Greetings from Eugene, OR!
Arrived yesterday afternoon after a relatively uneventful flight (except for the part where that four year old spilled water all over me, but it was only water--no big deal). After a short tour of our digs, Monkey and I met a couple of acquaintances for dinner at Bepe and Gianni's, a pretty nice Italian restaurant here in town. By 9 pm, I was feeling pretty sleepy, after an early wake up, a long day travelling, the two hour time difference, a handful of dramamine, a plate of ravioli in a bechamel, and one (yes, only one) glass of wine. By 9:30, I was sawing logs.
Today, an early run (so much cooler and less humid than NE) and then we're off for more visiting of old friends in Corvallis, just north of here. Tomorrow, we're off to Portland for more visiting, and Saturday, Andrew Bird and the Decemberists on their home turf. Should be spectacular. I will keep you posted!
Showing posts with label Mount Rushmore. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mount Rushmore. Show all posts
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The End of A Very Long Western Story: Lodge of the Bear, Old Muddy, and A Palace of Corn
We spent most of our last day in western SD visiting what is 
known officially in the US as Devils Tower. The igneous monolith, made famous as Richard Dreyfuss' obsession in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, is actually known by many other names in the various languages of American Indians. Lakota call it Bear's Lodge Butte. Most of the Indian names have something to do with a bear. The Indian story of the butte's origins involves a bear, a flat rock, and some sisters, if I am not completely mistaken. The bear (which was some kin to the girls turned into a bear, I think), chased the girls. They fled and asked a flat rock to help them. The rock asked the girls to circle the rock several times, and, as they did, the rock rose up to the heavens, forming the butte. As it rose, the bear's claws scratched the characteristic ridges around its perimeter. The girls wound up becoming stars, or something. I don't recall what happened to the bear. At any rate, it's an awesome story (not retold very well...my apologies).
Geologist tell several different stories, but all of them involve magma and cooling and erosion and fractals (or hexagons or something) and millions of years. That story is awesome, too, but, it's a different kind of awesome.
Whatever story you adhere to, Devils Tower is a magnificent site. It towers up out of the gentle hills of eastern Wyoming, creating a spiritual magnet for many. It
has been a sacred site to American Indians (understandably) from time untold. Climbers are drawn to the tower, too. The National Park Service is caught in the middle, trying to respect American Indian spiritual beliefs, yet allowing rock climbers to scamper up and down the ridged face of the formation. Honestly, I don't know if that really is a balance, at all, but I do know that the view into the Belle Fourche Valley from the base of the Tower is a glimpse into paradise itself.
We made it back to Hill City, after taking about a hundred pictures of Devils Tower (we circled the entire thing on foot), in time to see the lighting of Mount Rushmore. My inadequate photography skills left us with little in the way of quality proof of the sight, so I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that it gets chilly in the Black Hills in October when the sun goes down, and you haven't eaten since breakfast.
The next morning we made our way back east. Traveling through southern South Dakota this
time, we crossed the Missouri River at Oacoma and Chamberlain, where they have an extensive Lewis and Clark exhibit at the I90 rest stop. Needless to say, I have had my fill of L & C, after the last couple of years in Missouri, but this was impressive. They even had a full-size replica keel boat inside the rest stop. That's worth a stop (that and having to go to the bathroom, anyway).
Our last destination in SD was Mitchell. Home of the disappointing Corn Palace. We snapped a few pics, but, while admiring the artistry of the corn murals, we found ourselves underwhelmed by the little corny building next to city hall. The fact that within they were staging some extreme fight club event didn't help to increase my "Wow" meter reading.
The sun set as we passed south down US77, through the Winnebago and Omaha Indian Reservations, through the towns of Oakland (the award-winning Swedish capital of Nebraska), Wahoo, Fremont, and Ceresco, and, finally pulled into the drive of our house. A cursory unpacking, and we were off to bed, looking forward to Saturday and Sunday, so we could rest up from our relaxing 2000 mile drive around the wilds of the old Wild West.
known officially in the US as Devils Tower. The igneous monolith, made famous as Richard Dreyfuss' obsession in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, is actually known by many other names in the various languages of American Indians. Lakota call it Bear's Lodge Butte. Most of the Indian names have something to do with a bear. The Indian story of the butte's origins involves a bear, a flat rock, and some sisters, if I am not completely mistaken. The bear (which was some kin to the girls turned into a bear, I think), chased the girls. They fled and asked a flat rock to help them. The rock asked the girls to circle the rock several times, and, as they did, the rock rose up to the heavens, forming the butte. As it rose, the bear's claws scratched the characteristic ridges around its perimeter. The girls wound up becoming stars, or something. I don't recall what happened to the bear. At any rate, it's an awesome story (not retold very well...my apologies).Geologist tell several different stories, but all of them involve magma and cooling and erosion and fractals (or hexagons or something) and millions of years. That story is awesome, too, but, it's a different kind of awesome.
Whatever story you adhere to, Devils Tower is a magnificent site. It towers up out of the gentle hills of eastern Wyoming, creating a spiritual magnet for many. It
has been a sacred site to American Indians (understandably) from time untold. Climbers are drawn to the tower, too. The National Park Service is caught in the middle, trying to respect American Indian spiritual beliefs, yet allowing rock climbers to scamper up and down the ridged face of the formation. Honestly, I don't know if that really is a balance, at all, but I do know that the view into the Belle Fourche Valley from the base of the Tower is a glimpse into paradise itself.We made it back to Hill City, after taking about a hundred pictures of Devils Tower (we circled the entire thing on foot), in time to see the lighting of Mount Rushmore. My inadequate photography skills left us with little in the way of quality proof of the sight, so I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that it gets chilly in the Black Hills in October when the sun goes down, and you haven't eaten since breakfast.
The next morning we made our way back east. Traveling through southern South Dakota this
time, we crossed the Missouri River at Oacoma and Chamberlain, where they have an extensive Lewis and Clark exhibit at the I90 rest stop. Needless to say, I have had my fill of L & C, after the last couple of years in Missouri, but this was impressive. They even had a full-size replica keel boat inside the rest stop. That's worth a stop (that and having to go to the bathroom, anyway).Our last destination in SD was Mitchell. Home of the disappointing Corn Palace. We snapped a few pics, but, while admiring the artistry of the corn murals, we found ourselves underwhelmed by the little corny building next to city hall. The fact that within they were staging some extreme fight club event didn't help to increase my "Wow" meter reading.
The sun set as we passed south down US77, through the Winnebago and Omaha Indian Reservations, through the towns of Oakland (the award-winning Swedish capital of Nebraska), Wahoo, Fremont, and Ceresco, and, finally pulled into the drive of our house. A cursory unpacking, and we were off to bed, looking forward to Saturday and Sunday, so we could rest up from our relaxing 2000 mile drive around the wilds of the old Wild West.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
A Very Long Western Story, Part Three: An American Garden of Eden
Here on this mountain top
I got some wild, wild life
I got some news to tell you
About some wild, wild life.
--Talking Heads, "Wild, Wild Life"
The Black Hills of South Dakota take their name
from the Lakota Sioux who considered the area sacred. Paha sapa they are called in Lakota. They are an interesting formation, a sort of oval range, alone in the plains, surrounded by a valley playfully called the racetrack and containing several peaks in excess of 6000 feet. It is no wonder that many American Indians considered this area to be some sort of ground zero for creation. It is like a ragged, jagged Garden of Eden that Monkey and I were set to explore.
An early Monday night (after a meal of pork and sauerkraut at the Horse Creek Inn), led to an early morning at the table of our hosts at Emerald Pines. Mrs. Pines cooked up a scrumptious breakfast of french toast and bacon, with plenty of hot coffee, and some scones on the side. Monkey and I were well fed as we headed out to gaze upon the grandeur of Mount Rushmore.
I was prepared for a tacky 1960s-style North-by-Northwest version of Mount Rushmore. Something along the lines of a Graceland for George Washington, a gift shop full of shot glasses and rubber tomahawks, and coin operated telescopes. I did not get what I expected (except for the coin-op scopes).
Mount Rushmore is a pretty amazing sight. No doubt, even had the gift shop been full of plastic, glow-in-the-dark models of the heads, even had the cafeteria been doling out Mount Rushmore versions of Klondike ice cream bars, the monument itself would be spectacular. It was made more spectacular by a gorgeous day: clear, slightly windy, a bit of a chill in the air (some who came from the lowlands were in shirt sleeves). It was made even more spectacular by the off-season crowd.
Not many people were around on this fine late October Tuesday. It was great. We took a guided walk around the monument and trail around the grounds, and got to spend twice as much time with our Parks Service guide than we would have
been able to in the summer. It was an awesome sight, and the interpretive center and museum were fascinating. I won't go into some sort of Modern Marvels shpeil about the wonders of the work that Gutzon Borglum and his crew did, but I will say that it is a story worth investigating. I would like to take this opportunity, however, to alert anyone thinking about taking a trip to Mount Rushmore in the off-season: use the restroom at the welcome center before you walk the trail around the park.
Another warning that is worth disseminating: be wary of belligerent burros while driving through Custer State Park, our second destination of the day. Near Wind Cave National Park,
Custer is a large state-owned piece of land that is home to "wildlife-at-large," like so much of this area of the western US. We were amazed to see a herd of bison watering at a hole just a few hundred yards from the park's borders. After gazing in wonder at these magnificent, seemingly docile beast (yet we were warned by signs that they are "dangerous"), we motored on, only to be waylayed by a herd of wild burro astride the park road. We stared at them, and they stared at us. We inched The Penguin forward, they held their ground. We sat stalemated for a good fifteen minutes before these belligerent burros decided to let us through.
Beauty was everywhere on the other side of the asses. Not only in animal form, but the few deciduous trees still in leaf were blazing in color. against the backdrop of the grass and pines, they stood out, little accents to this western American Garden of Eden.
I got some wild, wild life
I got some news to tell you
About some wild, wild life.
--Talking Heads, "Wild, Wild Life"
The Black Hills of South Dakota take their name
from the Lakota Sioux who considered the area sacred. Paha sapa they are called in Lakota. They are an interesting formation, a sort of oval range, alone in the plains, surrounded by a valley playfully called the racetrack and containing several peaks in excess of 6000 feet. It is no wonder that many American Indians considered this area to be some sort of ground zero for creation. It is like a ragged, jagged Garden of Eden that Monkey and I were set to explore.An early Monday night (after a meal of pork and sauerkraut at the Horse Creek Inn), led to an early morning at the table of our hosts at Emerald Pines. Mrs. Pines cooked up a scrumptious breakfast of french toast and bacon, with plenty of hot coffee, and some scones on the side. Monkey and I were well fed as we headed out to gaze upon the grandeur of Mount Rushmore.
I was prepared for a tacky 1960s-style North-by-Northwest version of Mount Rushmore. Something along the lines of a Graceland for George Washington, a gift shop full of shot glasses and rubber tomahawks, and coin operated telescopes. I did not get what I expected (except for the coin-op scopes).Mount Rushmore is a pretty amazing sight. No doubt, even had the gift shop been full of plastic, glow-in-the-dark models of the heads, even had the cafeteria been doling out Mount Rushmore versions of Klondike ice cream bars, the monument itself would be spectacular. It was made more spectacular by a gorgeous day: clear, slightly windy, a bit of a chill in the air (some who came from the lowlands were in shirt sleeves). It was made even more spectacular by the off-season crowd.
Not many people were around on this fine late October Tuesday. It was great. We took a guided walk around the monument and trail around the grounds, and got to spend twice as much time with our Parks Service guide than we would have
been able to in the summer. It was an awesome sight, and the interpretive center and museum were fascinating. I won't go into some sort of Modern Marvels shpeil about the wonders of the work that Gutzon Borglum and his crew did, but I will say that it is a story worth investigating. I would like to take this opportunity, however, to alert anyone thinking about taking a trip to Mount Rushmore in the off-season: use the restroom at the welcome center before you walk the trail around the park.Another warning that is worth disseminating: be wary of belligerent burros while driving through Custer State Park, our second destination of the day. Near Wind Cave National Park,
Custer is a large state-owned piece of land that is home to "wildlife-at-large," like so much of this area of the western US. We were amazed to see a herd of bison watering at a hole just a few hundred yards from the park's borders. After gazing in wonder at these magnificent, seemingly docile beast (yet we were warned by signs that they are "dangerous"), we motored on, only to be waylayed by a herd of wild burro astride the park road. We stared at them, and they stared at us. We inched The Penguin forward, they held their ground. We sat stalemated for a good fifteen minutes before these belligerent burros decided to let us through.
Beauty was everywhere on the other side of the asses. Not only in animal form, but the few deciduous trees still in leaf were blazing in color. against the backdrop of the grass and pines, they stood out, little accents to this western American Garden of Eden.
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