There are feats of nature and feats of man. Both are found side by side in South Dakota. I don’t know how Mt. Rushmore was conceived, but I imagine a bunch of men gawking at a beautiful mountain and thinking, “Huh, wouldn’t it be cool if we carved some faces there? Do ya think we can get the government to pay for it?”
That’s not far from the truth, actually. It was intended to get attention to increase tourism to the area in the 40s. It worked on me.
Have you ever traveled with a teen?
My daughter Autumn and I took a road trip from Michigan to South Dakota mostly to see those faces. “It will be fun,” I said. She agreed, but secretly we had our doubts. I know I did.
Here’s the thing about road trips. They’re more fun in concept than execution – especially when one of the participants is a teenager.
A euphoric beginning
We headed out of town excited, blasting Akon, windows down and spirits high.
“I get it in ‘til sunrise doing 90 in a 65, windows rolled down screaming ah!, hey,, ey, ey, I’m so paid.”
We cruised through Michigan, Indiana, Illinois … by Wisconsin, Akon was starting to get on my nerves. By Minnesota, he was dead to me.
The thing about driving with teenagers is it’s the worst. The Worst. They just stare at their phones the entire time. Here, some of America’s most beautiful prairie was outside our windows and she barely looked up. After about six hours of it, I wished I didn’t have to look anymore either.
How long can this road possibly be?
There is this point, somewhere in the middle of Minnesota, when all you want is for the road to end. Long, vast stretches of green and gold land go on for endless miles. Mom used to say we’d built up all the land, but she’d never driven the entire Minnesota/Iowa border.
Like Kenny Rogers, I’m a gambler
Sometimes I like to play it fast and loose, so we didn’t book a hotel. This seldom works in my favor, but it adds an element of excitement.
Once we finally pulled into Rapid City, South Dakota, we were exhausted and very sick of each other. The first hotel was full, as were the second, third and fourth. I was beginning to feel like Mary looking for an inn.
This is funny, right?
When things reach crisis levels, I just laugh. It’s my thing. The more I laughed, the more she cried. It was like an insane asylum in that car.
I decided we’d sleep in the car. Before you decide to have children, I suggest you borrow one and see how that recommendation goes over. If you can handle it, sure, go ahead! Have kids!
I decided to give it one more shot as luck would have it. Someone had just canceled right before I walked in the door freeing up the only available room in 100 miles (so said the desk attendant, and at this point, I didn’t doubt it).
I could pilot this thing
Keeping with the “fly by the seat of our pants” theme, the next morning, we randomly showed up at a helicopter company I found by following signs. No reservation was needed; they took my money and prepared to give us a two-person private helicopter ride over the Black Hills Forest of South Dakota.
I’d never been in a helicopter before, so I was intensely afraid. The helicopter looked much less significant than I believed it would be. The pilot, for his part, didn’t look old enough to be piloting it. (Is that what you call driving the helicopter?)
As I approached the helipad, I noticed it was made of plywood. That didn’t exactly instill confidence in the legitimacy of the operation.
Self-annihilation
There is this sick, relentless thing inside of my head that is always pushing me to do things I don’t want to do. The helicopter ride was MY idea. Mine. The kid was indifferent and a little bit afraid herself. Nobody made me come here and fork over hundreds of dollars for this. So why – why was I here?
“Ready?” The pilot said. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I mumbled. I’m five-foot-three, but I envisioned the propellers cutting my head off as I got in.
Get ready for takeoff
There was no way we would hear each other over the propellers, so we got to wear cool headphones like Magnum PI and that immediately perked me up. “Testing … testing 123, Autumn, can you hear me? Autumn come in,” I said.
“Please stop,” she answered.
Fly like an eagle … into the future
Being in a helicopter was less like flying and more like soaring.
We soared over pine trees that were probably hundreds of years old. Rock formations and other natural, breathtaking things I can’t begin to describe. It was majestic.
Then, like magic, there were faces on the mountain.
I take back the earlier mocking of the monument
It’s one of those moments. The involuntary gasp of recognition and awe that comes out of you. There they are. Roosevelt, Jefferson, Washington, and Lincoln. Proud and towering even for disconnected heads.
You can’t help but feel a patriotic swell of American pride. Look at what we did to that mountain! Who cares that we’ve killed wildlife; this is for us tourists now! And look at it! Amazing.
Was Lincoln’s chin really that big? I wonder what really did happen between Jefferson and Sally Hemmings? Roosevelt looks dapper even in stone, huh. Good old George Washington; who doesn’t love him? Well, maybe a few of the descendants of Mt. Vernon. OK, enough. Let’s just admire the mountain.
And then I vomited, just kidding
The pilot swooped around the back of the president’s and pulled me out of my revelry while leaving my stomach in my throat. I’d forgotten how scared I was for a minute.
We did a few more circles around the park and headed back to the helipad with me, clutching the door envisioning it flying open and me hanging on for dear life 5,000 feet from the ground. No drama, though.
Nature and man, combined
There is something magical about the place. The forest, the hills, the monument carved into the very mountain. Being in the helicopter and having the opportunity to see it from the vantage of God and the birds was special and unique.
Though I was afraid, I felt that the experience would be worth getting over my fear, and I was right. Both nature and man have created majesty in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and the only thing to fear is the ridicule of teenagers.
Highways and Byways
Leaving Mount Rushmore, we drove through the winding Needles Highway along cliffs on roads just big enough to fit the car. It is so narrow it isn’t even open in the winter.
Needles Highway is a 14-mile National Scenic Byway that includes sharp turns, narrow tunnels, granite spires and insanely gorgeous views.
The winding roads lead up, around, down and through the very mountain itself. I recommend, if you can, not being the driver. There is much too much else that deserves attention other than staying on the roadway.
We drove through Needles Eye, Hood and Iron Creek tunnels carved in the mountain and so long and narrow only one car can go through at a time. I dare you to go through them and not exclaim in awe at least once.
We saw a mountain goat climb up the side of the actual mountain and my day was made.
We pulled off to the side at lookout points a few times so I could admire the view and she could be annoyed with it. Rock formations made up of red, beige, gold brown, grey and green for miles and miles.
Crazy as I wanna be
We made our way to the Crazy Horse Memorial, where, aside from the sculpture in Thunderhead Mountain, there is a museum and Native American cultural center.
The memorial is of Oglala Lakota warrior, Crazy Horse, riding a horse and pointing into the distance. It was started in 1948, but it is still under construction due to funding, and some believe it always will be.
We were honored to participate in a pow-wow on the sacred land under the outstretched arm of Crazy Horse.
Into the Badlands
On our path home, we stopped and went horseback riding the Black Forest along the hills and prairies and marveled at the South Dakota wilderness around us. We nearly cried as our horses stumbled along the hillside on the rocky pass.
Driving into Badlands National Park, we saw free-roaming mountain goats, bison, and buffalo, uncaged and free, as intended. We came upon a colony of wild black-tailed prairie dogs that would take anything you had to offer.
The colorful layered geologic deposits that form spires, hills and other landforms are the highlights of the United States’ largest undisturbed prairie.
We drove Badlands Loop Road toward I-90, stopping at a small cafe for Indian tacos. Autumn ate a buffalo taco, and the spirit of the buffalo haunted her digestive system all the way home. Poetic justice.
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