Idaho

In my last travel blog post, we traveled to Louisville, through Illinois, across Minnesota and into South Dakota’s Badlands. Today we’ll visit more of South Dakota and three states farther west.

Here’s where our journey started to take a serendipitous turn. Over and over we found ourselves in the midst of something unexpected. And that unexpectedness never failed to wow us. Just the idea of falling into so much amazingness almost entirely by accident was enough to take our breath away.

We’d almost become inured to the massive fields of corn and soybeans when we spotted something a little different. Ever wondered where all the sunflower seed you buy for your songbirds comes from? Well, we found out. They were well past flowering—wouldn’t that have been something to see—but the seeds were still busy preparing for their destiny.

As far as the eye can see and then some

On our way across South Dakota we pulled in at a rest area that turned into a happy surprise. How many rest stops do you know that house a museum? Yeah, that’s what I thought. But just off Interstate 90 near Chamberlain, that’s exactly what we found with the Lewis and Clark Interpretive and Keelboat Center. We were excited to be standing on ground where Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery explorers set up camp. They picked quite the spot—a bucolic bluff overlooking the scenic Missouri River. (We’d soon discover that much of our journey passed along the Lewis and Clark Trail—another unexpected treat.)

That was only the beginning of the excitement we felt at this rest area. Just days before our arrival, the fifty-foot tall, stainless steel sculpture named Dignity had been installed. Dignity, with outstretched arms holding a multi-hued blue-star quilt, was designed by South Dakota artist Dale Lamphere to honor the culture of the state’s indigenous Lakota and Dakota peoples. He used several Lakota models from fourteen to fifty-five years of age to give the statue a universal feel.

She was magnificent!

Gives me chills, even now

This was a stop we had not planned, knew nothing about. We certainly didn’t anticipate spending well over an hour there, but it was worth a late arrival in the Black Hills that evening to experience this moment.

Then came the pronghorn antelopes. They appeared from nowhere, then they were everywhere, sometimes outnumbering the cattle whose pastures they shared with apparent impunity—a real peaceable kingdom. I couldn’t get enough of them: their stature, their gracefulness, their markings.

Where the antelope play

We really didn’t know what to expect in the Black Hills, other than that we’d see Mount Rushmore and hopefully a few bison or other wildlife blocking our path somewhere or other. Were we ever in for a treat! Driving the Loop Road in Custer State Park, not only did we get close-up (as close as is safe) views of the bison; we got real up close and personal with some pretty brazen donkeys.

Where the buffalo roam

I thought they looked like a bunch of teenage hoodlums up to no good or maybe a gang of gunslingers itching for a fight.

The Gnome makes a friend. (But this guy would be happier if that hand held an apple!)

It was the many unusual and massive rock formations, though, that captured our imagination. Sort of like finding cloud pictures in the sky. We’re definitely returning for a longer stay, probably right smack in Custer State Park. What do you see in these images?

As we crossed into Montana, we understood the state’s Big Sky moniker (though South Dakota and Minnesota could vie for that title as well, in my book). We couldn’t pass up a day trip to Glacier National Park where we went up, up, up the Going-to-the-Sun Road. How romantic a name is that? And such an astonishing engineering feat, especially given that it was built in the early 20th century.

I really wish we could have spent more time in the park. Like so much else on this whirlwind trip, it only got a lick and a promise, but even that was pretty amazing. Yet, it was again the unexpected that really got to us. Driving to Glacier meant passing Flathead Lake in the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes Flathead Reservation. With over 185 miles of shoreline, it’s huge! On the way up, we oohed and aahed over the lake’s crystal blue surface glistening in the sun. Our return coincided with twilight, giving us an equally dramatic perspective.

Leaving our final “cousin destination” in western Montana, we opted for a more southerly route home so we could see more new-to-us parts of the country—a very good idea, it turned out. One of the many unexpected and spectacular sights we encountered was Mt. Borah. Located in the Challis National Forest in eastern Custer County, Mt. Borah is Idaho’s highest mountain. Though it was only rainy down where we were, way up at 12, 667 feet above sea level, snow was beginning to cover the peaks.We stopped to learn about the 6.9 magnitude earthquake that shook the mountain in 1983, raising the peak about a foot and lowering the valley floor by eight feet. We could even see the quake’s scar on the side of the mountain. (All very intriguing, but absolutely as close as I ever want to get to an earthquake!)