So where were we? Oh yes, coming from a wicked weekend at Shangri La and headed west towards South Dakota. What the hell is in South Dakota???

Michael and I are vibing from good tunes and good company, but a little quiet as we venture into the unknown. This is really it. What we’ve been plotting and planning. An escape to glimpse the world beyond our familiar midwestern horizon.

We make it to Palisades State Park right off of the eastern border of South Dakota. Registration got a little wonky, but we found a nice little site anyways. Rode by the tiniest, adorable wooden cabins overlooking the lake on the way in. Maybe next time.

Park, unpack. But then…the strangest occurence. I reached for our folding chairs in the back of the van and overturned Michael’s button adorned festival hat. Lo and behold, a stowaway! The bravest of toads, half-dollar sized and black as a 1997 Will Smith in a MIB movie, had made the three and a half hour journey from the oaken forests of Harmony Park to the Palisades with us. In the brim of Michael’s straw fedora. What an adventurous amphibian.

We released his wartiness into the South Dakota wilderness and wished him well on his new endeavors.

We took the three mile loop around the lake and watched “tweens” (12-15 year olds-ish) cliff jump into the quarry from forty or so feet up. We vowed to do that in the morning.

Up early, breakdown camp, wimp out of cliff jumping and hit the road. Grab hot showers while we can before endless yellow highway dashes resume.

Later…

Enter the Badlands. Wary but curious, we followed the unplanned detour into the park. Rolling in beneath light sprinkles and an ominous sky. We took a slowly winding road through breathtaking red rising spires. On and on we drove, seeking the backcountry camping within. Tourists stopped along outlooks, looking out over infinite horizons and snapping polaroids of grazing buffalo. A wonder and a sadness- that these mighty bison roam so easily and comfortably near our metal tanks trailing rocks and dusty gravel through their grazing lands.

After the pavement ends, we ride twelve miles over the bumpiest damn gravel road in the history of like, forever. I’m exaggerating but the metal grate that guards the cargo of the van from crashing through the front was rattling like a machine gun from Nam. Doubting our backcountry camping decision more and more by the second, we plunge on.

I spot dime size color splotches in the valley down and left of the winding road. We become giddy as we realize we have reached the (free!) campground-Sage Creek. Pull into a circular field with maybe fifteen other residents dotted around the encampment.

Set up camp in the rainy, overcast afternoon. Tired and a bit restless from the ride. Decide to venture into the foothills anyways. Pass the bison we rode by on the way in, grazing within five feet of nearby tents and making the rounds lazily around the camp, as if the hosts.

First hundred yards a miserable, chilly, uphill trek until we break up over the first rocky trail. The sun emerges exactly as we burst out onto a flat overlook with cairns in the distance. We stop awhile, play our own rock-Jenga. Frolic a bit like children and breathe deeply of this new atmosphere.

So this is what it feels like to be in a Lord of the Rings movie. My colored, green patchwork cape flowing in the wind as we traversed rocky rises and bluffs of green and sandy greys with desert reds streaked throughout. Higher up- finally, reach the top of this pass. A wide, flat shelf stretching on for miles, the empty road to our right and the valley camp below to our left. The sun exploded through the clouds again, within the minute we arrived, banishing the clouds for us to feel the sun’s warmth for just a moment.

We had no idea. The eerie silence of the Badlands and our connection to that particular moment, in time and tune with nature and the procession of the eroding day seeming to cease for us just this once. Utter Eden.

Once we’ve breathed as much fresh existence and inspiration from that endless expanse of earth and sky as we could, hike back down to our little blue tent amongst the squeaky little prarie dogs. They’re adorable and I want to squash one against my face to cuddle and keep for forever. Michael said no.

We plan a sunrise hike east through the valleys to the taller hills for a 7:26 a.m. dawn in the quietest valley in the world. Or so it seems. Michael had to wake me twice.

“Twenty more minutes,” I mumble.

Wish granted, but then we rouse, hike, glimpse bison afar in an ovecast, low glow sunburst through the distant horizon. Climb down- must not disturb the little white flowers and watch out for buffalo scat…wait, scat is for cute little forest animal poop. These are bison land mines and watch you damn step. Traverse a muddy Sage Creek, hop, skip and a jump- pack up, start up, head towards the Black Hills on the other side of the State.

We had one last order of business to take care of before continuing on. We had been subliminally manipulated by what seemed like hundreds of billboards across the entire state of South Dakota, claiming 5 cent coffee from the sprawling superstore that is Walldrug- a 72,000 square foot outlet shop with everything under the sun and moon. We again, vowed to go. Again, our plans were foiled by scatterbrained navigation…we missed the exit immediately out of the Black Hills and our consumeristic intentions came to naught. Oh well.

Badlands blew our mind/brain continuum and rocked our mundane existence. Next up, the Black Hills and Custer State Park. What else ya got South Dakota?