The eeriest fog rolled in from all around us when we woke up this morning. It literally seemed to creep towards us out of the ground and I was taken back to 1980 in John Carpenter’s The Fog, one of my all time favorites. We rode to (where else??) Perkin’s for breakfast, and soon the windows of the restaurant were completely white. No one else in the place seemed to notice, so we guessed it was a common occurrence. It burned off by the time we finished and were ready to leave, and we were on our way heading west on 90 and then north on 85 to our someday homestead, Buffalo.
Just over halfway there, we always stop at the Crow Buttes Mercantile, an awesome tiny little store with two gas pumps planted in the middle of nowhere along 85. A convenience and souvenir shop with a few tables and a sign in notebook with pages and pages of handwritten dates and names of passersby. I signed our names for the very first time as a married couple, other than our marriage certificate. Stopping at the Crowe Buttes is a tradition whether we need to or not, it’s just a cool little family owned store with creaky wooden floors filled with South Dakota souvenirs, another place we dream of the rest of the year when we are back in Michigan, 1,300 miles away. We had seen new signs posted along the highway this time, advertising their burgers and shakes. Bill had a chocolate shake and I had a chokecherry shake, which tasted like vanilla with pieces of what I hoped were cherries.
We continued on a bit further north, and were pleasantly surprised to find that the gravel road our property was located on, now has a street sign reading, Moreau River Loop. Six miles east from the main highway on a gravel road so smooth you could ride 40mph, we came to the familiar fork in the road, and onto our 80 acres. We brought along the handheld GPS, and were able to walk all four coordinates of our property this time. Luckily, there were sections of the seasonal creek that runs through the property that were dry enough to cross. We found, by way of the coordinates, that the existing fence to the west actually runs along the entire property line. Each time we visit, it becomes more and more familiar. As we hiked through the tall grass and stepped over rocks and evidence of cows, two antelope off in the distance stopped and stared at us, just as still as could be. I was able to switch lenses and get a close up before they darted away. After a while, we hiked back and climbed back through the barbed wire fence to the bikes. Brushing off our clothes, we did a quick creature check and were back on our way. Until next year.
Although the skies were dark and threatening, we avoided the rain today, and cruised back down 85 into Spearfish after gassing up at the Sinclair in Buffalo. Today was our last day, we would leave for Walnut, Iowa in the morning, the first leg of our trip back. I soaked in every minute of this day, wishing I could bottle it and take it back.
Dinner at Applebee’s tonight, Bill’s favorite is the A-1 Steakburger. We enjoyed our “last supper” as I called it, as we watched a little boy and his dad, wearing matching orange shirts walking around the sidewalk outside. The little dude would run randomly up to a window, smiling at the people seated, keeping everyone entertained. I was amazed how watching a darling little kid melts away your troubles, just for moment.
Back at the campground, we packed up everything we didn’t need out to get a head start in the morning, after taking one last walk through the deserted camp and out into the overflow to watch the sunset. The cows in the adjacent pasture rushed the fence when we approached, hoping to be fed, and I felt bad that I had nothing, let alone anything to share amongst 50 cows. After the sun dipped below the hills, we built one last fire with our remaining wood, and sat at the picnic table, recalling the countless memories of this amazing trip as the flames danced in the shadows.