Time to leave our suite. ::sad face:: Before we do, Mom and I head into downtown Hill City at 9:00am MDT to take pics of the trains and peruse the downtown shops, most of which didn’t open until 10:00, but we still managed to find a few things, get back and on the road by 10:45am, a little later than I would have liked, but hey let’s see what happens.

Down Hwy 385 we go for the final time, out of the Black Hills, when soon we make a left onto Hwy 18 east, which heads into the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. A little while later, we turn up SD 27 and find ourselves at Wounded Knee. Having researched this place and the reviews, this is definitely no Disneyland attraction. The poverty level here is very high, and the place not kept up at all. We could see the memorial gravesite coming over the hill, and it appeared to have gained a small dirt road so you can drive your vehicle directly up to the front gate.

We were there about 5 minutes taking pics when one of the locals, a young guy with a ponytail comes running up to where we were and asks if we’ve heard the stories and offers a tour and to answer any questions about the site. From his demeanor I knew exactly what the game was. I was warned about panhandlers and knew what to expect. We told him we had been to the museum so we knew the story. Mom and I walked around the rest of the memorial while Dad occupied the local’s time with questions. While I was taking pictures near the far end of the memorial, the local came up and asked for a donation to “keep up the memorial,” so I gave him $5 and a bottle of water, since he did answer a lot of Dad’s questions and gave us some useful information about various parts of the memorial. I’m pretty sure that money isn’t going to where he said it is, but knowing how most of these people live, you feel like any little bit might help, and it was just enough to keep things out of awkward territory.

By the time we finished up and got back to the front gate of the memorial, another local came up on a bike and immediately started asking for “donations.” They definitely don’t waste any time when they see potential targets at the site. Although it’s a crap-shoot whether or not you’ll be approached, this is something any traveler needs to be vigilant about when coming here to pay respects to the memorial. Mom gave a few bucks to the 2 guys as we were leaving and told them to split it (even though they said they were “separate”). We spent a total of 25 minutes there.

Now comes the part I deplore, backtracking a full hour from the same direction where we came, using Hwy 18 until it once again met with Hwy 385. Unfortunately there was no other way around this, so we didn’t cross the border into Nebraska until 3:00pm (even worse, the opposing South Dakota sign at the border was missing so we have no shots at all of the sign for that state. Poops.) And we STILL had a long way to go to our next destination. A few speed limit laws had to be broken in order to get to Scotts Bluff National Monument before it closed at 5:00pm. We arrived at 4:45pm and headed inside the Visitor Center. Luckily the ranger hadn’t closed the access gate yet at his usual 4:30pm deadline, and said if we hurry he’ll let us go up to the top if we were quick about it.

We decided to sacrifice the museum exhibits inside, quickly bought our usual postcard/magnet combo and got back in the van for the 1.5 mile trip to the top of the bluff, going through 3 man-made tunnels along the way. The views of the valleys below and formations were unique in their own right. At the top, there were 2 trails, one going north for 1/2 mile, and one south for 1/8 mile. The shorter route it is! This one showed you the path of the wagons from the Oregon Trail era. We spent 15 minutes doing the quick walk and took pics where we could. It’s a good thing we didn’t dally for too long, because on the return trip to the van, the ranger was already up there waiting for the remaining stragglers to leave (us and another couple that took the longer trail). Back down the road we went, stopping to take pictures of the tunnels, knowing there wouldn’t be anyone behind us since we were the 2nd to last ones down. There were a few outdoor exhibits at the bottom, featuring mock wagons that were used on the Oregon Trail. We managed to get an hour out of this place. Good enough!

We headed back west into the neighboring town of Gering, NE. There we found a Runza restaurant, a regional fast-food joint I have not visited since Roadtrip #1, and we all had a relatively early dinner. From there we filled up the tank (having run out of free gas cards), and headed east on Hwy 92/26. However, I didn’t realize that our overnight destination was still over 100 miles away. Whoops, how did I miscalculate that one? The sun quickly set behind us and it was pitch dark for a good long while before we arrived in Ogallala, NE at 8:45pm, our latest check-in to date.

What makes it even better? An insanely full plate tomorrow. Poor us. :) Will we survive? Find out next time…