andy's american adventure: skyscraper national park

Gentle reader: This post has been written in two segments. This first half was written in my tent at the Badlands. The seond half, here in Buffalo. I've seen some amazing sights in South Dakota, but I'm relieved to have a night in a motel. Tonight I'm getting a little collected before venturing into Yellowstone NP. Lets get to it.

(6/26/07) Badlands NP, SD – An overcast and mild noon-time in Badlands NP, its starting to get a little brighter and warmer through the big white wide-open blanket sky

Its great to be camping again. In the last couple nights I’ve managed to see both extremes of South Dakota camping. The L.L. Bean tent held up well last night amongst warm and heavy prairie winds.

Back in Minnesota, I wrapped up the blog post and drove over to a “Super Target” nearby. The “super” means it has a supermarket as well. I picked up fresh fruit and vegetables, half and half, cookies, chili, canned beans, and water. I was determined to eat better than I had the last few days. The Bob’s Big Boy “Big Bleu”, while delicious in its own right, had turned me off to fastfood in general.

I took the 52 and the 63 out of Rochester and headed westbound on I-90. It took me about four hours to get across the southern edge of Minnesota. It was a hot and sunny day, although the Integra’s AC seemed to be holding up pretty well. I saw a whole lot of farms out there. Silos and cornfields. That more or less sums it up. Beautiful country, though.

Upon crossing the South Dakota line, I almost immediately made a right onto Route 11 towards

Pallisades State Park. The drive was about ten miles of gravel and dirt roads. I’ve found that its better to not slow down when driving on dirt roads. The Integra, at least, handles dirt roads better going above 40 mph. I must say, the Integra is one happy car these days. All it does is go in one direction, at one speed, for hours at a time. The speed limit in South Dakota is 75 mph, making it easier to cross great lengths more quickly.

ANYWAY, Pallisades SP was quite attractive. It had large campsites, many with their own neatly trimmed grass lawns. I asked the nice lady at the entrance for a nice campsite with electricity. After a minute in the booth, she came out with a tag for my campsite. “This is a nice corner camp with lots of shade. What baseball game are you listening too?”

“The Red Sox versus the Padres.”

“Oh, I think there’s a semi-famous guy from South Dakota who plays for one of those teams.”

“I’m sure. Hey, is there swimming in the crick there?”

“Oh no, I mean, I see folks in there all the time, but I wouldn’t. Agricultural runoff, y’know.”

“Right.” I thought of the hundreds of miles of farmland I had just

passed. Not to mention all the cows. “I’ll be sure to steer clear, thanks for the heads-up.”

My campsite WAS nice. It had a gigantic driveway, better suited for a large RV than the white wonder. It also had a backyard that would be an attractive addition to any home. You could play croquet back there. In the back of the yard was this little grey hare. It was chomping its gums and watching me closely. I was surprised at how close he let me get to him with my camera. With each picture, I’d inch a foot or two closer to him. Finally, with

me crawling on my stomach towards him, he took off.

I set up camp and listened to the Red Sox beat San Diego. I spent an hour or so recharging various do-dads and gadgets before going for a hike along the nearby stream. The park had carved out a nice trail through the woods and across grassy stream-side pastures. There were bunny rabbits everywhere. They were as common at Pallisades SP as squirrels in Central Park. I got several pictures. At the stream I could see what the nice lady was talking about. I could spot

a sort of foamy residue in the reddish-brown water. Still, that hike was fun.

Back at the campsite, I set up the stove and took a bundle of wood from the trunk. Finally, I was going start a campfire with some of the wood I had picked-up in Arizona. The firewood was light, having all of its water content baked out in the Acura’s trunk. I cooked up some chili and broccoli, and then lit the fire. The logs started up with no effort, and soon they were a hot blaze. Sweating from both the fire and the chili, I had to keep backing the chair away from the fire as it

grew. Being in the upper seventies that night, there was no need for extra heat. That wood just had to burn. You know?

After the sun set, fireflies started their routine all around my campsite, and in neighboring campsites. They were everywhere. It was magic. Some of them would buzz right around the campfire. They were in the grass and hovering above. They were in the trees, and commuted along the campground road. Magic, I tell you.

The morning came with a bright steamy sun bearing down on my backyard. All the grass was soaked from the previous night’s condensation. I made some coffee and slowly packed my gear into the car. The advantage of driving west so quickly is that you get 25 hour days. You find yourself always looking at a clock in disbelief, and its calming. You always have more time on your hands than you thought. I was a sweaty mess after breaking down that tent. I took a shower,

and noticed that I had started sweating as soon as I left the “comfort station.” I left at noon soon after. Badlandsbound.

I have never seen anything so flat as South Dakota along I-90. The fields are like the sea. You look out at the green-crested horizon to one side, and another to the other side. Ahead, you seen endless cornfields, with ripples coursing through with flatland gusts. As you drive (around 80 mph) the land gradually rises and falls, and you see bulges in the fields that resemble deep sea waves.

Halfway across, the interior of the car was warming. My arms were glistening with sweat, and I thought “Aw hell, the AC is finally dying.” Having it on was still way better than having it off, but it appeared to be losing ground. Driving further, I started wondering if I had really driven

anywhere, the plains in front of me looked no different than the last two hundred miles. Only ten miles or so from the Badlands exit, I noticed the terrain shift suddenly. The land had become deserty, and filled with off-white rock formations that reminded me a little of Zion NP, except not red. I stopped at the first gas-station/general store I saw and realized why the car’s AC was failing, it was at least twenty degrees hotter there than it had been at Pallisades. Yikes. I entered the park and found the campgrounds. Badlands NP is both an uninviting and beautiful sight. The rock formations are various shades of white, yellow, and grey-brown. Its moon-like. With the triple-digit weather, it was downright harsh. A heavy and arid wind was constant. At the very least though, it kept you from sweating, if you found a shady spot.

The man at the front booth said his thermometer had just inched past one hundred, and I groaned. I snagged myself a campsite and had a hell of a time getting the tent set up. When only partially set up, the tent is a sail, and will lift right off the ground with heavy winds. This happened at Guadalupe NP as well. After five minutes of slapstick, a neighbor came over and held’er’down while I finished driving in the stakes. He said he had the same problem when setting up his tent the day before.

Afterwards, I went into a sort of energy conservation mode and felt like I was at Coachella all

over again. Just a big, dry, and hot desert. Where’s the water?

Once the sun set, it occurred to me that the visitor center, only a half-mile away, had a restaurant. Considering how difficult it would be to cook with the Coleman and all that wind, I had myself a dinner of Idaho trout, baked potato, and a big’ol salad. I needed that. Walking back to my site, I was awash in sunset hues. Set against the odd other-worldy landscape, it was breathtaking. The new color spectrum reflected a different side of the rock formations, bringing out pink, yellow, and orange undertones.

In the distance you could make out faint lightening strikes. Not bolts, mind you, but round cloud flashes, as though they were all bulbs, and somewhere someone was pushing buttons. I sat in my green chair and watched the show while listening to Seattle beat up the Red Sox at Safeco Field. After an hour, lightening bolts could be made out, closer than the others. Sometimes they went sideways. However, the wind was blowing hard towards the lightening, which made me think that the storm would never reach the Badlands. Thankfully, it didn’t.

The wind at that point was particularly brutal to the tent. Just as it had done at Guadalupe NP, the tent sometimes would buckle completely, the poles bending in ways they shouldn’t have. As I slept that night, the tent wall would sometimes bend all the way down and brush up against me, waking me up. It was a happy sleep though. I left the tent’s rear door open, to allow circulation. The wind was hitting the tent’s front, and sometimes right, side.

I woke up with the sun just barely up, and reached for the blanket. The warm summer air had been replaced with a cooler and crisper one. I covered up my head and went back to sleep. I dreamed heavy, and woke up a few hours later.

With the wind still quite strong, I made coffee in my tent and read Tim Sadlin’s “Skipped Parts,”

which Pete had leant to me back in Queens. Its a fun book. Recommended. I spent the rest of the morning reading. The sky was grey and overcast, the air mild. With the day seeming long, I figured I’d save the hike for the afternoon. That’s when I wrote this post. Now, it seems the sun has broken through the blanket and its getting hot out again. My foreheads is sweating from sitting in the tent and having a running computer on my lap. Time for a hike.

More soon.

Andy

(6/27/07) Buffalo, WY - A warm and clear night in Wyoming, it seems no matter how much sunblock I put on, my face burns every time under this high plains sun

I emerged from the tent to find that the clouds had cleared away almost completely and the air was growing hot. Looking around, the landscape reminded me of the beginning of "2001: A Space Odyssey". (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2001:_A_Space_Odyssey_%28film%29). I slathered sunblock all over and stuffed an apple and a bottle of water into my Little Teton. The Integra started up easily. It always seems to run the best in hot weather. I rode along route 240 a few miles and parked at the Saddle Pass trailhead.

The hike started with a fifteen minute climb/hike up the side of a canyon wall. The trail was steep and made up mostly of loose pebbles and sand. I would look back every once and a while to check out the view over the lower grasslands. It really was breathtaking. Once I reached the top, the ground became level again. I had reached a new plateau. The Medicine Root and Castle trails make a four mile loop. The ground up there is mostly white. Rainwater had rinsed sediment off the surrounding rock formations and painted the deserty floor white after it dried. You could make out footprints of

hikers and other wandering animals. Occassionally I'd encounter thick patches of hardy tall grasses and starchy bright flowers. Set against a seriously blue sky, the flowers seemed enchanted. I couldn't put the camera down. I'd meet with some amazing scene nearly every twenty yards along the trails.

A sign at the beginning of the trail warned against rattlesnakes, and so I was also keeping a very close eye also on the trail ahead of me. The only animals I saw up there, though, were birds and insects. I did see plenty of tracks for some kind of three-toed creature, maybe some kind of boar/pig? The tracks had been set recently in mud that had become dry as a bone by that afternoon.

Despite the sunblock, I could feel the skin on my arms stinging a little from the sun. There

wasn't one lick of shade in the whole area. Not a single tree. I expected to see a monolith around any given corner. It was bloody hot, and I was sweating when I returned to the top of Saddle Pass. I skipped, and slid, down the trail and drove back to the campsite. That evening I dined again at the restaurant nearby, having fried chicken, french fries (even though I ordered mashed potatoes), and a big'ol salad.

Later at the tent, I listened the Red Sox get clobbered, again, by Seattle. The pitcher filling in for Schilling had a complete meltdown early-on. Ugh. As soon as the sun set, I climbed into bed and passed out.

This morning, I got up around 7am and packed up the car. I put on a ton of sunscreen and it took me about 45 minutes to drive across to the other side of the park. I kept stopping along the way to take pictures. I think my favorite part of the park was the yellow rocks I'd seen near the park exit. It was as though someone had swiped a big paintbursh across those rocks.

I drove out of the park and to nearby Wall to mail a few things out. When you drive from eastern to western South Dakota, you see over three hundred miles of constant billboards for Wall Drug. Saturation advertizing, it is. When you do finally reach Wall, the drug store is

foremost on your mind. Basically, Wall Drug is a giant maze of mini-stores. There's a pharmacy, a few restaurants, clothing stores, jewelry stores, knick-knack stores, and souvenir shops. There's even a chapel. The back portion of the compound is like an amusement park, with more specialty stores and over-sized animal statues. I took a few pictures and got out before buying any knick-knacks.

It took me about an hour and a half to drive over to Mt. Rushmore. Once I got off I-90, the terrain changed to a hilly forest setting. The Integra groaned a little as I worked my way up the half hour ascent. Mt. Rushmore seems a little out of place. After driving past some gorgeous sunny forest landscape, it seemed strange to find a very formal-looking monument area. It

seemed more fitting for Washington D.C. After parking, you walk down a long promenade which is lined with large granite blocks holding up state flags. Every state is represented in this display. Looking down the length of the promenade, you can see the monument. Closing my eyes, I could hear kids throwing temper tantrums left and right. Parents were trying to reason with the tots, explaining that Mt. Rushmore was an exciting place to visit. The children were unconvinced. Ultimately, I was a little disappointed with Mt. Rushmore. The monument itself is amazing, for about five minutes, but the rest of the hoopla wasn't so cool.

On the way back to I-90, I stopped in downtown Rapid City for a gas-up and a carwash. After that, it took about four hours to reach Buffalo, WY, and the Motel 6 there. Wyoming started

out as fairly flat green prairie-land, and gradually became more mountainous as I approached Buffalo. That pretty much brings us to the present. Tomorrow I'll head for Jellystone NP, and will be sure to keep a close eye on my picanic basket. Looking forward to it.