Day 30 – Livingston MT to Ranchester WY
Our drive through the Crow reservation was beautiful and peaceful. My (L) grandmother would have been so happy for us as that was a big part of her ancestry. It was important to her and seeing it touched me deeply.
We found our tiny campground and our way into our spot. And I realized this is my mecca of campground management. We checked in online. We found our spot on our own. We settled in. No one bothered us!! It was so much better than the campgrounds that give you an escort–as if you can’t read numbered spaces or map!–and beat you over the head with rules. And guess what? As far as we can tell, no one is breaking any rules or violating any campground norms.
Not long after I navigated us into the narrow spot, E declared we needed to go somewhere else while the rig cooled down. It wasn’t all that hot, but cooking in it would have been too much.
At the singular local bar and grill, we had and amazing time. E and J were fantastic bartenders. C cooked us great steaks. And the locals were (surprisingly) not racist rednecks. We stayed until closing and made plans (For real, what other plans could we make in this one-horse town?) to return. We also made plans to visit a place on the Crow Reservation at J’s other job.
When we got back to the campground, we had new neighbors and one of them was sitting outside. He was friendly, they planned on one night, and by the accent, I’d guess they are from Minnesota.
It was a fabulous night.
Day 31 – Connor Battlefield, Sheridan tattoo dude, and SuperMoon
We awoke with nothing to do. As advised by our new bartenders, we hit the local coffee shop for breakfast. They had a lot of pastries, but they also had biscuits, quiche, and frittatas.
After brunch, we went to see the one area attraction: the Connor Battlefield. Like most, it’s just a spot of land where something happened. Unlike most, however, they have turned it into an RV campground with a few signs telling the history of the spot. We drove through; it’s a pretty little campground along a river.
For the afternoon, we drove over to Sheridan. It’s a cute little town with shops and bars and cafes. It’s under a massive street construction right now. The guy who owns the tattoo parlor there is about to skip the country to avoid a debt (and I’m guessing back taxes, too). He’s a real “gem” of a human. So, we left.
When we got back to the rig, we both crashed into naps.
For dinner, we headed back to the one bar & grill. The bar was full, so we took a table. We wanted to be close and convenient, so we took a high top near the bar. I asked E if that was okay since it was a 6-top. She looked around and said yes. I told her if they got hit by a big group, we’d be glad to move. Welp, I did it. Sure enough, in less than an hour, the whole place was full of construction crews, families, double dates, and more. Every time a new group came in, E said, “this is your fault” and I replied with, “I’m sorry. You’re welcome.”
Our friend J alerted me to the SuperMoon of the night, so we rounded out our evening with a short drive to a hilltop so we could see it.
Day 32 – Tongue River, Chuck, and bigotry
Despite a rude neighbor heading out loudly by running his diesel truck for far too long, his wholly-undisciplined dogs, and the trash truck, we slept in.
After lunch, we found a couple of roads for the Jeep. One led to a trail head along the Tongue River. It was short and beautiful! Along that road, we saw someone who seemed to be living in his car. He was picking berries. Another short drive let us up a small mountain to a scenic overlook that was very pretty.
On the way back to our campground, we stopped at the one bar (and it’s for sale!) where we were greeted by the sweetest little chihuahua, Angel. We also met the most eccentric character in the “twin cities,” Chuck. He’s quite intelligent and talks as though he’s never going to come up for air. He brought tiny grapes to share and flowers for the bartender/owner, and unique rocks to show off. Guess where we had seen him before? Yep, those weren’t berries he was picking; they were tiny (and ripe) grapes. His eccentricities are a part of why he’s being persecuted, but he’s a lot more than his appearance. Dayton Mayor Clifford Reed needs to understand this.
From there, we headed back to “our” town and back to our restaurant/bar. There, we enjoyed our food and chatting with the staff and guests. Until….
…we left when someone walked in wearing a confederate flag hat. Um, no! We left the bar a good review, but with some pointed comments.
