Some of Daniel's paintings

Napa Valley and the Badlands

The buffalo do roam

One of the things I didn’t know about the West is that the men there really do wear cowboy hats. In fact, as soon as we traversed the Missouri River in South Dakota, we started seeing them on big men, sometimes with flowing handlebar mustaches, who looked solitary, wistful and strong.

And people here also really say “howdy”!

During my time living abroad, I’ve heard America derided as a land with no culture, or at the very best, one with a homogenous culture. This couldn’t be further from the truth. As an East Coast native, I feel like a complete foreigner out here.

First of all, I am nowhere near as tough and self-reliant as the women, especially those of Wyoming. They drive monster trucks, ride horses, work in construction…and have the most amazing legs.

One lady we met, Mikel, told us that for a living she drives a team of horses, teaches horse riding, runs a business showing Conestoga wagons and hosting chuckwagon dinners, while also having time to provide life counseling using horse psychology. Not to mention that since last January, she has been living – alone - in a 23-foot trailer. She said she’s much happier since she lightened up on possessions, and that if she travels, she just parks in a truck stop and uses a candle for light AND heat.

It was Mikel who saved us when our GMC Yukon’s engine started smoking and making increasingly more distressing h-r-r-r-m sounds as we attempted to make our first climb, along a 7-mile stretch of road at a 10% gradient, into the Big Horn Mountains. Stopping to see why we had pulled over, she joined Daniel in having a look under the car’s hood (bonnet) and said we were fine, that all we needed to do was shift into third gear (duh). A nice lesson in automatic transmission.

Thanks, Mikel, for saving us a trip to the mechanic – and probably a lot of money. She was to be the first of our Wyoming guardian angels, who fell kindly from the sky.

[Responding to our email thanking her for her trouble, she recommended that we “Take the odd road, the road less traveled as they say and the Universe will surprise and delight you”. She also cited Cecil Beaton: "Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary."]

Second, as a city dweller, I have no appreciation for wild animals. Notwithstanding the odd fox or raccoon, my experience with serious, large wildlife is nil.

We are now coexisting with wildlife. Camping at the Badlands, a man told us we had gotten up too late to see the coyote outside our trailer. And we thought coyotes were only in the cartoons! Then, at Mount Rushmore, we encountered longhorn sheep. And in the Black Hills, the buffalo do indeed roam, echoing the lyrics of that old song ‘Home on the Range’ – which was performed by a band playing at Custer State Park’s annual Western Art Fair. These beasts are not scared of people, and graze nonchalantly along the roads. And of course at Yellowstone, one hears warning after warning about bears – both grizzly and black.

Third, I assume that everyone thinks New York City is the Best Place Ever. Not so.
And even the handful of people we’ve met who’ve approached us expectantly – having seen our New York State license plate - have walked away in disappointment after finding out we were not from upstate.

Finally, people here are really patriotic, with each stars-and-stripes flag larger than the last. They love America, and also fight for it, as evidenced by the large number of servicemen and servicewomen we’ve met. I saw a bumper sticker proclaiming, “Freedom is not free – thank a veteran”. It’s true, we don’t appreciate this enough.

Before breaking off, I should mention that Daniel is embracing the culture of the West – sporting not only a leather hat inspired by the region, but also a flashy new pair of beige and brown stitched leather cowboy boots.

Badlands sky

We arrived at the Badlands, a range of lonely mountainous buttes rising up out of protected grasslands in western South Dakota, on a cold, windy, overcast afternoon, tired from a long drive along Interstate 90.

Cheered by the spectacle of the irregular, stripy landscape – formed by millions of years of erosion and housing an incredible collection of fossils – we were in no way prepared for one of the flashiest sunsets we’d ever seen.

Boring a small hole at the western edge of the duvet-like cloud covering, the sun snuck into the sky. It looked like a light switch had been flipped on, illuminating the peaks surrounding our very basic campsite located inside the National Park.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Soon, we saw Virga, the scientific term for rain that evaporates before hitting the ground, streaking down from the sky. And then a rainbow – Sophia’s first ever, long awaited rainbow. And then, as if that weren’t enough, the rainbow became a double – full- rainbow.

The crowd – which in this off-season numbered about ten – went nuts, pointing up into the sky, exclaiming superlative after superlative, pausing only to snap photos.

That night, we huddled with our fellow campers at the park’s amphitheater, where which offers nightly lectures. The park ranger delivered a lesson on the astronomy of the Lakota, a Great Plains Indian tribe. She explained the legends of local landmarks corresponding to what we know today as Custer State Park, Wind Cave and Devils Tower, as well as how they are seen to be mirrored in the sky as constellations.

By the end of the talk, which Sophia and Lulu had managed to sit through very patiently, the clouds had politely vanished from the night sky, leaving us a clear view of Jupiter, just near the moon. With the aid of the available telescope, Daniel, Sophia and I were all able to see four of the planet’s moons.

Something out of nothing

South Dakotans seem to be very good at making something out of nothing. Whether it’s because they have a particular knack for advertising, or because the tourists need a break from the rather monotonous Interstate 90, which runs the length of this 380-mile state, I do not know.

Either way, they manage to lure relative hordes of tourists to towns that normally wouldn’t interest anyone.
All along the interstate are billboards – often hand painted and usually weather beaten, and sometimes adorned by old vehicles – heralding the glories of kitschy attractions.

As a tourist working West towards the Badlands and Black Hills, or East towards the Midwest, you know you shouldn’t fall into the trap. But you inevitably do, having seen it advertised for the last 150 miles at least.

We were first trapped by the (World’s Only) Corn Palace at Mitchell, which has declared itself a excellent stopping point. The city, aware of the cheese factor, did not hold back, beckoning motorists of ‘a-maize-ing sights’ and ‘can’t wait til you get ear’ type signs.
When you arrive, having been guided through most streets in the municipality’s business district, you are immediately disappointed at the sight of a structure built more of manmade materials than cornhusks. However, it has to be said, that once you stand back and take a look, an enormous number of hours has been put into creating a multicolored scene out of straw, 275,000 ears of corn plus straw and other agricultural materials. Once inside, the visitor is met with a wilting snack bar (though it has to be said that their prices are really low) and a walk through a high school basketball court (featuring a corn theme).
What later becomes interesting are the photos documenting Mitchell’s annual corn palace, which started out as a way to demonstrate that South Dakota had farm worthy soil and went on to commemorate harvest season, drawing crowds in the thousands – the town’s citizens prided themselves on selecting a local artist to invent decorative themes. The themes depicted often reflect current events, such as the building of Mount Rushmore or one of the World Wars. One scene, which includes a swastika, helpfully notes that the symbol is a Native American one.

The next big attraction is in the tiny town of Murdo: the Pioneer Auto Show, a higgledy-piggledy compendium of autos of all makes and years, which Daniel enjoyed. Funnily enough, over the free breakfast at the Super 8 Motel, we overheard a conversation between founder A.J. ‘Dick’ Geisler’s daughter and another motel guest, who by chance shared a table. We learned that they were both very distressed about the Lutheran Church’s narrow vote to allow the ordination of non-celibate gay pastors, so much so that each was considering whether to leave the Church. Desperate to learn more, Daniel and I ate waffle after waffle, allowing more time for eavesdropping.
Here’s an article on the crisis threatening to split the Lutheran Church.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/09/24/AR2009092402310.html

Thirty miles down the road is 1880 Town, which is a mock-up of an old West town using actual buildings shipped in from all over the region as well as a real homestead that housed settlers desperate for a new chance in life. There, we enjoyed imagining ourselves as pioneers downing drinks at the saloon, mailing letters from the post office, working at the local newspaper, attending the one-room school, catching the train, and hopefully not getting jailed. Whipped around by the gale-force wind, we were glad not to live at that homestead – even if it did come free of charge – in South Dakota. As an aside, the state is described as the potential Saudi Arabia of wind energy.

Next up is Wall Drug, a drugstore founded in the Badlands bordering town of Wall, South Dakota in 1931. Distressed by the lack of business, owner Ted Hustead started advertising the store by offering free ice water to all customers. Inevitably, everyone was parched, having traveled through the hot, dry prairie, and many of these people ended up buying other things as well.
Today, Wall Drug brings in thousands of people in cars, tour buses and on bikes. They charge through the shop, hungrily buying up t-shirts and Wild West themed trinkets, stopping only to take photos at the allotted spots.
One day while we were camping in the Badlands, while Daniel was painting a picture of the stark, eroded mountains, Sophia, Lulu and I made the prescripted drive to Wall – because we actually needed a number of drug store items.
Wall Drug is no longer really about the drug store, so we eventually left the warren-like emporium rather disappointed. On a positive note, though, I would highly recommend the homemade ice cream – Sophia and I shared an extremely generous double scoop of strawberry.

Finally, the mother of all tourist creations: Mount Rushmore. Dreamt up by South Dakota State Historical Society head Doane Robinson in 1923 as a means to attract visitors to the fresh, green Black Hills, the monument featuring the faces of US presidents George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt was carved into granite during the years of the Great Depression and eventually finished in 1941, shortly after sculptor Gutzon Borglum’s death.

Mount Rushmore is a fantastic half-day excursion, with stepped walks (don’t bring a stroller/pushchair!) around the monument, talks on its conception and construction in Borglum’s studio and views of mountain goats.
For more on the history of Mount Rushmore, see
http://www.ohranger.com/mount-rushmore/making-mount-rushmore