Wild Horses & Issues

Friday, 8/27

Leaving the Black Hills, we cruised southward to South Dakota's Wild Horse Sanctuary.  The last three miles of "cruising" was in a dust cloud, thanks to the well traveled dirt road leading to the old ranch house, now visitor center.  Unbelievable!  And all we could think of was having to replace the new air filter after driving back to the main highway via the same dirt road.  I don't think the coach has ever been this dusty before, yet very little entered the interior.  Monaco did make a good coach for us, but we'd recommend that you use a car (preferably not your own) to visit the sanctuary. 

Walt, describing the "Hildalgo" movie set below.

Our Marlboro smoking guide, Walt, is a big city Maryland transplant, and one of the best in any business.  He and his knowledge and love of the horses made it all especially worthwhile.  11,000 acres, 650 horses, picturesque setting, viewed from non-air conditioned rattle trap, dust filled old school bus with more dirt roads and cross range land driving in 100 degree heat.  Pick the best of these components and you'll know why we enjoyed the outing. 

<>

We're still assimilating the volumes of information delivered in the 2 1/2 hour afternoon excursion.  The horses come from roundups by the Bureau of Land Management which attempts to maintain a healthy balance between wild horses and available natural feed on various BLM lands.  Some domesticated horses are actually dumped on the far acreage by people who no longer want or need them ... a problem for the sanctuary.  All are allowed to live in this natural state and cared for by a handful of people, including Walt, because of an Oregon rancher who moved to South Dakota, loved horses, and wanted to do something special with land that was destined to being a missile test site until the local residents shot it down (yes, dear questioning minds, the pun is intended).  The blend of caring humans and beautiful animals is near perfect.

He may be wild, but he knows who cares for him.

Late afternoon, we continued south and crossed into Nebraska, making our way to Chadron's WalMart for a night of a quick dusting and vacuuming, showering, and washing the day's clothes of South Dakota's dust.  Oh yes, we decided to wash the coach ourselves in one of those places that gave the appearance that we could drive into the bay.  Believe it or not, we tried, heard a "crunch" and decided we wouldn't be washing the coach at this location.  Checking the roof top, I decided someone at a much higher altitude than ours had once again saved a less intelligent soul from disaster.  No damage whatsoever ... if you discount the barely visible imprint of a brick on the TV satellite dome's paint.   

A 40 mph wind was broadsiding our parked coach, pushing the 102 degree heat at us, when the generator quit.  Uh oh.  No air conditioning.  Start.  Stop.  Start.  Stop.  The code indicated overheat of either the gen and/or the inverter.  Leaving the gen exposed, we decided to cool off in Walmart's air conditioned paradise.  Of course that became an expense,  but we needed some groceries anyway ... didn't we?  Later, trying the generator again, it also quit again.  And at 8pm, it's still wind driven HOT.  Good fortune reminded us of an RV park a mile away, complete with 50 amp service to drive both ACs, the washer/dryer, nuke oven and both TVs and the ice maker.  Even the stock market was up, all of which made life good again for another day.