Bonesteel part 2 (arrival and Fall Fest)
brianbonsteel
Sep 22
5 min read
Day 2
Evening: setting the tone by putting on Gunsmoke on the motel TV. The hot water (all across South Dakota so far) is unrepentantly hot. The shower did me well: I'll try to recall today's events.
Anxious dreams about missing flights, losing luggage, forgetting my wallet. Disappointing, expensive omelette from the sports bar in the morning, but had to eat something prior to shoving off West towards Gregory. Rough start to the day. Checked out, connected my rental car with my phone so at least music would shorten the journey, and waved goodbye to the giant cow on the side of the road.
Scenery quickly became pastoral and hilly, flatter than I'd imagined. I was expecting mountains, but hills, plateaus and plains are regular. Despite the slight chill and drizzle, generally pleasant drive with lots of interesting spots to pull over and attempt a photo- at the crest of one tall hill (not mountain), a perfectly symmetrical division of alternating hills with black cows grazing contentedly in neat formation. By the time I'd registered the image, I'd driven far past it and lost the shot. That's gonna bother me all week.
At some point Google Maps suggested I take an alternate route, which would delay my arrival in Gregory by 8 minutes, but why not? Directions led to dirt roads, most of which were flanked on either side by overgrown ravines, tumbling down hundreds of feet. Grateful traffic was light (a car every three or four minutes) as some of the lanes were disconcertingly narrow. Took a few photos along the way. Always missed the best shot but tried to compensate with other views along the way. The resulting images never match what I have in my mind's eye.
A scenic overpass just before the Fort Randall Dam, leading up a narrow dirt road to a mist-cloaked cliff, but the subsequent sign read "Unmaintained road" and looking up, decided I didn't feel confident in this mini-SUV's off-road capabilities to risk it.
Along the way copious cows, freshly shorn sheep, windmills, ranches.
Trying to ascertain, staring into the small patches of overgrown nature on the fringes of farms, how the region looked before the advent of development and agriculture. I feel once again that I've arrived too late to the party- three centuries too late- to witness what the country is supposed to look like.
In small settlement of Wagner, bought a water as an excuse to use the bathroom at Dollar General. Spoke to the clerk- her nametag read DreamingSpirit. Native American influence is pronounced here. "I wouldn't want to live anywhere else," she said, but couldn't precisely say why.
Approached my namesake town, Bonesteel, and decided to take a selfie at its entrance despite my natural inclination to be behind a camera lens. After hours of no/limited traffic, suddenly cars start rolling down the highway with frustrating regularity as I try to get a photo/video of myself in front of the sign sans interruption. I manage it after a few attempts (forgot to bring a small tripod for my camera, balanced it precariously on my windshield.)
Bonesteel resembles a frontier town- wide main street with aged brick buildings on either side. At the local coffee shop near the end of one row of closed businesses, a white girl with blue hair and the unlikely name of Lakeisha points out to me yellowed historical photos on the walls during Bonesteel's heyday (1920s). Filmed the photos and captions for later review.
Drove on a few miles, stopped at a thrift store in Burke. Purchased VHS tape of a movie I'd been thinking about and a trucker hat representing Scotland Oil Co, Scotland, SD, chatting with the ladies running the shop about the importance of physical media. Lady says "I still keep all my son's Nintendo games." I commended her decision.
Text from JMe, for whom I'm doing this photo assignment. Meet up at Gregory Lanes, bowling alley, one of "3 restaurants" in town. Un-glamorous, un-pretentious. JMe with her two nieces in tow. They were running a bet as to what I'd look like. The guess was brown hair, brown eyes, glasses. 1/3 correct anyway. Ate a salad with chicken and "Dorothy Sauce," a local Thousand Island/French dressing crossover. Nobody bowling.
Met and chatted with Liz, president of the Chamber, regarding the local community, etc. Evidently the Mexican mafia does their business inside of reservation territory since rule of law is not enforced there. A separate legal system, saturated with drug and alcohol abuse.. kids raised by their grandparents, high rate of addiction and the criminal lure of riches in an impoverished area (later told during a tour of the town that rent is too high here, at $1000/month.)
I'd also forgotten about the complications brought by snow, and how it informs the lifestyle of people here. Sometimes a storm will blow through and people are not allowed to brave the roads- they'll even get ticketed if driving around to avoid unnecessarily endangering emergency crews. Snow plows owned by the county taking up a sizeable portion of a corner lot.. I haven't seen those since Maryland.
The local school mascots are Gorillas, and they use the same "G" logo as Georgia University in their branding. Funny thing, traveling all the way up here and finding the same logo as I would in my own neighborhood in Savannah.
Found motel, dropped off luggage. Overeager lady at front desk from Philippines, keeps talking about her world travels while her daughter urges "mom, give him the KEYS." Learned "thank you" in Tagalog sounds like "salaam."
Headed at last to Fall Fest, where a couple dozen families' kids run wild, enjoying bouncy house, playground, etc. Quite a few young families, plenty of older folks, nothing much in-between. The frequent narrative is that kids leave for the city after high school. The ones who work in agriculture/teaching/medical tend to return with spouses, the rest depart for Sioux Falls or other, larger cities. The usual choice is farm or ranch, at least in terms of following the family business. Photos are taken of the event, vendors, musicians, families, etc. The usual event photography, as I've done a hundred times before (though the surroundings speak to more of a nostalgic America, possibly because of the polka band.)
After the announcement of winners of soup/pie competition (both the same winners from last year's event) I meet Rich, who runs the historical society just outside of town. He navigates to an old Catholic church, abandoned since the early 70s, filled with local artifacts dating back to the 1800's- quilts, military uniforms, farm implements, valentines day cards, high school class portraits, suitcases, periodicals, arrowheads, headdresses, etc. An impressive collection representing the lifetimes of so many lives lived within 30 minutes of this little town.
I'm given a tiny artifact to take home, a slip of paper from the Dixon Co-operative Mercantile Co. advising "BAD EGGS: The law makes it a misdemeanor for us to BUY or SELL bad eggs ... WE ARE CAREFUL." I take lots of photos, mostly of the travel stickers on an old suitcase, though it feels somewhat sacrilegious that where an altar once stood, now assorted ephemera stand in silent homage to the past.
Back to the motel, where I eat candied peanuts purchased at the fair and drink an enormous Twisted Tea, since there are no bars in town and this is about all the gas station had that wasn't beer. Dietary restrictions tricky in rural America when most options are breaded, cheesy, and/or deep fried. Tomorrow, church at 10:30, which means that I have to drive to a neighboring settlement for breakfast (nothing open on Sundays). Hoping tonight's pillows more comfortable than at the previous stay, rounded lumps that did me no favors in my too-large king-sized bed. Laptop dying, time for bed.
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