After leaving Custer State Park, we knew Devil’s Tower was only a few hours away, so once again we took the scenic road through Spearfish Canyon at the uppermost northwest corner of South Dakota. This gorge was a different geologic formation then what we had previously traveled through. Monolithic giants of limestone rock in shades of pink and gray loom on either side of the winding road and magnificent waterfalls are short hikes from the roadside. South Dakota sure has its fair share of spectacular roads.
I convinced Mark to stop at Deadwood, a touristy but authentically western town of infamous fame. Both Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok lived and died here. A visit to Saloon No. 10 for a cold beer and the reenactment of Wild Bill’s untimely murder was campy but good fun. We continued to follow the highway through a series of one horse towns, stopping in at the Aladdin General Store (125 years old, circa 1896) on Wyoming Hwy 24 that was reminiscent of a movie set complete with four cowboy characters hanging out in front pulling down cans of Bud Light. The second floor was a musty but fascinating collection of cowboy and western memorabilia. The crumbling structure was almost as much interest as the heaps of merchandise. In one room, Victorian-age wallpaper was peeling off on sheets, revealing the original skeletal structure of wood beams. The plaster on the ceiling was water stained and bubbling. We wandered through, marveling at the porcelain chamberpots, leather chaps, creaking cradles, rusted aluminum coffee urns and one-eyed dolls. There was some western art in rickety broken frames that wasn’t half bad. Downstairs, off to the right there was a tiny bar where Bud Light was $1.50 but “fancy beer” would cost you a bit more.The handwritten sign on the front door advertises the sale of the store, town included(pop 15) for a cool 1.5 mil. Apparently, it had been sold in June at auction for half a million but the buyers backed out.
We pulled in to our campsite late in the afternoon. I could not believe my eyes. Our site for the evening faced an iconic symbol from one of my favorite childhood movies. There it was, in all it’s otherworldly glory. The sun was beginning to set behind Devil’s Tower and the changing light altered its visage every minute. I was running around taking pictures while Mark was setting up our camp stove for dinner. What a setting! This campground plays Close Encounters of the Third Kind every night at dusk. I thought this was a stroke of brilliant marketing, Mark though otherwise but we did wander over and sure enough, there were couches and folding chairs set up and a tiny screen showed a young Richard Dreyfus convincing Terri Garr he saw a UFO. On our walk back, we saw glowing lights shining on the top of the tower, could it be climbers spending the night on the grassy flat top?
Waking up in the early dawn to it’s silent but looming presence, the sun illuminating its strange crevasses, we were excited to get up close. There was no one there when we arrived. Hiking the circumference as the sun rose was oddly moving and contemplative. The tower’s presence up close was not threatening or intimidating, as I anticipated. The path wove its way through Ponderosa pine and aspen trees, and the perspective and light changed as we walked. At one point, we spotted a group of three climbers, it made me queasy to watch them. Their progress was slow but measured. I wondered what kind of person feels the need to scale such difficult terrain.
Our trek to the Grand Tetons lay ahead, at least an 8 hour drive. Mark wanted to go through Cody Cowboy country, but this time I voted in favor of the more direct route down through Casper on and across the open plains of Wyoming. I had no idea how desolate and lonely the state of Wyoming can be. It is the least inhabited state and our trek across cattle country drove that fact home. We tried to listen to William Least Heat Moon’s Blue Highways (a favorite read of mine from 30 years ago) on audio but it was putting us both to sleep. We passed a sign for Hell’s Half Acre, thinking it would be a good a place as any to stop and picnic, but apparently the restaurant and store closed a while back. The horseshoe-shaped, snake-infested gorge, a geologic oddity in this otherwise flat expanse remains. We discovered later that the alien bug planet scenes in Starship Troopers was filmed here. Who knew?? Every time we saw a sign for a town, we would perk up and read the signs. Hiland, Pop 10. A few ramshackle trailers scattered on a hillside, an old chevy truck on blocks. In Shoshone, “Lip Rippers Bait and Tackle”. In the same small town, there were two ice cream shacks advertising the best malt in town, right across the street from each other. I regret we didn’t stop to put our two sense in.
There are places in our country that feel lonely and barren. And yet, the breathe of life exists in even the most insignificant places. I love the fact that a town, no matter how small gets a small green sign marking its existence in time and place. It only takes two people to make a community and it doesn’t matter if the streets are paved, or if there is a gas station or a community center. Humans have made their homes in the most inhospitable places and manage to survive the vagaries of weather and economy. We are a hardy species, much like the unlikely pine trees that seemingly lay seed and grow out of rock. We plant ourselves and grow a home around us.