Yesterday I discovered that South Dakota doesn’t believe in cell sites.  I drove across upwards of six hundred miles of the state, and not once did I have service.  Amazing!  At first, being alone in the great expanse was a little discerning. While I assured Drew that everything that could have gone wrong already has, I know full well I am yarning and it would be really nice to be able to call for help if our adventure takes another turn for the worst.  Anywhere else in the world, you wait long enough and someone will see you stranded on the side of the road but when I drove a half hour without seeing a soul I began checking my lifeless phone with fervor. 

I will be the first to admit my love affair with electronics. If it has batteries or a power cord and promises to do something faster and better, I probably have it.  This was never more apparent than trying to pack for my trip: laptop, charger, digital camera, charger, memory sticks, memory stick reader, digital camcorder, charger, super video cable to download Drew’s documentary clips onto laptop, 3 Game Boys, 24 rechargeable batteries, high speed battery charger, cell phone, phone charger, Bluetooth hands free mic, Bluetooth charger, transformer to charge my toys in the car, portable dvd player, dvds, cds, and my newest toy, my satellite radio.   What started out as luxury in the name of simplifying my life somewhere along the line transformed into necessity.  Was there really life before laptops?  What did people do for directions before computer map programs?  How people they make reservations on the road without cell phones? 

As I drove along obsessing over my lack of coverage, it occurred to me that my phone was not just a lifeline, it was also an electronic leash.  For the last 200 miles, my phone had been silent.  I hadn’t had a single phone call asking me if I was in a ditch yet.  I hadn’t gotten any friendly weather updates about tornados four states away.  I was free from the worries of life back home.  The happy dance will definitely be in order when my phone starts working again, but in the meantime, I decided I was going to make the most of my temporary freedom.  I wasn’t sure how but it didn’t take long to find out!

My spontaneous spirit took charge when the kids excitedly read a turn off sign for Laura Ingall Wilder’s homestead.  We have read a number of the Little House books as a family and it seemed essencial we see De Smet first hand.  The turn off sign didn’t mention that the homestead was 75 miles off the freeway but once we got off, the kids were so excited it didn’t really matter.  I confirmed my phone was still dead and then headed off to step back in time and experience life on the prairie. 

When I moved to West Virginia, I remember feeling like a displaced city girl.  Three years later, I was reminded at how much of the city girl still survives.  I was overwhelmed with wonder as I watched the scenery change.  At first, we were surrounded by overgrown lettuce (aka soybeans) for as far as the eyes could see.  Gradually, the lettuce was replaced by golden fields of cornstalks all planted in even and orderly rows.  As we got closer to the homestead, I found myself completely immersed in prairie grasses.  Amazement filled me when I reflected on the courage of the pioneers.  Armed with my bag of electronics, I am “brave” enough to drive my rascals across the country on paved roads supplied with KOA’s and air conditioned rest stops.  Driving through this empty expanse impressed upon me the task that little Laura and others undertook when they chose to move West.

When we pulled into the gravel driveway of Laura’s homestead, I wasn’t impressed.  There was a welcome center surrounded by lots of prairie grass.  One of the setbacks of spontaneity is driving hours out of your way to find yourself at a dud.   It appeared that this was a side trip was should have skipped.  Having driven an hour and a half out of our way, there was nothing to do but go in.

Going in turned out to be one of the best choices of the trip.  We were greeted by the most friendly woman who invited the kids to watch a captivating movie on homesteading and the life of little Laura. After sending Daddy an e-postcard, we paid our admittance fee and headed outside to explore the homestead.  We were all amazed as we wandered through dank dugouts, itty bitty houses, and learned life skills on the prairie.  We washed clothes, made rope, ground wheat, and rode horses.  This stop set us five hours off schedule but it was worth every second!  The kids walked away from the homestead with a whole new appreciation for the toils of pioneer life!  Drew navigated us back to the main highway and we resumed our six hour drive into Black Hills, South Dakota.

Have I mentioned yet that we happened to wander into the middle of the largest motorcycle rally in the country?  Apparently, around this time each year, thousands of motorcycle fanatics, 475,000 of them to be precise, fuel up and head to Sturgis, SD for a week of biker heaven.  I had no idea that I was going to be the only SUV on the road in a sea of bikes but it was a great experience.  The kids waved.  The bikers honked.  Natey reved his imaginary motorcycle until he was horse.  It was almost midnight by the time we found our stop and set up camp, apparently the only campers on site without a bike.

It had been a very long drive so we all snuggled up and planned on sleeping in.  When we finally decided to start our day, it became apparent that the masses were hungry.  My cell phone was still dead so I was anxious to find a pay phone and touch base with Chad.  We hadn’t talked since I had dropped Samantha off at the airport and I wanted to catch him up on our adventures.  Thinking we could kill two birds with one stone, we headed for the truck stop at the edge of town.  Wouldn’t you know, the line for the phone was eight people deep.  We headed over to the Visitor’s Center where we discovered we wouldn’t have cell service anywhere in the state and that they did not have a pay phone.  Would you believe that our next campsite didn’t have a pay phone either?!?!  We dropped the camper off and went phone booth hunting.

When we finally called Daddy, I learned that he had started a manhunt for our zoo.  Fearing the worst when we failed to call, he started calling the sherrif departments of each county in South Dakota who each asked why I would drive into the area during the country’s biggest motorcycle rally.  “Why does she do anything?!?!”  He was on a first name basis with the campground receptionist, who failed to mention anything when we checked in.  Chad’s fears grew as family members started calling him to ask about our progress.  No, he still hadn’t heard from me.  The police and hospitals in the area had his number.  He would call them as soon as he heard anything but they continued to call anyway.

My heart broke when my beloved answered the phone in tears, “Thank God you are alive!!!”  I had no idea he thought otherwise!  I caught him up on our adventures and assured him the bikers weren’t any problem while Nate reved in the background.  The line of people waiting for the pay phone grew as each of the kids talked with Daddy.  By the end of the conversation, Chad had calmed down enough to realize he had to go and start passing word we were still alive and well. 

Note to self: Next cross-country trip, change cell carriers!

Note to family: Sorry about the scare…  We are fine and having a blast meeting all our biker friends.