Day 4/5 (8/22-23/07), Oglala and the Epic Drive

Our fourth morning was a good one. Not only did we get a nice, dry sleep (some of us under the stars), but we were also able to take showers in clean facilities. We also knew we had some cool shit to see, namely Mt. Rushmore and the Badlands. Despite the warm showers and sights in store, there was a collective sense of dread, though, for we knew that we would be driving straight to Philly upon leaving the Badlands. As mentioned earlier, we were now about a day behind schedule. And since the wedding required us to be in Pennsylvania by a certain time, we knew that to make it in time we were going to have to skip a good part of the country.

After showering and packing up the car, we headed for Mt. Rushmore. On the way, we stopped for sausage and cheese biscuits and coffee at a little country store/cafe. This provided the fuel we needed to see Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln etched in stone and make our way to the Badlands. Although not being very patriotic (and a bit irritated that the "founding fathers" were given such a big monument in the heart of Indian territory), I found Mt. Rushmore to be pretty impressive. It is much larger than I expected, and it has stunning detail. What's better, there is no hiking involved, thus allowing us to see the monument, take some pictures, and make our way to the Badlands without losing any more time. The monument also provided another opportunity for Pegasus to get some fresh air and see some history.

It wasn't long before the rolling, wooded Black Hills leveled out into the dry and bare plains of South Dakota. On occasion, a small farm would break up the monotony of the dry, arid landscape. Some of the farms sported extensive plots of sunflowers, with a few stretching as far as the eye could see in one direction. When the desolate landscape reemerged, the prairie dogs took over. And I mean, TOOK OVER. These little rodents were all over the place, stooping above their holes and staring at us as we drove by. The stark plains eventually gave way to red and white colored canyons and small ravines, as well as hoodoos (spire-like formations jetting out of the ground) and little gullies. It was here, before finding ourselves in the heart of the Badlands, that we drove through the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, home to the Oglala Lakota Nation (Sioux for those not hip to Native history). While no interesting sights were seen here, it was moving to drive through such sacred and historic land. It was here that the US government broke a treaty and took away 7.7 million acres of reservation land when gold was discovered in the black hills. It was here that the government took control of an additional 350,000 acres to practice their bombing during World War II (with the remnants of bombing, as well as some remaining live munitions, much of this land is uninhabitable). It was also here that the FBI killed American Indian activists in the early 1970s on the site of Wounded Knee, the same spot where nearly 200 Lakota were massacred by the US Army 80 years earlier. Yikes! To say the least, the history is deep on the Pine Ridge Reservation.

After driving around a bit on the reservation, we headed back through the sunflowers and prairie dog fields and into the heart of the Badlands. While Glacier and Yellowstone were great to see, and beautiful in their own right, the Badlands were so unique and unlike anything that I had seen before. The multicolored hills (red clay, white sand, and light green shrubs), hoodoos, and ravines were awe-inspiring. Unfortunately, the similar colors and repetitive landscape did not provide for great pictures, as the many hills blended in to one blur when snapped by the camera. At one point, Maggie and I decided to climb one of the many narrow peaks. We nearly got ourselves stuck on top, and almost died while braving the rocky terrain on our way down. The area would have been a great place to watch the sun set and camp under the stars, but due to lack of time, we were forced to hit the road as we continued on our way to Philly. Before leaving the Badlands altogether, though, we couldn't pass up one last photo opportunity; this time with a wild antelope...or so we thought. As we saw the wild creature on the side of the road, about 20 yards ahead, we slowed the car to a creep until we were just beside it. Before Nate was able to take a photo, we soon realized that the "wild" animal had a weird contraption wrapped around its neck. It turns out that the contraption was a collar, and the antelope was indeed just a goat (presumably from one of the farms). So much for another wild animal pic.

We were soon out of the Badlands and making our way through the eastern half of South Dakota. As it got later, and peoples' stomachs started rumbling, we stopped for dinner in "1880 Town." Yes, the town, which was comprised of a gas station/market and a motel attached to a restaurant, was actually called 1880 Town. I think it was trying to capture the essence of an old west town, but it failed miserably. However, being in the middle of nowhere, we had no idea when we'd be able to eat next. So we stopped in 1880 Town, whose claim to fame is having set items from the movie, Dances With Wolves. Unfortunately, we soon found that the restaurant, which is housed inside the caboose of an old train, was closed for renovation. We asked the gas attendant where we could go for dinner, and we were told our best bet would be Murdo. On the way to Murdo, while Nate was driving, a deer decided it wanted to cross the freeway just as we were approaching it. As I saw it make its move from ahead, I shouted to alert Nate, who nearly had a heart attack as we came feet from running into the deer at 80 MPH. If the deer, like most do, had stopped in the middle of the road and stared, it would have been toast. However, the stars must have been aligned in the deer's favor, because after stopping briefly in the road and taking a peak at us, he continued on his way, just barely escaping certain death. It took Nate and I about 10 minutes before our heart rates returned to normal levels.

We arrived in Murdo, SD with high expectations. We left with filled with hatred and, some, with volcanic stomachs. A word to the wise when visiting Murdo (only the Lord knows why one would do this): do not eat at the Family Star diner (don't let the AAA approval fool you). Our waiter was horribly rude to us, the cooks put something in our food (and came out of the kitchen to stare and laugh at us while we ate), and half of us had violent reactions to the food. The other two were just disappointed with the quality of food. After eating, we decided it would be a good time to let the car cool down a bit and check all of the fluids. So, while we let the car sit, we found a park and broke out the wiffle ball and bat. Unable to play a game with four people, we decided to play a home run derby, of sorts. Basically, each person would get a chance to hit the ball 10 times. When Stacey began the game, she launched her first hit off of Nate's face and neck. While not totally prepared, Nate's reaction time did not allow him to block the ball, which left a red mark as a reminder. Stacey's next hit: right at my face (fortunately I was able to block it). Fuck, Stacey, can you not hit the ball off of our faces?

Anyway, after some wiffle ball hitting, we headed to the gas station to fill up, check the fluids, and tear up the bathrooms with partially digested food from Family Star. We were then on our way. We had more than half of the country to drive through (or, as we soon came to say, the whole right page of the map). For the first stretch of the drive, I sat up front with Nate as he drove. He introduced me to a lot of obscure music that I had never heard of (but grew a liking for). After hours of listening to CDs and an iPOD, we decided to give it a break and see what was on the local radio. By this time we were in Minnesota somewhere. As soon as the radio is turned on, a public service announcement comes on, exclaiming a tornado warning for the states of Indiana and Illinois. Nate and I immediately looked at each other with excitement, for we were headed in that precise direction. When the public service announcement was over, I scanned the channels and, to my delightment, I found the Giants on the air. It must have been because we were so close to Illinois, and they were playing the Cubs. Nonetheless, it was awesome to listen to my team so far from home.

As we drove through Minnesota, Maggie eventually took over the driving, with Stacey switching into the passenger's seat. I was woken a couple hours later to the erratic swerving and acceleration of the car. We were in Madison, WI and Maggie had two things on the mind: peeing and McDonalds. As we raced around Madison, we eventually found both, however not without Nate and I being confused and scared for dear life in the back seat. With all the speeding around and U-turns to find them, we lost track of which direction we came from. So, to find our way out of Madison and back on to the freeway, Maggie again proceeded with a multitude of U-turns and gas-break-dippin. We eventually found our way, and I was soon asleep. I again woke a few hours later as we drove through Chicago (at rush hour...shitty). I woke to the sound of a man yelling, "I'll stick it up your ass, jackass." Yes, there was a road rager driving along side of us for about 15 minutes as we made our way through the city. He was not yelling at us, rather the guy in front of him, so it was quite entertaining. He must have called the guy a "jackass" 20 times, as well as telling him to "hurry up" and warning him of things he was going to "stick up his ass." Unfortunately, to make Philly on time, we had to skip Chicago, so the road rager was my only memory of the city.

It was when leaving Chicago that we discovered how freaking expensive it is to drive on the East Coast. The only way to get from Chicago to Philly, without going out of our way, was to drive on toll roads. Being from the Bay Area, I'm accustomed to the concept (all the bridges have a toll), but the turnpikes on the East Coast are serious money-making operations. Any time you want to exit from the turnpike, you have to pay a toll. What's more, every 20 miles or so, there are toll plazas which collect anywhere from 30 cents to a couple dollars. I think we ended up paying $19 for the stretch of the turnpike we were on..

As we approached the early afternoon, it began to get bloody hot. Again, my bum became sweaty, sticky and, presumably, very stinky. So, when we decided to take a break at a park in Ohio, I took a swim (bath) in the river that ran through the park. For fun, I walked up stream so I could let the current carry me back down the river. Unfortunately, the water wasn't deep enough, and I only scraped my back on the rocks that eventually stopped my trek downstream. At least I got to soak my bum off.

After everybody ate, and I dried off a bit, we were back on the freeway. Other than a brief torrential downpour, there was nothing of importance in Ohio or western Pennsylvania. By night fall, we were approaching Philly. It was about 10PM when we finally got to Ambler Township (still don't really know what a township is). We were welcomed to Maggie's home by her mom and grandma (dad woke up briefly to greet us, too). After starting some laundry and catching up with family, I think we watched the Departed. In no time I was out, sleeping in the guest bed, cherishing the best sleep I had had in almost a week.