One dam thing after another

Chamberlain to Lower Brule, South Dakota Monday, July 19, 2021

I thought it was Churchill, but it was actually Arnold Toynbee who said “history is just one damn thing after another”. I love that quote, just as I love history. Today I crossed my second Missouri River dam, the Big Bend Dam, which impounds Lake Sharpe without so much as waiting for Lake Francis Case to end. You’d think it’d have a little respect. There’s a doozy coming up at Pierre, stay tuned.

Fittingly, Big Bend Dam was completely unremarkable, not even worth photographing. All it meant was another big climb out of the Missouri Valley. I only did 36 miles today, to the last motel before Pierre, the Golden Buffalo casino. These casinos are getting depressing, they are all the same, with a smattering of customers operating the slots without emotion, slowly blowing money they don’t appear to be able to afford to lose. Every so often someone will win something, but it all appears to vanish a few moments later. Like the lottery, a poverty tax. Only this time it’s going to the First Nations, so I guess there’s some solace in that, that the former fleecees are now the fleecers.

The day started with a humorous coda to the stuck water bottle incident, I came back from the bathroom and my friends had all left, but there was this note.

The day was short, but involved one damn hill after another, in the ever-increasing heat. That’s why I needed the motel, the only campground had “no water”, was over one more huge hill, and it was not supposed to go below 80 tonight, unpleasant for camping.

I’ll have to go over that hill and five others tomorrow on the way to Pierre, again with no services, 60 miles this time. High of 96°. I need to get an early start, but the restaurant here does not open until 10 AM. There is no other food in town. After a roast beef dinner, I ordered the least-greasy meal available in a doggy bag, a chicken roll with french fries to keep in the fridge overnight, I will try to microwave it in the morning and choke it down before leaving at sunrise. From the vending machines, I bought three bottles of water, two root beers, and two bags of Cheetos for the least-stomach churning calories I could find. We’ll see how that flies.

There was some serendipity, I guess. I opened my cooking/food pannier for the first time in days, to see if I could make room for all this liquid. I had brought a frying pan and a little six-egg holder. Two and a half weeks ago, at that campground right before Charles Mound, I bought some farm fresh eggs, which reportedly can last a month if not washed or refrigerated. I had eaten three of them that first day. Now I discovered the egg case was leaking yolk, and was just beginning to smell rotten. Only a couple of things inside were contaminated, and I was able to clean things out without too much difficulty. If I’d waited one more day in this heat, it could have been a very different story.

The egg case was triple-wrapped in plastic and discarded in a bin outside, and I will ship the frying pan back home tomorrow. I’d only cooked eggs that one time anyway, in three months.

Distance 36 miles, 4,143 total. Time 5 hours with stops. Elevation gain 1,535 feet

©️ 2021 Scott Luria