Last Road Trip with Rose the Tiny Tent Camper, Part the Finale; Everything Else.
At age 80, a camping road trip was ill-advised. Notwithstanding, there I wuz —
Homeward Bound
It has been over a month since I published part five of this series. Something shiny, possibly a squirrel, snagged my attention and, welp…
Matt and I were on our way home from Choteau, MT. I was beat. I couldn’t do much to help; I, who used to be able to raise and strike Rosie by myself when my late bride was unable to help, could no longer help. Matt was doing all the work and really all of the driving. I was exhausted, embarrassed, and in some pain. We had not gone nearly as far as originally planned to the Pacific in Oregon.
From Choteau to Cannon Beach, Oregon, was another 800 miles above the 1,100 we’d covered, and then we’d have to do the whole roughly 1,900 miles to get home.
Three words: fuhgeddaboudit.
Still, we would be driving past several features we both wanted to see.
Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument
I knew I couldn’t make the run home in one bite, even with both of us freeway driving (and Matt doing the lion’s share), so we would have to camp at least twice more. I wanted to make my fourth pilgrimage to the Little Bighorn Battlefield, the Greasy Grass, also known as Custer’s Last Stand.
Over June 25 and 26, 1876, the Battle of the Little Bighorn, near Crow Agency, Montana, United States, was fought between elements of the Seventh Cavalry regiment under Lt. Col George Armstrong Custer opposed by a large combined Lakota, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho force. Five of the 7th Cavalry’s twelve companies were wiped out with Custer, 210 men, including two of his brothers, a nephew, and a brother-in-law. Custer was among a total of 268 7th Cav troopers killed in what became known as the Last Stand. Tragically, every man that rode with Custer died within days of the nation’s first centennial. The Seventh overall suffered 52% casualties, rendering it combat ineffective.
The Custer story has transfixed the country since 1876. Once, it was the tragic epic of a highly decorated officer, a last-in-his-class West Pointer who so distinguished himself leading cavalry in the Civil War that he was the youngest ever to be breveted Major General. Everyone thereafter referred to Custer as The General even though he had reverted to his permanent rank of Lt. Colonel as he led the Seventh.
Over time, Custer has been portrayed as everything from a military genius to a completely reckless, arrogant fool who got his command slaughtered. The truth probably lies somewhere in between, but without a doubt, on the Greasy Grass, as we say, “Mistakes were made.”
These headstones are not grave markers. When relief arrived three days later, the dead were hastily buried where they had fallen. The markers were later placed approximately where some of the graves had been. They were all exhumed. Officers were sent home while most rank-and-file troopers were buried in a mass grave marked by an obelisk with their names.
Toward the end, the troopers desperately shot their mounts to make breastworks. The horses are honored with their own stone a short distance from the obelisk to the men who rode them. In later years it was finally recognized that First Nations people had died here, too. Stones of red granite mark where they are thought to have fallen.
The gallery below was made in the visitor center and museum.
Last one, I promise…
Scotts Bluff National Monument, Western Nebraska
WIKIPEDIA: Scotts Bluff National Monument is located west of the City of Gering in western Nebraska, United States. This National Park Service site protects over 3,000 acres of historic overland trail remnants, mixed-grass prairie, rugged badlands, towering bluffs and riparian area along the North Platte River. The park boasts over 100,000 annual visitors.
The monument’s north bluff is named after Hiram Scott, who was a clerk for the Rocky Mountain Fur Company and died near the bluff in 1828. The bluff served as an important landmark on the Oregon Trail, California Trail and Pony Express Trail, and was visible at a distance from the Mormon Trail. Over 250,000 westward emigrants passed by Scotts Bluff between 1843 and 1869. It was the second-most referred to landmark on the Emigrant Trails in pioneer journals and diaries.
Scotts Bluff County and the city of Scottsbluff, Nebraska, were named after the landmark.
Matt and I were both pretty tuckered, but there was one more sight I wanted to see: Scotts Bluff National Monument. It’s located right on the Oregon Trail just east of the North Platte River, a hop and a skip over the Wyoming state line into far western Nebraska, my home state for six years. I had never visited here because I live in Lincoln, essentially the whole state away. A 400-mile drive was once no obstacle, but I can’t physically do it anymore. I figured I had to shoot it now or never.
We struck the camp one final time and headed east to Scotts Bluff (no apostrophe). We camped at a lovely, welcoming RV park called Robidoux and hastened to the monument before it closed at sunset. I shot and shot, then we got up early the following day and I shot and shot some more. The following images were made either morning or evening. I regret that I cannot recall which, but you can see the changing light. Those fantastic skies are real, not pasted in. I was very lucky.
If you’ve ever driven the Scotts Bluff Summit Road, you have seen first hand the enduring work of two New Deal programs: the CWA and the CCC. On November 24, 1933, the CWA began construction of the summit road. The road was first referred to as the “Pass-to-Summit” highway. After the excavation of the third tunnel, all excess rock and dirt was removed from the summit road and grading and filling operations were completed so paving could begin. The concrete road was made 18 inches thick with a “buzz strip” in place of a center line. The summit road was completed and officially opened on September 19, 1937, at a cost of $200,265. A reported 550 cars used the road on the first day. — National Park Service
Will I ever do it again? Likely not. I am still recovering. On the other hand, there are still places and monuments I would like to see, such as Chimney Rock National Historic Site which is part of Scotts Bluff monument. We drove near it on the way home but neither of us had the energy. I couldn’t expect my Kidz to take the time to escort me. Maybe I could do it alone but I couldn’t camp anymore so I’d have to motel it, which is $pendy.
So, who knows?
As always, thank you for looking and reading. I truly appreciate it! 😊👍
