When Layne and I were considering a road trip for this summer, Mount Rushmore topped the list of places to visit. We knew that was going to be one stop we weren’t going to pass by.
And let’s face it we’ve all seen these iconic figures in photos and film so there isn’t much new here. The thing is Mount Rushmore isn’t on the road to anywhere and you have to really want to go there to get there. So we did eventually get there but there was a hitch.
We were going to visit the very famous monument on a Sunday, it just turned out that way…so let’s see, a Sunday in mid August: what are the odds the place will be packed and mask-free? Pretty high we figured. So the answer was for yours truly to get up and find himself behind the wheel an hour before dawn. The scene at 4:20am Mountain Time:
It was a lovely drive in the night. I saw just three other cars on the road until I got to the village of Keystone where I saw three other cars all together. Heavy traffic.
So I figured the crowds were not going to be out at opening time which was precisely the case. I followed the signs to “Small RV Parking , under 29 feet” which fit our Promaster just fine.
The Web had previously informed me that admission is free but you have to pay ten bucks to park, $5 for seniors. The monument opens at 5 but the concessions open at 8 am so if you arrive at 5:30 everything is closed except the exit gates which are wide open so parking would have been free if eager beaver me didn’t pay on arrival. I’m an idiot.
It was actually a lovely time to show up, the particular blue light before the sun comes up is prized by some photographers, and then there was the orange dawn under the cloudless sky and the monument itself has its own lights:
Pets aren’t allowed into the walkway up to the viewing area but they are allowed around the parking garage and also on one other trail which I didn’t get to see as Rusty wasn’t interested.
He was very interested in the garage, little weirdo, and all the cement areas he was allowed to visit.
I saw half a dozen other people who chose to show up at this awful hour and enjoy the place is peace and quiet. Mostly, Rusty and I were alone as Layne was getting up and getting organized back at the van.
He wasn’t excited to be left in GANNET2 while we walked off but we had no choice.
Unfortunately if you show up at dawn you aren’t going to get to hear nutters expounding on I don’t know what.
The idea for the monument came from a local historian Doane Robinson who wanted to attract tourists to South Dakota. His idea was to honor the Native Americans who had been promised the Black Hills in a treaty that got torn up when trespassers found gold. He hired a second generation Danish immigrant to sculpt the mountain.
Gutzon Borglum had his eye on posterity and he wanted US presidents on the mountain to exert maximum appeal to the public. He obviously succeeded, and I wouldn’t have headed to the Black Hills without this attraction to drag me there.
Gutzon and his son Lincoln built the heads sixty feet tall and Layne was astonished to read that Washington’s nose is twenty feet long. Some people say the heads look small in real life but I can’t say I agree. You look up at the Presidents and you wonder at the job they did. 1927 to 1941 is a lot of time to spend sculpting and solving problems on this scale.
I wonder how many visitors noticed the outlying islands and territories included with the familiar 50 state flags. Mariana Islands? American Samoa?
And at the lower end of the alphabet there is room for one more addition to the national territory…
Here’s the thing, and I hesitate to say it out loud after promising myself a visit to this place over all others… there’s not much to see here.
You stand and stare and being human the more you state the less wonder you feel. I tried to take some pictures like all the millions of pictures already taken and then I wondered: now what?
I looked at Layne and she looked at me and we neither of us knew what to do now.
We backed respectfully away.
Been there, done that. Unlike Pompey’s Pillar which came to life for me, and unlike Little Bighorn which caused a lot of thinking the Mount Rushmore experience left me wondering why anyone would do this and gratitude that they bothered.
Apparently there are those ready to back their feelings with cold hard cash and I raise my hat to them.
I drove away very glad that I made the time to visit this iconic place. The achievements of the four presidents are celebrated and that is a fine thing but…
…the achievements of the builders impress me a lot more than their intent. The greatness is in their lives and their achievements.
I came away from Pompey’s Pillar keen to read more about the Corps of Discovery. Now I’ve seen Mt Rushmore I’m ready to move on. It’s like those movies you watch and you never discuss again. Some movies you can’t get out of your mind and I wish Mt Rushmore had had that effect on me.
It was still early when we left and we arrived at the Crazy Horse sculpture in progress, a private effort to honor the Native Americans of the hills.
We were too early but I wasn’t sorry it was closed. I was really ready to move on.
We drove to Custer for breakfast. Mediocre biscuits we ate sitting in the van watching the world wake up around us.
