When it’s not even 6:00 a.m. yet, you visit Carhenge in the dark because it’s not really light out yet. I try to tell myself that being early is allowing me to capture these silhouettes instead of the cars in full daylight, like normal people.
These Nebraskans must be related to the people of Alabama, as who else erects rest areas like this? Well, when you gotta go, you just grab your German news magazine, climb the hay bail, and perch like nobody’s watching.
We just passed through Whiteclay, Nebraska, to get into a cold South Dakota and hope we never have to pass this way again. Next up was Pine Ridge, South Dakota, which I suppose is a kind of capital city of the Pine Ridge Reservation and home to the Oglala Lakota Indians. In Lakota, the reservation is known as Wazí Aháŋhaŋ Oyáŋke.
This is not the place to be on a gray, cold, and wet day as the place is already embued with tragedy as it was here that American soldiers killed nearly 300 Lakota, about half of whom were women and children. They were buried in a mass grave by American troops looming over them as conquering heroes, with more than a few being awarded medals for their efforts. It doesn’t matter that this was 114 years ago as I try to imagine how the survivors feel knowing my ancestors tried to extinct the bison and them after stealing their lands. If it were me, I’d probably have a chip on my shoulder.
For those who want to relegate this to ancient history, consider that Black Elk, born Heȟáka Sápa in 1863, didn’t die until 1950 or 4 years after Bill Clinton was born. Black Elk was a witness to the massacre when he was 27 years old, so we can be certain it was an image that stayed with him his entire life. He was also the second cousin to Crazy Horse, which is the monument that is the focus of our ultimate destination on this trip into the Great Plains.
The gloom is a kind of poetic wrapper for the gravity of what these lands represent, but we didn’t come up here to be depressed or feel bad. No, we came to Badlands to witness nature and to arrive wearing smiles to add some brightness to the day.
Doesn’t look good for taking a trail into the badlands of Badlands. Maybe the rain will stop and quickly run off so we can see more of this national park by walking over it instead of from our car windows.
Scenic, South Dakota, is home to the Longhorn Saloon that, while closed now, apparently allowed Lakota Indians in its establishment when it was still in business. From the zombie population of alcoholics in Whiteclay and a massacre at Wounded Knee Creek to reminders of our segregationist past, I’m not all that certain. I’m enjoying our visit to South Dakota this time.
There’s much to learn out here at Badlands but we don’t have access to any information about the land. While this looks like the banded layers of ash from volcanic discharge that fell on the area of Petrified Forest in Arizona, we don’t really know if this is the same process. It is pretty, though, even in the foul weather.
Yes, we want to explore below. No, we don’t want to do so in the mud.
Leaving the White River Valley Overlook in the previous photo, we are on our way out of the park and stop one last time before giving up all hope of the clouds parting and the sun popping out.
Hmm, I’d heard of this famous stop on the road; we’ll have to check it out.
Stepping back in time is a major theme of exploring America. What happened to those days of moving into the future? Wall Drug was mostly worth the visit, but it’s showing its age, making me wonder how many more years will it be able to hold on as an attraction that is likely more appealing to older Americans needing that nostalgic sense of another time and age.
Mount Rushmore offers up some side-boob (no offense meant) as we do a drive-by. To gather a glimpse was enough as we weren’t in the mood for crowds, and it wasn’t all that long ago that we were here for a more extensive visit.
The Crazy Horse Monument is what we really wanted to see until we got here and realized it was not something we needed to see. At least the sky is clearing. My feelings about the tragedy of everything out here are muddying my ability to enjoy myself. Maybe I’m just tired?
No, I’m just disappointed in all of this. Even Mount Rushmore was carved out of mountains known as the Black Hills, which were sacred to the Lakota Sioux. The man who created the monument was Gutzon Borglum, who was a white supremacist noted for referring to non-whites as the “mongrel horde.” Then this monument to Crazy Horse feels like a cheap commercial grab where money and selling trinkets are the only thing being celebrated instead of offering something that should have the same respect of a church, but then again, the Lakota will never get government sponsorship to build a monument to someone it hated at one time.
That flap of hair from Caroline that I’m wearing makes my head look stranger than normal; as a matter of fact, maybe it makes me look fatter. Nah, I’m just fat, and Caroline is not tall, but the sky is blue, and we are in Wyoming, moving south again.
We passed through Newcastle, Wyoming, shortly after entering the state and took a note to learn who Anna Miller was. Turns out she was the wife of a sheriff who was the last person killed in the area during the Indian Wars, so instead of celebrating the brave countrymen defending their ancestral lands, we honor the marauding intruder and his wife by naming a museum after them. I need to hit the gas and escape our twisted history.
We are on the edge of the Black Thunder Coal Mine, one of the largest, if not the largest, coal producers on earth. How appropriate it seems that the black heart of the region is an open festering sore contributing to the fouling of our environment. My cynicism is not the best quality I know, but it seems to be all I have today.
Trying to chill in the beauty of things and be appreciative that we are able to see and feel.
We are passing through Casper, Wyoming, here at sunset, driving in the direction of Medicine Bow. Along the way, we are listening to someone reading from the book The Hiding Place about Corrie ten Boom and her ordeal as a prisoner in the women’s concentration camp known as Ravensbrück after helping Jews hide from Nazis.
It’s 10:00 p.m. when we pull into Riverside, Wyoming, to spend the night at the Bear Trap Bar & Cabins.
