By David Gourley
 |
| Ranger in Laramie / Wall Drug |
This trip overlapped two previous visits to the States. Fifty years
ago we travelled by Greyhound Coach right across America, from New York to San
Francisco, passing through the States of Wyoming and Utah. Thirty years ago we
did a tour of the Southwest USA which coincided with the final part of this
trip.
We tacked on to the start of the trip an extra night in Denver. We
were glad that we did, for we arrived quite late in the evening and there was
an early morning departure the next day. Furthermore we got to see downtown
Denver. No-one else on our tour did for we were lodged in Cherry Creek, a mile
or so away. This is a somewhat soulless area though it's no doubt a great place
if, unlike me, one loves shopping, since it boasts of being the premier
shopping destination in Denver.
We made our way into the downtown using a local bus. We were to find
during our trip that the people we encountered were on the whole very friendly,
more so in fact than is the norm back home. Our British accents - of course we
think it is the Americans, not us, who have accents! - might attract attention with people interested to know where else in the
States we had been. We got a taste of this friendliness on this our first
excursion. The charming young lady driving the bus insisted, on reaching the
terminus, on walking us to the nearby stop where one boards another bus for the
mall ride, through the heart of the downtown to Union Station. She then talked
us through our return journey, where to get on and where to get off.
The mall ride is free. We were also to benefit from free public transport
in Jackson, Wyoming and in Salt Lake City. I don't think one is going to find
that anywhere back home. Actually, being of a certain age, we do get free bus
travel but that's not what I am talking about.
Historic Union Station is still used by a few trains, but its prime
purpose these days is as a centre for restaurants and small shops. We walked
back along the route of the mall ride, finishing at the Colorado State Capitol.
This became the second such capitol that we have visited; we had looked round
its Utah counterpart, in Salt Lake City, back in 1968 and did so again this time.
The people in the Capitol were friendly and welcoming. We got a free
guided tour conducted by John, something of a character who, following his
retirement from his job with the State, had rebelled against past conformity by
growing a ponytail and wearing earrings. Hmm.... At least the ponytail had
gone. The tour involved a lot of stair climbing, rewarded by fine views from
the top. Denver is the “mile high city” and there is a marker in the Capitol
showing where this height is actually reached. The timing was good for, on
finishing our tour, we were able to watch the annual display of square dancing
that takes place in the Capitol. The dancers were all elderly folk (around our
age!) dressed in colourful costume. Square dancing is Colorado's state dance. I
knew that there are state birds, mottos and so on, but it was news to me that
there are state dances. Following the guidance we had been given, we found our
way back to our hotel without trouble.
Our drive the next day was to Rapid City in South Dakota, where we
were to stay two nights. En route we passed through Wyoming and its capital
Cheyenne. This had been one of our stops during our Greyhound journey, a
charming small town which still had something of a Wild West feel. I recalled
seeing “Big Boy”, the world's largest steam locomotive, and a statue of Esther
Hobart Morris, a pioneer in women's suffrage. In 2018 Britain is celebrating
100 years of (some) women getting the vote but Wyoming got there a lot sooner,
in 1869 becoming the first place anywhere to enfranchise women. I wondered if
I'd see either of these attractions this time, for our tour brochure had
promised a stop in Cheyenne. I was to be disappointed, for we by-passed the downtown.
There was a stop of sorts in Cheyenne, at the local Wallmart so we
could purchase a picnic lunch. These huge supermarkets seemed to me to be
rather soulless places. Our guide Nilani conceded that many in the States don't
love this chain, as they think it has driven many smaller shops out of
business. We were to experience another Wallmart later on in our tour. That one had an unsmiling security guard who stopped anyone with a
rucksack going in to the store; not a concern about security, but a fear that
people would use rucksacks for stolen goods. Viewing one’s customers as
potential thieves doesn't strike me as a good attitude towards them.
Our lunchtime stop was at Fort Laramie, a one-time military post and
now a National Historic Site. I am interested in US history and can rattle off
the names of presidents in the twentieth century, but know little about the
expansion of the country from the original 13 states right across the North
American continent. Fort Laramie was a vital stopping point for pioneers working
their way westwards along the Oregon Trail, especially before the first Transcontinental Railroad opened in
1869. It is also where a treaty was signed with Native American
tribes, acknowledging their territorial rights. Unhappily it was not long before
the treaty broke down as a result of gold being discovered in the Black Hills. When Nilani contacted us by phone in Denver, prior to the start of
the tour, I had wondered, given her unusual name, whether she was a Native
American. She is a Canadian who has lived most of her life in the States,
having married an American from whom she is now divorced. But she clearly had
great interest in, and empathy with, Native Americans. She told us that, whilst they are invariably
welcoming to tourists, most inwardly still resent the way their tribes have
been treated over the years. In Monument
Valley we had, as is customary, a Navajo guide. They like to be known as Native
Americans, not Indians: “Indians live in India.”
It did not
escape notice that the chemistry between Nilani and our driver was not good. He
took a wrong turning on the way to Fort Laramie. No- one minded as it was a
more scenic route and we were not seriously delayed. Nevertheless it was clear
that he did not know his way. He was relying on his sat-nav, but there are
times when old-fashioned map reading skills are to be preferred. I was able to
help, as I invariably take maps on holiday and had two covering the area of our
tour which were more detailed than the map that Nilani had. I was amazed when, after our fairly long break
at Fort Laramie, our driver again didn't know which way to go. I would have
expected him to have spent his free time making sure that he did know. Again my
map was needed. My guess is that Nilani was getting pretty fed up with having
to do some of the navigating, a task that the driver could reasonably be
expected to do for himself.
We crossed the
border into South Dakota so I got to see the Black Hills at last. The next day
we headed to the Mount Rushmore National Monument, the famous sculpture
depicting the heads of four presidents: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and
Roosevelt (Teddy, not Franklin). Here another disappointment - in a tour that
overall was very far from disappointing - awaited. We had been complacent about
the weather, which in Denver had been well over 80°F. Here, much further north,
it was considerably lower. Worse, it
was raining and there was poor visibility, so
much so that we couldn't actually see the sculpture. I just about managed to
discern, through the mist, the mountain itself.
I was wondering
whether we were jinxed when it comes to seeing heads carved out of
mountainsides: a number of years previously, cloud had suddenly descended in
New Hampshire, preventing us from seeing the Old Man of the Mountain. However,
just a few miles away, in weather that was now bright and sunny, we saw the
Crazy Horse Monument, also carved out of a mountain and depicting the Native
American chief of that name. This is still work in progress, with a large
educational/cultural centre also planned. It reflects the view that Native
Americans also deserve a mountainside monument.
We made our way to Wall Drug. That doesn't sound good in British
English, but in American English the meaning is wholly innocent. It is located
in the small town of Wall, gateway to the Badlands. It is
something of a South Dakota institution. Numerous billboards along the
approaching highway advertise it. The story is that, after its foundation in
1931, the store didn't do well at first, located as the owners saw it “in the
middle of nowhere”. Then they had the bright idea of erecting billboards along
the nearby highway offering free iced water to people on their way to and from
Mount Rushmore. It has thrived ever since.
The store includes a
characterful, if a little chaotic, restaurant. I had a buffalo burger.
We then visited the first of our national parks, the South Dakota
Badlands. All such visits were very thoughtfully organized with plenty of
stops. Bafflingly Nilani also put on a video of the Badlands. We ignored this:
no doubt she meant well, but why look at a video when one can see the real
thing? The Badlands are magnificent, a stunning area of buttes (isolated hills
with steep, often vertical sides and a small, relatively flat top), pinnacles,
and spires blended with the largest undisturbed mixed grass prairie in the
United States. This was a wonderful finish to the day.
We headed the next day out of South Dakota, first stopping in
Deadwood. This picturesque town retains something of a Wild West atmosphere.
The visitor might be surprised that there are several casinos. I have something
of an aversion to casinos, but consoled myself with the knowledge that they are
owned by Native Americans, bringing valuable revenue to their tribes. We had
lunch in a charming old-fashioned inn, complete with sawdust on the floor,
though our meal, Mexican tacos, might not have been on offer in Calamity's day.
While in Deadwood, we took an optional tour in a vintage bus driven
by our entertaining local guide, Dave. This took us up a nearby hill from which
there was a fine view over the town. The real point though was to visit Mount
Moriah Cemetery. Here Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok are buried alongside
each other. The visitor is told to forget about Doris Day as the life of the
real Calamity was somewhat different to that depicted in the film. For starters
she didn't marry Bill. They were friends but she ended up marrying someone
else, the name on her grave being “Calamity Jane [aka] Mrs M E Burke”.
We criss-crossed the border into or out of Wyoming several times
during our trip. We now headed back into that state where we stopped at Devil's
Tower, a huge and isolated butte and a striking sight. When we went to reboard
our bus a surprise awaited: a new bus and a new driver. No explanation was
given, but we surmised that Nilani had complained to the tour company. Sympathy
for the underdog kicked in as our departing driver looked forlorn. Our new
driver never had any trouble finding his way and he and Nilani got on like a
house on fire. We stayed overnight in Sheridan, a few miles further on.•
To be continued
