Thursday, October 3, 2013
Today marks my last day of work at Wall Drug, a tourist mecca located off Interstate 90 next to the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. I was scheduled to end on Monday, but was asked to stay on a little longer. I am told we can expect some snow, about 8 inches, according to the Weather Channel. So I've decided to wait out the storm before heading East. It's crazy. Four days ago, it was 95 degrees.
Friday, October 4, 2013
11 a.m.
By now, I had thought I would be heading into the NYC area, if not already there. But things change and so I sit in howling prairie winds of about 50 mph in the Badlands of South Dakota, enduring two days of rain, now sleet. This early-season snow is now expected to be up to 24 inches in the area, but thus far it has not turned to snow. For the first time in my wandering, I feel marooned -- and it is not so bad.
I have heat, plenty of provisions and while I don’t have Internet, I have electric with which to write on the computer and watch cable television. I have just spent an hour listening to the Beatles and now Abba fills my ears. It is time to think, meditate and put thoughts to paper.
I had expected to leave about three days ago. My summer job had been scheduled to end at the end of September, but I was asked to work an extra three days. It was fine with me as I needed a few more dollars and the people I worked for were very kind and supportive. But with the extension of work, there was also a bit of chaos as the government shut down. Most of my friends live in fairly populated areas. I live in a small town of 800 and the nearest town of any consequence is Rapid City, about 50 miles away.
Wall is located at the west entrance to Badlands National Park, and much of the town depends on the tourist trade from that park, as well as the mini-empire built by the owners of Wall Drug, a major secondary tourist destination. The only thing like it that I know of is South of the Border at the North-South Carolina border along Interstate 95 along the Atlantic Coast.
Many of our visitors just don’t know where to go next. They were able to get into the National Park and see some of it, but the scenic overlooks were blocked off by cones, and in the middle of the “loop” there is a roadblock with police sending people back out the way they came. I don’t know how this barricade can be enforced as the road is a state highway leading to another small town called Interior, which has a population of 80.
At this time of year, kids are in school and the weather is usually good. It is a time when many older folks travel in bus tours. Groups ranging form 25 to 60 or so come through our area on the way to the Badlands and Mt. Rushmore, about 90 minutes from here. But even though the road is somewhat open, it’s impossible for a bus to turn around on the narrow roads. I am told that police are issuing tickets near Mt. Rushmore for those who pull over to take a photo of the monument from down the road. There is a way to get a great view of Mt. Rushmore by travelling along a road through Black Hills National Forest but it is too narrow and tunnels too low to accommodate buses or RVs.
The incredible beauty of the Badlands National Park attracts thousands of people every day and with the government shutdown, bus tours were changing plans. The threat of snow added to the problem and they started heading south -- an economic disaster for the town.
I talked to a tour director who was looking for an alternative attraction, suggesting the nearby Minuteman missile silo, Custer State Park’s famous wildlife loop and the casinos at Deadwood. But after that first day, the buses pretty much stopped coming through Wall, utterly destroying the town’s economic structure. People were told not to come in and a skeleton staff held the fort. Why? Because the buses have stopped coming. On Monday, we had about a dozen. By Wednesday, there were none. Yesterday, there were two, both headed eastbound in an effort to veer away from the storm.
And the tourists were not very happy. They spent very little. I joked a lot with them and did my sales routine for our empty bottles of snake oil medicine, and I got many laughs and smiles. But most of them felt trapped with the bus as they were going places they really didn’t plan on going.
The blizzard is another factor as buses change directions, heading south.
As I spoke to people, I learned that they are mostly either conservatives or liberals. There seemed to be no middle ground. Each side blamed the other. But there was one thing they all agreed upon with me. The fact is, at this point both sides are determined to win. And the demand to be the winner is destroying the country. It reminds me of the later years of my marriage. And as I look upon it, I realize how both of us were so immature about it. There was no avenue to compromise. And so it is in our political arena. It makes no sense to me, but plenty of nonsense exists.
The winds continue to pound the trailer. In Wyoming, about an hour from here, Interstate 90 is closed as high winds have created white-out conditions. I am content to just sit in my wind-blown trailer and write. Even without snow yet on our section of Interstate 90, I would not like to be on the road towing the trailer in the ice and high winds. It has been raining since last night and a large puddles dot the landscape. I checked out the area around my trailer and discovered my 30-amp line was in one of them, so I removed it and placed it in a higher position. This is an area where many wagon trains moved through as they followed the Oregon Trail and the Mormons headed to Utah and the prospectors rushed to California. I think about how tough conditions were, as people had to reach their goals before the winter set in. My trailer seems small and fragile, but both gas and electric heat and some hot cocoa, which was heated up, in my microwave, comfort me. It seems I have little to complain about.
My neighbors have left. Fran and Valerie, the ones on my left, are now in Arizona while Paul, my right-side neighbor, is holding up in a motel while his RV is being serviced in Rapid City, about 50 miles away. We weren’t as close as many neighbors are, but that is none of our faults. All of us are older and we came home tired from work and wanted to do little but rest. There were no outdoor activities such as cookouts because the flies are nasty and aggressive. Fly swatters are one of the biggest selling items in the store.
The town’s homecoming football game was scheduled for tonight. I haven’t a clue if it is still scheduled, but many of the town’s social activities surround the high school athletic activities. The school has about 150 children and of the 70 or so boys; about 50 of them play football. One of the executives at the store philosophically stated that at least the storm would bring “football weather.” I noticed that one of the major South Dakota colleges has its games in an arena. In such a small town, the football team is in a league where only nine players, instead of the usual 11, play at the same time. I had hoped to view the game and take a few photos. I grew up loving high school football and liked to photograph it in my days as a newspaper reporter.
Anyhow, the wind continues to blow; the trailer continues to shake and I am contemplating another mug of cocoa to go with my lunch. I’m not sure when I will begin to head east, but it’s time to trust God that things will work out and I need to be patient and wait for His guidance.
4:30 p.m.
The snow has finally arrived. It is supposed to last through the night. We’ve gotten about a couple of inches so far. I was napping when the man next door knocked on my door and let me know the store, and most of the town, had closed down – something unthinkable in normal weather. We’ve also cancelled the homecoming football game. According to the CBS affiliate in Rapid City, Interstate 90 is closed from here to the Wyoming border. I suppose this is good for the town as travelers will be able to stay at local motels.
There is snow in the trees and it is clinging to them despite high winds. The station says we’re getting 40 mph winds with gusts to 65 mph. I’ve seen a few branches go down and I’m concerned that the tree next to my rig might be next. I’ve watched the trunk wiggle slightly, but the wind is blowing away from the trailer. Power is still working here, though the cable system tends to go out for a few moments. Toward the west in the Black Hills, thousands are without power.
I was soaked this morning when I took the dog out. Since then, I’ve let him out several times, but he does not want to take a dump without me with him. So I suppose I’ll have to get out my boots and walk him. I normally am walking three-to-five miles a day. But I’m not going to expose myself to these elements.
Pup wanted nothing to do with the snow and rain. I had to fight him to go out. He decided to drag his bed onto the rug and just hang out.
Wild weather is happening all over the country. About 300 miles to my east, there are tornados near Sioux City, Iowa, which I went through as I headed west last year. In the meantime, there is a major tropical storm in the Gulf of Mexico and the Weather Channel says that conditions in California could cause several forest fires. I suppose some will say this is the result of global warming. All I know is five days ago it was 97°. At least the flies have disappeared!
I don’t have Internet service and I sort of wanted to post information on Facebook as the storm continues. But I also find myself feeling liberated from it. The phone works just fine and even though it’s not a “smart” phone, I can still text and send photos to people. I may be alone, but I’m not quite isolated.
It’s about 45 minutes since I started writing this and we’ve added another inch of snow. I’ve just grilled a small steak and nuked some veggies and I’ve got plenty of food. Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.
10 p.m.
I was semi-asleep when suddenly my C-PAP sleep unit stopped working. I got up and dressed to go outside to re-set the circuit breaker. As I went outside, I realized the street light was off. The entire town was in darkness. There were many times I wished the light would go off. It is directly over my front area and many nights its light has seeped into my interior and kept me awake.
There is complete darkness. While the snow is only a couple of inches at this point, there is, of course, no starlight. Even the ambient light from the nearby Interstate highway traffic is gone as the road is shut down. The trailer has both gas and electric heat so I turned on the gas system before going to bed for the night.
Saturday October 5, 2013
6 a.m.
My bladder awoke me. It is still dark and, after taking care of my business, it was Pup’s turn to go out. I tried to open the door and it wouldn’t budge. I checked the locks and realized the door was unlocked. I pushed hard and the door started to open. It is blocked by snow. Eight hours ago, there was only an inch or two. Now, the drift in front of me is at least four feet deep. Pup has to be pushed out. He is not very happy about it. A Florida native, he has rarely seen snow, and then only a few inches. The worst he experienced was in October of 2011 when we got about six inches of snow in a freak October snowstorm while we were in Virginia. The snow is at least four times taller than him and he is very upset. He desperately scrambled back into the trailer, his business undone. We still had no power.
I made a call to my girlfriend in New Jersey to let her know I was safe. She had seen the storm on the news and was concerned. After I hung up, the phone crashed. I had not bothered to re-charge it. I figured I could give it a brief charge after daylight via the outlet in my truck.
10 a.m.
It is now daylight. And as I forced the door open, I realized that there is no way I’m going to reach the truck. This isn’t just a drift by the trailer. The entire area is covered in two to four feet of snow. The wind is blowing hard. There is still no power. I had to literally kick pup out the door with my foot. He wanted nothing to do with the nightmare outside the door. And he still refused to go.
From my door to my truck, wind had created drifts as much as 5 feet against the truck and trailer.
I decided to get dressed and go out to plow a small path for him with my body. As I went outside, I realized just how bad the snowfall was. My pick-up truck was covered with snow up to the windows. I can barely see the top part of my picnic table. I sort-of plowed a small walk with my legs and came back in to get the dog. I placed him into it and he looked confused and forlorne. It is like he is in a canyon with walls more than four times his height. And he still isn’t going. After a few minutes, I let him back inside. He dragged his bed over the throw rug for maximum warmth and went back to sleep.
The snow is supposed to be over in a few hours, but the wind remains, causing white-out conditions. I tried to take a couple of photos, but the auto-focus mode isn’t working. It can find no contrast and I have to manually focus it. I went back into the trailer and had some breakfast. Without power, there is no toast and the eggs are being cooked over the stove. I normally have cereal for breakfast, but I am out and the oatmeal I planned can’t be cooked unless I boil water, which I won’t do when the trailer shakes as it was doing. But at least I have heat and battery-powered lights. With the power out, people all over town don't have these things.
From my trailer to the neighbor -- high winds caused white out conditions, closing down everything, including the Interstate highway.
After that, I decide to write – on paper as the computer is out with no power. The gas heat continued to work but I began wondering if I would run out of propane as I had not refilled the tanks all summer. I also tried to remember if I have a shovel with my tools. It was a moot point as my storage doors were completely under snow.
It’s supposed to be in the 40s tomorrow and in the 50s on Monday. I wondered if this will be good enough to get me out of here. But I was thinking that I probably won’t move for another five days. I have friends from Florida in New Jersey and I hope I will get there in time to see them. I kept trying to focus on something I learned a long time ago – if it was meant to happen, it will happen.
In the meantime, I went back to bed with a book.
Noon
It’s quite bright now and though it is impossible to know if the snow has stopped, I can feel sections of snow that have been clinging to the trailer starting to drop off. Getting out the door remains a problem as drifting continues to block it. I can barely open it now. Pup finally has decided his bladder can’t take any more and he creates some yellow marks. Nothing brown is in sight. The only electrical device that I have that works is my Kindle. It too, needs recharging; but I’m using it to figure out what time it is.
Despite the high winds, snow still clings to the trees, almost desperate, it seems, not to be blown into the infinite prairie. I continue to watch the trees sway, especially the trunks, hoping that one will not destroy the trailer. I just herd a noise like a huge cat pawing my front. It’s the snow dropping off the curved front of my trailer. As I write this, the winds continue to rage. I don’t know how far east the storm is heading. I have, of course, experienced many blizzards. East Coast ‘noreasters are always a fact of winter life. But I can’t remember high winds for so long.
Until the blizzard hit, I was walking 4-6 miles each day. I realize that I probably will never do so again unless I return here in the future. It saddens me somewhat. The mile-and-a-half loop I have taken through town and out towards the highway has become a part of me. I will miss it as I try to find a new walking route in New Jersey and wherever I go from there.
I am reminded of a scene from the last Harry Potter movie where Harry, apparently dead, visits a place called Kings Crossing. The area is surrounded by white clouds and it is hard to discern any details. The thought of this being a temporary tomb for me is upsetting. I realize that without a phone I am truly isolated and alone. I hate the snow. I have been to the South or the Oregon Coast over the last few years. My soul seems to not want to accept a return to Eastern winters, something I must do if I am to continue my relationship with my girlfriend. I think I am being subjected to another lesson in patience. I can’t wait to get out of here. I want to be with her and the delay is unbearable.
Hooray! The power has returned. The television has lept into life and the Weather Channel is on. The storm will end later today, and the temperature will rise somewhat. But winds approaching 50 mph are constant. Deadwood, a town a little more than an hour away, has gotten more than 50 inches of snow. The channel says we’ve gotten about two feet. But the wind chills make it feel like 18 degrees. Ironically, it’s in the 80s where I want to be.
After about 20 minutes, power is again lost. So it’s back to bed and book. While the heat keeps me from becoming too cold, thee is a draft ad it is not pleasant.
As the storm ended, this jackrabbit took refuge under my trailer. I suppose his hole was snowed in.
4 p.m.
The power is once again back on. As I look outside, there is the sun trying to peek out behind the storm clouds. The snow seems to have stopped, but the wild winds continue. Most of the snow has blown off the trees now and the top of the snow is covered with leaves and branches. There is a wild pattern of drifts. On my door side, it they exceed five feet. On the other side, you can see patches of grass. I nuked some food in the hopes of having a hot dinner. I will reheat it in an hour or so. The gas heat is again off while the electric heat is blasting away. The Interstate remains closed and I suspect it will be until tomorrow. I haven’t a clue when, or if, my street will be plowed. Anyhow, it’s time to also start thinking about packing for the trip. I’m not sure what I want to do, but everything except the computer desk should get done in the next day or so. After that, hopefully, I will be able to load things into the bed of the truck and hitch up.
The television is my company at the moment, but it’s time to get off the Weather Channel and be entertained. Perhaps I will compare the views of Fox News and MSNBC and see who’s blaming who about the government shutdown. I’ve been so isolated, I don’t even know if it is shut down. Maybe I’ll watch an episode or two of NCIS or a college football game where weather has not cancelled out the day.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
5 a.m.
My bladder wakes me up and as I start to get up, I realize that I am quite warm and comfortable. The winds have stopped and the drafts no longer are a factor. I look out the window and realize that even though it is still dark snow is beginning to melt. It is the beginning of the end.
7:30 a.m.
They’ve plowed the roads. I have no clue how I’m getting outta here but I want to get out of Dodge. I want to go where the sun is shining and the snow is non-existent. I discover there has been enough snowmelt for me to check out the town and get some food. I had everything, but am used to having fruit. The food store is open and I thank the owner for coming in. He didn't. He was trapped in the store and slept in the office. I go to the Subway sandwich shop at the gas station, hoping to snarf some breakfast. They can't open it until the manager gets in. The power outage has crashed the registers and she is the only one who knows how to reboot them.
Noon
The snowmelt is now quite a bit. Yet there are still places where drifts create havoc. I take a walk through the town both to see what happened and to get some exercise after being confined for days. As I begin my two-mile walk, I meet the store's general manager, Mike. He tells me that the store is closed for a second day and there has been much food spoiled due to the power outage. Rather than try to salvage it, they have thrown it out and will let insurance handle the lost. That's hundreds of meals.
The town's community center was closed as drifts were nearly at the top of the doors, even after a day of snowmelt.
That's me standing in front of some plowed snow at the gas station. Notice how quickly the snow was melting, which created more hazards.
Dozens of truckers found whatever place they could to park and headed for motels to ride out the storm. The Interstate was closed Thursday night hours before the snow hit the area.
Even after a day of melting, most of my picnic table remained under snow. Note all the holes from leaves and small branches the wind blew from trees.
Huge plows had to be used to clear the Interstate.
Buffalo Gap National Grasslands offices were closed due to the government shutdown. Walks went unshoveled and the four-wheel vehicles the rangers had remained locked in the garage.
After half the snow melted, the drift over this car reached the second floor of a local motel.
While the roads in town are now passible, the Interstate remains closed. Towards Rapid City, a rescue worker I meet at the Subway store tells me that while most of the Interstate is clear, there have been incredible drifts that have formed under bridges and still need plowing.
I talk to a couple of truckers and they tell me they have been in Wall since Thursday night. The Interstate was closed even before the snow arrived because it was already in Rapid City and there is nothing to speak of between Wall and Rapid, I observe dozens of trucks parked along the towns roads as well as at the truck stop. Most headed for motels immediately, so the motels were packed despite the weather.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
8 a.m.
My site has had enough melt to clear. I hitch up and head east, even though I had to leave a hose and television cable at the site as they were still way too deep under snow to get out. It takes a few hours, but I finally am out of the snow. By 4 p.m. I arrive in Sioux Falls. It is 79 degrees!
* * *
I wrote the following on September 30th, just before the parks closed. It, too, is a part of my recent life and I would like to share it.
* * *
Monday, Sept. 30. 2013
I don’t know very much about Macedonia. I know that it used to be part of Yugoslavia. But I probably couldn’t find it on a map without looking a bit – which is rather embarrassing for a former social studies teacher. In fact all I know about the country is it is where Alexander the Great was from (not Greece as most people think) and that Yugo cars were probably the worst automobiles inflicted on the American public.
But the company I work for uses a lot of foreign students through an exchange program for summertime employment. And one of them was Ana, who spent the season with her boyfriend here. Ana and I recently starting working together and as we talked during slow periods, I discovered that she had done little sightseeing, just a visit to Mt. Rushmore. And though the pair will have departed for a tour of New York, Philadelphia and Washington, DC, they never visited the Badlands National Park, which is only a few miles away. These students don’t have cars and while some of the locals take them places, the pair weren’t able to go to what I feel is the most beautiful place in North America.
Anyhow, I arranged to change shifts with someone and decided to take them on a three-hour tour before going to work. We left at 8 a.m., an hour after sunrise. This is a good time to tour because you can catch the most brilliant colors of this incredible fantasy of geology. As we headed to the Badlands, the couple adored the farmland and ranches. They were rarely out of town and had not viewed the vast agricultural community of the prairies. In a few more miles, we reached the entrance of the park. When you are a geezer like me, you can get a “senior pass” where you spend $10 once and you and the party in your car are admitted to every national park in the country for the rest of your life. The trip was free and the only expense I had was a few gallons of gas.
As we moved through each scenic overlook, the “oohs” gave way to “wows” and “amazings” and finally, to “this is the best day ever.” I had had my doubts about taking this trip, but they were all gone over the 24-mile loop we took. Over the summer, we had sold many souvenirs, postcards, and stuffed animals of prairie dogs. We passed through a major prairie dog town several miles long and the kids finally got to see these creatures, which they adored.
We made a pit stop at the visitor center and the kids got some chips (they hadn’t had breakfast) and I bought them some raspberry candy sticks. They had never experienced this incredible taste. After that, we went to the most scenic locale for a few last shots before heading back to town. On the way back, I pointed out a building where there was once a nuclear missile control bunker and then took them to a decommissioned missile silo. We got back into town and I arrived only a few minutes late for work. After work, I put the photos I took of them on a disk and printed a couple of photos of them together as well as one of the three of us. They gave me many thanks and I went back to my trailer for dinner.
It was a far better treat for me to share something I loved than for them, though it was an incredible experience. It got me thinking about the times I was in Europe. Hospitality can make a fantastic experience for all. Yet while we sometimes can go out of our way for someone from another country, what if we began a “host mentality” for everyone? What if we reached out to others and shared things that we find special?
Or is that what most people do? Is this just something new for me?
