Don't Mess with Bill

Don’t Mess with Bill was a single gold record hit song by the Marvelettes in 1966.  It was also darn good advice in Abilene in the mid 1800s when Wild Bill Hickock was the Marshal.  Bill killed 36 men in gunfights.  He was a crack shot and the first person that actually fought a ‘quick draw’ duel.  Bill was a little too quick: while breaking up an unruly mob, his deputy (and close friend) came running up behind him to lend a hand.  Bill, thinking one of the mob was going to jump him from behind, whirled and accidentally shot him dead.  The incident haunted Bill for the rest of his life and led to his being fired from his Marshal's job 2 months later.

This bronze likeness of Bill stands over his Boot Hill grave.

Naturally, Bill made a few enemies along the way, one of which wanted to hire John Wesley Hardin to kill him.  John, following the Marvelette’s advice, declined, with the comment, ‘If Bill needs killing why don’t you kill him yourself?’

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Hickock was an army scout for Sherman and Custer in his early years.  He tried stage acting briefly but was lousy.  In his later years, he became a professional gambler and that’s what brought him to Deadwood in the gold rush days.  Jack McCall shot Bill in the back of the head while he was playing poker, holding the now-famous ‘dead man’s hand’ of aces and eights.  It’s not clear why Jack did the dastardly deed.  He claimed Bill killed his brother but that was a lie: he didn't have a brother.  McCall was hanged for the killing, thereby achieving the dubious honor of being the the last person to ignore the advice, ‘Don’t mess with Bill.’

An expanded view of Boot Hill, which is indeed a hill.

Deadwood was twice destroyed by fire and once by flood.  But it's still there, full of hotels, casinos, saloons, Harleys and tourists - but no brothels: US marshals closed down the last one in 1980.  We did the city tour yesterday and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Local actors perform a reenactment of the capture and trial of McCall

 during the tourist season.

I gotta say this to Jack’s ghost, on behalf of Bill’s ghost, “Okay, so you just had to kill me.  Why, I don’t know.  But, couldn’t you have waited until I had a losing hand?  I had 2 pair, aces over, probably the winning hand, and you, you sumbitch, shoot me!  That’s what makes your crime so heinous and that’s why I’m gonna haunt you forever, you cowardly back-shooting little prick!”

Crazy Horse

We’re camped 25 miles south of Deadwood for 3 nights.  Elevation is 5060’, so nights are chilly, down to 39 degrees the first night.  Sturgis is nearby and the annual Harley rally is next week so there’s a constant stream of bikers going by, heading to and from Mt Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Monument, which we toured today. 

Scale model on left, real thing on right.

The face is done, current work is on the hand and horse head, outlined in white on the mountain.

When/if completed, the monument will be many times larger than Mt Rushmore: the head alone is larger than the 4 Mt Rushmore figures.  It was started in 1948.  Based on progress so far, I expect it will take another 150 years to complete.  Funding is all private, from donations and the $10/person entry fee.  The fee gives you access to the large museum, sculptor's home and workshop, and an excellent introductory film.

The most eye-catching item in the Museum.

The annual Days of 76 Parade was held in Deadwood the same day we visited Mr Horse.

This drum and fife corps group, complete with little drummer boy, was probably in the parade before performing at the Monument.  A light rain was falling so the audience is small.

 

Wilder

The Wilder family lived in this house.

Above and below, the school attended by the Wilder kids.

Artie and Ranger are waiting to welcome the students.

Heading southeast from Watertown, we had to detour through DeSmet, SD, The Little Town on the Prairie.  Laura Ingalls Wilder’s book, Little House on the Prairie was set here, as was By the Shores of Silver Lake.  It was lunchtime when we hit town so we decided to stop and visit the Wilder’s.  They weren’t home and their house was all locked up.  The house is a work in progress, was moved to its current site just a few years ago, and has yet to be restored inside.

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Coincidentally, en route to the Twin Cities, we drove through another small town where the Wilders lived: Pepin, WI.  Little House in the Woods was set there.  We didn’t stop, were in a hurry to get to our campground and commence deskunkification.  Probably wouldn’t have stopped anyway, too many points of interest, too little time.  Back in my whippersnapper days, I read all of Laura’s books and enjoyed them, as did Trish.

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We stopped in Watertown to visit LHC friends Jim and Joan, who have a lovely home on a nearby lake.  Jim loves to hunt and fish; J/J had us over for a delicious dinner of walleye pike Jim caught.

Bird's the word!

Our next stop was Huron, to see Bill, Trish’s work colleague from years past.  Huron is the home of The World’s Largest Pheasant.  Wowsers!  Can it get any better than this?

Private RV Parks

I've whined and bitched about private RV parks a lot.  That's because many are poorly laid out, poorly maintained, overpriced, aesthetic nightmares with spaces so close together you can barely extend your slide-room or open your canopy.  Several have family-oriented amenities like swimming pools, rec rooms and play areas - which are of no value to us.   Roughly 15% are the equivalent of flophouse hotels with junker RVs and matching residents.  Finally, many have employees with people skills that rival either those of a moray eel or a Gestapo colonel passed over for promotion.  Twice.

So, why do we even stop at privates?  Because many offer the convenience of full hookups and laundry facilities.  And, sometimes privates are the only game in town, especially if you want to be within a few minutes drive of a sizable city.

All the spaces have a pull-through layout, much favored by RVers.

The spaces are 60' long and can accommodate the longest rigs. 

There are delightful exceptions and we're delighted to be in one of them now: St Cloud RV Park, St Cloud, MN.  No whining.  No bitching.  Nothing but compliments.  This was a spur of the moment one-night stop, chosen because we needed to do laundry and wanted the no-hassle convenience of full hookups.  We found it on our favorite website, rvparkreviews.com.  This website includes both private and public parks and allows you to search and filter parks by state, city and amenities.

Each space has a couple of mature trees and a stretch of grass.

The building on the left houses the laundry, showers and restrooms - all clean and well maintained.

I just signed up as a contributing member of rvparkreviews.  This park will be the subject of my first review/rating and I'm giving them a perfect score of 10 points.  I'll not be reviewing every park/campground we visit.  The exceptional ones will get a pat on the back.  The lousy ones will get reamed out.  The okay ones I'll probably not bother with, will leave that up to other reviewers.  My reviews will have the display name of 'wordsmith'.  

Al and Gin

Al and Gin.

They just got this snazzy new Bennington pontoon.

Enjoying the ride.

Al's a charter member of the Arizona Mafia, as am I.  As mafias go, ours is quite small, 4 members total, including Tom and Gene.  The organization is only a few years old, although the members have known each other for 50 years.  We are fraternity brothers, graduates of Minnesota State University at Moorhead, seasonal AZ residents, poker players, beer drinkers and, last but not least, consummate bullshitters.  We've not ventured into the nefarious activities - prostitution, racketeering, bootlegging and so on - embraced by some mafias and we're not going to.  That would be too much like work.  The hell with it.  We're retired!

Above and below, Al and Gin's beautiful home.

They live on a big lake close to Duluth.

Gin's a collector extraordinaire.  She's an antiques expert, has extensive collections of oak furniture, classic enamelware and other assorted goodies.  Al enjoys buying and selling stuff.  They're both kinda wheeler-dealer-accumulator types.  Their in-depth inventory of some things is amazing; how about 21 tape measures?  I'll bet they have another dozen or more in their winter home near Tucson.

They recently celebrated their 40th anniversary - the event Al used as an excuse to sell their old pontoon and buy the new one.  Gin adopts an air of tolerance and indulgence for Al's whims, but secretly, I think she's very pleased with the new toy.

Trish and I spent one night at their place, the northernmost point of our summer travels.  A and G are fun, giving folks, can't do enough for you.  They served up a humdinger walleye dinner and a delicious breakfast of Danish pancakes, fruit and sausage.  Next time, we'll have to stay longer, see what other culinary delights they come up with.

Skunked

The Cove Restaurant in Buffalo City, WI is popular, especially on Fridays with their all-you-can-eat fish fry.  Trish, Heidi and I, had the standard fish fry; Gary and Michael went for the 'all'.  Heidi's my niece, Gary's her husband, and Michael's their son.  Our RV is parked in Heidi and Gary's yard, our first stop after our cross-country trek from Taos.  I've gotta say this may be our best campground ever. It's flat, has a full-on view of the Mississippi and the bluffs on the MN side, electrical and water hookups, the price is right and the owners are great people to be with.

It was dark when we returned from the restaurant and cranked up the fire pit.  We'd been sitting around the fire, shooting the breeze for awhile, when suddenly Artie and Ranger took off at full gallop, headed for the front of the house.  We looked over to where they were headed and saw a string of small critters. Black and white critters.  There were 7 of them: mom and 6 cubs.  They were headed for the front porch and hesitated only briefly when the dogs appeared.

Trish, of course, was hollering 'Stop!' as loud as she could - which wasn't quite loud enough as it turned out.  Ranger got a partial blast; Artie escaped unscathed.  The skunks wandered around the house a few minutes, then continued on their way.  Ranger didn't react much at first and we didn't realize he'd taken a hit until he was back in the RV and proceeded to rub his face vigorously on our clothing and bedding.  Oh boy!

Trish got right on it, wiping Ranger's affected parts with anything and everything that might alleviate the stench.  She then got online and researched how to remove the smell.  Tomato juice, although long thought to do the trick, does not.  It's worthless.  What does work is a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and dish soap - applied as soon as possible after the incident.  We didn't have the first 2 items in stock, and there was no reasonably close place to get them at 10 PM in the evening.

This AM we hooked up and hauled ass up to the Twin Cities and our next campground, stopping along the way to get the dog-wash ingredients.  It's now 7 PM, Ranger has had 2 applications of the magic potion, and we've done 4 loads of laundry.  One more load of laundry and we're fairly sure the incident will be a bad memory instead of a bad smell.

Back East

In '64 and '65, my summers were spent working for the Forest Service in northern Idaho.  That first summer I met Dave, who lived in Clarkston, WA.  When Dave introduced me to others, he added the comment, 'He's from back east.'  That surprised me, never thought of MN as being 'back east.'  But, yeah, if you live in WA, most of the country is back east.

I'm intrigued by many commonly-used geographic references and terms, the Midwest, for instance.   I grew up in MN, which is part of the Midwest.  I never thought of it as 'west', be it mid or otherwise. Geographically, the state is half way between the east and west coasts and it abuts Canada.  Seems to me that Minnesota, plus the Dakotas and Wisconsin should be called Mid-north.

The term Midwest came into use in the 1880's, when the bulk of the population was in the eastern states.  'The east' ended at the western borders of New York and Pennsylvania; everything beyond those borders, starting with Ohio, was 'the west'.  The US census bureau has stayed with historical definition and defines the Midwest as the 12 states between Ohio and the Dakotas, inclusive, extending southward to Kansas and Missouri, inclusive.  This block of states is often referred to as The Heartland.

To round out the picture, the other Census Bureau regions are:
Northeast: from Maine down to, and including, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.
South: from West Virginia and Maryland down to, and including, Texas and Oklahoma.
West: Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico and all states west of these.  

The Bureau divides the above 4 areas into subsets for statistical purposes.  We won't go into that today - or any other day for that matter.  Something tells me that most folks find this subject slightly less exciting than watching paint dry.  My work here is done.

SPAM!

Yes, we did the SPAM museum yesterday.  Brother Al and his wife Gin are probably the only readers who've been there - which is only right, seeing as how their son in law works for Hormel.  The rest of you, eat your hearts out!

The SPAM Museum.

Austin, MN

SPAM came out in 1937.

Hormel got the word out with advertising in print and on the radio - and later, on TV.

Another form of advertising in the 40s and 50s were the Hormel Girls.  

The group of 60+ women included an orchestra, singers and dancers - great entertainers, all.

They toured the country, selling SPAM door to door and to grocery stores between gigs.

SPAM through the years. 

My personal SPAM decade was the 70s, had many a SPAM sandwich.  

In WWII, soldiers consumed tons of the stuff and became tired of it.

Dwight Eisenhower wrote a letter to the Hormel folks, complimenting them on the product and saying it was a significant factor in the war effort.

The SPAM shop has over 300 products.  We bought several items, including 2 cans of turkey SPAM for some special occasion - Thanksgiving perhaps?

The Museum is lighthearted and fun, has stuff for kids, too.

Descension

We have descended.  From high country to low.  From warm to hot.  From dry to humid.  From bug-free to, 'Hurry up and shut the door!  The flies are pouring in!'  From enjoying the weather outside to enjoying the A/C inside.

Taken from south end of dam looking north.

The 'bathtub ring' marks on the rocks and the dam itself indicate the water was once much higher.

We're at John Martin Reservoir State Park in southeastern CO, our hole-up place for the 4th of July weekend.  Campgrounds fill up on holiday weekends, so we made reservations well in advance, will stay 3 nights before continuing on, next stop Nebraska.  You may ask, 'Who was John Martin?'

I may answer, 'I haven't a clue.'  

Downriver side of dam, taken from south end, looking north.

Our campground is in upper left.

This place is nothing special but it's okay.  Plenty of space between us and nearest neighbors, pretty quiet.  John Martin Dam is on the Arkansas River, was finished in 1948.
 

Downriver side of dam, about 1/4 mile south of where we're camped.

John Martin was a US congressman from this part of CO.  He was instrumental is getting the dam built.

Taos III

Earthships is a community of earth-sheltered homes built of recycled materials, with the objective of being totally off-grid and self-sustainable.  It's located 12 miles northwest of Taos and has 75 homes with enough space for 75 more.  The visitor center has a film about the building process and infrastructure.  The Earthships people have built demonstration homes in numerous foreign countries.

Entrance to the visitor center is creative, with lots of glass bottles built into the walls.

The rest of the structure is basic, a simple design for a small home.  

The walls are made of old tires filled with compacted dirt.

Hands down winner of the Butt Ugly Award.  It's next door to the visitor center.  

True, it's a work in progress and ultimately may be absolutely gorgeous.

Given its current appearance, however, that's highly unlikely.

This is the standard, basic model, same as the visitor center.

I've been a fan of earth-sheltered homes for some time; they make a lot of sense.  I researched them at length in the 70s and 80s, was intending to have one built but never did.  Main problem was having to go well outside the urban area where CCRs weren't an obstacle.  My work locations were typically in or near downtown, and long commutes never appealed to me.

The Earthships approach, used tires filled with rammed earth, may be the most eco-sensitive of the various earth-sheltered designs.  Millions of used tires accumulate every year, can't use them all on tug boats, barges and cover-weights for piles of livestock fodder.

Not your mother's earth-sheltered home.

Earthship home designs tend to be either basic and boring or 'out there.'

They don't have to be either one, though.  There are plenty of  tasteful designs, and given the flexibility of the building materials, the sky's the limit.  'Out there' or not, tasteful or not, gotta admit I get a kick out of the above design, would love to see the inside of it.

Meanwhile, back in Taos.

A pair of odd ducks.

Finally, a PS add-on to the previous post wherein I commented about the major sites in and around Taos.  The Taos Pueblo is considered a must-see in our guidebook and Trish agrees.  She toured the Pueblo one day during my siesta.  It's in great shape despite its age and the Natives obviously take pride in keeping up its appearance.  There are darn few, if any, vintage pueblo structures - other than Taos Pueblo - that are 3 stories high.

Taos Pueblo.

  

Taos II

Above and below, typical pedestrian alleys lined with shops surround the central plaza.

Yep, Taos is a real place.  Although 1/10th the size of Santa Fe, it is similar in that it has lots of art galleries and a colorful history.  The central plaza and surrounding blocks are quaint, cute and picturesque.  Beyond that, and Kit's place, there's not much in town worth seeing.

Don't know the age or original use of this building.  May have been a defensive structure, given the lookout towers.  On the other hand, it may have been built last year and isn't classic adobe at all.  Given enough mud or stucco or whatever, plus the time and imagination, one can sculpt the exterior any way they like.  The building is at the main downtown intersection, is currently in use as a shop selling garden variety Mexican stuff.

Outside the city, top sights include the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge.

The suspension bridge deck is 650' above the River, 2nd highest in the USA.

Trish is racing the car to the near side of the bridge, has a substantial lead.

This colorful rig was parked at the west end of the bridge.

Rio Grande Gorge looking south from the bridge.

Brewpub where we lunched after viewing the Bridge and Earthships (see next post).

It's a huge Quonset hut designed to use passive solar for heat.  There's a large stage inside where they have live music most nights.

We ate outside on the brewpub patio.  

Funky, creative, unique structure plus micro-brews and dining al fresco.

What's not to like?

Kit Carson

Kit lived in Taos when he wasn't trapping, scouting, delivering messages to Washington DC or carrying out  various military assignments.  Some of these tasks took several months, so he didn't spend much time at home - which is now a museum.  We visited the museum today and watched a History Channel film on Kit.

   This Taos street is named Kit Carson Road.

Remove the asphalt and concrete and you've got a great set for a western movie.

Kit Carson's home is on the far right.

He was married 3 times.  His first wife, an Arapaho woman, died young, but bore him 2 daughters. Wife number 2, A Cheyenne, decided early on that Kit wasn't her soul mate and chucked his stuff out of their tent.  Game over!  That's the way it was done in that culture at that time.  At age 33, he married again, this time to the 14-year old daughter (Josefa) of a prominent Taos couple.  Kit fathered 8 more children with Josefa, not bad for a guy who was gone most of the time.

The Carson courtyard was the 'family room' and also the kitchen except in severe cold weather.

I've read extensively about the mountain men, voyageurs and fur trappers of the early 19th century.  They were a singularly tough, adventuresome breed and Kit, although a mere 5' 5" tall, was no exception.  My reading included Kit's autobiography, which was dictated because he was illiterate.  It was fascinating, his own story in his own words, straightforward, modest and simple, like the man himself.  Kit was one hell of a guy: absolutely fearless, tough as nails, smart, quick-witted and a natural leader.  He was embarrassed by his fame, and especially the misuse of his name and fame by hack western fiction writers.

The kitchen, only used for cooking in dead of winter. 

The Navajo don't think much of Kit due to The Long Walk: 9,000 Navajo were forced to walk 400 miles to an eastern NM reservation and an estimated 3,000 natives died along the trail.  Kit, still in the military following his Civil War duty, was ordered to round up the Indians and move them.  He refused twice, but finally had to do the job.  He was also ordered to kill all the Navajo men but would not do it.

 Moving the Navajo was a bad decision, and Kit lobbied Congress at length to allow the Navajo to return to their homeland.  Congress finally agreed to do so.  Kit was a strong advocate for Native Americans and was an Indian Agent in his later years.  He treated the natives fairly and did the best he could for them, whereas many Agents, the majority I think, were dishonest and short-changed the Indians at every opportunity.

Taos, NM

Dennis Weaver starred in the TV series McCloud in the 70s.  The far-fetched scenario cast him as a current-day, small town, western sheriff, on semi-permanent duty in NYC.  He hailed from Taos, NM - a place I'd never heard of back then.  I wondered at the time if Taos was a real place.  Tomorrow, I find out: my pardner and I are gonna saddle up the bronc, mosey on into town, saunter around a spell, have a sarsaparilla at the saloon, get some vittles.  I'll get back to you on the 'real place' question.

A current TV series involving another small town western sheriff also has a Taos connection.  The A and E series, Longmire, is being filmed in various NM locations, including Taos - although 'set' in WY.  NM is a popular spot for film-making due to mild climate and tax incentives.  Dozens of films have been shot in Taos, Santa Fe, Querky and environs, filmed there but not 'set' there.

Taos is a Native American name.  The Taos Pueblo, near the town of Taos, is the northernmost of 19 Pueblos in NM, and is one of the official Indian Nations.  The Pueblo is the same vintage as the Acoma Pueblo and they share the title of 'oldest continuously occupied community in the USA.'

'Continuously occupied' means somebody is there all the time, all day, all night, every day, every night.  Right?   For many years now, traditional rituals have been conducted at the old pueblos, but the natives live elsewhere, in homes with plumbing and electricity.  Many pueblos are open to tourists in the daytime, and the natives set up their arts and crafts tables when there are tourists about.  So, it's likely there's someone there every day.

But, is there anyone in the pueblo at night?   Do they keep someone on site all the time so they can legitimately lay claim to the title?  Maybe guards are posted at night.  Maybe families take turns doing overnights at the pueblo.  Maybe the tribal elders punish miscreants by sentencing them to pueblo-sitter duty: 'Guilty as charged!  90 days in the Pueblo!'  Maybe nobody gives a shit if it's occupied 24/7.  Maybe it's time to go mix a drink.