After a nice breakfast, Mom, Dad and I headed out to the pictograph caves, which were just down the hill from our Billings hotel.  The caves were in a little box-canyon and there were two of them – one filled with ancient, faded pictographs and the other filled with nothing but ghosts!  There was a nice easy trail through the little canyon – and lots to look at on the way.  Jackrabbits were everywhere!  You couldn’t turn around without seeing a bunny, and they weren’t terribly alarmed when my father and I strolled by. 

     The pictograph cave itself was a bit disappointing.  It was basically a huge hollow in the cliff with a lip of stone over the entrance like a lentil.  And most of the pictographs were either completely faded and too far away to see, or had been vandalized at one time by graffiti and had faded when the graffiti was removed.  Only the most current pictures painted with some type of red pigment were visible, and there were not too many of those.  Still, I’d finally seen ancient pictographs in their natural setting, and the hike alone was worth the trip. 

      Dad and I continued around the box canyon on the trail, and I hiked up to take a peek into Ghost cave.  It was a very shallow cave – mostly an overhang – with steep sides and huge, interesting round rocks sticking out from the rear wall.  According to the sign, spirits have appeared in pictures taken of the cave, though when they were taken no one was there.  I snapped a few photos myself, just in case.  The only one there at the time was a jackrabbit, who peered at me nearsightedly for a moment and then scratched his ears.  So much for ghosts!  Unless you believe, as some folks do, that we come back as animals or other creatures.  Then maybe the jackrabbit was a reincarnation of someone who once used the cave…  Ah well.  We will see if anything shows up in the photos! 

     Next, we turned our footsteps toward the Little Bighorn.  An hour’s drive put us at the edge of the battlefield, where we stopped for lunch and a quick browse in one of the local trading posts.  They had a small museum attached to the store, so we purchased tickets and watched a film about recent archaeological excavations that took place on the battlefield.  Fascinating to learn how archeology helped recreate the events of so long ago.  Then we drove to the battlefield itself. 

      After a second film on Custer’s last stand, I wandered up to Last Stand Hill to look at the monuments, the markers where the brave soldiers of both Native and European descent lost their lives, and to sense – if I could – some of the ghosts which are said to inhabit that haunted place.  Unfortunately, there were too many tourists there at the time to do more than snap a few photos and pause for a moment of silence.  Then I headed down to the museum store to pick up my parents. 

     We drove all around the battlefield, from Reno’s crossing to Last Stand Hill, reading about each significant point of the battle and discussing it as we viewed the lovely rolling hills that were once the scene of so much chaos and death.  It started to rain hard as we retraced the last hour or so of Custer’s life, and this seemed fitting as the grave markers grew more dense, and we finally arrived at Last Stand Hill, where the overwhelmed Seventh Calvary units lost their final battle.  What a tragedy that battle was.  And how hard it was to see such a monumental clash of cultures: the nomadic and naturalistic culture of the Native Americans and the property-oriented, industrial culture of the European-Americans. 

     Feeling both sad and introspective, we headed back to Billings.  A nice meal at a steakhouse cheered everyone up, and I spent the evening doing laundry and floating around and around in the hotel pool.  The water was so clear and still that it reflected the lovely décor around the pool.  So it was like floating in a picture.  Pretty cool.