Tags
Billboards, Buttes, Cycling, Devils Tower, Family, Frank Lloyd Wright, Free Ice Water, Giant Jackalope, Gullies, Homestead, I-90, National Register of Historic Places, Peaks, Prarie Dog Town, S.D. 240, South Dakota, Sturgis Bike Rally, T-Rex, Thaddeus Culbertson, The Badlands, Volcanic Ash, Wall Drug, Wyoming
Day 5 – The Badlands
We decided to continue on our vacation, as Nancy would have wanted us to do. She knew how much this time together means to all of us, and was glad we were able to finally find time to get away as a family.
So, we climbed out of bed, ate some cereal, got out the bikes, and rode back into the Park to Prairie Dog Town. Nancy probably would have found that hilarious: me riding speeding ahead like I’m back in the Tour de Victoria; Dad and Megan on the tandem that he borrowed from his co-worker, Marshall; and Mom trailing behind leisurely, taking it all in and wanting desperately to stop and take pictures—surrounded by Prairie Dogs. We got a good picture of us all when we got there.
They decided to head back to the campsite, but I wanted to keep riding to get my body moving and to clear my mind. I rode up the two mile hill to the Devils Tower Visitor’s Center and flew back down the hill with the wind at my back. Ah, I wish we could have more time to ride around these parks. That’s when you notice all the good stuff.
As soon as we got packed up, we head toward the Badlands with a quick stop in Sturgis for gas. At work, we have started planning around the giant Sturgis Bike Rally for our National Parks of the Old West program, but I really wish I could witness it! This feeling is possibly due to my longing for some episodes of Sons of Anarchy.
We hopped back on the road for what seemed like forever, punctuated by billboards that kept talking about Wall Drug. I mean, these billboards were everywhere. And since we got a later start to the day, and curiosity was building, we decided to stop there to explore and for lunch. Boy, were we not disappointed.
We found that Wall Drug took up an entire block, and includes gift shop, historic photos and information, a roaring T-Rex, shooting gallery (much better than the one in Long Beach, I have to say), a giant jackalope that you can ride, some creepy manikin’s playing poker, a restaurant (where we had a delicious lunch including homemade cherry pie a la mode).
The story behind this place starts back in 1931. You can imagine that the small town (could you call it a town?) of Wall wasn’t too hoppin’. Dorothy and Ted Hustead moved out in an attempt to run a business, but no one was stopping in from their travels across I-90. One day, Dorothy had the idea to offer free ice water (hard to come by, during those hard times) via dozens of billboards along the interstate. It worked (for us too!). Now it’s this small kitchy place that you have to stop by if you are on your way to the Badlands. At least to get some free ice water!
It was a great surprise before heading back on the road to take the scenic route through badlands along S.D. 240. Pulling up to the first viewpoint of the Badlands reminded me of when I lay eyes on Bryce earlier this May. You get our of your vehicle and feel like you are walking to the edge of the earth. The ground drops ahead of you into a canyon of colorful, jagged hills. Unlike Bryce’s bright orange, ice cycle-like hoodoos, the Badlands are rainbow striped mesas and jutting formations with profiles like fortresses.
Thirty-seven million years ago, streams flowing from the west began to deposit sediment in to this area. Most of this sediment was volcanic ash, which eventually mixed with clay and turned into rock. Erosion didn’t begin to gully the Badlands layers to what is the present landscape until half a million years ago.
Known its peaks, gullies, buttes, and wide prairies that make it so challenging to cross, Paleontologist Thaddeus Culbertson once said:
Fancy yourself on the hottest day in summer in the hottest spot of such a place without water—without an animal and scarce an insect astir—without a single flower to speak pleasant things to you and you will have some idea of the utter loneliness of the Bad Lands.
Architect Frank Lloyd Wright had a different opinion:
I’ve been about the world a lot, and pretty much over our own country, but I was totally unprepared for that revelation called the Dakota Bad Lands….What I saw gave me an indescribable sense of mysterious elsewhere—a distant architecture, ethereal….an endless supernatural world more spiritual than earth but created out of it.
I believe both must be true. These lands are beautiful, yet lethal. It is a maze of rock where each turn looks almost identical. Plus, there are barely any plants or wildlife. But its barrenness gives it a unique beauty.
Coming out of the park, we saw a sign for an old homestead that is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Though the visitor’s center was closed, we wandered over the fence anyway for a look. Sometime between Megan screaming because she saw a manikin in the outhouse to albino prairie dogs screeching at us to stay away from their holes, I got a little creeped out. The tiny worn down wooden house, start of nightfall, dead silence, and feeling of desertion didn’t help either. I got out of there pretty fast.
One of the nearby signs stated that a common remark by homesteaders was that “the government bet you 160 acres of land against $18 that you will starve to death before you live on the land 5 years.” If it were me, I would bet against myself.
Not too far down the road was an RV Park, conveniently right across the street from the Minuteman Missile Visitor’s Center that we wanted to check out early tomorrow. Our original plan was to head down to Custer, but seeing these places always takes longer than you expect. And hey, sometimes you may just find a random drug store where you want to spend three hours.
Sometimes you just have to follow the signs.