget Gambling Hall, the original location of Wild Bill Hickok’s shooting and interpretive site, and home of the historic Eagle Bar and brothel. At the Buffalo Bodega Complex, I dined on Buffalo prime rib. We ended up at the Silverado, associated with the historic Franklin Hotel, where we discovered an electronic “Let it Ride” table with computerized dealer’s and seats for five players. What fun!

The following morning we discovered that from our hotel, the Comfort Inn Gulches of Fun Resort we were able to access the 110 mile Mickelson Trail. The trail was the originally site of the Burlington Northern railroad line that took trains from Edgemont, SD to the northern Black Hills and the gold mines in the Deadwood Area. The line was abandoned in 1983. It became the states’ first rails to trails project.

The crushed limestone and gravel trail, designed for hiking and biking, turns into a paved pathway as we near the trailhead located in the town of Deadwood. It’s an easy walk. The trail travels downhill into town, winding along a rushing river once mined for its gold. Shuttles are available for the return trip.

High on a hill over the trail, we spot a siren. The town, originally named by prospectors for the piles of deadwood that littered the river, is prepared to alert it's citizens in the event of a flood. We learned later that the main roadway is build over the river. In the evening it is not unusual to see deer wandering along the path browsing on the fall foliage.

After a quick stop at the historic post office, where we viewed a mural created by a local historian, we headed to the old depot. Now the location of the visitor’s center, the historic building houses a museum touting the history of the area. We picked up a brochure for a “Boot Hill” tour.

Boarding the open-air, Boot Hill tour bus in front of the Buffalo Bodega, cowboy boots hanging from the windows, our guide relates tales of days gone by as we drive through town. Our tour takes us to Mount Moriah Cemetery, the resting place of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Our guide, stands before Wild Bill’s stone where some enterprising vandal left an offering of whiskey bottles, separating the facts from fiction.

From the cemetery, located on a steep hill that towers over the town, the view is outstanding. In the distance, the historic Homestake Mine is visible. Our guide warns not to mispronounce the neighboring town of Lead. “It’s lead into the ground to the gold,” he says, “not lead, as in a pencil”. Good tip.

The next morning as we drink our coffee, enjoying the view of the tall hills behind the hotel, we are surprised to see the first snowflakes of the season. We ignore the early warning as the sun comes out heralding another beautiful fall day. We extend our stay in order to receive our mail.

More on our adventures in Deadwood in the next posting.

Weather Aborts Camping Plans

Fall Trip from Gould City, Mi to Deadwood, ND

As we departed the Upper Peninsula of Michigan heading northwest on US2, we had high hopes for our plan to camp. However, knowing we would get a late start on the first day, and rain was expected, we resigned ourselves to a hotel in Rhinelander, WI. located on Hwy 8 for the first night.

Then, when checking the weather for the following evening, we found the estimated low temperature was to be 30 degrees. Hmm, the sleeping bags might be rated that low but then again maybe not. Rain was still a possibility. We settled for another evening in a hotel near Minneapolis-St. Paul, MN. Could be memories of drying a tent in an up market hotel in Seattle influenced our thinking!

Next to our Minneapolis-St. Paul hotel, we spotted a Gander Mountain outdoor store. We walked over to shop for additional supplies: a coffee press for fresh coffee, a propane heater for the tent, a grill for the propane stove and bags of self-lighting charcoal. Now, we felt better prepared for cold weather.

More cold weather and rain were in the forecast, dictating another hotel evening for Fargo, ND. Oh, well. We entertained ourselves by walking around the nearby mall and going to see a movie instead of sitting before a raging fire.

Well, the weatherman got it right. More rain accompanied by a cold front blew in overnight. Even viewed through a light mist, the Great Plains area is beautiful. The rolling hills covered in tall, brown grass conceal roaming buffalo, herds of cattle, and racing antelope are easily seen from Interstate 94.

We decline an invitation to visit a buffalo farm with a large statue of a buffalo, as advertised on the last billboard. We spot the huge statue of Salem Sue, world largest Holstein cow on a distance rise as we speed by and enjoy the tall, metal "Ducks in Flight" sculpture as we quickly pass.

Finally, the clouds are breaking up and the sun is peaking out. It is still cold. We are resigned now to put off camping until we reach the southwest. It’s another hotel night in Dickerson, ND. Then it is on to our first planned layover.

We depart the interstate and head south on Hwy 85. The sun is still trying to peak out between the clouds, the wind is strong and the rain has stopped. We spot a herd of pronghorn settled in a shallow area next to the road, antlers high, quietly watching the cars pass. Small ponds of water are overflowing with geese.

Occasionally, we spot hunters outfitted in bright orange, walking across the plains with riffles in hand. The vastness of the plains is hard to describe. We have been driving through the vast area of grass covered, rolling hills for three days.

And then, there they are. Far in the distance we spot the looming black hills, just as impressive today as to the plains indians who named them years ago. Tonight we begin a few days rest in Deadwood, SD.

Travel tip: We always remain flexible in our trip plan and travel only a few hours a day.

The Joys of Walking

A walk is not only good for keeping you healthy; it’s good for the soul when done in a natural setting.

Bang. The screen door springs closed behind me as I escape. Wood smoke drifts in the air from a nearby chimney. My cheeks sting from the nip in the air brought on by a recent cold front; I begin walking.

In the pastel blue sky, the sun plays peak-a-boo between the gray and white puffy clouds; the scattering of homes still standing in the small ghost town are cast in sunlight and deep shadows as I pass. It’s only two long blocks until I reach the old gravel lane that leads out of town. (see posting, Life in a Ghost Town, September 2008)

My pace picks up as the asphalt ends and the wet gravel crunches underneath my feet. The old two-track road follows the fence line of a farmer’s field, the knee-high grass waving gently in the wind to the left, with overgrowth and hardwoods on the right.

Directly ahead the road takes a sharp turn to the right leading into the woods. With each step I feel lighter, my cares drifting away.

A shallow ditch separates the road from the piles of old, gray stone that mark the property line. Barely visible through the tall, brown weeds, old hand-hewed wooden poles, still strung with strands of ancient barbwire lay drunkenly scattered on the ground.

I smile as I notice that hidden among the weeds are a few hearty wild flowers, blue bells, yellow dandelions, and the stately, white heads of Queen Anne’s Lace.

Suddenly the silence is broken. Startled, I come to a dead stop, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. Quickly looking around I discover it’s only a flock of small brown wrens scurrying from tree to tree, chirping merrily as they celebrate the recent rain. My pace picks up again.

Honk. honk. Overhead a flock of Canadian Geese head south.

Stepping around the occasional mud puddle, I spot fresh deer tracks. Their trail is clearly visible through the weeds. Next to the path, large areas of weeds are packed down under a few old crab apple trees, laden with bright red fruit. Most likely a favorite resting place. I kick the occasional apple left from their foraging out of the way as I continue down the lane.

At the corner of the property I make a sharp right turn and head into the woods. Ahead, the road rises gently only to fade in the distance.

Lining the old road are stately hardwood trees, their leafy limbs reaching out across the road to form a natural arch that blocks the sun. Indeed, from my perspective it looks like a tree tunnel, so aptly named by our grand daughter during a recent visit.

My breathing becomes faster and more difficult as I continue my current pace up the small rise.

With arms raised, I suddenly spin joyfully and stretch upward reaching for the colorful leaves that drift down, only to have them dance away and be crushed underfoot. I continue to crunch noisily down the trail at a fast pace, constantly scanning the area, peering between the tree trunks, enjoying the changing scene.

While reaping the health rewards of my daily walk, I’ve watched the dark green “tree tunnel” slowly evolve. With the approach of fall, deep reds, bright yellows and rusty browns are slowly beginning to dominate the landscape. Some trees are already bare, preparing for the onset of winter and the pine trees are heavy with cones. (see photo, top of page)

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye I see movement. I stop, delighted to see three small deer browsing on the undergrowth. I decide to get closer hoping to get a picture with the camera I always carry in my pocket.

Startled, alerted by my footsteps, they raise their heads and their large dark brown eyes stare suspiciously at me. Then, with a flash of white tails, they bolt for safety, racing across the road in front of me, leaping over another old fence line and disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Darn. I was to slow. Tucking the unexpected moment away I begin walking.

I heave a sigh as my thoughts wander. This will be my last walk down the trail for the season. The fall chores are done.

Thirty-six, quart-sized jars of canned tomatoes and ten, pint-sized jars of stewed tomatoes are stored away. Twenty small freezer bags containing two cups each of freshly made venison mincemeat are in the freezer waiting to be thawed for the next batch of cookies. Enough strawberries have been crushed and turned into freezer jam to last until summer. It’s time to hit the road again.

The walk takes about 45 minutes to complete, passing a pasture of grazing cattle, an old barn, eventually turning right again onto a gravel county road, down a long hill and with another right turn onto the main asphalt road back into town.

The main road skirts the site where my old elementary school once stood. Over the summer the community worked hard to revitalize the site. Bright yellow swings, a green and red merry-go-round and wooden teeter-tatter once again proudly await the arrival of children freed from the confines of school.

Newly constructed picnic tables dedicated to family members and wooden Anarondack style chairs, several child–sized, sit scattered under the hardwood trees of the small township park inviting impromptu picnics.

The walk has cleared my head, increased my heart rate and hopefully prepared me for the increase in physical activity we anticipate on our upcoming trip. Slightly breathless, with rosy cheeks and cold hands, I arrive back at my childhood home ready to pack up for our next adventure.

Life on the Road: Voting

The general election is drawing near. If you have an established home you don’t have to plan ahead. However, for those of us who live on the road full time it takes some advanced planning to exercise our right to vote. With the use of the Internet the task has become so much easier.

Task One: Registering to Vote. Where?
Although we would rather just be Americans, it is a requirement that we choose a state as our legal residence. We selected Texas although it was over three years before we actually visited the city we use for our address. We are proud to be members of the Escapees RV Club and use their unique services, although we no longer have an RV.

Task Two: Voter Registration and Requesting the Absentee Ballot.
A simple web search will take you to the voter registration and absentee ballot application page for your state. I simply printed the ballot request form, filled it in and faxed it to the county clerk. All the important deadlines for registering, requesting ballots and voting were clearly stated.

Task Three: Decide where to have the ballots sent.
Sounds simple, but consider: our mail service is in the county where we are registered to vote. A ballot can’t be sent to an address in the same county as you have just claimed you will be absent from the county. Our mail service has established an alternative address for the use of its members, if needed.

Task Four: Wait and Wonder.
For this election we decided we would have the ballots mailed directly to our current location. We faxed the absentee ballot request to the county clerk in Livingston, TX. Three days later Hurricane Ike blew through the area. Our mail service was closed for over a week and it followed the county offices would also be experiencing difficulties.

We began to wait and wonder. Did the ccounty clerk receive the application? Would they mail the ballots? Would we still be at our current location when the ballots arrived? If not, would we return in time to mail in the ballots prior to the election deadline? Luckily, the ballots arrived without delay.

Now, all we have to do is research the local, state and federal candidates, decide who or what to vote for and get the ballots in the mail prior to the Nov. 4th deadline. Exercise your right to vote.

Life in a Ghost Town

When last I wrote we had just boarded the Texas Eagle in San Antonio, our journey north just beginning.

Where are we? According to the Internet we are visiting a ghost town about 50 miles west of the Mackinac Bridge in the beautiful upper peninsula of Michigan.

That may be true if you consider: when I take someone around town I usually point out the empty lot where my grandmother once lived. I talk about families that left the area in search of jobs or are deceased, businesses that no longer exist, empty lots and what used to be. Gould City, MI is just a yellow blinking light on US2. But to me it’s where I grew up.

It’s a beautiful time of the year to visit. After the scorching 106 degree temps. of the desert southwest and the high humidity of the south, it’s wonderful to sleep comfortably with the window’s wide open. The days are warm, the evenings cool and the annoying insects that abound are generally missing this time of the year.

Ping. Another wild raspberry hits the bottom of the pail. Bees buzz. The yellow, white and blue wild flowers sway in the gentle breeze. A flock of partridge, feathers ruffled scurry from the two track gravel road into the under brush. Two raccoons watch from twin trees. The smell of apples freshly raked into piles, shoveled into baskets and transported to feed the deer scent the air. A small deer darts into the dense hardwood forest.

The chores are piling up but the weather is a distraction. It’s only 10 miles to the shores of Lake Michigan. The water is refreshingly cold after the spa hot water of the Gulf of Mexico. The waves are small compared to the Atlantic and Pacific. The beach is deserted except for me.

There is a pancake breakfast to benefit some group or the other, the Friday night American Legion Fish Fry, family dinners, visits to the elderly, trips to transport family to doctors or pick up medicine, meals to provide and events to attend.

The highlights of Labor Day weekend were the Art on the Lake festival in Curtis with home made maple syrup, spinners, jugglers, arts, crafts, food, wine, beer, a puppet parade and live music. Attending with an old childhood friend, priceless. And to top of the weekend, participating in a once a year event for the first time, the 51st annual five mile plus walk across the Mackinac Bridge. We have the certificate and pictures to prove it.

Not bad for a few weeks spent visiting a ghost town. But now it’s back to fall chores, canning tomatoes, making jam and mincemeat. Every once in a while it’s nice to take a break from travel.

The Texas Eagle

Ugh, the cell phone alarm just chimed. It’s 5 am in San Antonio, Texas. Time to grind the coffee beans and select what I need from my suitcase. This morning is rare. We seldom wake up before sunrise but today we have a 7 AM train to catch.

Yesterday, we struggled to stuff our sleeping bags, tent, grill, and other assorted camping items into two additional suitcases. Our daughter has been storing these items in her attic since the first of the year.

We also will have an additional carry on item – one of those picnic backpacks with our wine glasses, cheese board and place settings for four plus tablecloth and special spices for outdoor cooking. (More about our camping plans later).

We carefully checked the weight of each bag by standing on a bathroom scale and holding the bag. The magic number is 50 lbs. It is oh so embarrassing to have to repack at the baggage check in counter in order to conform to the baggage weight limits!

So, what do we have? Two suitcases with clothes and two suitcases containing camping gear to check, one picnic backpack, one computer bag, one printer bag, one snack bag, my handbag and two stadium blankets to carry on. Included in the carry on bags are our toilet items, a change of clothes, books, crossword puzzles and cards.

While I sipped my coffee and finished dressing the guys loaded up the pickup for the short trip to the station. We arrived at the appointed hour, unloaded the luggage, picked up our tickets, checked four of the bags and then waited to board the Texas Eagle bound for Chicago.

The city of San Antonio is served by a limited facility station with a ticket counter, baggage check in, vending machines, coffee, restrooms and a small waiting area. When boarding was announced we proceeded outside. The temperature was just right as we stood waiting for the conductor to collect our tickets and assign our coach seats.

I held my breath as I watched the luggage being transported to the baggage car via two long wooden trailers attached to a small tractor. One large black suitcase teetered precariously among the assorted bags, boxes and containers threatening to escape as it bumped along the track on its short journey. I prayed it wasn’t one of ours!

And then it was time to go. The conductor, dressed in his white shirt, blue coat and standard flat-billed hat collected the coach tickets, issued orange seating tags and called “all aboard”.

We were second to board the super liner car and proceed up the stairs, as directed. The coach was empty so we selected our seats, stored our carry on bags in the overhead storage area, slipped the seating tags under the metal band with the seat numbers to reserve our seats and settled in.

There was no need to search for a seat that had access to an electric plug as this car has one for seat. Yes, we can use the computer and charge the phones. Next we checked the overhead lights. Occasionally, the lights don’t function and I like to read. With all those items addressed it’s time to settle in and enjoy the trip. We were treated to a beautiful sunrise as we departed the station aboard the Texas Eagle bound for Chicago.

Oops. We neglected to test the foot/leg rests under our seats. Much to our dismay we discovered one of them would not stay in position making sleep difficult that evening. We learn something new each time we travel by train.

To Busy Traveling to Write

I love to write about our adventures on the road. However, sometimes we are to busy traveling and living life to take the time to put it all on paper or launch it into cyberspace, as the case may be. To create, I need to be fresh (not exhausted from traveling) and I need a quiet environment.


That said, we have been having a wonderful, awe-inspiring summer, traversing the country with our grandchildren. When we settle down for a few weeks the end of August I'll get into the details. For now, if you have been wondering what we have been doing, it goes something like this:


Upon returning from our trip to Seattle and an Alaskan Inside Passage cruise aboard the Golden Princess, we spent a week resting in Las Vegas, yeah right. Then we flew to Lafayette, LA via Houston for our youngest grandson's birthday party.


Then, it was back to Houston to house-sit while our daughter and granddaughter cruised to Jamaica, Grand Cayman and Cozumel. While settled for the week, I wrote and published the summer convention issue of our newsletter.


Finally, it was time for our summer adventures to commence. We decided to spend some one-on-one time with each grandchild. It may seem crazy to some but the plan couldn't have worked out better. Here's how we did it.


We took a rental car to Lafayette, LA to pick up our nine year old grandson, then returned to Houston where we turned in the car. Our daughter graciously dropped us off at the Houston Amtrak station to catch a train to Los Angeles. (His first train ride, first trip out west, wow!)


We rented a car at the station for a month. We drove to Anaheim where we stayed long enough to visit Disneyland, Hollywood and Huntington Beach. Then we headed to Las Vegas for two days, drove over Hoover Dam and stopped in Williams, AZ.


The next day we drove out to the Grand Canyon. Then it was on to Meteor Crater for a quick stop before heading to Albuquerque where we visited Old Town. Next came the White Sands, voted best stop by the grandchildren, Fort Stockton, San Antonio, Houston and back to Lafayette. The trip lasted about 16 days. Time spent with grandchild -priceless.


OK, we are in Lafayette with a rental car that needs to go back to Los Angeles. No problem.


We travel to Houston pick up our eleven year old granddaughter and head back to California. (Her first trip out west, first train ride, double wow!) Our first stop, San Antonio (visiting our other daughter and enjoying her hot tub), then it's on to Sonora, TX to visit the caverns. (Our granddaughter was named after them and the movie, "Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken").


Next is an overnight stop at Fort Stockton, swimming pool, entertainment center (Hulk movie, and bowling) then on to Carlsbad Caverns to see the bats. Next, White Sands then on to the Albuquerque Petroglyphs and Sandia Tram, more miles traveled to Williams for the shoot out in the street and a day at the Grand Canyon.


Yup, then it was back over the Hoover Dam to Las Vegas (our favorite stop) to see the Blue Man Group. Then it was on to our final destination, Disneyland and Huntington Beach via Twentynine Palms with a stop to write her name in rocks in the desert, climb rocks and star gaze in Joshua Tree. (Side note: She was born in Twentynine Palms).

Eventual we turned in the rental car at the Los Angeles Amtrak station where while waiting we discovered a historic district that looks like old Mexico across the street. To bad we didn't have more time to explore before boarding the train.


The trip was not effected by Hurricane Dolly and our daughter picked us up at the station in San Antonio at the expected arrival time. The following day we picked up a one-way rental car, dropped our granddaughter in Houston (20 days of quality time on the road) and traveled on to Lafayette to dog-sit.

We turned in the rental car at the airport and are patiently waiting for our youngest grandchild to return from a convention/vacation in Destin, Fla. It's his turn next and time is running out, as school begins on Aug. 8th in Louisiana.


Hmm, you see why I don't have time to expound on the details. All I can say is we are having a wonderful time getting to know our grand kids. If you have an opportunity to spend one-on-one time with your grandchildren don't let the opportunity pass you by. It's a wonderful experience.


PS Did you know the latest craze for pre-teens is the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyers?

http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/eclipse.html