We have been traveling in and out of Indian Reservations. This morning, we called a motel and booked their last room for tonight. There are virtually no accommodations for many miles to the east and there are thunderstorms predicted for this evening. One of our early stops today was in a small Indian village. As we entered the village, a Good Samaritan on a motorcycle, who found us outside of a store that had been closed, let us know where there was a new store in town. As we spent some time at this new store, the people were very friendly and curious of our journey. One Native American lady asked us where we were headed for the evening, and when we told her, she recommended that we travel further. When she found out that we had a room booked and at which motel, she said that we would be OK. When I asked her why she expressed such caution, she said that there was gang activity in most all of the towns along the route on the Reservation. That got our attention, but there was no turning back at this point, so we proceeded down the road with a bit more urgency, wanting to beat both the threatening weather and darkness.
Fifty miles into our trip, we stopped for some food. When we spoke with the proprietor, he asked us where we were going, and again, he sounded the same type of caution that the other lady had. When I queried him, he said that this was a bad town and that there had been three people killed there last week. I described to him the motel reservation, and he said that we would be OK but cautioned about where we should move and where we should not. He also recommended a nearby restaurant for our supper. We again proceeded with urgency for both of the above stated reasons, as we had heard some emergency weather warnings on the radio at lunch.
The traffic on our way did not show the same level of courtesy to which we had become accustomed from Montanans. As we approached the town, we saw a junkyard that would seem symbolic of the human conditions that we found in this very sparsely populated area. The junkyard had a façade that was totally inadequate to hide the ugliness behind it. If you look at the accompanying picture closely enough, you will notice a horse wandering through the junkyard, this much like the dogs wandering the streets and the other disorder that seemed to rule the area.
When we arrived in town, we checked into the motel immediately. Those who managed the motel indicated that this was not a happy area, that there was a lot of teen suicide and domestic abuse. They debunked the notion of gang activity in town, but did think that gang activity may exist in the town where we had stopped for lunch. I shared with them that we are promoting the Hopeline as part of our biking adventure. They sounded interested in this and felt that it could be a good resource for the locals, if their apathy would not prevent them from calling.There is a feeling of oppression in this area, perhaps a result of alcoholism, domestic issues, poverty, and lack of purpose. Debbie and I are both saddened by this. We ate supper and were going to distribute some Hopeline cards to a local church, but did not feel safe walking the short distance to it. We are back in our safe haven prepared to pray for these people and this area. It is a sad note on which to leave such a beautiful state. Given our itinerary for the past several days, neither of us think it by happenstance that God has put us here this evening. Please pray for the people in this area.
Tomorrow, we will process out of Montana and into North Dakota, where we will meet up with a friend of Debbie’s named Laurie. Laurie and her husband have agreed to help us through the oil exploration area of Western North Dakota.
