Badlands

All I can think is how hard the settlers had to work on the trail west and how lucky the survivors were if they got to start a new life.

I arrived 40 years ago in the New World to start a new life, and all I had to do was sit still in an armchair for a few hours as I traveled at 550 miles per hour. Nowadays I cross the Great Plains at a mile a minute in perfect comfort and ease on roads laid out for my convenience.

I am acutely aware of the great good fortune I enjoy and everyday my hat is off for the people who gave up everything to head west. People don’t emigrate for the fun of it; you leave all that is familiar to start again and find something better because you are desperate. In the 19th century the pioneers who came west in wagons risked everything, including their families for a chance at a fresh start. They were brave beyond reckoning. 

And on the way they found endless obstacles, armed robbers, con men, ghastly weather, aridity, hunger and angry natives who saw in the new arrivals the end of their own way of life. Highways through the rough bits weren’t available back then.  

They had to find the way round canyons, ford deep rivers and plan to take on mountain passes in seasons that at least offered a chance of survival. What they did when they met the badlands I can’t imagine. 

We drove to the junction at Wall and slowed to check the famous covered emporium.

On a Monday morning it was packed so Layne the inveterate shopper passed, with the usual Covid cursed regret. We drove south toward Badlands National Park. But first…

I knew of the dispersed camping area just north of the National Park. We drove slowly out on a rather rutted road to see what the place looked like in person, not what it appeared to on Google street view. With daytime highs around 95 degrees and not a scrap of shade we preferred our free spot in the woods at 6,000 feet. 

You can find your own spot and stay as long as you like. Up to 14 days is the usual limitation. 

There are splendid views and absolutely no services, no trash no water and no toilets.

Apparently there is some wildlife around here, some form of mountain  goats that campers report seeing from time to time. I believe they might be the mythical big horn sheep. I saw none on our flyby visit. 

I was not overly impressed by the spot. Self reliance doesn’t come easily to some and we could hear generators buzzing steadily from campers not equipped with huge battery banks and solar arrays. The lack of shade didn’t help. It is a featureless spot aside from the splendid view. 

This was where I started wondering how far the first settlers to see this awful place had to hike to keep going west. 

We drove on. As much as the National Parks dislike dogs I value our free pass (for seniors) which allows us to at least drive through and see the natural wonders the parks service protects so fiercely. 

Such is the case with badlands, an hour long drive with lots of turnouts to enjoy the tortured landscape. 

The park was first created as a monument in 1939 and was formed into a national park in 1978. 

It’s a park that covers a quarter of a million acres and gets a million visitors a year. There’s a loop road through the park which takes about an hour to drive and there are two campgrounds. 

The park is known for the prehistoric fossils found here and part is also a Sioux sacred site. Indeed the park was once a Sioux reservation. Even though called this area bad lands because it’s just too harsh. 

I wished we could have been here at sunrise or sunset for the best light but this is a journey we are undertaking not a photo trip just for me. I’d like to come back to camp in the park for a few days and be inside the park during those crucial hours of first and last daylight. 

The other end of the loop road. An arbitrary line in the prairie. 

We stopped in a horse corral parking lot outside the park. Apparently riders bring their animals here, presumably in a less hot season and take off on several trails that radiate from this spot. We had lunch, oatmeal and tea.  

A tad bit desolate. 

But not all bad. 

A full time RVer came by on his bicycle and I immediately offered him refuge in our air conditioning with cold water. We talked about traveling and Mexico came up. He was interested in going south and I ranted a bit about how much we enjoyed it. I hope he goes and sees it for himself. With a Spanish speaking wife he’s got it made. I expect we’ll see him on the beach in San Carlos this December…

I can’t imagine riding a bicycle here, shades of the pioneers. I was glad to be driving my air conditioned van as we got back on the road east.