6-24-13 7:15 pm Mountain time
We took an hour ride to Deadwood today. I have looked forward to going there, because of its historical significance. I wanted to take a tour of Deadwood, a tour of Mt. Moriah where Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane are buried. Maybe go into Saloon number 10 where Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back and killed. Maybe see some gun fight demonstrations. I love old west history. Well I love all history anyway.
However, once we got there, the traffic was so congested and it wasn’t laid out as simply as the other towns we had been to and it was confusing to know where to go to do what. I could tell he didn’t like it and it’s nerve racking driving a motorcycle in tight, congested traffic, so I told him just get me to that graveyard so I can see Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane’s grave and I’ll just be satisfied with that. So we found it finally. It’s called Mt. Moriah (sometimes called Boot Hill) and a mount and a hill it is! By the time we walked to the top where the graveyard is I was well reminded of my age and my lack of stamina. But we got up there, went right to just their graves (there were many more and I would have loved to have stayed longer, but I was hot and tired and a little tiffed knowing if we had taken the tour bus, we would not have had to walk all that way and everything would have been explained to us). But anyway, I saw the graves and we walked towards the motorcycle to leave but before we did, we visited the restrooms. When I was standing there washing my hands I looked in the mirror and noticed all the freckles that had popped out with my riding in the sun. And suddenly, just like a smack in the face, I saw in my mind Kaitlyn’s freckles on her face as she lay in her coffin. I remembered when she was laying there thinking that she must have been in the sun a lot lately because they weren’t usually so many, but they were just a speckling. With that vision in my mind, Kaitlyn lying in her coffin, those pretty, sweet freckles, I felt a stab in my heart with the severity of none I’ve ever known. I started crying. Then I finally managed to stop long enough to get back to Allyn and the motorcycle and he saw that I was crying so he put his arm around me and we sat down on the curb and I cried my eyes out. Saying all the things I always say, that how could this have happened, she was my everything, I’m lost without her, she was a beautiful person and on and on and on. Finally, I just wiped my face and told him to let’s go. As we headed out of town he said if I wanted to we would go back and do those tours I had wanted to, but by that time I no longer felt I could.
We rode several miles to Wyoming to see Devil’s Tower and I cried all the way from Deadwood to Wyoming. All the way, still wondering and asking those same questions I’ll never know the answer to, feeling every jagged edge of my broken, bleeding heart.
Wyoming is beautiful. It’s full of mountains, some have clay, along with rolling pastures, and many, many ranches. We saw one town with a sign that had population 30 and one had a population of 15! Everything is wide open spaces out there. We got to Devil’s tower, took pics of it, ate at a snack shop and rode back to the campground. It started raining before we got back so we had to put on our rain suits.
So I sit here now, typing this out. I’m tired, I smell like motorcycle exhaust and my head hurts, my heart hearts, and I hurt from where I fell while getting off the motorcycle over the curb into a pile of rocks. Any other time I’d be happily tired. Now I’m just so tired and sad.