One of the surprises in my late June visit to Bismarck was Ft. Abraham Lincoln. That's the fort in central North Dakota from which Col. George Armstrong Custer set out on his doomed mission to drive the Ogalala Sioux back to their reservation. When I got to the Little Big Horn site in southern Montana, I found it hard to believe that Custer took his 14th Cavalry all that distance; it must be at least 400 miles of hard riding, 
with wagons of equipment. Custer had built a spacious, comfortable house for his wife and himself at Ft. Abraham Lincoln, and they were becoming used to a life of entertaining politicians and other military friends. (The woman in the foreground was an excellent guide, playing the role of a typical washerwoman at the fort in the late 1800s.) They had installed a large piano, a pool table, a full kitchen (with three 'servants') and furnished the house with many handsome pieces of furniture from the East. (Imagine the weight of all these furnishings, and then carting them by wagon and train all the way to Bismarck, North Dakota.) The ceilings were unusually high, probably more than 11 feet. Mrs. Custer had installed a special bay window to break up the linear feeling of the walls in the family's living room. As
commodious as Custer's house was, indoor plumbing was not one of the luxuries of officers' quarters at Army forts, regardless of their rank; the Custers, their guests and their servants all used the outhouses about 50 feet from the rear of the house. From the front porch of his house, Custer could see the mess tents and living quarters (also tents) of his men. These were constructed of heavy-gauge canvas, and helped keep the men cool in summer and warm in winter. Although difficult to put up and strike, the men could erect a single tent in less than 15 minutes, we were told. Custer's brother lived with Col. and Mrs. Custer; he also died at Little Big Horn. (Mrs. Custer was given just 30 days to pack up the entire contents and quit the house within 30 days after she was informed of her husband's death, which I find pretty harsh and unfeeling treatment.)
The Little Big Horn battlefield is a revelation. There are two cemeteries there. One 
is a military cemetery, where anyone who has served in the US military (along with family members) is qualified to be buried. The other, the far more touching one, is the battlefield where Custer's men and their Indian adversaries died. The exact places each man fell is marked with small white or brown marble headstones, and it was deeply moving and saddening for me to try to re-live the slaughter that must have taken place in that 98 degree July 1st morning. In
the museum, there is a quote from one of the Indian warriors who fought in the battle: "I have never seen braver men than those of the Army soldiers who fought us." The white markers are scattered all over the mound, and way off in the distance, there are three lonely markers where I can only assume three soldiers were caught and slain as 
they tried to flee. The whole battlefield was for me a spiritual place, and there was a hush and a gentle wind covering the entire area. The description of the battle by two National Park rangers was illuminating and most complete. The white ranger told of the battle from the cavalry's point of view. The Indian side of the story was described by a Crow indian ranger, and she began to cry as she related the story.
At the end of the tour, I met a solitary traveller who, like myself, was deeply affected by the atmosphere of the battlefield. We began to talk. Her name is Jane, and she
comes from near Buffalo, New York. She had driven out to Montana by herself, and was driving back East the following week. She works as an information librarian (she actually is the boss; she supervises all other information librarians) for the community college network in Buffalo, and while on the journey, she learned that she had just been awarded New York State's highest honor: The Chancellor's Award. She and I talked a great deal about our trip, what we'd seen and what impressed us. Because we were both alone, we decided to have dinner together, and drive down into Wyoming to eat. We had a long talk about spiritual influences, and she talked about how she sometimes senses her deceased mother by her side. I said I'd had the same intuitions from time to time. I asked her if she had any trepidations about travelling alone, and she said she had none. She said she hoped her 20-something daughter could do a trip like this sometime. She'd met many interesting and helpful people, as have I. She said it was one of the best times of her life, something she'd take back home and hold for a long, long time. She said, as we parted, that she was driving into Iowa to see some relatives from her mother's hometown, and then planned to make the trip back to Buffalo in just two days. One of the most interesting aspects of this entire trip is meeting people who have felt the urge to drive into America, as I do, and discover the small but irreplaceable resourcefulness of the people in this great country.
From a night's stay in Buffalo, Wyoming, I drove to a special celebration in Red Lodge, Montana, making sure to drive over the 11,000 foot high Bear Tooth Pass. The special celebration was the for the 50th wedding anniversary of Dave & Ann Knight. Dave's a close school friend who has been successful enough in his lifetime to 
have acquired the Pollard Hotel, a beautiful old-world hotel in Red Lodge. A classmate of Dave's and mine is Jon Foote, a former Connecticut architect who moved to Livingston, Montana in the 1970s. Dave asked Jon to help with the redesign and refurbishing of the Pollard, so it was a collaboration of old and close friends. I arrived at the Pollard the third week in June, and along with some 75 of Dave's closest friends (many from Boston and Cape Cod, one from Zurich, Switzerland), we found our sumptuous rooms at the Pollard more than pleasing. The day after I arrived, I drove to Billings, Montana (about an hour northeast of Red Lodge) to pick up another classmate and close friend, Steve Wilson. Steve and I, along with Dave's many other friends, enjoyed three days of white water rafting, hiking, horseback riding, pig racing (yes, pig racing) and eating more Montana beef than any of us had ever seen.
Steve and I waddled away after the third day, driving to Livingston, Montana to spend the next day and night with the aforementioned Jon Foote and his exceptional wife, Kathy. Jon, an architect of considerable note, is also a fulltime rancher, as is Kathy. They own some 240 head of beef cattle, and more acres of rolling Montana grazing land than New York City has taxicabs. Steve and I watched Kathy give her quarter-horse a workout in cutting cattle, an intricate process of subtle cooperation between horse and rider. Kathy will drive her horse to Crater Lake, Oregon in early July to compete in a cutting horse competition. "Kathy
and I share all the same interests, and I've received a lot of architectural awards," Jon told us, "but two years ago, I received an award and recognition that I find almost unbelievable. Here I am, as East Coast guy, being accepted by genuine cowboys as one of them, and being elected to the Cutting Horse Hall of Fame besides. It's an unbelievable honor." While Jon (in the red jacket) told us about his 20 years of riding around the west with his cutting horses, entering every competition he could find, he and Steve spent part of the morning in Jon's barn, loading hay to feed Jon & Kathy's horses. Shortly after Steve hefted a bale out to the horses, Kathy saddled and mounted her horse and gave it a 1/2-hour training workout in the ring while Jon worked the 'critter,' a dummy cow on a pulley. With a series of subtle hand and leg movements, Kathy was getting her horse used to follow the movements of the 'critter,' so that the horse would learn the job of separating and keeping a cow from rejoining its herd. That is the substance of the cutting horse's job, and it's not easy. But seeing Kathy on her horse was like poetry in motionm although at one point, she got on her mobile phone to call her lovely daughter, Megan. It may be just a tad different from old-fashioned horsewomanship.
I'm looking forward to visiting the Custer site in a few weeks - thanks for the lovely description, and also the photos of your friends. The photos add a lot to your blog entry, so keep it up!
Posted by: Shanna | July 10, 2007 at 09:55 AM
I've been anxiously awaiting your update! It sounds as though your trip continues to be more interesting each day...that is wonderful! I'm not much for traveling alone, but I do love meeting people and hearing their stories, as you do...but I get to do it in my own home :):):) Safe travels, Kent!!
Posted by: Judy Kroh | July 11, 2007 at 12:03 AM
Thank you so much for sharing your adventures with everyone. I am a friend of Cliff Snell and it was wonderful to hear of him just being himself. I just want you to know that Cliff has died and his sister posted the following: Please if you wish on Sunday say a prayer, light a candle, float a pumpkin on an ocean, anything you wish to celebrate being alive and in memory of my brother Cliff during the day of his memorial .. capture the moment in some way and sent this image and the part of the world you were in to the email weloveyoucliff@yahoo.com for his children to see. Thank you. Kim
Just thought you might want to join in. Thank you. Shelley
Posted by: shelley | January 07, 2012 at 05:17 PM