“Story” is a strong word.

First we drove out to Fort Necessity, the place where George Washington inadvertently started the French and Indian War.

Things I learned there, the veracity of which having not been verified: the French and Indian War precipitated the American Revolution, George Washington accidentally signed a document accepting sole responsibility for assassinating a French officer, his time in the area made Washington a big proponent of the US’s eventual expansion into the Ohio Valley, and most 18th century North American forts aren’t very impressive.

We then stopped at the only restaurant on Highway 40, a Pizza Hut, where there was considerable confusion about what specials were or were not offered. Then we went to Ohiopyle to see the falls:

This is Mr. and Mrs. Telkontar, btw. And the Telkitos. I talked about the falls in a much earlier post in case you feel cheated by lack of additional photos or description.

Then we went to some guy’s house:

I’d never heard of it before moving to Pittsburgh, but it’s apparently the most famous-for-architecture house in the US (Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright). We didn’t have reservations, so we were not allowed inside and were treated like dogs. The waterfalls were nice and the use of stone was kind of cool, but the preponderance of pink concrete was perplexing. Definitely better than the Biltmore Estate, though.

Then we drove back through Ohiopyle and came upon the following waterfall:

It’s named Cucumber Falls due to the prevalence of wild cucumber in the area.

It was starting to get dark, then, so we did what comes naturally to tourists in the Pittsburgh area: ride the Duquesne Incline up to Mt. Washington.

There was probably a good photo there if I could have found something to which to attach my gorilla pod.

And then we went home and debated the relative utility of creche committees.

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I am nevertheless comfortable in asserting that Maui is the least interesting of the Hawaiian islands with which I’m familiar. I can see why someone would like it, but those antecedents of “like” would correlate strongly with that someone and I being generally incompatible as co-vacationers. FWIW. Maui would be great for someone who wants nice weather, a mega-resort, a mall with expensive boutiques and galleries, sub-par restaurants, and resort-style golfing.

Here’s a photo of sunset from the hotel pool:

I think it’s a nice photo and all, maybe even enticing. But what amount of time on your Maui vacation could staring at sunsets across pools productively take up? I’m going with eight. The second sunset you stare at is cliché, and by the third one you’re just desperate for meaning. Um, IMHO. So then what are you going to do for the other 6 days, 23 hours, and 52 minutes?

Well, there are a couple things. Maybe even three:

• The Hana area is genuinely nice. It’s slower paced and not dominated by mega-resorts. It seems like a place you would find on Kauai. Except that: (a) it’s a pain to get to — you can romanticize that drive all you want, but at the end of the day it’s arduous and there are only four or five places worth stopping, and (b) since it’s the only place on the island that looks anything like that, it’s necessarily crawling with escapees from all the mega-resorts. Who aren’t necessarily fun to hang out with.
• The drive around the northern part of the western lobe is kind of nice. It’s not all that crowded, not quite as arduous as the Hana drive (I mean, it’s arduous, just not wish-I-was-dead arduous), and has at least one nice little church and a little tidal swimming pool among the rocks in one spot.
• Haleakala is something that’s probably worth doing once, although it’s a long ways up there for maybe a couple of hours of entertainment (with thousands of your co-tourists).

So it’s got that going for it.

Here’s a photo of a bird taken from the lanai of the hotel room at the mega resort that we stayed at (because it was close to the conference):

See that little black bird in the tree? Awcute, right? Except that it’s loud, it’s everywhere, and it’s a non-native species. In a sense, it’s a type for the real problem with Maui:

*Tourists*. And there’s nothing for them to do. No way to disperse. Just sitting around the pool mutually reassuring themselves that they’re doing something interesting.

The place is dominated by the mega-resort whether in Kihei-Wailea, or the whole Lahaina-Kaanapali mega-hotel-opolis. It’s hard to break free from these places and there aren’t a lot of reasons to do so (other than the three above and to buy groceries at Wal-Mart). Maui ends up feeling like the Las Vegas strip, but without all the stuff to do.

If you have to go to a conference and cost has no meaning, it’s a nice place to have a conference. Between sessions you can hang out outside, in January, and it’s warm. Nice. OTOH, you’re still at a conference and, for the most part, there’s not a lot different about a conference session room at the Grand Wailea on Maui and a conference session room at the Will Rogers Airport Embassy Suites in Tulsa.

Then with the opportunity cost. It costs the same to go to Honolulu, only that place has better food, more stores, a “scene”, and several regions to consider exploring. It costs the same to go to Kauai, which has rivers everywhere, waterfalls everywhere, easy-in snorkeling, world-class hiking, fewer crowds, etc. It costs the same to go to the Big Island, which — I haven’t been to. I’m guessing I’d like it better so long as I wasn’t stuck in Kona.

Long story short, I’d like to go to this conference again, but probably when it’s on some other island.

Here’s a picture of water:

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Everything pictured here is somewhere on the other side of Hana. I like Hana better than the rest of Maui. The hippie vibe is refreshing compared to the tourist vibe of everywhere else, plus it rains more there so it looks greener.

The bridge below those falls:

The gulch is called Oheo Gulch by the way. The trail goes through a bamboo forest. The forest looks like a bamboo forest.

And the falls are the Oheo Gulch Waterfall. Clever. It’s a high waterfall. Sorry about all the portrait-orientation. Waterfalls and trees, I guess.

Dennis took a really sharp photo of me hanging out in the waterfall pool, but I’m afraid it’d end up on some  porn site somewhere. If everyone were Mormon, I wouldn’t have to worry about that. It’d just be a photo of a guy giving a thumbs up from the bottom of a waterfall. Maybe I should move to Provo. Or Saudi Arabia.

Not always a fan of the species.

Also in the gulch:

This is a view of the “forbidden part” of the Hana Highway. The part that’s beyond Oheo gulch. It’s drier there.

So there you go. I think the highway has some other name on this side of Hana also.

In January, Pittsburgh is colder than there.

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The beach is sort of on private property or requires you to cross through private property or something. There’s a hotel there that has signs posted that declaim any responsibility for you killing yourself while trying to get there. Not without reason.

A few photos I guess:

The beach itself:

And I got about 50 more photos that are some variation on that. The tree is in all of them. Seriously, like *all* of them.

On the hike:

• It’s not very far — maybe 3/4 mile from the place where you park.
• But: the trail is pretty dodgy. There’s one part where the footing is poor (sandy and loose pebbles), and the trail is narrow (ca. 12 inches) and slanting off the edge of a cliff (20-foot drop). It’s about a 10-foot stretch, but that’s about all it takes.
• I was wearing flip-flops, which did not grant me goat-like powers of ground adhesion.
• Ended up gashing the side of my foot.
• Alternately, there’s a trail spur that bypasses this section. It takes you off the cliff and down to the beach, then goes back up onto the ledge above. Would’ve been smart. Would have.
• And then coming back up, we came up one trail too early. This too-early trail goes to the cemetery and is steeper than you want it to be. With loose, sandy pebbles.

Cemetery is like this:

For some reason all the stones had Japanese writing on them. On the interesting scale, I’m guessing the story behind that (unknown to me) rates a 3.

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PS, This was a purely Google-driven headline. Thanks, search algorithms: you’ve destroyed blog post headlines forever.

So there’s a miraculous story here that explains how I ended up going to Glacier Lake at all. My cell phone (with Virgin) gets no reception between Minnesota and Spokane. That is to say, it doesn’t work in Idaho, Montana, or the Dakotas. When I was heading from Tacoma to Montana, I stopped in Spokane to call my brother in South Dakota to see if he wanted to join me for fishing in Montana. He said he couldn’t make it, so I figured I’d leave Montana Saturday after finishing the Lake Fork hike.

But then when I got to Butte or so, I checked my phone and it had received a text message. Somehow, *somehow*, despite being in coverage no-man’s land, my phone had gotten a text message from my brother saying he could make it after all. And then I found a pay phone and confirmed plans. Yes, they still have pay phones. Everyone who saw me using it was also surprised.

(And: I said the story was miraculous, not that it was interesting.)

Fishing at Glacier Lake was great. The guy at the hotel in Red Lodge recommended it. Good job, guy!

Garry crossing a creek.

Elevation: 10,000'.

Ibid.

Glacier Lake shoreline.

Fishing was, as said, good. Used dry flies trailing behind a plastic float. Mostly 12- to 15-inch cutts. Caught one 12-inch brookie. All were good fighters. Also caught this:

The largest trout I've ever seen.

Two pounds? Two and a half maybe? It was a big trout. Caught it on four-pound line and apparently my knots don’t suck. Took probably 10-15 minutes to get him ashore. He took a lot of line. Awesome fish, mad respect.

Gebrüder (I'm not really six inches shorter than him).

Emerald Lake (in Wyoming!), just below Glacier Lake.

• This is a short hike, btw. Two miles each way.
• But steep (ca. 1,500 feet in elevation gain).
• And at high altitude.
• Glacier Lake is a perfect fishing lake: no grass, plenty of shoreline, lots of places to sit.

Morning reflections in Keyser Brown.

September Morn Lake, where I presume Neil Diamond danced until the night became a brand new day.

A 12-inch brookie I caught there.

A 120-inch brook I crossed there.

View of Keyser Brown and First Lake from the trail above.

First Rock Lake (with rocks).

Big Thunder Mountain.

• Should have spent more time fishing at September Morn.
• Not having a working watch is hard.
• Had serious line problems, but was able to salvage enough to jam knot a couple strands together for fishing up at September Morn.
• Then lost most of the rest of my line hiking back from First Lake and, thus, was out of the game.
• There was a nice fishing hole for nine-inch cutts at the bottom of a cascade between First Rock and Keyser Brown. I thought someone should know.

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PS, More SEO fodder in the title. Sorries.

Originally planned to hike up to Black Canyon Lake and probably to Sundance Pass, camping, I dunno, somewhere. After about a mile of hiking, I realized that I’d just spent seven days at sea level and was now at 8,000 feet and climbing. Objectives were toned down accordingly.

• So ended up camping at Keyser Brown Lake — about seven miles from the trailhead and 1,500 feet of elevation gain (I think the lake is at a little over 8,000 feet).
• Just about passed out trying to get my tent set up.
• Took about 45 minutes trying to get my food appropriately hung.
• Trail follows the river most of the way, although there are some miles where there are trees that get in the way of seeing the river.
• Some dude coming down the trail said he saw a grizzly, but I’ve pretty much determined that grizzlies are merely legendary like, z.B., Sasquatch.
• There was one other dude camping near the lake. He was from Minnesota and so, naturally, he helped me get my rain fly on tighter than it was. I told him he was only reaffirming the stereotype.
• Mountain House lasagna is good, but it’s hard to get all the cheese off your fork.
• The good campsites are all on the back side of the lake.

Highway 16 running through Mt. Robson Provincial Park (Fraser River at left).

The goat welcomes, the clouds warn.

You can ride your bike for the first 3.5 miles -- but no further.

Bridge over Robson River near Kinney Lake in-flow.

Disappointingly stable.

Lunch-time view from the shelter at the Whitehorn campground.

Whitehorn Mountain and the Robson River: the money shot.

Same place, other money shot.

Photo of the Falls of the Pool

View from the Emperor Falls campground.

Berg Lake and Berg Glacier from the trail up Toboggan Falls.

Mt. Robson and Mist Glacier and clouds.

Outflow from Berg Lake.

It's sort of like the waterfall is dreaming of the mountain. It used to live there after all.

The bottom of the steep part.

The river below Kinney Lake.

Enough.

• Camped first night at Whitehorn, second night at Emperor Falls.
• There are a lot of people backpacking in this area. Many are friendly. It’s supposedly the most popular back country trail in all of Canada.
• It was way less crowded than Banff/Jasper.
• Very nice, very well-maintained camp sites — there are pads with bark and benches and stuff.
• Have to make reservations a month or so in advance.
• Took my point-and-shoot camera, which doesn’t do well with bad lighting; i.e., it’s prettier than these pics make it look.
• On second day hiked up to Emperor Falls, set up camp, walked down to Lake… eh, I forget. Some lake on the Jasper side of the line. Then hiked up Toboggan Falls (probably worth it), then went back to camp and played solitaire.
• Mountain House Chicken Teriyaki is pretty good.
• The two miles between Whitehorn and Emperor Falls is the steep part, but you pass by three big waterfalls, which sort of breaks up the horror.
• The first three miles (to Kinney Lake) is a tourist hike. I saw a Mennonite family biking up to the lake (the women were wearing dresses, it was sort of cool).
• I think the weather there is usually iffy.
• I don’t like breakfast.
• A&W in Canada (the restaurant) is awesome. Just really, really awesome. No joke.

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Emerald Lake in Yoho NP -- so I shouldn't blame Banff/Jasper for this one.

And this guy was in Kootenay NP -- but still.

And so was this -- but all the rivers look the same there anyway.

This is Marble Canyon, but there isn't even any real marble there.

Another interchangeable river view (Bow River, Banff NP).

The mountain peaks are likewise interchangeable.

Athabasca Glacier and the Columbia Icefield, the ultimate drive-up glacier experience.

Athabasca Falls, which is mostly covered by a highway overpass.

Maligne Lake + Bad Lighting = Tourist Nirvana.

Maligne Canyon and by trying to get as few tourists in the shot as possible I totally missed the story.

And when I finally left Jasper for the last time, heading west into the unknown wilds of Mt. Robson Provincial Park in British Columbia, it was with a profound sense of relief.

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It’s not the mountain’s fault. Or the glacier’s or the marmots’. I mean not as such.

Mt. Edith Cavell waits to swallow the unwary.

The lower part of the trail looks like this.

The One View.

That photo was basically the peak in terms of photography (lighting aside). The peak in terms of topography came two hours, five miles, and 3,000 feet later.

The view from (near) the top.

So I was walking back down and there was this family stopped on the trail ahead of me and the guy gives me the *shh* sign, so I sneak in quietly expecting to see a moose, bear, big horn, or cougar, only to find out at the family has been paralyzed by a small rodent. "Is that a marmot?" the guy whispers to me. Yes, sir, that is a marmot.

Back at the bottom, a great view of a pond with ice bergs.

And then I went back to my campsite and watched TV on my iPod for two and a half hours.

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The sad part is that I don’t really know if the song is referencing sex, drugs, or both. I suppose neither is also an option. I didn’t do much hopping myself, just driving from spot to spot within Banff and taking more stupid photos. It occurred to me in Banff that I was wasting what was left of my youth. Had to be done somewhere I guess.

Mist, mountains.

Mist, mountains, Bow Lake.

Peyto Lake with reflection and clouds.

True story about Peyto Lake: I got up and moving by about 6:30 that morning (ergo the earlier mists) and then reached Peyto Lake at about 8. I was the first one in the parking lot, although they make passenger cars park in a lot that’s about a ten-minute uphill walk from the observation platform. About the time I reached the platform, a Chinese(-Canadian) tour bus pulls up — and the busses are allowed to park in a lot that’s about a ten-second walk from the platform.

I waited for them to leave.

Waterfowl Lake, more mist.

Same lake, same mist.

The captions become difficult to differentiate.

Ibid.

So I’m packing my bags for the Misty Mountains 
where the spirits go now, 
over the hills where the spirits fly. 
I really don’t know.

And then I woke up.

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Hike starts at Takakkaw Falls, then heads up the Yoho Valley along the Yoho River for which the Yoho National Park was Yoho named. I just hiked up to Twin Falls and then came back via Marpole Lake, so it was sort of a lollipop hike and about 10 miles. (Supposedly making the hike longer by taking in part of the Iceline Trail and/or heading up Little Yoho Valley is also worthwhile, although I’m distrustful of recommendations regarding hikes anywhere near Banff/Jasper, especially when they add 2,500′ in elevation.) My hike goes up the river, passes a couple of small waterfalls, then passes the bigger Laughing Falls, then continues up-river until you get to Twin Falls, then comes back down via Marpole Lake. Ten miles round-trip and iirc 2,000′ or so of elevation gain.

Here are pictures:

Yoho River near the trailhead somewhere.

Falls, laughing.

Shadows on the Yoho.

I used to live in Twin Falls, Idaho, but those looked different from these.

Evidence that I was there and that my hair was messed up.

Same falls, more down-river.

Marpole Lake.

A wild marmot.

Takakkaw Falls = back to the start.

I dunno. It was nice. There’s a lodge at the falls where you can I guess stay the night or get tea or lunch. I’ll have to do that one time somewhere.

Okay.

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Takakkaw Falls is located in Yoho National Park, which is in British Columbia and adjacent to Banff National Park (in Alberta). It’s kind of surprising how the tourist population decreases by half immediately upon crossing that line.

My pictures do a poor job of conveying the waterfall’s epicness. You’ll have to trust me when I say that it’s taller than Holy Jim Falls.

The falls and the Yoho River.

Note the lack of people in the photo. The glorious, fantastic lack of people.

Same falls, different view.

I probably should have waited around for some different light and bluer skies, but I’m not a very patient photog. If I can call myself a “photog”.

Then I went on a worthwhile hike.

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They have trees and clouds there.

Bow River and assorted mountain peaks from the Bow River Parkway.

Moraine Lake is this color.

Moraine Lake also has trees and clouds.

...And tourists and their cars as far as the eye can see.

My friend Terry once told me about the reporter who was sent to cover the story of the Hindenberg landing. The reporter came back to his editor later that day and explained that there was no story there since the Hindenberg didn’t even land. Point being that if one arrives at Banff (or Jasper) expecting the story to be “getting away from it all in the rugged loneliness of high peaks and natural settings”, one isn’t going to get that story there. Downtown Pittsburgh is lonelier than anywhere worth seeing in Banff in August. Unless the Pens are playing.

Another unexpected story in the Canadian Rockies: the sun is always in the wrong place.

And there's only so much Aperture (bzw. Photoshop) can do.

That last photo is Lake Louise btw. I tried to get money in the ATM at the hotel there, but the ATM told me it couldn’t reach my bank. Coupled with my cell phone not working north of the border, it was times like that when I realized I was in a foreign country. That and when all the signs were half in French.

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Although after this sign there isn't much left to interpret.

It’s an ancient native American site. Apparently the braves on top of the cliff would get the buffalo riled up, then chase them over the edge of a cliff. Archaeologists speculate that they would kill all the injured buffalo with knives and that they left no survivors, since any survivors could go back and tell the other buffalo what had happened and thus spark an inter-species gang war.

This is the cliff from which they made the buffalo jump:

Archaeologists speculate that the cliff used to be taller.

It would have been cooler if there were actual buffalo jumping off the cliff. As it was, it just sort of seemed like a warm prairie with a visitors center.

OTOH, this is the house in which my grandpa was born in Cardston:

Although the tree was smaller back then.

For some reason it was closed — they usually give tours.

And thus ends my first post-hack blog post. Excelsior.

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1. They’re big.
2. They’re playful.
3. If you cross them, they will literally kill you.

Was driving out of the park this morning when this guy jumped out of the bushes behind my truck and ran across the road:

He sized up me and I him.

It was the only photo of him I got. He seemed cool, though. More importantly, I was the only one on the road at that point. I’m selfish about my animal sightings that way. On the boat ride back from Crypt Lake all 80 of us saw another brown black bear on the lake shore going to town on a fish. I liked, though, that the road bear actually looked at me. Reminded me of that one time at Spring Training when I got Ken Griffey to nod at me.

This morning driving through Cardston, I saw a circle-of-life drama playing out in the temple parking lot:

Bird-on-bird crime.

There were another four or five magpies that were there for backup. Apparently the hawk had taken a chick out of someone’s nest. Not sure what the adult magpies were going to do about it, but the hawk was squawking at them and they were circling the asphalt menacingly. And then the hawk took off with the chick in its talons. I don’t know how it ended up. Maybe it’ll be on the news tonight.

I also saw some deer.

But deer are boring.

Maybe we’ll get some mountain sheep tomorrow.

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One way in which they are *not* analogous, however, is that the Crypt Lake hike trailhead can only be accessed by taking a boat over from the Waterton Townsite harbor. The boat runs twice in the morning, then picks people up again in the evening. Thus the group dynamic: when you get to the trailhead, there are 50 or so people arriving at the same time and, thus, starting their hike at the same time. And when they do, it looks like this:

And the dude right in front of me had those stupid "bear bells" attached to his walking sticks. And he flailed a lot.

Speaking of bear bells, the first mate on the ship advised hikers against using them since bears do not associate bell sounds with danger, instead associating them with the bottom of the food chain. To little avail.

Everyone hikes together in a line. It’s like the Grand Prix of Monaco. Whoever starts out in front is going to stay there because the trail is too narrow to pass ever. And no one is going to move over to let you by since you’re all on the same lap. Exactly like Monaco. Anyway — enough crowd dynamics. Suffice it to say that you never walk alone (on this hike).

Some other details:

• It’s an out-and-back.
• 11 miles round-trip.
• 2,500′ (iirc) elevation gain, although I think that’s a simple high point-to-low point measure.
• The sun is always in the wrong place. This is probably endemic to being on the east side of the Rockies.
• There aren’t any water sources until you get to the lake on top.

Also, if you don’t have your hiking legs, your altitude lungs, or your foot callouses, it’s a pretty solid warm-up hike.

Photos:

Twin Falls -- and, no, I don't know where the other one is either.

This is the valley (canyon?) you hike up.

As the woman in front of me in line said, "maybe you can Photoshop it".

Then, once you get past there, the trail gets “interesting”, as (maybe) shown in the following photograph:

Note: Photo not taken for its aesthetic value.

You might have to click on that one a couple times to see the people there on that ledge/trail. If you get it zoomed in (click on the photo, then click on the photo again on the resulting page), you’ll also notice that the trail appears to dead end. But it does not!

And: 5 miles from the trailhead and we're still bumper-to-bumper.

So there’s kind of that hole at the end, right?

This is what the valley (canyon?) looks like from the ledge, btw.

Anyway, then, there’s a ladder that gets you up into the tunnel.

As evidenced by this photo.

But then, the tunnel’s not quite as big as it looks.

It gets tighter from there. Kind of like that one ride they had at Disneyland in the 70s.

View from the end of the tunnel.

And then when you get out of the tunnel, there’s *this* ledge:

This is the less-hairy part. I wasn't taking photos during the portion where I was holding onto the cable with both hands and dangling my feet over the abyss.

Seriously. Although, to be fair, it wasn’t bad going up. Coming back down, though, when you can’t look at where you’re stepping without also seeing how far you’re going to fall if you miss your step, is somewhat more fear-inducing.

Oh wait, here’s another view:

It's a long ways down.

And I’m kind of an acrophobe. Like, my palms used to sweat when I’d play Marble Madness on the XBox. Anyhoo:

Another mile, another waterfall. That's not Crypt Lake at right, btw.

*This* is Crypt Lake:

Which basically looks like other lakes that you can drive to.

It’s a little anti-climactic is all. And then you hike down the way you came. At the tunnel, you meet the people who came in the later boat. It’s awkward. Much dangling. And eventually the boat picks you up and takes you back to civilization. Everyone rides back together.

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PS, The bottom 2.5 miles of this hike (each way, = 5 miles total) really suck due to tree prison issues. It’s an amazing set-up whereby the trees manage to block your view, but don’t block the sun. Stupid trees.

Waterton Lakes is sort of a National Park after the old-school model where it’s more like a big resort located in the mountains where people can do outdoors stuff if they want to — or can play golf, tennis, check out galleries, or go to the on-site spa. Here are some photos from the drive in and wandering around the Waterton Townsite:

The road in.

Also the road in.

One of the cooler aspects of Waterton Lakes is the drive in to the park and the sudden transition from the yellow grasses of the prairie to the steep, glacial horns of the Rockies. Maybe the photos convey as much.

Here’s a shot of the big hotel they have there. I think it’s expensive.

Prince of Wales Hotel

And I’m sure it has some story behind it that includes the Canadian Pacific Railway. And the photo from the other side doesn’t show much mountain (but it *does* show a small harbor where people can keep their boats parked).

Here is a warning sign:

Warning: deer and humans dance together here. Warning: inter-species seizures. Many possibilities.

This is a waterfall that’s adjacent to the townsite:

It is (they are?) called Cameron Falls.

I think that one looks better at larger size (click on the photo, then click on it again on the resultant page if you want to test my theory for yourself).

And then here are x more of the lake, where “x” represents the number y.

Vimy Peak and Waterton Lake

Apparently y = 1. I’d post more photos, but last road trip someone mentioned how nice it was that I didn’t post *too* many photos. No one offered a counter-argument.

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PS, Since it’s only a couple hours from Calgary and Lethbridge, Waterton Lakes does a lot of business on the weekends. If you’re going there, probably avoid the weekend. Unless you like being around a lot of people, in which case probably aim for a weekend.

First stop as a tourist.

The battlefield is like a battlefield. Some plains, a hill, a nice cemetery, and memorials. This one is interesting from the standpoint that the side that won the battle got to write most of the content even though the memorial is administered by the losing side’s parks service. About half of Custer’s army was born in Europe. And I’m wondering, after they killed their horses in order to give themselves something to take cover behind, how much optimism remained among Custer’s troops.

Custer's Last View (might have looked different then).

Also: There were a lot of bikers in the area. I guess the Sturgis thing started over the weekend. If you’re 70 years old, I’m not sure that wearing a jolly Roger bandanna makes you bad ass. Not entirely sure is all.

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No tolls.

Man, but the middle of the country is boring, though. Just looking at that long, straight-ish line makes me shudder. If you ask me, we should collapse the middle of the country. My brother and his family can get out of South Dakota first. Heck, everyone can get out if they want to. We’ll give them two weeks notice. There’s no reason why Wyoming shouldn’t just border Minnesota.

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