Day 3-BA2.12.1 is the current variant

Photograph on wall of Sturgis Rally…don’t go

Deadwood….

Devils Tower

5/14/22. Saturday

9:00-10:00 - Same thing with breakfast as yesterday. I make coffee in the hotel room and B. leaves for the continental breakfast while I take a shower and get ready. He brings back eggs and bacon for me, then we leave for Sturgis, SD, around 10:30.

10:00-12:00 - Sturgis, SD is the home of the annual motorcycle rally that occurs in August. Every year, a bunch of dirt bags, rednecks, and drunks get on their “hogs” and bike to the middle of nowhere to commemorate…something?? I have no idea why they’re convening in this “Children of the Corn” area. There is nothing going here. Picture an old western with tumbleweeds blowing through an empty town…OR Rosamond, CA, and you have an excellent mental image of this shithole.

The only thing Sturgis has going for it is the Sturgis Rally, which is a questionable form of entertainment in and of itself. For approximately one week a year, this two-street town is packed with losers in Harley Davidson attire posing as motorcycle gangbangers. Some of them are, in fact, motorcycle gangbangers. There is nowhere to put all these people, so they crowd the streets, “Time Square” style, except the setting is disgusting and nothing remotely like cosmopolitan New York.

In 2021, these losers refused to abide by Covid guidelines and reported, per usual, to the stupid Sturgis Rally, where they crammed into the streets, like sardines. There is simply not enough room for these people - it’s unclear where they stay when they arrive. After the rally, there was a 700% increase in Covid cases, when all along South Dakota had kept Covid at bay. You’re not misreading that number…700%.

For whatever reason, B. wanted to check out the location and also tour the Motorcycle Museum, which was just okay. I’m not interested in any of this.

12:00-2:00 - From there it was onto the town of Deadwood. This town is a re-creation of every old western town you’ve seen in a spaghetti western. All of the shops advertise that they are somehow affiliated with Calamity Jane and/or Wild Bill Hickok, even though the entire town burned down to the ground in 1879 and, again, in 1959, which means the current town is merely a recreation. They rebuilt it from the ashes.

B. and I step into a Calamity Jane bar and get a round, then we cross the street to watch a reenactment of a Western murder held outdoors in a sort of public park. It’s hard to understand the subplot, but eventually one of the main characters is shot and killed. I liked the reenactment - it reminded me of a 3-man theatre group who occasionally perform at The Huntington, in my neck of the woods [Sierra Madre, CA]. Kind of cheesy, but really fun. Nobody masks. What Covid?

Forgot to mention that the bartender is really nice - I think he said he’s originally from California, but has been here many years - and sings the praises of South Dakota and how open and welcoming South Dakotans are. This part is true. Everyone is very nice and friendly and I wouldn’t mind having a second home here, especially during the summer months when it’s cooler here, in SD. Houses are cheap but it’s the beauty of the land I’m drawn to - very green, and so much space!!! between homes. Not like here, in my concrete jungle neighborhood, where we’re on top of each other.

2:00-5:00 We leave Deadwood for Devils Tower, which is actually located in Wyoming. This drive is a haul that neither of us expected, but it’s worth it. Devils Tower is amazing! If you’ve seen the movie, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Devils Tower is the mountain that Richard Dreyfus keeps creating out of mashed potatoes and mud, even moving the Devils Tower replica (made from mud and debris) into the living room. HIs wife, Terri Garr, is certain he’s lost his mind and she and the kids beat feet to her mother’s house.

Theories abound as to how the Tower was formed, but the most recent theory, in 2015, posits that the lava from a volcano (more specifically, a “Maar diatreme” volcano) merged with groundwater under the Earth’s surface. The magma turned the water into a kind of “super steam” that exploded and created a crater. Then this crater filled with lava, kind of like packing ice cream into an ice cream cone, except pretend the ice cream never melts. Over time, the cone will eventually deteriorate, leaving marks on the solidified ice cream, i.e., Devils Tower.

There’s a pretty decent hiking trail around the base of Devils Tower and B. and I walk the path - it takes over an hour to “hike” the base and there’s a section of trail where we can actually touch the Tower, which I do. I should mention that at the start of the trail is a section where visitors are allowed to hang pieces of cloth symbolizing…what? I don’t know. Trials and tribulations? They’re called “prayer cloths”, but to me, it’s fabric graffiti. I guess people like hanging scraps of cloth on the foliage?? Shouldn’t this be illegal? They’re trash. In my opinion, this area is sacrosanct and I would never do such a thing. The scraps of fabric look like gross, dirty laundry…they should be incinerated.

5:00-8:00 - B. and I finish our hike and head back to South Dakota. On the way to our hotel, we pass through Spearfish, SD, and stop at the Steerfish Steak and Smoke restaurant. Finally, decent food! I get the Rainbow Trout with Parmesan Cream Dill Sauce and B. gets…something? It tastes incredible. Does it taste incredible because I’ve had shitty food all week? Or does it really taste incredible? I don’t know.

B. and I sit at the bar and it’s packed. Nobody masks, of course. In South Dakota, it’s as if Covid never existed. I’ve been irrevocably, psychologically scarred from Covid and dislike bars immensely, unless they’re empty, but the bartender is wonderful. He tells us that South Dakota never shut down for Covid and he and his friends made the most money they can remember because when New York shut down, all the New Yorkers hightailed it to South Dakota for R&R and general fun. Were there ever truly quarantines? It seems like most people did work-arounds during the Covid quarantine [New York having the worst of it], escaping from their homes to have fun in a red state.

Housing is affordable and the bartender assures us that the winters have changed due to climate change - they are much milder now. He and the waitress, having lived here all their lives, say there is no more beautiful place than Spearfish, SD. That’s quite an endorsement…especially knowing that when people ask me how I feel about MY hometown, the Antelope Valley, I strongly advise AGAINST moving to that shithole and provide reasons as to why they should NEVER move there. BUT, the bartender and his waitress feel a deep love and respect for their town. It’s quite touching. I leave this restaurant seriously considering purchasing a summer home here.

8:00-10:00 B. and I return to the K-Bar. I’m exhausted. Nighttime routine. Bed.