The town of Okaton sits immediately off I-90, giving it a surreal aura as the silent storefronts face a never-ending stream of traffic on the interstate. A few homes were certainly occupied and maintained, but the core of the town was certainly left abandoned.
Stepping out of my car I felt the immense power of a gale force wind as it pushed its way across the great plains unabated and unobstructed. It was so intense I had to lean forward at times, feeling like it would push me over and sweep me away like a tumbleweed back to Michigan.
I stopped and listened to the wind howl through the weathered picket fences; the door of an abandoned car swung banged open as if signaling me to investigate the body of a stuffed animal hanging out of the trunk. I felt as if I was at the end of the earth, and it was just fantastic. I restrained myself from poking into too many places as some seemed to be maintained by the few people remaining in this town, but the real treat was the entire graveyard of old trucks rusting away in the wind swept fields of the South Dakota prairie.