Midwestern pilgrimage
For a Midwesterner, the Black Hills are the gateway to the West. Many parents and their children make the pilgrimage out there to soak in the mountains, lakes, and bison. We went when I was in elementary school, and I’ve got a great tale to tell. Before the tale, a few words on Custer State Park.
Unfortunately, it is not Custard State Park, and you will not find trees oozing with the sweet stuff. George Armstrong Custer was a US Army colonel who led an expedition to the Black Hills, where they scouted locations for forts and searched for gold. This began a gold rush which culminated in the mid 1870s. Thousands of people descended upon the infamous Deadwood, striking it rich and violating Native American treaties.
Custer has long since died at the Battle of Little Bighorn, but he’s got a state park and a town named after him. The state park encompasses 71,000 acres of the Black Hills. There is plenty of room to ramble. Similar to Glacier National Park, I’ve chosen a prime hiking destination as a rambling zone. It’s just too hard to pass up.
The mountain formerly known as Harney
On to the story. Within the bounds of Custer State Park lies Black Elk Peak, known as Harney Peak back when I was poking around. It stands 7,242 feet tall and is the highest point in not only the Black Hills, but all of South Dakota. We decided to hike up to the top.
A day or two before the hike we went to a small Church in one of the small towns. I don’t practice the faith anymore, but I am still fond of the place. It was tiny, with only a handful of pews and low hanging ceilings. The pastor regaled us with tales of folks who climbed Black Elk Peak in the dead of Winter, some even hiking through blizzards.
In the summertime the hiking is a shade easier, although it still requires a decent level of fitness. We did the hike as a family. One thing I remember is the intoxicating smell of the surrounding pine trees. Along with freshly mowed grass, it’s one of my favorite odors.
Goats and bloody noses
The peak of the mountain is a rambling zone in its own right. It’s rocky, and there is plenty of place to explore. The highlight is a stone fire tower built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. People climb to the top and take in the views. Hopefully there are no wildfires to watch.
On Black Elk Peak I saw my first mountain goat. As I was wandering around, one of my siblings came to find me and tell me about it. I was so excited and ran to the place where it was last seen. Unfortunately, the goat was no longer there. I teared up, disappointed that I missed my chance to see the wildlife. Things turned around rapidly though, as someone pointed out its new location. There it was, resting on a ledge, complete with white hair and pointy horns.
After the delight of seeing the mountain goat, we turned around and headed down the hill. Shortly after we started, I got a bloody nose. This caused our group to separate, with my siblings charging forward and my parents staying with me to tend to the nose. Back in those days I got bloody noses all the time, usually triggered by dry weather.
Lost kids and bison
Once the flood gates shut, we continued on down the trail. In a matter of time, we were back to the car, but to our surprise none of the siblings were there. My Dad kicked into action mode, telling us to wait while he headed back up the trail with water to find them.
The fours of them came to a fork in the trail and took the wrong turn. Luckily, they realized their error and stopped. Morris turned around and bumped into my dad, and eventually they were all found. Once everyone was calm, I bragged that I found my way back okay with no help.
After Black Elk Peak, we completed the pilgrimage by going to see the bison. The herds roam around, so it can take a fair bit of driving in the prairie to find them. At first it seemed like it wasn’t our lucky day, but then my dad sharply turned the car and headed down a dirt road.
There they were, in all their glory. We drove our minivan right up to them, stopped, and sat in silence. The prairies of Custer State Park are classic rambling zones, even if most people do the rambling from the comfort of their vehicles. The bison give off a powerful aura, with their size, grunting, and horns. We then got out of the car, to take it all in. It was like our Blarney Stone, except there was no kissing involved. If the Blarney Stone gives the gift of the gab, then the bison give the gift of the jab.
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