After we woke and broke camp, we decided to make the short trip over to Mt. Rushmore since we were so close. Overall it was pretty boring, and I wasn’t thrilled with having to pay $10 for the privilege of standing under its shadow.

I ‘m not saluting here, just shading my eyes as I look out over the Black Hills (where we’d just camped). A more impressive sight than the mountain sculpture behind us.

I’m glad we packed sweatshirts. The temperatures range from 50 degrees during the night to almost 90 during the day.

These little info placards were the only real “exhibits” they had at the monument, other than the mountain sculpture itself. A bit of a rip-off for $10, considering all the great things we’d seen at, for example, the Philly Art Museum, for a similar price.

Logan encounters a random mountain goat.

After that brief excursion, we started the long drive from South Dakota through Wyoming and into Montana. We’d originally planned to go to Missoula, where there is supposedly some good hiking and outdoorsy stuff, but most of the people in Missoula who were couch surfing hosts said they were going to be down in Butte for the National Folk Festival.

Well, we needed to go somewhere in Montana because the distance to Seattle was just too great for a single day drive. So off to Butte for us. I had my expectations low (though Logan was excited about going to something called a hootananny (sp)). Those expectations were shattered however during the most surreal 36 hours of my life.

We got to Butte around 6 PM, and the craziness started immediately. But I’m going to save that story for another post.

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