Day 154, June 28, Badlands National Park

Three amazing things in The Badlands of South Dakota:

#1- The night sky here is just plain phenomenal. We’ve visited some dark sky areas before, the best being on a crisp autumn night in Colorado’s Black Canyon of the Gunnison. But tonight’s dark skies rivaled the best, especially since it was a new moon night. No towns for miles in any direction combined with a lack of air pollution added to a moonless night set the stage for viewing satellites, shooting stars, and a white streak of The Milky Way amidst a billion stars. Simply enchanting, especially at 0300. Made frequent nighttime potty breaks less an annoyance, more a gift.


#2- The Badlands are aptly named. Fur trappers in the 1780’s were frustrated as they tried to pass through this inhospitable environment. Early 1930’s homesteaders, too, struggled against the arid rugged landscape and most did not survive the dust bowl phenomenon. We hiked over 6 miles through various parts of the park including 5 miles along The Wall, that great stretch of red and white striped formations which constitute the main area of exposed eroded cliffs. It is a uniquely stupendous place on earth; hot, dry, without any shade, stunningly stark, and surprisingly colorful. 










#3- Native American history is such a major part of this landscape that it is encountered everywhere. Most are tragic stories of numerous Lakota Tribes being forced off their ancestral lands and moved ever westward. At more than one of the several overlooks we visited were relayed stories of tragic encounters mostly with white military forces. 

#4- The honeycomb of hundreds of swallow nests on the shade pavilion. 



All in all, this park was a delightful one-day adventure and quite surpassed my expectations. 









Good deeds: The sign on the Visitor Center door stated we must wear masks. It seemed to be enforced as a family of 4 turned back from the door, the mom frustrated that she had no masks with her and none were offered at the visitor center. I gave her four packages of new good quality masks from my stock. She was most appreciative. Such a stupid rule; the women working the cash registers weren’t wearing masks nor was one of the three rangers inside. Yet they demanded it of us. So stupid.

A Native American man was selling hand crafted dream catchers at confiscatory prices, and I was not at all interested. But he looked like he’d had a rough journey through life (tracheostomy scar on his neck, dialysis marks on his abdomen, etc) and could use the dough. So we bought one and listened as he carefully explained the symbolism of the amazing Chief Crazy Horse tattoo on his chest and the atrocities at Wounded Knee that his ancestors, the Lakota, had endured. A people have never been more misused and maligned than our Native Americans. 





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