One sight in Medora definitely worth seeing is the Cowboy Hall of Fame. Joe and I felt the hall of fame was really just an extension of our stay at the ranch. We very much wanted to meet Dean, Fran’s husband, who was a professional bronco rider and cowboy extraordinaire of his time who was inducted into the hall of fame in 1998 before his passing in 2005. Dean was one of a group of men, called the six pack. Each from North Dakota, these men put North Dakota on the map in regards to the “modern day cowboy.” The hall of fame is filled with the stories of real cowboys, not the ones John Wayne played, all handsome and suave. These real cowboys lived real hardship, traveled hard in the heat and sun, and lived in a time that many of us can’t even comprehend really existed. They were definitely worse for the wear too. The faced leathered and wrinkled from the sun, teeth missing from chew rawhide too long, but what their wrinkled skin, tired, eyes, and hollowed smiles could not mask was their spirit; spirit that literally created this state and still is the foundation for the hard work and life that so many ranchers and cowboys still live in ND today. Also, very interesting, the hall of fame showcases the relationships both good and bad that the cowboys had with the Indians and how the two cultures managed to often successfully live and thrive in each others company. Make no mistake though; no fallacies of harmony between the two are made in the hall of fame. It is no secret that the two groups fought incessantly over land, rights, money, and authority for many years. The hall of fame is only a few years old and is modern, refreshingly air-conditioned, and a nice revert back in time.
From the town of Medora, we decided to go for a drive. Now for people who had been driving for two, almost three, days straight, going for a drive may have seemed a contradiction in terms. The reality is though that when Joe says “Let’s go for a ride” what he means is “let’s go drive until we get lost”. The outskirts of Medora were calling us and after just two turns we were back into the middle of nowhere, surrounding by badlands, with no trace of the town of Medora within eye or ear shot. We came upon a cattle ranch and the two year old golf course in Medora both at the same time. We pulled in and enjoyed a cold beer on the deck overlooking the front nine. It was comical to watch the cows almost heckle the players as they tried to tee off. It was almost as if they new they were supposed to be quiet, and would only call out, as the driver was closing in on a great shot. The golf course is public and for 50 dollars, the 18 holes looked challenging and yet novice enough for most vacationers to enjoy. We continued on our journey though and keeping with our traveling mantra “never repeat the road” we continued out along the highway. A number of winding roads, farms, and backwards round abouts, we arrived in Sentinel Butte. Ironically this is the birth place and stomping grounds of Dean Armstrong’s so it was neat to come upon another piece of his past. After meandering
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