Badlands National Park

Mako Sica.  This is what the native Lakota Indian tribes called the area.  Loosely translated it means “land bad”.  When French trappers showed up in the mid 1700’s, they called the area Les Mauvaises Terres, “The Bad Land”.  American settlers came next and in keeping with the theme, they simply referred to the area as “Badlands.”  The name has stuck ever since.  Other than grass and some hearty animals, little lives here.  There is a 50 mile rock “wall” cutting through the area that is not only challenging to cross but effectively cuts off most sources of water.  By the mid-1800’s when fossils were found in abundance among the rock outcroppings, the generally accepted statement was, “This is a place only a geologist could love.” 

But all that belies the underlying beauty of Badlands National Park.  There is water, perhaps not much, but enough that the erosion is constant, resulting in an ever changing and quite striking landscape.  The rock cuts up sharply from the ground and merges with the sky in a crazy cacophony of colors that can be overwhelming and if I hadn’t seen, I wouldn’t believe (and certainly much more than I am capable of capturing with a camera).  And the grasses are simply everywhere, supporting an ecosystem of animals that takes some looking for, but is quite abundant. 

Which brings me to the story of the rattlesnake.  For those of you that know me, you know that my love of snakes is on the same level as cleaning latrines on a hot day at Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi.  If Badlands NP were to have a mascot, it would be the rattlesnake.  We enter the Visitor Center and are greeted by a large, mounted rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.  The ranger proceeds to tell us, “Oh yea, sightings are very common, but we don’t get many bites.  Although we did have one just last week….”  Each trailhead has at least three signs stating, “Beware of rattlesnakes”.  And as if we needed more warning, we were not more than ten feet down the trail on our first hike when we encounter a group of folks heading out who tell us they just saw a snake about a 100 yards down the trail.  “I threw a rock at it,” the young lady states, “and it went off to the left of the trail.”  Gee lady, thanks for making the snake mad and ready to bite the next person it sees.

Well off we go, trouping down the trail, staying as close to the center as we can.  We make it to our destination with no issues at all and I’m feeling pretty good about things.  Then on the way out, Carolyn stops at a low mound full of small rodent holes and says, “If I were a snake, this is where I would be.”  (Queue dramatic music) Followed by a completely calm and deadpan, “And look, there’s a snake.”  Curled up at the base of a bush was a medium size rattler just enjoying the day without a care in the world.  At this point my “fight or flight” kicks in and I’m ready to grab both my kids around the waist and haul them physically out of the area – maybe run to Ireland where I have heard there are no snakes.  I’ll just leave Carolyn to commune calmly with her snake.  But, to my amazement, my kids were as enamored with the snake as my wife.  So I stand there pretending I’m ok while my whole family admires this creature and describes just how beautiful it is.  (Ok – once I got over my strong desire to exit, it really was pretty cool!!)

After the snake, I’m a little leery of any further hikes, so we decide to hop in the car and take a drive on the scenic road through the park and along the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands which abuts the park.  Here, things finally turn in my favor.  After a few miles we see some folks on the side of the road looking into a valley.  We stop to take a look and there among the craggy rocks is a herd of Big Horn Sheep, including a very large male with full horns.  I’ve wanted to see one of these in the wild since I was a kid hiking around the Rocky Mountains.  I’ve probably driven my family nuts telling them to keep their eyes open for sheep each time we were in an area where they might be found.  And here are 13 of them right off the road just soaking up the sun on some rocks.  It was great!

I’m feeling pretty good about things and agree to one more hike that evening.  This one along a boardwalk which I figure is pretty safe from snake visitation.  We get out among the rocks and see one more amazing vista then head back.  On the way back, Hazel looks up at me and says, “Dad, can I go climb those rocks and go exploring?”  Unlike most National Parks where they really require you to stay on marked trails, at Badlands you can literally hike, “wherever you feel safe and comfortable.”  Well, I tell Hazel, “Let’s just stay on the trail.  Besides, look at all you have done.  You’ve done some pretty great exploring already don’t you think?”  My daughter looks at me like only she can and says, “Dad, you are NEVER done exploring!”

I got schooled by a ten year old – and off she went to climb her rocks.

Badlands ended up quite a trip all around.  Here’s to exploring.  All of it.  Because sometimes even the things that don’t look so wonderful on the surface end up the best of experiences.  

Follow on note.  Badlands NP is located along the southern edge of what used to be a Minuteman Missile Wing.  Up until the early 1990’s there were over 1000 Minuteman 1 and 2 nuclear tipped missiles buried at the six wings (There are still around 400 Minuteman 3 missiles in service).   These Wings were large geographic areas, each containing up to several hundred individual missile sites.  Each wing acted as a central command and control for their missiles.  Over 150 Minuteman 2’s were established in the South Dakota wing.  As we were driving to Badlands, we stopped at the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site Visitor Center.  We walked through the center, saw a very well done movie and spent a lot of time talking to the girls about the Cold War and what it was like at that time.  It was fascinating, interesting and challenging all at once.