Black Hills (SD)

We gingerly navigated Glory out of the tight Spearfish Campground and narrow Downtown Spearfish (proper) streets.  We had a destination in mind--The South Dakota Black Hills.

Instead of taking a wider and more RV friendly route (which included the interstate), we decided to take the most direct route into the South Dakotan Land of Lore.  Although not ranked in the Top-100 of "Lower-48" elevations, our route into Black Hills had enough grade to keep Hank panting on the steep inclines.  The drive was scenic enough that I didn't feel worked in navigating the weight and mass of our caravan through the rollercoaster byway.

"People just can't seem to get enough of that old-timey music." ~ Record Company Agent; O' Brother, Where Art Thou?

The Chubby Chipmunk: A Deadwood tradition <sarcasm intended>

The first town we encountered was Deadwood. This is another former ghost-town that has been resurrected by the advent of Black Hills tourism.  This town has seen its non-tourism heyday during the Black Hills gold mining boom, but is now a photo-op background for tourist wanting to bathe in the spirit of The Old West.  As we drove through the narrow streets, we passed the "wild west themed casinos" and other touristy shops touting the legends of Buffalo Bill and regional Native Americans.  The northern portion of the town was in the process of an all-out street renovation.  I'm not sure of the extent of the renovation, but it appeared that they were replacing the sewers, sidewalks, and roadways.  We drove slowly across the washboard dirt roads that led us to the northern side of town.  We later learned that there were two seasons in Western South Dakota: winter and construction.

Sunset over Lake Pactola and the submerged town of Pactola beneath

We continued onward through the beautiful rolling mountain terrain; constantly shaded by the eclectic rocky outcroppings and Ponderosa Pine groves.  This was perhaps the most beautiful stretch of road we'd traversed to date.  As the elevation leveled, we came upon the massive Pactola Reservoir.  Pactola Reservoir is a 100,000-acre water impoundment area and is named after the nearby ghost town of Pactola.  The town of Pactola has thousands of tourists drive by it every year without giving the least notice to it's existence.  This is mostly due to it's location--230' below the surface of the Lake Pactola.  Anyone with a PADI Technical Diver certificate can still stroll down Main Street.

A couple dozen miles further and we had reached our bed-down location at Sheridan Lake.  Sheridan Lake was our first attempt at "dry camping". The term "dry camping" refers to camping in a location where electric/water/sewer are not provided.  You are responsible for bringing all of your infrastructure.   While we had not been tested in this capacity, we had long awaited the opportunity to utilize our supplemental resources in this manner.

We checked into our site and proceeded to the nearest communal water point.  With Kristy at the inlet portal and me manning the spigot, we filled Glory's 70-gallon potable water to capacity.  From there we backed into our reserved slot and set-up our portable power-plant.  Prior to leaving Virginia on our Oddessy, we purchased a pair of Honda portable generators.  Every month I would faithfully unpack the powerhouse pair and perform an operations check to ensure they were always at-the-ready.  It was now time for them to step up to the plate.  With a few pulls of the start chord, they cleared their throats of the full-choke white smoke and began to provide us with 4000 watts of off-the-grid electricity.  The last infrastructure item we had to address was waste tank management; which we had done numerous times while residing at "partial hook-up" campgrounds, and were fairly confident in our abilities.  We were on the cusp of being completely self-reliant.

Sheridan Lake campsite: our first official "dry camping" digs

The Sheridan Lake campground sits on the southern side of its namesake, with an additional non-camping recreational area on the northern side.  Both areas boast day-use pavilions/shelters, boat ramps, roped swimming areas, and miles of shoreline for fishing.  We tried our hand at fishing, and were successful in hauling in a few crappie, bass, and northern pike.

With our cellular devices registering "No Service," we were left with lots of time to watch seasoned wood transform into ashen embers.  The troubles of the world would have to take a backseat to the more primitive lifestyle.  This was therapy.  This was the "military DETOX" that we were seeking.  From this pseudo-remote area of The Black Hills, we were able to make day trips to nearby points-of-interest that were more notorious.

Classic Rushmore

The first was Mount Rushmore.  Carved into Black Hills granite sits the monumental (pun intended) work of Gutzon Borglum.  After fourteen years, the 6-story carving of four former U.S. Presidents was complete.  There is a museum to the sculptor in the nearby town of Keystone; a small tucked-away, tourist-driven haven that sits in the shadows of Mount Rushmore's eastern slopes.  Of course, no trip to Rushmore is complete without a photo of someone picking George's nose.

You can pick your presidents; and you can pick your nose; but...

The next attraction was The Crazy Horse monument.  This yet-to-be-completed memorial to the famous Oglala Lakota warrior is projected to be 640-feet wide and 563-feet high--almost 10-times the height of the Mount Rushmore carving.  Another impressive feature of this work is that it is done on private land, using only private funding.  That alone speaks volumes about how the Native Americans view the importance of maintaining one's sense of heritage.

El Caballo Loco

Five miles to the south of The Crazy Horse Memorial sits another touristy Black Hills town--Custer.  Named after the famous Army General, this town sits at the crossroads of the aforementioned stone carved monuments, and the 71,000-acre Custer State Park.  Custer State Park is huge by state park standards.  The park is also home to a 1,300+ buffalo herd, which roams within the parks boundaries and can be viewed along Wildlife Loop Road.  During our visit we could only catch a small speckled glimpse if the herd as they assembled on a distant hillside, far from the ogling eyes of curious tourists.  Oddly enough, while scouting out a potential camping site, we ran across a large bison lounging about 100-feet from the roadway.  We seemed to be the only one's who thought a 2,000-pound unpredictable animal so close to a campground was a possible issue.

Takonka chilling' outside the local campground

We did manage to see some "wildlife" while on Wildlife Loop Road; a small herd of "Begging Burros."  These stereotypically stubborn beasts-of-burden--the descendants of 19th-Century miner's pack-animals--have abandoned their ancestors grueling work ethic, and have found their Nirvana-niche by being petted and fed junk food by enamored tourists.  Next time someone calls me as a jackass, I might not be so quickly offended in being compared to these socially savvy animals.

Road Rule #14: Every traffic jam is the result of some jackass being themselves

After traveling the length if the Wildlife Loop Road, we decided to go off the beaten path.  A narrow, washboarded gravel road took us through some more tourist-free settings where we observed deer, prairie dogs, and....buffalo!  Lounging a few feet from the roadway were these great symbols of Native American livelihood.  Although tempted to get a closer look, we just sat for a while and took in the awe of a true American symbol.

Dangerously Beautiful

On the way back from Custer State Park we drove through the innocuous town of Pringle.  We would've kept going and likely forgotten ever venturing through this quiet hamlet, but something caught our eye.  Similar to the inexplainable "shoe tree" of Episode 33 we encountered another mind-bender: The Pringle Bike Pile.  This compilation of two-wheeled podiatrial peddlers was intentionally arranged in an artistic manner; yet we were unsure as to why.  With a 2013 census population of 115, it also begged the question as to how so many bikes ended up in this tiny town.  Our only explanation was that Pringle was to lost bicycles as dryers were to lost socks.

[insert your own caption here...I've got nothin']

The last day-trip we made from this rally point was the small town if Sturgis.  This Motorcycle Mecca is a quiet little Black Hills town 49-weeks out if the year.  It is those 3-weeks from late-July through mid-August that gives this town its notoriety.  We drove through relatively empty streets, visited the most popular Harley-Davidson store in the country, and observed the on-going preparations for the 75th Anniversary of The Sturgis Black Hills Rally.  It was hard to envision that this town of less than 7,000 residents would absorb the estimated 1.5 - 2 MILLION visitors during the rally.  We took our photos, bought our trinkets, and quietly saw ourselves out the way we came.

The most famous Harley-Davidson retail store in the country

After successfully "dry camping" for a week at Lake Sheridan, it was time for us to perform some housekeeping.  We opted to check into The Rafter J Bar Ranch Camping Resort--a full hook-up campground that would enable is to empty our now-full holding tanks, do laundry, and take a break from battery and generator fuel management.  It was a nice break, but we felt as if we were surrounded by tourists and "glampers."

With a longing to spend more time exploring The Black Hills, and being more comfortable in our ability to "dry camp," we looked for something even more remote.  Deep in the road-less-travelled region, Kristy found a promising lakeside campsite.  We did a quick scouting of the area and loved what we saw.  Once again Kristy struck gold.  This time it was Black Hills gold.

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