The Last Romantic.

For two states that seemingly don’t have too much going for them, there’s a good amount to see in the Dakotas. On my way there I drove up through Nebraska, past corn fields, farms and flatlands, past billboards telling me abortion is wrong - thanks for the lesson, Nebraska - and then finally past something I could get on board with; Carhenge. Made in the 80s and meant to be a memorial to his dad, the artist and farmer took old junk yard cars, painted them grey, and arranged them to look just like Stonehenge. I laughed to myself upon my arrival at how odd the whole thing seemed albeit sort of pretty with the rainbow and scattered lightning popping up in the sky behind it, a common Nebraska sight so I'm told. This weird roadside attraction was and will be my only real stop, other than gas, in the Cornhusker State.

Next state - South Dakota.

There are actually two national parks in South Dakota. Wind Cave National Park is very small and is the first cave to be designated a national park. Like most of the caves I have been to, it's hard to take a decent picture down there, but I did manage to get a few of the unique part of this place. 95% of the world's boxwork formations can be found on the ceiling in Wind Cave. The woven ceiling looks like a honeycomb made out of pieces of cardboard and is intricate, to say the least. One of the most complex cave systems, they actually have search and rescue teams run practice missions there on occasion. Before most of the cave had been explored, one of those practice rescue missions turned into a reality when one of the girls participating got lost and her light went dead. I am not joking one bit. When the ranger told us this I actually gasped out loud. It's too dark in a cave for your eyes to adjust so at this point she was just going on pure gut instinct and touch. When she finally resurfaced, it was 36 hours later and she was hungry, shocker. I'll never get over how time stands still in cave and how unpredictable they can be. She had no idea how long she had been down there for. 

South Dakota is really weird, honestly both the Dakotas are, and the best places to see, I can tell you from experience, are Black Hills National Forest and Badlands National Park. Black Hills National Forest is scattered between Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse Monument. It's towering rock formations look like something out of The Land Before Time, minus the dinosaurs. The oblong granite boulders look like they are glued together to form much larger shapes, each one stacked higher and higher. Needing a better view, I stopped in a picnic area and walked off to the edge of the path only to find a perfect view of such formations. I also stopped at Crazy Horse, the monument that at some point, who knows when, will be completed and dodged the entry fee while still seeing the same thing as everyone else. I had heard decent things about it but I wasn't really a fan, I recommend skipping this until it's closer to completion. On the other hand, I was excited to see what the fuss was about with Mt. Rushmore. Part of me really wanted to be one of those people that just stops on the outside to skip the parking fee and view it from afar but, after careful debate, the other half of me won out. I am on a grand tour of America after all, it sort of makes sense to get a closer look at the men, the myths and the legends carved in stone. Fun fact, air compressors at the base of Mt. Rushmore were used to power jackhammers for carving and in 1936, Julian Potts, the National Park Service engineer, checked the system for leaks. He also tried to uncover the reason for the power loss every Monday. After a little digging he found that just about every woman in Keystone did laundry on Monday's and most had electric washing machines. Imagine using that much power that the nearby town is affected as well and visa versa. One place that is a must find is Pringle, South Dakota. The small town of 109 people is right along the highway between the two monuments and boasts a rather impressive bike display. I spotted it, my curiosity peaked, and immediately felt the need to pull over. New bikes are contrasted with old rusting frames, small daisies growing among them, and piled high and arranged to look like an entryway; to where, I have no idea. I loved it though. I loved finding the metalwork and creativity that went into it. If you notice in one of the photographs there is a man sticking out and holding a few tires above his head that at the time I didn't even notice.

The Badlands, oh my gosh, the Badlands. This park is way too cool. I went into it again not knowing anything. When you've seen as many parks as I have it starts to be more fun that way. This park reminded me a little of Bryce Canyon National Park, if you remember that one from Utah, in two ways. The first was that it was unlike anything I had seen before. The second was that it was a park that you had to go down into to really explore. The narrow two lane road that traveled along the upper shelf of the park had multiple turnouts where you could stop, pull over, and gaze down into the unknown land where striped spires, rugged pinnacles, and sharply eroded buttes were taking over. It's almost like someone peeled back the earth's skin to reveal exactly what it looks like on the inside. Finally, I had been wondering. As I continued around the rim, the landscape changed from painted cliffs to rolling hills and layers and layers of small trees changing colors with the weather stretching back into the hazy distance. I must have seen thousands of Prairie Dogs while there too, they are literally everywhere. Laying in my tent that night, from where I last wrote to all of you, I heard what I thought was howling and turned out to be a chorus of Prairie Dogs hooting to each other in the night. Creepy - sort of. Strange - definitely. I made sure to drive through the rest of the small park on my way out of South Dakota the next morning. The east side of the park was similar to what I had first discovered upon my arrival except now the tall peaks were shades of red and maroon and the prairie grass was glowing a golden yellow even in the rain. The pinks were muted and the patches of green vegetation here and there stuck out on the muddy mounds in the landscape. I wanted to hike down into the Badlands a bit but unfortunately they're made up of what feels like clay under your feet. That, coupled with the storm overnight and the light drizzle and dreary weather that morning made hiking a really bad idea. I took a step towards the edge at one of the overlooks, one I had walked down into a bit the day before, and almost slid right into the Badlands with seemingly no strong foothold for a way back out.

Eager to hustle out of South Dakota with nothing left to see I headed for my friend Sarah's place in Sidney, Montana. I had met Sarah while hiking at Glacier National Park and was really excited at the chance to hike with her again this time in a brand new national park. I drove what I now know is referred to as "the lost highway" right as dusk was setting in and was not at all happy about that. What was supposed to be a paved road turned into a gravel one about ten miles in, twenty to go, and I tried to keep Bertha on the road while my tires followed the wet grooves in the ground from the pour souls who had been detoured this way by google maps as well. Sidney, a once booming oil town, has since cooled off and is in a bit of a stand still now. If Sarah wasn't there, I doubt I would have stopped at all. Waking up Sunday to yet another gross day we decided to head to Canada. We figured, why not it was only three hours north and neither of us had been to Regina before. Just to clarify, that's pronounced Regina not Vagina. I know, completely absurd name for a place and the ten year old me laughed a lot when she first told me where we were going. Three hours and a bit of sightseeing later, we found a bar, ordered whatever the local beer was and watched American football. I, for one, was not complaining.

Finally, let me tell you about the man of the hour - former president and North Dakota lover, Theodore Roosevelt. The Last Romantic has always been one of my favorite presidents for the sole reason that he above all else, loved the outdoors. That and the fact that he loved a good rocking chair. This is a very random fun fact but one that I cannot get enough of. His small log cabin is now protected in Theodore Roosevelt National Park and behind the thick glass separating onlookers from American history is a simple wooden rocking chair. Teddy was known to rock around a room if he got going on a topic he thoroughly enjoyed, like politics. I'm going to skip over the rest of his policies because that's what google is for and I would much rather tell you all about how he founded the National Forest Service, five national parks and eighteen monuments. After all, he was most proud of this accomplishment and is often referred to as "the conservation president." Over 230 million acres of land were protected while he was in office and without his Antiquities Act in 1906, he and following presidents wouldn't have been able to declare land historic or preserve it and who knows, maybe without it the National Park and Forest Service wouldn't be what it is today.

"There are no words that can tell the hidden spirit of the wilderness, that can reveal its mystery, its melancholy, and its charm."
- Teddy Roosevelt, the American badass. 

Broken into two main units, the North and South, Theodore Roosevelt National Park is simply epic. The north unit is the far better than the south which becomes obvious after you've seen both. It's similar to the Badlands in some ways with its multicolored cliffs and pinnacles in shades of tan, yellows, and reds that layer on top of one another. Unlike the Badlands, Teddy Roosevelt is far more lush. I did one hike in the north unit, the Caprock Coulee trail and I immediately fell in love with the north after that hike. Hiking any part of that park after a rainstorm is not great and I slid all over the trail using my walking stick as my guide. Being at the bottom of the rough hills and mounds of mud was something else, but the short uphill portion let out to an overlook that was spectacular. An abundance of trees, hills rippling out as far as I could see, the road far down below tucked away in a sea of green, and a small yellow bush at my feet beautifully decorated with four orange butterflies. It was perfect. A couple that had cruised past me at one point was all of a sudden stopped ahead and I wasn't sure why. Then I saw him. About 100 feet away was a massive bison calmly grazing and having lunch all the while keeping one eye on us. The three of us tried to keep a safe distance while still continuing on, not wanting to have to turn back, and they jokingly asked which of us was the fastest. Raising my hand and awkwardly laughing we decided that going back down those muddy hills would suck, they were right, but getting gored by a bison wouldn't be ideal either - a fact I pointed out while we decided what to do. He slowly moved farther off the trail and we continued on cautiously, determined to make the full loop back to the parking lot. The river overlook was breathtaking with its yellow trees and winding water and cascading cliffs jutting out into the flat scenery below. Short grey stacks of clay were piled up along the side of the road in the south unit and curved like someone had shaped them by hand and added a mushroom cap top for detail. They cracked on their way down to the ground like dried clay and had small shelves jutting out half way through. The formations resembled curtains curving and folding over and over and rose just above my head. I pulled over and got a closer look and found little pieces of what looked a lot like petrified wood stuck into the clay. The orange and purple chunks decorated the grey in bursts of color and were a beautiful addition to an already fascinating site.

I'm so happy I only drove across one of the Dakotas and not both, there's not a whole lot going on west of Teddy Roosevelt National Park and it really is the crowning jewel of the state. After a short stop in Fargo, North Dakota, where accents run rampant and legs are shoved into wood chippers, I made it to my 32nd state - Minnesota. Oh yah.

I've been here for a few days and tomorrow I am going to see Paisley Park! Doves may not be the only ones crying tomorrow. Minneapolis, here I come.

- G.

The Photo:
Theodore Roosevelt National Park.
Medora, North Dakota.
9/19/17.