Great Westward Push Day 6 (Tuesday, Sept. 24, 2002 — Pierre, S.D. to Rapid City, S.D.): Ground Control to Major Plosky
Quick breakfast at McDonald’s — ecch. I guess, as an all-American trip, I should visit representatives of every American retail and restaurant chain. Given the landscape that surrounds my nightly lodgings, that should be a snap.
The drive down from Pierre back to I-90 is GORGEOUS, as I write in my book. Many pictures taken.
I hit 2000 miles at 9:14 (Mountain time; crossing the Missouri River nudges clocks back another hour).
There is a sign announcing that Murdo, S.D., is the home of U.S. Representative John Thune. It’s an official green sign with white letters, not a schlocky billboard. Remember, South Dakota only has the one representative.
More schlocky billboards, though. In future years, when most/all cars have navigation screens, will billboards pop up on the dashboard and shriek at you as you drive?
On the way to Badlands National Park I get gas and postcards and clean my windshield, which has again accumulated liquefied bugs.
Badlands is amazing, an otherworldly landscape, sort of like the lunar surface. Huge limestone formations rise up from the rolling hills; contrasted with the blue sky, the uniqueness of the environment is truly stunning.
Naturally, I get some dude to take my picture at the first overlook.
A helicopter clatters overhead, giving someone a tour of Badlands. I passed the helicopter stand on my way in; a sign offered “micro hops” for $16.50. I consider it, but the helicopter, perched on a platform like a thin-boned bird, does not exactly inspire confidence. Still, now, there it is, doing what the sign said it would do. I snap a picture.
I walk a couple of the first, short trails — the Door and Window trails. At one, an elderly couple is present and I ask if they will take my picture. Of course they do — well, the woman does. She’s dressed in a decorated yellow T-shirt; the bespectacled man wears a shirt with snaps instead of buttons. It turns out they’re from Wisconsin (which I could have guessed from her voice). They’ve been here many times — “it’s so ugly, it’s beautiful,” says the woman, who also notes that they’ve just visited her husband’s 94-year-old cousin in Aberdeen, South Dakota. Swell! I also take their picture (using their camera, of course), and I snap a few candid shots of the two of them looking around at the rock formations that dwarf them.
I had put on long sleeves this morning, but now I go to the car for a T-shirt instead, as it’s got to be 70 degrees. Flies are swarming around the front of my car, which is covered with liquefied bugs.
I start down one other trail, but only go a short distance before I return, suddenly afraid that a bear will come charging out of nowhere to have me for a late breakfast. Hey, when there’s no one else in sight…!
Indeed, it is not crowded at all, although REPAVING is in progress! I must wait, but only for a few minutes, and although I then almost choke to death on asphalt fumes, I am rewarded by, as I write down in my book, specTACular views.
I stop at the visitor center for brochures and have lunch at the adjacent Cedar Pass Lodge — my first buffalo burger ever. Tastes like chicken.
I take the scenic loop drive to Wall, snapping many pictures as I go, marveling at what I see. The weather is gorgeous; it is as if the sky, not wanting to be shown up by Badlands, has produced wispy cirrus clouds as a visual counterpart to what rises from the ground. Fantastic, and it makes for great photography (even by me, a bad photographer).
I pull out on one overlook — there’s one other car, and a man and woman looking out. The man comes over to me and says, “See that? That’s a herd of antelope over there!” I check it out. Cool.
At the Homestead overlook, I meet a man from Cleveland who calls his RV his “motor home.” “You’re a long way from home too, huh?” he asks me, and we chat a bit about the Red Sox and Indians, Manny Ramirez and Pedro Martinez. He says “you know” a lot, in the stereotypical midwestern way. Our conversation doesn’t continue for too long.
Wall, population 818, is reached at 2:48. I figure I must check out Wall Drug, emporium of schlock. My friend Nathan alleges that one of the girls pictured in a historic 1937 photo outside the store is his grandmother; I call him (“Call from Wall!”, says the phone booth) to get the details. I snap a picture of the picture to show him later.
Wall Drug is sort of horrifying; it’s sort of horrifying that any such place should — could — exist. But then, that’s what the American Road Trip is all about. I buy a chocolate-frosted donut for 81 cents; it’s a big cake donut. Not bad. I wash it down with the legendary free ice water, and buy fudge for later.
I pass Norris Street in Wall, South Dakota, which is entirely unlike Norris Street in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It’s… a bit more rural.
I get on I-90 going east now, so that I can re-enter Badlands the way I came in, this time taking the full scenic drive to Rapid City along route 44. On I-90 going east, away from Wall, Mount Rushmore, and the Black Hills, there are none of the schlocky billboards that I saw for hundreds of miles going west. How about that.
My clear windshield is getting all bugged up again, but not so much that I fail to see BICYCLISTS going east on I-90. I’d read on the official South Dakota state highway map that it is permitted to bicycle on interstates, but come on! Ridiculous.
I whip through Badlands this time around — noting that now they’re repaving the OTHER side of the road; they sure do work fast around here — and head on down to Rapid City. On route 44, I’m practically the only car. There are some dramatic cloud formations, and a few last looks at the Badlands.
As for music, Nickel Creek has ruled the day — bluegrass/country music very, very appropriate to the landscape and the surroundings. However, while on route 44 to Rapid City at the end of the day, I do put on Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer,” re-enacting the scene in the movie “Almost Famous” when that song plays over scenes from a road trip. On this desolate road, with the magnificent landscape of the Badlands behind me and no other cars or people visible, I have a beautiful few moments.
The Motel 6 in Rapid City seems serviceable. I get a vegetable sandwich at the local T.G.I. Friday’s, as part of my visit-every-chain quest. I figure the vegetables can’t hurt too much. I also pick up some chocolate yogurt from TCBY. Later, I munch on Wall Drug chocolate/peanut-butter fudge as I write postcards (nine of ‘em), type up my journal entries, upload files to the Web, answer e-mails, transfer my photos from camera to iBook, recharge all my batteries, get washed up and changed into pajamas, &c., &c., &c.
Miles today: 259.5
Total miles: 2230.2
Noteworthy CDs: Nickel Creek, Elton John (esp. “Tiny Dancer”)