A Western Route

A couple of days ago, we starting thinking that we might drive home on Tuesday. We had done everything we wanted to do and saw everything we wanted to see. The only thing left was a drive to Deadwood and over to Bear Butte in Sturgis. Being that we were camping only about 40 minutes away, we thought that we would save a bit of money on our last night and wake up just a bit earlier to drive north.. And that we did. Oh, and the fact that my lantern broke, my Mag-Lite broke, and my hiking boots need to be retired, kinda helped with this decision as well.

However, let me backtrack to where I left off from my last actual post..
So, when we woke up on Monday morning to go to the roundup, we were awake before the sun even rose. I guess it was better that way, we had no clue what we were getting ourselves into. Thousands of people were there. Who knew that this event would be so incredibly popular? We began to think we made a mistake when we were stuck in the most god-awful traffic going into Custer State Park. Anyway, in the end, it ended up being pretty awesome. They corralled the bison in in two herds. The first one was pretty lame, the second one was pretty exciting. Like I mentioned in a picture post earlier, there was lots of guns and hollering and horses.. The whole 9 yards.

We then made our way through Needles highway and The Wildlife Loop. Both, very different, yet entertaining on their own. Needles Highway looped and turned and went under extremely tight tunnels to the point where I was starting to think that I would get a little sick, but I didn't. It actually reminded me a lot of Highway 1 in California, except in the mountains and not ocean side. Nevertheless, the scenery was indescribable. We actually went back to The Wildlife Loop later in the evening to see if we could find a few more animals, but the only one we came upon besides some mule deer was a some crazy antelope-type animal that decided to take a shit in front of our car and run off into the dark. Nice, huh?

We camped next to Crazy Horse, so we saw that about 20 times. They put on this GOD AWFUL laser show at night on Crazy Horse, itself. So, so terrible. Whoever decided to do this, needs to be shot. Mount Rushmore was a complete disappointment. It was so tiny and had a huge parking structure right in front of it. Thank goodness we didn't pay to see it. We just drove back and forth about 4 times. I got a really shitty picture of it, but I really don't care, to be honest. I guess I am just not one to enjoy the tourist traps. I enjoy the quirky, natural, and unique qualities to an area. It's what I go for.

Hill City and Custer were pretty great. Your typical small, western towns. Lots of crazy little shops that sold antlers, leather, buckles, and taxidermy. The real deal. None of the trendy San Francisco stuff that costs a fortune. Don't get me wrong, I love those shops, but there was no B.S. here. I didn't dare go in to any, as I figured I would end up coming home with something really bizarre. Tons of bikers, lots of cowboys, lots of bison, lots of prairie dogs. In fact, there was even a point while we were in Lynn's Dakotamart and I was told to go across the street to get another bit of ink at the new shop that just opened up. I thought about it for half of a second, but didn't do it. (I can hear the sigh of relief, mom.)

On Monday, we also went to Lake Sylvan. So, so beautiful. This was the point that I cherished. I now understand why they call it the "Crown Jewel" of The Black Hills. Andrea did a little walking around the lake as I went in a different direction and decided to climb one of the granite "needles" and just take it all in. I didn't have to try hard to enjoy every second of it. The smell was amazing. I believe between the two of us, we commented on it about 15 times during the entire trip. Can't someone just bottle that smell?

Yesterday we woke up very early, again, and decided that instead of having another horrible cup of Nescafe, that we would stop at a gas station for, "some REAL coffee", for the trip north to Deadwood. Only about another hour north, we went on our way. What an incredibly cute town, but it is ALL casinos. We actually found a really cute, old gas station that was converted into a little coffee shop, and stopped in for breakfast and, you guessed it, coffee and chai. It didn't take us long to see the whole town, so we decided to head off the Bear Butte in Sturgis to end the trip before we drove back.

What a hike Bear Butte was. Besides the hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon that I made several years ago, this was the most difficult trail I have gone on. Not only was it already ridiculously dry, hot, and just before noon, but the trail was very unstable. Driving towards Bear Butte, it looks like a piece of cake. Boy, was I wrong. We paid our fee, and parked. As we put our hiking shoes on, I read some of the guidelines that they asked of visitors. Being that my father has already hiked this, I knew a little of what to expect. It is a very sacred and spiritual area to many Native American tribes, and is used for many prayer ceremonies. I may not be religious, but I respect what people choose to believe and know that there are certain boundaries that you just need to not cross.They ask that you do not take any pictures of the prayer sites, sweat houses, and that you speak in a whisper while you hike to the top of the butte. I suppose these factors added to the entire experience.

Immediately I noticed flags, bandanas, a braided pony tail, and sacks filled with tobacco hanging on all of the trees and shrubs. The switchbacks started shortly thereafter and before we knew it, we were both sweating, while having to stop quite often for water. I am not sure how or what Andrea was thinking while we hiked, but it sure as hell wasn't easy. I thought, "What the heck has my father gotten me into?". About halfway up, we stopped to catch our breath as I sat in the shade of a large rock on what I would guess would be in the neck of the Bear. Neither of us spoke. We both looked out over the surrounding land, admiring everything we could see; North Dakota, Wyoming, South Dakota, and Montana. I sat and thought about what has happened here. What has gone on at Bear Butte, what this mountain has seen over time, and what it is still experiencing. I thought about the fire it experienced several years ago, and to be honest, I felt that the ground I was sitting on, at that moment, was extremely fragile and incredibly strong at the same time. I was in awe and felt grateful to be there. I grabbed my bag, went to the back side of the rock, laid a small piece of chocolate as an offering, bowed my head, and said my peace. I only shed a single tear.

I wondered how I would feel when I hiked Bear Butte once my father told me about it. I felt nothing at first. I felt it was just another hike. The higher we went, the more it came over me. It was very spiritual, and very calming. The trail may have been a bit more torn up and dangerous than I had liked, but I suppose I felt that there was a significance to that. Nothing is easy.

Knowing that Andrea is not very spiritual either, I mentioned to her that I had brought chocolate as an offering if she would like to leave some, had she prayed or asked for anything along our hike. She replied to me that she already had said a few words, and that she would like to leave some as well. She said the spirits must enjoy the chocolate, because the entire return, the wind blew and was so incredibly refreshing. We finished our hike, leaving our chocolate trail, and descended to the bottom. She turned to me and told me that even though it wasn't the easiest, and at one point she was even extremely frustrated, that she felt a great calm over her. As did I. We both left loving where we had just been.

Shortly thereafter, I got my cherry pie fix at a hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota. We finished the 10-hour drive home, and passed out.