Arrival at Custer

Day III of the Road Trip was beautiful, if not terribly eventful. I drove the length of South Dakota, and was fairly well surprised by how much the terrain changed as I went. I started out the morning in flat farmland, bid farewell by a couple calves. Soon, the countryside changed to become hilly once more, and I spent a few hours driving through some of the prettiest hill country I’ve ever seen. It reminded me why I like to take back highways instead of interstates when I travel.

Interstates are concerned with very little other than getting you from one large town to the next large town as quickly as possible. They have no concern whatever for the land they cut through. Highways, however, move through the country. They weave between hills, flow alongside rivers, run through the forest, fly to hilltops, and plummet into valleys. They show you how beautiful a place can be.

So, exploring the state by highway, I got to pass through some incredible hillside ranches, with cattle grazing on the slopes. Along the way, I realized that I wanted to get a good picture of the road for this blog. In the top right of the page, you can see a shot of the highway, stretching off into the distance. This was the shot I took. Upon cresting one hill, about midmorning, I knew that I had found the picture I wanted. I took a few pictures, then headed on. A few miles later, I crested another hill, decided that I had been wrong the first time, and knew that this was the shot I wanted. Once more, I got out of the car, took a few pictures, got back in, and prepared to drive on. Then I realized that there was a picture rather better to be had. To really make my shot, I could get a picture with the road stripe in the foreground, and the highway stretching off into the distance. So, boldly daring South Dakota traffic and ignoring everything I had ever been taught about not playing in the road, I walked to the center line, stretched out on my stomach, prayed that I wouldn’t become roadkill for my stupidity, and took a number of pictures. It was frustrating that I couldn’t seem to get the angle or focus right at first, since I was keenly aware of the danger of my position. Finally, I got what I wanted, sprang to my feet, decided that I’d better not stay in the road any longer than necessary, dashed to my car like a frightened child, and headed on.

Early in the afternoon, I experienced one of South Dakota’s less delightful wonders: gravel highways. I decided to drive through the Badlands. I had seen their multi-hued cliffs stretching above the plains for some time, and knew that I’d like to go explore them. I haven’t yet decided whether this was a mistake. When I pulled into the Badlands National Park, the highway which I’d been following all day turned to gravel. How quaint, I though to myself. I snapped some shots of the huge edifices

and headed on my way. Fifteen minutes later, I realized that the highway had no intention of returning to pavement any time soon. I thought this was no big deal, and continued along. After another fifteen minutes, I found myself clutching my steering wheel in terror. I was perched atop the Badlands cliffs, careening down a gravel highway, desperately trying to avoid being blown off the top of the ridge by the winds that were gusting forcefully enough to make the car swerve badly left and right. To make the situation even more delightful, I was passed every few minutes by rangers in large trucks, going in the opposite direction along our less-than-two-lane gravel strip. Rarely have I though of death as such an imminent reality.

Finally, I made it down off the ridge and onto pavement. As I did so, I was confronted by this sign

Great. The Badlands had tried to kill me, but now marauding animals were apparently going to finish the job. I began to imagine the herds which were terrorizing the plains, armed at “at large.” Now and again, I passed by herds of cattle. I knew I was in their neighborhood, and tried to fit in, hoping that they wouldn’t take advantage of this poor, lonely traveler.

Eventually, I made it out of the territory of the dangerous wildlife, and back onto a large state highway. I drove for another hour or so, and finally arrived in Custer State Park. There, I was met by a welcoming committee of buffalo, strewn all across the road to celebrate my arrival. Weaving my way through these one ton well-wishers, I headed for Sylvan Lake Lodge. Along the way, I got numerous view of the Black Hills which made me excited to get hiking.

Finally, I arrived at the lodge, reported for duty, and was given a room in the dorms. These rooms seemed to be old hotel cabins, with two twin beds, a sink, a bathroom, a nice view, and little else. They were small but sufficient, and I unpacked, went to get some dinner in the employee dining room, and set about my work at Sylvan Lake Lodge.