Thousands of Stars Interrupt ‘Rocky’ in The Black Hills of South Dakota

Day 4: Travels with Wally and Company: The Westward Excursion

Day Four — June 26, 1988 Oacoma, South Dakota to Hill City, South Dakota

The morning brought clear skies and cold temperatures. The Mom struggled to wake me, announcing “if I wanted to take a shower, I better get up and do it quick!”

Didn’t we all hear the same command fifty times?

The campground was quiet. Only a few people were alive. The morning dew clung to my damp Docksiders. The warm shower cracked open my eyes. My senses returned, partially.

While the “Mo-Jammer” was making pancakes, again, my desire for pancakes waned with every bite. Did I want seconds? No, thank you. I didn’t have the gym or the tennis and racquetball courts. I missed that.

The day grew warmer as we traveled on Route 90 towards Badlands National Park — our first destination. The drive was short.

The Badlands — cue Springsteen song — came upon us at 9:00 am. From a distance, we saw the formed figurations of rock — a huge wall with jagged edges.

At the Gate Entrance, Mom weighed the options of buying a Golden Eagle Pass (I liked Franklin’s turkey symbol better) for $25 which allowed access to all National Parks.

She decided, slowly, and paid three dollars. We pulled over at the first “scenic” overlook. We had seen such formations in the distance, but now, huge sheets of grey rock rose high, forming pinnacles in rough boulders.

Massive mounds of Earth with deep crevices and steep canyons carved in the ancient land by Nature's forces — so eerie. Had we left the planet and materialized on a Star Trek landscape?

Don’t beam me up, yet, Scottie!

At the second stop, Dave and I climbed onto the rocks. I wouldn’t say what we saw was beautiful — only interesting and mysterious. The formations of rock played eye tricks with contrasting shapes and shades!

Caves and small openings in the rock were havens for rodents and birds. The rock was so brittle! Bits of rock crumbled as I ran my hand over the landscape. No wonder Nature had an easy time carving!

The visitor center had exhibits about the wild animals, the Native American tribes, and the park’s geography. There was a 10-minute film presentation about The Badlands.

We left the Family Truckster behind and picked up a trail.

It was only one mile. We followed The Mom. Many plants grew around us — short, stubby grass. Sage could be found everywhere. And dazzling wildflowers! Cactus — as coarse as the hair on my face.

In the Aardvark Van, we drove the “loop road,” trying to locate a picnic area.

Food, as always, was on our minds. Cue Willie Nelson.

We saw signs for “picnic.” The road was bumpy and unleveled. Preparing lunch was more difficult than finding a place to eat. Strong was the wind, and dry — dry as desert air. The dry air rumbled through the canyon and blew things continuously off the table. Nothing stood stable.

The dry air made the bread stale as we ate it. Just — incredible.

After a frustrating, but memorable lunch, we headed out, stopping at “scenic points.” In grassy fields, pronghorn antelope feasted upon dry grass.

By 1 o’clock, we left the Badlands and headed towards Route 90, glancing back for a final look.

Were the Badlands what I expected? As usual, the answer was yes. And no.

Eight miles away, we spotted signs for another tourist trap — like The Corn Palace— promoting all sorts of things.

Every mile brought new signs — “free water ice,” as “told by Newsweek,” “We sell everything,” and “Don’t miss Wall Drug.”

Wall Drug is the “South of the Border” of the Middle West. In the actual city of Wall, South Dakota, the place was mobbed. Over 10,000 people a day visit the place.

I was curious. We all were. To my surprise, the place was interesting. The store was enormous — with countless rooms. It even had a drugstore. The Mom made sure we got “free water ice,” but she didn’t want to waste time. We needed to arrive at the Black Hills of South Dakota.

We headed west once again on Interstate 90 toward Rapid City.

The tension inside the car grew more and more intense. Our spirits hit an all-time low. I was irritable. Was I tired of the family? Or my sister? Everyone seemed off in their own world.

We needed to stop. Soon. Or like — now!

Rapid City Convention Area had tourist information. I also relieved my bladder and bought much-needed M&Ms.

What campground to choose in The Black Hills? We heard Hart Ranch offered free camping, but we had to listen to a sales pitch. But the place was closed on Sunday, supposedly. We passed several shabby campgrounds in the city.

Noelle picked a place deeper in the Black Hills near Hill City.

The Black Hills were lovely and large. All I ever heard was from the song “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles.

“Now somewhere in the Black Mountain Hills of Dakota there lived a young boy named Rocky Raccoon — ah — ”

That kept running through my head. It was not until we stopped for the evening that I pulled out my guitar and played and sang the tune around a campfire.

Dave then spotted something large. Was it a boulder? The boulder moved — slightly. It was a buffalo. Mom pulled over. We were several hundred feet away from the Beast. I hopped out, attached the zoom lens, jogged to the far side of the road. Was I willing to die a gory death for a photo?

Yes, dear reader, yes.

Noelle refused to come out. Mom and Dave remained in the van, too. The buffalo was munching on grass. The word ‘ugly’ came to mind. Another car stopped. A guy came over to me with his camera, too.

So two dead tourists!

He was not the most beautiful creature. Why give two shits about what some Wally Chapstick Jersey dude thinks, anyway? He had his own beauty from within — natural and content inside the park.

We arrived at Horse Thief Resort Campground. It was 5:30. My mom paid for two nights. The site was beautifully situated in a cozy, densely wooded valley. The sites were large and shady. The bathrooms were clean. After chores, I ‘showered’ in the small in-ground pool. I brought my lounge chair, blanket, radio, and my Lord of the Rings. So refreshing!

The sun was fading. It was hard to relax. Three little girls with a surplus of youthful flesh kept jumping into the pool.

Not refreshing!

My sister prepared salads. The Mom cooked spaghetti with shrimp sauce. Wine coolers would be great with this meal! David was feeling better, the headache subsiding. The meal was delicious. After clean up, The Mom went to the laundromat. Dave played his electronic baseball game. Noelle read my ghost story while I read Tolkien.

It’s called “A Midnight Séance in the Pine Barrens.” Proceed with caution!

At dusk, we drove to Mount Rushmore — ten miles away. Dave spotted a mountain sheep. We stopped. He was standing on a ledge, feasting upon the tall grass by a large rock. He seemed content. The hair on his body was half gone. A collar huge around his neck — having been tagged by a ranger.

Hopefully, not tagged as “rabid.”

At Mount Rushmore at 9 at night, we listened to a lecture and a film presentation in the park amphitheater. The sculptures in floodlights impressed me as “MASSIVE.” Pictures could never capture the moment. I felt patriotic — and then thought of Superman and General Zod.

Back at the campground, we glanced through booklets of Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons.

The day was over. It was a good feeling not to pack up early and head out to someplace new. Tomorrow would be spent, again, in the Black Hills.

I sat alone at the picnic table with a lantern. I wrote. I’m always writing. But my writing was interrupted with thousands of stars. The eerie sound of the wind through the trees and through the narrow valley also interrupted my pen.

And that was just fine, my friends.

More adventures coming! Look for these stories on The Masterpiece: