Tuesday, July 5th
South Dakota has been a testing state.
Reaching the badlands yesterday felt like the culmination of 5-7 days hard work, maybe even weeks. Today, inevitably, was a bit of a comedown. An unceremonious exit from the park through the back gate, and a long slog to Rapid City, a place I immediately disliked.
I’d taken it slow in the morning. Making two cups of coffee and doing some writing whilst most of the campsite was still zipped up in their tents. It was hard for me to sleep past sunrise when I was outside.
A lone buffalo wandered into the camp. There were signs of many more, and last night the howls of coyotes had come from the surrounding hills.
I took a short hike up one of them to survey the area. My legs hurts so I didn’t go far after I spotted the road I’d be cycling out on – a winding uphill through the trees and out on to the plaines.
Back down on the ground I finally packed my things and was one of the last to leave the area. Just as I did so a strong wind swept in, almost as if it was waiting for me.
It was through this wind I spent the next 14 miles, on gravel road. It almost undid the enjoyment of yesterday, the saving grace was stumbling upon a field of wild buffalo to my right, then, as if caught up in the wind, a pack of ten or so ran across the road in front of me, one of the bigger, older beasts lagging behind.
One more was still left and I was able to get close as this last one crossed the road. It moved at a surprising pace, and was kind of majestic despite the shaggy fur/hair, and the overall lumpy appearance.
The gravel road finally terminated at the route 44, just a mile from Scenic – a legitimate ghost town with a population of just four, according to a woman I spoke to in the Post Office – one of about three occupied shops that still operate there. I’d first heard about the town in The Road Headed West, I book i’d read back in Mexico months ago. I was now following the route that the author, Leon McCarron, took several years ago.
The town was sold in 2011 for $800,000 to a Philippine church and no one really knows why since they haven’t done much with it. The lady in the Post Office seemed to think they had run out of money too.
The town now is mostly old wooden shacks and storefronts which look like a cheap Western film set or theme park, but seem to be the real deal. A prison, an old shop with ‘Indians served here’ and the ‘no’ in front of it scrubbed off, giving some idea of the age of this place and the world it was once a part of.
A corgi followed me around as I walked between the Post Office, the trading post, and the gas station, only about a 100 or 200 metres between them. I’m not sure who the dog belonged to or if it was one of the four on the census here.
I bought some stamps in the Post Office, some snacks at the gas station, and wandered in and almost straight out of the trading post – a shop mainly selling tacky American Indian souvenirs.
I had 40 miles to go to Rapid City. Back on the 44 it was kind of like the days leading up to Badlands, but a slightly more interesting ride as the rocks and hills provided a backdrop to it.
In a field a large plastic green dinosaur. This seemed to be some kind of mascot for the state. There was a gas station which used it in their logo, and I knew that overlooking Rapid City was the Dinosaur Park – a collection of five concrete, cartoonish dinosaurs placed there in 1936. I’m guessing this is all a reference to the fossils and bones which have been found in the state over time, in an effort to give the place an identity.
I made one stop, 25 miles from the city at Country Corner- a gas station/general store out on it’s own. It seemed like a local institution which had been running for years and serving the local ranchers. A message on the wall wished a couple a happy anniversary. Grizzled farmers came in their denim and bought iced tea. Underneath the counter were shelves filled with rocks and some fossils, collected but the owners grandson.
I received a message on my phone from someone i’d contacted on Couchsurfing – up to this point I didn’t know where i’d be staying. I messaged them back, then tried to call about 5 miles from the city, but nothing. I had a bad feeling it wouldn’t work out.
The shoulder on the road disappeared and the road became two lanes. It was a shitty place to be as a cyclist. But a few miles later I was in the town centre on main street.
The aesthetic of the town, at least around the main street, was a kind of manicured kitsch. Bronze statues were on each corner, positioned so you could photograph yourself with them. I bought a smoothie and was charged $7. Outside over produced country music filled the air from some hidden speaker. Dads in pastel coloured polo shirts wandered around looking bored. No word from the Couchsurfing guy. I rang again and he mumbled something about not finishing work until 11pm then when quiet, then hung up.
I didn’t really have a choice but to stay in a motel. I found one which had good reviews, a old style family run place about a mile and a half out of the centre called the Lazy U Motel, it was that or a Motel 6 which was the same cost. I grabbed my bike and headed straight there. I had to swallow the cost. There was one room left. A huge place with two beds and a kitchen which felt like the kind of place someone might go to live if newly divorced or temporarily homeless. But it was comfortable and I was happy to be inside with all this space. I was exhausted and though I intended to spend just the night there, I could feel that I’d needed another day to recover.
I bought a pizza and crashed.
Map
