We headed southwest; but not how most people head southwest. The grid-like roadways of South Dakota required us to drive the margins of very large land boxes. This was not the shortest distance between two points, but the militaristic left-right-left was not yet a forgotten skill-set.
At Pierre we crossed the Missouri River, with the intent of staying on the western side of her banks for the foreseeable future. As Hank easily hummed through the gently rolling, treeless plains; we gazed across the terrestially-carpeted "waves of grain." The endless uniform greens, gold, and browns were occasionally dotted with spots of silver. At first this seemed like an anomaly, but the more we drove, the more silver speckles appeared. As we passed a farm sitting adjacent to the roadway, we realized the origins of these shinny masses. The intense storm that damaged Pierre (and spared us!) had rolled across the plains like a freight train. Large silver grain bins had been torn from their concrete anchors and tossed across the cropland. These massive seed impoundments had been reduced to crumpled skins of metal pieces, and strewn for distances of over a mile from their origin. Life on The Plains can be harsh.
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| Remnants of grain bins lay crumpled and scattered across the crops they once stored |
We made a southward turn at Philip--a nondescript crossroads where a solitary ball field now sits with its stadium lighting towers recently strewn at various angles onto the field. From here the rolling hills began to gain more edges; as well as more disparity between valley and plateau elevations. As we crested the pitching hillsides, the southern horizon began to slowly unveil the sudden topographical departure that lie ahead.
Natures beauty combined with almost impassible terrain yields a product known as The Badlands. Standing like defiant sandcastles against the weathering that continues to etch their profile, these wonders present themselves as ancient temple ruins ringing the much smoother and fertile valley floor below.
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| Painted with a pallet of pale, pink, and pumpkin pastels; these prominently projecting pinnacles--precariously perched on pre-paleolithic plates--perpetually piercing perpendicular into the contrasting cool chasm of cottony cumulus clouds churning within the celestial-colored caldron ceiling. |
The constant battle between earth and water has left sheer cliffs and narrowing/harrowing gorges that plunge hundreds of feet down steep inclines. When in its normal arid state, the clay and rock meld into a solid stratus that stands like a marble statue. When the rains arrive, the bond is broken--with the clay creating an unstable swelling and melting down the steep slopes to turn the valley streams milky brown. The rains make this topography much more dangerous for traversing. Unseasonable rainfall amounts even more so. Over the preceding 3-weeks, 19" of rain fell on this region. The annual average is 10". This had the unfortunate result of creating landslides throughout the park; including one that left our passage into the park partially destroyed.
With no vacancy in the unshaded park campground we opted to stay at a private (and heavily shaded) KOA a few miles south in the town of Interior. The campground was large and spacious, and laden with comfort amenities (showers, laundry, a swimming pool, a dog run, and a well-stocked camp store). This very comfortable oasis was a great place to end our days of strenuous exploration of the adjacent rugged and harsh terrain.
The Badlands are truly a "Wonderland."
It is a wonder how the topographical nuances of this park are only found within this regional foci, as the climate and substrata can be found in the nearby grass-laden rolling hills. It is as if a great river--miles across--once rapidly flowed through this region; suddenly drying up to reveal the post-hydrologic contours that distinguish this area from the adjacent smooth and fertile hills.
It is a wonder that there is such a diverse compendium of flora and fauna. From the peak-seeking big horn sheep to the subterranean prairie dogs; from the nocturnal burrowing owls to the diurnal ferruginous hawks; from the carnivorous swift foxes to the herbaceous bison; this rocky wilderness serves as a sustainable habitat for a wide variety of robust wildlife.
It is a wonder that early settlers were able to successfully navigate this monstrous maze of rock, clay, and cliffs. For the westward-minded Americans who chased the promise of a better life beyond our existing States, the sight of this could have provoked both inspirational awe and ominous discouragement. To transport family and livestock through a region fraught with danger from both man and nature would certainly conjure-up a descriptive title--Bad Lands. Those who successfully traversed natures gauntlet to carve a life at points further westward were certainly robust people.
With the onslaught of recent rains, our hiking was fairly limited. The soil composition at the surface is comprised of dusty clay. When wet, it becomes both ultra-sticky and untra-slicky. A brief stroll down a recently precipitated path will result in the addition of a few pounds and a few inches to the bottoms of your feet. Removal of this portable quagmire can be time consuming--through meticulous debreding of boot treads, or by letting the earthen spackle dry until it can be broken from its poda-form. Attempting to tread on more elevated perspectives can lead to a dangerous sliding down one of the aforementioned drop-offs. Bad lands indeed!
The sunsets were beautifully breathtaking. The sheer cliffs with their multi-colored banding, continued to morph through an ever-changing spectrum; the setting sun providing both vibrant hues of orange-reds and contrasting darker tints amongst the shadows. It is one of the few places I've experienced where the sunset can be spectacular while looking either East or West.
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