by Daniel Sisk

Created on: February 01, 2009   Last Updated: February 28, 2009

Big mosquitoes are better than small mosquitoes, my son concluded at our camp outside Custer, S.D. He found it easier to track and swat the larger blood suckers. Logical, though I had hoped for more profound insights when our trip began three days before. But teenagers make their own wisdom.

Itchy for another summer road trip and undaunted by gas prices, I had engineered an efficient, action-packed adventure to Mt. Rushmore. Along the way, the schedule allowed quick detours to a few points of interest. Call it speed tourism.

I contacted major rental car companies for deals on rentals but couldn't find a car big enough. Only one RV dealer had a rental program which offered nice, family-sized easy-to-operate vehicles. For an RV sleeping six to eight people, the dealer charged $195 per night with a three-day minimum. Rental included 100 free miles per day but charged an extra $0.30 for each additional mile. Using the generator cost another $3 per hour. A $500 refundable damage deposit sealed the deal. However, most RVs will struggle to get gas mileage up to the low teens. With gas near $4 a gallon at the time, I would end up paying almost $400 for each of our 300 mile days. Instead, we'd tough it out in our minivan and the family tent.

Via the Internet, I reserved campgrounds and motels, alternating between the two to save money - and reduce gaminess. The reservation websites (like this one worked great. Just be careful what you search for: when I pulled into my RV site in Custer, the camp host laughed at my homely van. Stupidity is only a mouse click away.

With our modern Conestoga wagon packed to the rafters, we headed east out of southeastern Washington along the Oregon Trail (I-84) to Farewell Bend State Park on the Idaho border. That evening, the boys headed into sleepy Huntington, OR, for a snack at cozy Howell's Cafe which anchored a 120-year-old three-story brick building erected by local railroad barons. We squeezed into a nearby booth and ordered chocolate cream pie all around.

The next morning, we gassed up in Ontario, Oregon. Thankfully, services are easy to find along the western interstates and just frequent enough in this beautiful though stark and lonely land. (Word to the wise: keep the tank full when roaming the west. I learned this one summer in Montana where "just around the bend" means hang on for another 100 miles.) Soon, we were zooming through monotonous Eastern Idaho toward our next camp on the Wyoming border, Alpine North Loop, just down the road from the dead moose. If dead moose is gone, just watch for signs.

At sunrise, we set off for Jackson, WY; the Grand Tetons; and a swing through Yellowstone. On the way, a traffic jam signaled a buffalo herd grazing roadside. We snapped a picture as the buff beasts scampered, rolled in the dirt, and did other buffalo stuff. But the road beckoned.

We spent the night at the Beartooth Inn in Cody, WY, after a stroll in the light evening air listening to live country music. In the morning, we headed east across the prairie, through the Big Horn Mountains, and on through the vast grassland where antelope pranced in the distance.

At dawn from our Custer camp, we headed to Mt. Rushmore. Good timing, too: the crowd was sparse and the lighting perfect. The granite arches and promenade, the flags overhead, and the amphitheater cast a dignified quiet on the sacred site. What a perfect end to our great adventure.

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