Day 3: Wherein Samara has no fun

So we've decided that we're each going to post a separate blog entry for Day 3, since we've got both computers up and running in the Super 8, here in Whitehall, Montana. So you get the Aaron perspective, and then you get the Samara perspective. You might get a little doubling up on the pictures or the anecdotes.

So today was a particularly boring day of driving. We did lots of fun stuff yesterday, so we knew today was just going to be about 8 hours on the road. By the end, we were both definitely getting tired of it.

We started off from the Days Inn in Rapid City, South Dakota. First stop after we loaded up was the Starbucks around the corner, where I got a chai tea latte, and Samara got some sort of super-sugar candy-coffee. Then it was on to more flat South Dakota.


It wasn't long until we crossed the border into Wyoming. We had considered stopping in Deadwood before we left South Dakota, but I opined that it would take longer than just an hour to do that, and I didn't want to arrive in Whitehall, Montana too late tonight.

Once into Wyoming, we stopped for gas at a Shell station, which also had a post office attached. We mailed off some postcards, and the nice German postlady told us all about the local sights. We took her advice and headed down the local road for a ways. But first, we took pictures of us with our ride.


After passing through Buelah, population 39, we took a left into the Buffalo Jump Historic Site. Our Canyonero looked nice parked in the lot there, so I snapped a photo. You can see how weighed down we are in the rear.


The Buffalo Jump is an archeological site where a pit full of buffalo bones was discovered. This natural sinkhole allowed the Native Americans to drive the buffalo into the pit, where they fell to their deaths and then were butchered for the meat and hides. That left a pit of bones at least 20 feet deep at the bottom. Archeologists are digging up the bones, but they weren't there, and the pit was covered. Nevertheless, if you're willing to brave the posted risks of rattesnakes and poison ivy, you can walk down into the sinkhole and see the metal cover that blocks the more interesting view of the actual dig. So I badgered Samara into walking down even though she was mortally afraid that a snake would eat her.


We got back on the road and pushed through to Buffalo, Wyoming, where we ate lunch at the Bozeman Trail Steakhouse. They serve a buffalo burger, which was okay, but the bacon that was on the burger was even better. We shared it, with various potato sides. Not bad.

Back on the road, and I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up, Samara informed me that we were in Montana. What can I say about Montana, other than there's a lot of it?

Oh, yes... the gas there sucks. And it's hard to find. After we got into Montana, Samara tells me that we're running low. She hasn't seen a single exit with gas since we crossed the border, and indeed, many of the exits have signs indicating "No Services." Some of these exits turn into dirt roads not more than a hundred feet after the ramp ends.

Thankfully, we made it to a small town with a gas station. The town was called, if I recall correctly, Lodge Grass. We pulled in to the only station and I snapped a picture of the pump.


Yeah, that's right. Eighty-five and a half octane. That's shit gas. So I filled up with the mid-grade 88 octane. As you can see, the 85.5 is $3.989 per gallon. The midgrade was $4.349 a gallon. I guess that's just good preparation for $6 gas in Dillingham.

The gas station in question was run by Crow Indians, on their reservation. If it weren't horribly rude, we would have gotten a picture of the guy running the place. He was very nice, but had the stereotypically craggy face of a hard-living Native American. A couple of young Native American guys came by and filled up while we were there. They were driving a beat-up pickup truck with an extra bench seat in the bed.

Back on the road, and we started seeing plenty of mountains off in the distance. It was hard to maintain speed up hills, but I really think the Canyonero is only having problems because it's so heavily loaded. Nothing else seems amiss--just low on the acceleration power up hills. I'm looking forward to the Rockies.


Finally we pulled into Whitehall, just 30 miles short of Butte (the pronunciation of which was the subject of much debate on our drive). The Super 8 didn't have our reservation, because I had screwed up and made it for tomorrow night. Oops. It was easily fixed, thankfully, and I did double-check that our reservations in Seattle are for the correct nights.

Samara asked the lady at the front desk what the best local eatery would be, and she recommended the Two-Bit Saloon. We drove down into Whitehall, and scoped out the main drag. There's a movie theater, but it's only showing one movie (Hancock) and it was starting too soon for us to catch it after dinner. So we sidled on in to the Two-Bit Saloon. What a great place!

There's no air conditioning there, but with both doors open, there was plenty of circulation. It reminded us a bit of Jamaica. They've got giant wooden tables, and a long bar. The big flatscreen TV was showing the men's marathon at the Olympics. The Africans were in the lead, not surprisingly. We ordered some food, and it turned out to be really good. I had a steak sandwich, which was really just a decent steak between two slices of toast. That came with fries, which were definitely home-cut. Samara had the chicken fingers, which were also home-made and came with fries. She tried two beers--the Harvest Moon Belgian White and the Harvest Moon Pig's Ass. The latter was apparently not up to par, so she had a glass of the Belgian White. She recommended to one of our waitresses that she order some Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale for the bar, which the waitress said she'd do. Turns out that both the young waitresses were sisters, and their parents owned the place. I'm pretty sure mom was cooking and dad was tending bar. If you're ever passing through Montana, you should stop by and eat there. It was some of the best food on the trip so far. Oh, and they made their own sauces. The ranch and bleu cheese were both really good!

Then, finally, back to the hotel, where we both have internet access, and the room is pleasantly clean. Tomorrow is the last day of driving--we push all the way through to Seattle. Somehow I failed to notice that our route includes Idaho in addition to a bit more of Montana and then Washington. I don't know what I thought--I guess I forgot that Idaho existed.

So we'll be in a hotel next to Seatac in Seattle tomorrow night. Monday we have to get the Canyonero loaded onto the ship, and then Tuesday morning, we fly to Alaska.