Internet access has been non-existent since our take off from Petoskey on Sunday morning, and if you've been following our trip so far, you'll recall that we were heading for Northern Minnesota and a night of camping. Well, that didn't happen. REALLY stiff winds re-routed us south, but that big pond they call Lake Michigan sent us north first before we could set a course that would keep us out of the 40 knot blow. It was already quite windy as we took off from Petoskey, but the view of Harbor Springs, Beaver Island, etc was lovely.

Concentrating on the weather maps, Rob kept muttering about having to change plans, but we had no plans to begin with, so he arbitrarily picked a little town called Lone Rock, Wisconsin for our early afternoon landing. I was sitting in the back seat, basically clueless without the map in front of me, so just about the time Rob started descending, I started to take some notice of the verdant rolling hills of Wisconsin and those zany farmers making wild abstract patterns in their fields. Once I finally got the old-fashioned Rand-McNally road atlas in my hands, I began to look for the TINY red type indicating places of interest. I noticed the word "Taliesen" and wondered aloud if that could be related to Frank Lloyd Wright's place in Arizona called "Taliesen West." Duh. The lightbulb went on and then I realized that Lone Rock -- Rob's uninformed choice of camping spot -- was 12 miles from Frank Lloyd Wright's residence!

The FBO at Lone Rock was practically sitting in the middle of a lake -- in fact, they had laid out boards to cross the water to get into the building -- due to a massive rainstorm earlier in the week. Mick, the man with the local knowledge, pointed us to a guy who'd pick us up and take us to Taliesen for the last tour of the day. What serendipity! Before we left, we also got clearance to sleep on the floor of the FBO.

Taliesen is gorgeous and Wright is something of a god in that community, as well he should be. Michael was just delighted with the wonderful turn of events and we had an unexpectedly fabulous afternoon. We got back to our slightly depressing digs at about 5:00 pm and Rob noticed that he'd gotten a voice message from an old friend whom I'd not seen since 1999 who lives in Burlington, Iowa. I'd called him early in the morning when we learned we were heading south, but he wasn't home so I had left a message. Anyway, Rob had mentally dropped anchor and now here's Bob calling to say we're welcome to visit if we feel like making the one hour flight. So back into the plane and off to Burlington! That's what small planes are for, right? The spontaneity was tough on Rob, but he was being actively lobbied by Michael and me, and it was great to have Bob pick us up at the Burlington Airport and take us to his huge, late 1800's home overlooking the Mississippi.

Bob was a gracious host and we pulled together a fabulous dinner, washed down with beer, music and reminiscences. We woke up to the sun rising over the Mississippi yesterday morning, and Bob saw us off to destinations further west and equally unknown.

We were expecting a long day of flying and we got what we expected. We did find a great late lunch stop: LaMars, Iowa, the self-proclaimed ice cream capital of the world (again look for the TINY red print in the handy old Rand-McNally!). Earl at the FBO (and Hawkeye, his ferocious miniature chihuaua) provided us with a former cop car to get us into town for lunch and the requisite ice cream stop. Blue Bunny ice cream seems to be the primary employer in LaMars: great, yet odd name.

Back in the air and running out of gas and interest in pushing too much further, I proposed a night of camping almost anywhere. We finally touch down at Phillip (PHP), South Dakota in the late afternoon. The AOPA said the strip was unattended with no gas, but it was wrong and there was a working bathroom and absolutely desolation otherwise. We pitched out tents under the wing of the plane next to a combine and I laced up my running shoes for a jog between the numbers. Dinner was no-fuss and then, just as the mosquitoes descended, Michael taught us a card game he learned in Russia as we watched what seemed to be an unusually long and spectacular sunset over the bales of hay.

This morning we smeared peanut butter on the last of the bread and promised ourselves a good breakfast at our nearby destination of Custer, South Dakota. With the fill-up in Philip the night before, we were good for a sightseeing flight over the other-worldy outcroppings of The Badlands. We did the obligatory fly-over of Wall Drug (can we put a bumper sticker saying, "I've been to Wall Drug" on the plane?) and they we flew by Mt. Rushmore and the still under construction Crazy Horse Memorial.

When we touched down at Custer, Ben, the mechanic and FBO, was there to hand over his loaner car AND take on the wonky airspeed indicator and the suddenly departed tachometer. Off to Custer State Park, styling in the Toyota Sienna minivan. We took the scenic route through this 71,000 acre park, spotting antelope, getting up close and personal with a large herd of donkeys, and then gawping at dozens of buffalo. We checked into the Game Lodge, started a load of laundry, and took a three-mile hike to a place called Lovers Leap (we didn't). We're cooling our jets now, sitting in wicker rockers on the porch of this gorgeous lodge, swilling beer and eating crappy bar pretzels. It looks like we'll stay here tomorrow night too, so we have a full day ahead of more animal spotting and exploring the beauty of the Black Hills of South Dakota. "Rocky Raccoon came into his room..."