Wild, wild life

I pull out of the Rocket Motel after a breakfast of yogurt and graham crackers, and head for Mount Rushmore. You just can't be in the Black Hills and not go there. Along the way, I notice that the Purple Pie Place was right down the street from the motel, and I could've easily walked there the previous evening. Alas, they don't do breakfast, so aren't open yet.

When I get to Mount Rushmore, I discover that my Parks pass isn't useful. The memorial itself is free. Parking is run by a concessionaire, and the pass doesn't apply. The parking permit is good for a full year, though.

Turns out, I missed a rather cool opportunity. Looking at the park hours, I realize that I could've gone there the previous night after the Crazy Horse Monument, and seen Mount Rushmore lit up for the evening.

The carvings are indeed very impressive. There's also a small interpretive museum, which is not to be missed. Much of it is dedicated to the "making-of" story. They have quite a few videos of the construction process, and interviews with the workmen. My favorite highlighted the "bosun chair", which was a harness they used to hang down in front of the rock. It amounted to basically a swing with a belt to keep you from falling off. Often they rode this contraption to use a jackhammer, or to lay charges of black powder explosive. It must have taken a LOT of nerve to pull that off.

The trail that goes behind the carvings isn't open for the season yet, but another one goes much closer to the carvings, and along the way, you see lots of beautiful Black Hills scenery. It also takes you to Gutzon Borglum's studio, which has some quite interesting scale models. Some depict the presidents from head to waist, as was the original plan.

Interesting historical tidbit: The Mount Rushmore monument was not dedicated until 1991, although work stopped fifty years previously. The end of the project was rather anticlimactic, due to the death of  Gutzon Borglum and the approach of World War II. They just sort of stopped working and went home.

Lunch consists of a ham sandwich that I make from my cooler & food box provisions. I eat in the car, watching my fellow tourists go by. It's a simple meal, but I enjoy it thoroughly.

Next, I head for Wind Cave. I arrive just in time to catch the next tour. We start by looking at the historic cave entrance, a hole no bigger than 2 feet in diameter. According to the National Park Service, the discoverers were two brothers who rode past this hole, and heard the wind moving through it. When one looked into the hole, his hat was blown off.

This cave isn't very well lit in places, and has rock outcroppings at head level. The stairs are uneven, and seem to have been designed by and for people with very small feet. Our guide tells us about their Adventure Tour, where you go into the unimproved parts of the cave, squeezing through openings as small as the historic entrance. The basic tour is about all I can handle, thanks just the same.

In fact, just being underground is quite adventurous enough for me. Despite my claustro tendencies, I love going into show caves. They're one of the classic tourist attractions, and I have a weakness or the classics. I enjoy myself, despite a conviction that every cave I enter is about to collapse on me. I just have to remind myself to breathe once in awhile.

In between some very deliberate deep breaths, I look over the extensive boxwork that Wind Cave is famous for. These formations are calcite that remained when the surrounding limestone was eaten away by acidic water. It's estimated that 95% of the world's boxwork is in this cave.

Our guide tells the story of how the cave went from being a privately held attraction to a National Park. Two parties were engaged in a legal battle for ownership, and went to court. The judge ruled that neither one had a legitimate claim. Both held homesteader claims to the property, but neither had made the improvements required to hold their claims. Hence, both were declared void, and the United States owned the property. I rather enjoyed hearing that greed benefited the public on at least one occasion

In addition to the cave, the National Park has more than 33,000 acres of rolling hillsides and mixed-grass prairie, and an abundance of wildlife. They also have one of the best campgrounds in the Black Hills. However, I'm unable to use it, and not because of the weather this time. It's closed at the time of my visit, due to the sequestration budget cuts. Thanks a lot, Congress.

In my wanderings, I come across a very odd road situation. In three places, construction has reduced the road to a single lane. There's no flagman, though, and not even one of those automated signals. Whoever gets there first has right of way. Presumably you take turns if there's more than one vehicle in each direction. Traffic is light enough that this actually works. If you tried that back east, drivers would be eating each other.

Moving along, I've also been told that Custer State Park is not to be missed. So along my travels, I pop into their Visitor's Center. The guide there tells me that the Wildlife Loop is one of their highlights, and includes feral burros. This sounds rather unique, so I add it to my list.

She also mentions a section of US Highway 16A called Iron Mountain Road. It was designed specifically to showcase the Black Hills scenery, and the Mount Rushmore memorial. Since it's a winding mountain road with lots of curves, one-way tunnels, and corkscrew bridges, driving it is considered a bit of an adventure. I don't want to rain on her parade, so I just make noncommittal enthusiastic noises. The fact is, mountain driving frightens me. I'm prone to vertigo in certain circumstances, so I'm always afraid I'll get dizzy and drive off of a cliff. Mentally, I make a note to avoid this like I would a skull fracture.

The Wildlife Loop lives up to its name admirably. I spot a coyote almost immediately, and soon lose count of the pronghorn, elk, and bison. 

One large herd of bison includes at least 12 calves, which are adorable. They're fuzzy, and have big noses. There's also a large prairie dog town right next to the road. It's fun to watch, but I don't get to feed them peanuts here.

One thing is missing, however. I reach the end of the Loop without spotting the feral burros. I debate going around again. It's getting late, though, and I have no accommodation for the night. So I follow the road sign toward Keystone, the closest town.

Before very long, I notice that the road is taking a lot of sharp curves and steep inclines. Turns out, THIS section of 16A is the one I'd intended to avoid. By the time I realize it, there's not much point turning back.

For awhile, I get stuck behind some poky fool from Illinois. Seriously, this guy was driving well under the speed limit for miles, passing one turnout after another. I even resorted to flashing my high beams, something I almost never do. Eventually, he catches on, and pulls off.

The road makes me nervous but I end up enjoying myself. There are several one-lane tunnels that were deliberately placed to frame the Mount Rushmore monument in the distance. I have no photos from the drive, since I was maintaining a constant white-knuckle death grip on the steering wheel.

There's a famous overlook that I passed by, partly because it was starting to get dark. But it was mostly because I was afraid that poky idiot would catch up to me.

When I arrive in Keystone, I'm relived to find quite a few Vacancy signs. I want something in walking distance of restaurants, since I'm tired of driving. The first two I try are a bit expensive, in light of the fact that neither has a pool or spa open for the season yet. Then I spot one with a pool and a spa advertising a $49.95 rate. When I ask the desk clerk, she tells me that it's only for a single person staying one night. In a resort town, that pretty much never happens. But what do you know, a bait and switch has worked in my favor! The clerk seems rather pleased at the novelty of writing up the special rate.

Amusingly, their sign also dares guests to tell the difference between their rooms and the Ritz-Carlton's. I found a few, but they were favorable in my opinion. They have normal-sized pillows, for a start, instead of those annoying trendy square ones. And I didn’t have to dig through 49 decorative pillows and shams and runners to find the damn bed..

By the time I settle in, most of the restaurants have closed, except an expensive looking one (sound familiar?). Apart from that, there's just a boardwalk canteen open. They're about to close up, but the woman behind the counter made me a hot dog. I found that very hospitable.

After eating this very tasty hot dog, I head to the pool. It's very pleasant, and I find someone to talk to. Sharing the hot tub with me is a very nice Polish family from Chicago. The hotel staff is nice enough to not enforce the pool closing time (we weren't bothering anyone, after all), so we trade travel stories for an hour or so. They are also headed for Yellowstone, as it turns out.