Oregon Trail - Part Seven

I roll into Devils Tower and make some photos. Perfect timing lands me there at golden hour; blame the wasted time in Deadwood. I brag about this to a friend of mine; "Go fuck yourself," he says. I reply that this is what everyone here has been telling me as I distractedly try and swat the flies off of my elk/bison burger (it's gamey) and indeed, away from my water. I wonder what the flies like about the water. I know they like me on account of I'm full of shit. Anyway, Deadwood is mostly a attraction which has been entirely rebuilt, because essentially every building in Deadwood has burned down at least once. Much like the RV trailer I pass on the side of the road. The cops are there and it looks like everyone's okay, but I don't stick around. I see a guy who looks just like Wild Bill Hickock, and I can't decide whether he's a costume character, or just a character. Halloween, I reflect, is just around the corner. As is Wyoming, so I beat feet.

I book a room at the Hulett Motel in a town of under 400 people, many of whom seem to work in establishments to serve the Devils Tower tourism industry. Things in the town are expensive as a rule, perhaps due to higher cost of bringing them in to the remote location, but the motel is very reasonably priced and discounted on account of it being nearly empty.

I crack my Three Floyds/Mikkeller Majsgoop (y'know, 'majs' like corn). It smells hoppy in a gnarly way, and taste kinda follows. Not at all like corn, mostly just a big American barleywine.Hoppy, but not completely unmanageable. Maybe I needed to save this for a couple years. I don't even save it for a day, and toss the last couple sips rather than exacerbate the next morning's headache.

I shake that headache with some food from the café next door and steep some tea. I take it to go and head back to Devils Tower. I pass on some overpriced sunscreen and regret it, paying more for less at the profiteer establishments outside the park. It occurs to me that this is a more sensible business model, making more money from fewer purchases, than the hotel's policy of discounting during low demand, but I'm thankful for it. The Motel is nice, the clerk at the front desk had a long conversation with me about life, photography, and my fake northern accent, and it's the first place I've stayed in for two nights in a row. I make sure to make positive mention of the place, because I have told her about this blog.


Anyway, I buy the hotel and just as I get to the ranger station, the ranger is explaining how there's going to be a solar eclipse today. Go figure, on the day I pay too much for sunscreen. I should've bargained, but the clerk had a radio voice that can outmatch mine any day so it might've been in vain.

I get back and have dinner and a New Glarus Pie Lust. I have to read the label before I realize what has struck me about the beer; it's a wheat beer. And to be honest, it doesn't taste much like pumpkin or pie spice at all. But then, Apple Jacks don't taste like apple. Smells spicy though,