Wednesday – Black Hills to Badlands

As usual, I was on the road by 8 a.m. and entering Custer State Park which is a launch point for some unbelievable roads including Needles Highway.  The plan was to take the long way up to Mount Rushmore then complete the loop running the Needles southbound.

Every road in the park is beautiful.  There’s some re-paving going on right now but that was only in one section and only a minor wait.  A major benefit for going this time of year is the light traffic, and this road requires light traffic.  The loop contains switchbacks, sweeping curves, banked corners, drastic elevation changes, 360 degree turns that cross under themselves and tunnels only as wide  a single vehicle.  One slow moving Acura can ruin the ride but I was quite fortunate in only having one truck spoil a short section of the Needles.

I created video for the entire ride but will have to do some (allot) of editing to condense the good stuff.

There are a few sections as you climb north when Mt. Rushmore suddenly appears directly in front of you.

The best pictures of Mt. Rushmore, however, are taken from within the monument area itself.  The sculpture itself is of course, impressive, but the story behind the creation of it is simply unbelievable.  The tools that were used and the stories of the workers that did the actual “carving” is fascinating.

Upon leaving the park you get a cool vantage point of Washington’s head…

I traveled south down the Needles Highway after leaving Mt. Rushmore (video to come) then exited Custer State Park out the east side and headed toward Badlands N.P.

I entered the park from the “North Loop” road, off of 44 just past Scenic, SD.  I didn’t know it at the time but this bypassed the official entrance and I never had to pay to enter the park.  I had to navigate approximately 30 miles of loose gravel but I would have done that even if entering through the “normal” route.  Coming in the way that I did you run through the prairie and climb slowly to the top of the “Wall”.

…then there was this.

The Prairie Dogs were absolutely hilarious to watch.  I couldn’t get a good shot of them due to my lack of camera equipment but I would have paid the entrance price to the park just to see these guys.

I eventually made it to the actual entrance to the park where the “normal” people come in and was able to get a site at Cedar Pass Campground without a problem (I did pay for that).  Setup and eat, in that order.

I was even treated to a rainbow.

Not a bad view for the night.

Before turning in for the night I secured everything, putting the helmet in the drybag that normally contained the sleeping gear and tying up the “stitch”.  The riding suit is too big to keep in my one-man tent so I typically tie it up somewhere, hanging from a tree or in this case, the picnic table shelter.  I had picked up a couple of huge garbage bags from an extremely understanding woman at Yellowstone that would almost entirely cover the stitch like a dry cleaning bag.  The nightly routine complete, I went to bed.

I believe it was around 1 a.m. when I woke up the first time.  I stuck my head out the tent fly to check the sky for stars, but unfortunately due to the cloud cover there would be no stargazing tonight.  What I did notice was non stop lightning to the south.  The sky was lighting up like an arc welder with non-stop strikes.  Oddly, there was no sound at all.  It had to be a long way off not to hear any thunder.  I rolled back over and went to bed.

At 3 a.m. I awoke to wind howling and the sound of the tent fly being blown as if hanging off the back of a tractor-trailer at 75 mph.  Everything was still tied down but the thunderstorms that were rolling through were producing wind strong enough to flex the tent downward toward me about a foot and half.  The tent only stands 3 feet tall to begin with so needless to say it was getting a bit “cozy” inside.  The water was being blown under the fly and collecting on the groundcloth right outside the door so I folded it under the tent to stop any further pooling.  I started re-running the nightly checklist through my head as the gusts began to get more violent.  Would the cases be blown off the picnic table?  Which way was the bike pointed?  Could it be blown over?

Then it hit me.  The stitch “was” hanging from the picnic shelter by a bungie cord.  I could picture in my head the sewn loop tearing free and the suit being carried somewhere into the campground.  With any luck it would be blown up against a motor home somewhere and I could retrieve it in the morning.  Worse case, I’d never locate it.  With over 2,000 miles yet to be traveled that really wasn’t an option.

As I began sticking my feet into my boots so I could then trek out into the storm and secure the wayward suit I heard it.  Faintly at first, but then more prominent with each gust.  The distinguishable sound of the garbage bag flapping in the wind.  I figured as long as I could hear the garbage bag, the stitch was still there.  I must have laid there for a good hour, with the Star Spangled Banner playing in my head as I wondered if the stitch “was still there”.

Eventually the rain and wind subsided, I poked my head back out of the fly and shone the flashlight over to the picnic shelter.  Only Francis Scott Key knows the joy I felt when I could make out the swaying silhouette of the stitch hanging there right where I had left it.

Next Installment