Holy crap, is today already May 22nd? How did that happen? I’m in the newly cleaned dining room, listening to the latest St. Vincent disc after f—king around most of the morning when I should have cleaned. No, that’s not entirely true. I hit Target for more fancy stick-to-the-wall hooks for prints in the new office. And I dropped S’s forgotten lunch off at his school. But other than that I channel-surfed and watched the “Fanboys” middle third between emails, etc. By one I felt guilty enough to start working on the house. The windows are open to a slightly cool, windy afternoon.

I promised a couple people I would get the South Dakota trip into text. Here we go.

Day One

Since I didn’t sleep until after midnight (S and I hit a Brew game) the night before, I skipped the gym, slept a little later, and hung out with the boys before heading west. N and I sat on the couch, chatting, once the Saturn was loaded. I said goodbye to M and the boys and headed out into the grey, misty morning. The first few hours were slow going, rain and construction, west to 90 and north to LaCrosse. I listened to Speaking of Faith and ate cheese sandwiches. In Minnesota the rain faded away and the speed limit increased to 70. Driving for nine, ten hours is boring, but Krista Tippet kept me focused and by late afternoon I entered South Dakota. The Saturn shook a little, and I thought something might have been wrong with the car but once I stopped I realized the wind was blowing as hard and cold as I had ever felt. Conversation would be impossible; this is the kind of blaring, unbalanced wind you see weather channel reporters braving near hurricanes. At least the skies were clear. I hit Chamberlain around dinner time, parked the car, and admitted to myself that I wouldn’t be running the neighborhood around the hotel as planned. The desk woman at the deserted Days Inn pointed me in the direction of the town for food. The hotel pool was waterless, so no swimming, either. Oh well. I snagged an omelet at a local diner after crossing the terrifying, river-spanning bridge connecting one part of Chamberlain with the other. The waiter was a very polite teenager who, when he wasn’t getting my order or food, returned to a corner table to chat with his friends. After paying for the surprisingly expensive (eight bucks) but serviceable omelet I returned to the wind, drove back to the hotel, and got online before reading, downing some melatonin, and falling asleep.

Day Two

I was up early but not in a particular hurry. The Badlands visitors center didn’t open until 8AM. Oh, I forgot to mention, the evening of Day One also featured a no holds barred battle with Hotels.com to change my Rapid City reservation. Fuck hotels.com. Never use them. After driving west past the time change I arrived at the Badlands and parked in the Castle trail parking lot to talk through my issues with hotels.com customer service for another twenty minutes until the problem was resolved. I cut up to the visitors center. They’ve renovated the place. Sean, do you remember last time we were there, they were working on the visitor’s center? I don’t remember entering four years ago, but I remember you and me hanging out there eight years back. The new space has a few dinosaur dioramas, an expanded gift shop, and a small theater that loops a pretty cool twenty minute Badlands film. Oh, and the bathrooms are spotless. Don’t underestimate the draw of spotless bathrooms in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, after checking out the film and cruising the gift shop (a cool fishing hat and a couple books…never quite sure what I should buy) I returned to the Castle Trail parking lot and started on the trail. The Castle Trail is described as “mostly moderate” but the first mile is the hardest. I lost the trail about a half mile in and had one of those “no way in holy fuck do they expect me to climb over all this shit” moments before I turned back and found the right pole. If you’ve never been to the Badlands, the trails are marked with poles hikers follow. So, in other words, you stand near one pole and look for the next to know which direction you should head next. So I lost one. Then I found it again. The Castle Trail’s first half mile features much jumping over crevices and climbing up inclines. After you get past the initial formations the trail levels off through grassland. I saw a big-eared deer and some huge rabbits. I felt a sense of “wow…I’m here” as I walked through the grasslands and thanked the present spirits for allowing me into their space. No one else was around. I didn’t see another human being for close to four hours. I looped over the Medicine Trail and sat near the sign marking the intersection of the Castle/Medicine/Saddle Trails and ate more cheese sandwiches. My legs were tired. I skipped the next Castle extension and looped around back on the return Castle trip, taking pictures all the way. Why was I so tired? I don’t know. Maybe the exhaustion was a letting go. I was so relieved to reach my goal of the Badlands that maybe my legs gave out. I felt myself saying goodbye. I’m not sure when I’ll return. I love the Badlands for reasons I can’t really articulate. The area is so sparse, so inhospitable, that I feel a sense of transience, a sense of how long the earth lasts and how little we do and how our dusty souls live near the point where the two meet.

After I reached the car I downed a diet coke and headed west. I passed Rapid City and headed north to Bear Butte, one of the holiest places in Native American theology. Sturgis, the motorcycle rally town nearby, is ugly as hell, and the prim woman at the tourist center seemed confused as to why I asked for Bear Butte directions. I drove through town, turned right, and drove seven miles or so, just past the “biggest biker bar in America” to the park’s entrance. I had no idea Bear Butte would be totally deserted. No one manned the park entrance’s hut so I drove through without paying and parked near the trailhead leading up the mountain. I took pictures of the prayer clothes lining the trees and walked partway up the path. The space is beautiful and I didn’t want to rush. I kneeled and prayed. I could feel how the space’s holiness. For what did I pray? I thanked whatever spirits were present on the mountain for my very life, for this American land, for the hands that move beneath the ground and keep the earth alive.

After retracing my path through Sturgis (and yelling at some woman who startled me at the gas station by trying to sell trinkets to people filling their tanks) I found my way back to Rapid City. I snagged a sub at a cool coffee shop, checked out some stores (nothing interesting), and hit the small hotel, where I apologized to the desk clerk for the hotels.com snafu. She was cool. This hotel, right on an awful hotel strip, was really four buildings in a row. I settled into my tiny room and decided to go out. Mt. Rushmore was too far away, and I wasn’t in the mood for the tourist thing, so I hit a local Borders (the Twilight guide I wanted to get M isn’t released until September) and cruised through the upscale mall before getting back in the car and hitting Starbucks for some iced tea. Then I settled into the hotel for the season finale of “Parks and Recreation”, some NBA playoffs, and reading until I fell asleep.

Day Three

I woke early, 2:30 Rapid City time, 3:30 Wisconsin time. After packing to Sportscenter I went for a run. Danielle, the desk clerk, told me to run up a steep hill, but the hill road only stretched about a half mile before dead-ending at a huge house. I probably set off the perimeter security system because I pretty much hit the driveway before I realized the road was private. Two deer also leaped from the trees and scared the living shit out of me. The run down was calmer. I ran a couple miles through the neighborhood across the street from the hotel, showered, and unsuccessfully tried to purchase two egg mcmuffins at the closed McDonalds on the way out of town. A billboard told me Wall Drugs opened at 7AM. Although I was early I though WD might have something cool for the boys. I cut back through the Badlands, took some pics at the freezing, windy dawn overlooks, and peed right out in the open. No one was around. Then I cut back through Wall, another depressing as hell town, and decided I didn’t want to wait the half hour for WD to open. Around noon I stopped for Subway. Krista Tippet talked about spirituality until I drew closer to Sioux Falls.

About fifteen miles west of Sioux Falls something in the Saturn popped and steam emerged from the hood. I pulled over and turned off the car. Now, after a meditative hiking session I was in the best mental frame possible for a car breakdown. Plus, I was alone, so I didn’t have to worry about the kids staying safe or the like. I could see an exit in the distance, perhaps a couple miles down, so I grabbed my backpack and started walking the side of I-90. Near the exit were a billboard for an RV repair shop and a seedy gas station/fireworks store. I called the RV place and asked if they knew anyone who would give me a tow and take a look at the car. The RV woman gave me a number to a repair shop. The guy at the repair shop said he was too busy and gave me the number of another repair shop. After some confusion on the car’s location this guy said he’d send a tow. I hustled back to the car (many dead things on the side of interstates) just in time for some huge, fat guy to get the car up on the flatbed tow truck. His name was Mike, a nice enough guy, and we talked about the small town through which we cut on the way to the repair shop. The owner of the repair shop, a younger guy who reminded me of my brother in law, turned the Saturn’s key and the entire fucking engine fell out. You could see pieces flying everywhere. He said he could get another engine in a week but I had accepted, the second he turned the key, that the Saturn had served its purpose. Thank you, beautiful machine, for thirteen years and 170,000 miles. I hope they treated you well when you got junked. I paid eighty bucks for the tow, took off the plates, and hit up Mike for a ride to the Sioux Falls airport. Thank you, people of Humbolt, South Dakota, for your kindness. Mike drove me in the owner’s truck to the airport and waited while I rented a Ford Focus for 200 bucks in order to drive the last eight hours to Milwaukee. Once I was on the road I called Corey, who offered to pick me up at the Milwaukee airport that night, and M, who laughed when I told her the story. The Focus was quite nice, really, and I hauled fucking ass through the rain. The hiking and car breakdown left me exhausted. Corey and I met at the airport. He drove me home, where I walked in the door near 10:30, inhaled some pizza, and collapsed.

Tomorrow…what I got from the trip…enough for now, don’t you think?