Going south

After leaving the buffalo-jump place, we were ready to go back to the U.S.A.  We weren't going straight home, though, because I wanted to see the Black Hills and the Badlands of South Dakota.  The interstate took us right past there anyhow, and I had not seen that part of the country since I was a teenager.  
There was a duty-free store just before we crossed over the Canadian border.  I had been looking everywhere for a Canada sweatshirt to take home as a souvenir, and anything I found was either overpriced or had a hood on it.  We keep our house pretty cool in wintertime, so I wear sweatshirts inside a lot, and can always use another one; don't need the hood, though.  Luckily, I found what I was looking for right there on the border, at a reasonable price.
As we were waiting in line to cross back into our own country, we watched a guard carefully searching the car ahead of us.  My heart sank, not because we had anything we shouldn't have, but because the back seat and trunk were so full, and everything was so messy (wet tent, remember?) that it would be embarrassing to have it all searched.  However, we were asked a couple of simple questions and waved on our way.  
Towns are few and far between in Montana, and many of the towns you do find are tiny.  All of them seem to have a casino, though, stuck in the back of a gas station.  According to the GPS, we would arrive in Billings between five and six o'clock.  Billings is a big city spread out over a long, narrow valley, and we were confident we would be able to pull off the Interstate and get a room with no problem.  
What we didn't know was that the state fair was going on in Billings.  Every motel in town was booked up.  I searched on the GPS for motels in Billings and called half a dozen before I finally gave up.  We stopped at a Wendy's and got something to eat, because things didn't look too promising on down the road as we looked at the map.  
It was almost eight o'clock when we found an old-but-clean motel in Stanford, Montana, a town even smaller than our little town; I'm sure the only reason there was a motel there at all is that it's in the heart of hunting country.  
A couple had parked their Harley and were checking in just ahead of us; when they mentioned they were going to Sturgis, I panicked:  We were going to arrive in the Black Hills at the start of the Sturgis rally!  Once again, our timing was awful.  Would we find a motel there, with thousands of bikers visiting?  This time there was no tent to fall back on; we left it at a dumpster in mid-Montana.  
Here we go again!

Another day in Canada

Sunset motel had no vacancies by the time I woke up Saturday morning.  I was a little disappointed that I couldn't get their free Internet to work for me, but I decided not to make an issue of it.  We took Cliff's sister's two wet chairs inside the room when we first arrived and set them up so they could dry.  The tent was still in the trunk, slowly mildewing.  We had not yet found a big enough dumpster (or one with a big enough opening) to throw the tent in.  

This was next door to the motel.  It had been a long time since I had seen an A&W.  Cliff and I were amused by the fact that the place was open for breakfast.  Root beer for breakfast, anyone?  

The Fort Macleod museum opened at 9 A.M., but we went a half-hour early and strolled through historic downtown.  Nothing was open, but it was fun looking at the old buildings.  

If the timing had been right, we could have done a tour of the Empress theater.  

When the fort museum opened, we bought our tickets (AAA discount, by the way) and proceeded to learn the history of the North West Mounted Police.  I think Cliff read every single word there!  I was watching the time because there was a musical ride coming up that I didn't want to miss.  When it finally started, I couldn't find Cliff.  He was still in the first room of the museum, reading and learning.  He finally heard the commotion, though, and joined me.    

I really enjoyed the musical ride.  It went on for quite a while, and the horses were well coordinated throughout.  Cliff and I wondered what breed they were, so I asked:  turns out they were all quarter horses.  I'm used to looking at 'Tude as an example of a quarter horse, so these horses seemed smallish to me.  

After spending two or three hours at the fort, we traveled a few miles (or should I say kilometers?) to the middle of nowhere to see the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo jump.  Because, you know, I love stuff about Indians.  It's a spot where, for many centuries, native Americans drove buffalo over a cliff to kill them for food and clothing.  When I told Cliff I wanted to visit the place, he said, "What's the point?  All you're going to see is a cliff."  

I showed him their website on my Ipad to let him know there was an interpretive center there:  We would see more than just a cliff in the middle of nowhere.  

 This is the sight that greeted us as we entered the building.  

 It seemed like we could see forever.  When we got to the end of this walk, there was an Indian fellow sitting there sharing stories about the native people.  

 There, on the rock in the middle of the picture... can you see the marmot?  

We both thought the sky seemed bluer in Montana and Canada.  Less pollution, maybe?  

On a side note, the glaciers in Glacier National Park are almost all gone, thanks to global warming.  I guess if we can live without the dinosaurs that disappeared long ago, we can live without the glaciers.  "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper."  

That's such a solemn note on which to end this entry, I'm going to lighten it up a little.  My pesky photographer friend has been playing with my vacation pictures, and here's what you get: