Across the river, we began to see a new form of road sign; instead of marked highways, just hand-lettered arrows pointing to ranches, with the distance given.
Advertising took on a home spun quality as well.
Tourist attractions, though few and far between, were well marked.
Motorcyclists, headed for the Sturgis rally, were everywhere.
Our lonely Bikrutz was often the only habitation in sight.
