Overhead, the blotchy bluish black cloud cover of an evening storm was highlighted too often by distant flashes of lightning.
"This way." Dave was headed toward the road.
"I'm a little concerned we can't go that route." I said moving slowly to follow.
"The road's right over here." He countered and he was correct.
"Yes, but I believe there's a gully between us and it."
Only a few hours earlier...
Into the Badlands. It sounds so ominous...and yet, so exhilarating.
“Just let me know when you want to stop and take pictures.”
Dave knew full well that was a dangerous statement as I love to take pictures, often at inconvenient moments. Fortunately for me, he is mostly agreeable with this.
“It’s amazing.” Was all I could say, stepping onto our first overlook.
There is something about narrow, jagged rocks forming winding mazes through a barren landscape that both enthralls and excites the senses. Two overlooks and a few stops later, the craving to slide down one of the steep grey walls to explore the innards of this hostile landscape was only increasing. But that desire would have to wait.
“Did we miss it?” Interrupted my reverie.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any signs for it yet.”
We had already passed on checking out a herd of buffalo and been part of the traffic jam taking pictures of big horn sheep babies grazing along the side of the road under their parents watchful eyes but so far no prairie dog town. The Badlands, however, are expansive and it takes time to get anywhere.
If you pay close enough attention while journeying through this desolate region, you will realize there are prairie dogs everywhere around here. That said, there is a popular area filled with coteries (what a group of prairie dogs is called) known as Prairie Dog Town. Descriptive, if not cleverly named.
After a mild oath from both of us at how some people haphazardly abandon their vehicles in a parking lot without concern for others, we exited the Iron Butterfly, our jeep, to seek out the natives.
"Come on." Dave called heading down a faded walkway through the field covered in mounded holes.
"We can do that?" I wasn't positive about it but I caught up to my husband who was eagerly spying out the little rodents.
I wouldn't say these little guys are anywhere near as friendly as the chipmunks in national parks tend to be, but with patience and slow movement you can get fairly close.
"My husband. The prairie dog whisperer." I smiled snapping several pictures.
"Now we get to go hiking right?" I asked as we drove away.
"If we want to see Wall Drug, we have to stop there first. And get something to eat."
My mildly rumbling tummy agreed with Dave even if my sense of adventure did not. So off we went to the 76,000 square foot ultimate tourist trap.
I bet they occasionally have to send out search parties for shoppers lost in this myriad of segregated stores contained with a massive shell. It's also claustrophobically crowded so we did a quick walk through and hurried out.
Into the Badlands...again
"Stop!"
Dave calmly pulled off the road into a pseudo parking area despite the command in my voice. He never stops as fast as I would like him to when driving, something about safety, but it was good enough. I had plenty of pictures with the multiple shades of grey, cream and pastel pink formations but here was a color scheme right out of a movie. Vibrant greens, golds and pinks butted up against the grey rocks, paling them out even more with their brilliant contrast.
"This place is just stunning." I repeated a couple more times along the drive, trying not to have Dave stop too much. It was already late afternoon and I really wanted to go hiking. I also really wanted to keep taking pictures. The horns of a dilemma are rather uncomfortable.
At last we pulled into a parking lot with trail heads on either side. It was too late in the day for a long hike but plenty of time to get a couple of miles in. Four miles when all was said and done.
"I don't want to complain but..."
"You're going to?"
I would have glared at my husband if he wasn't right. "The grassy area is fine, but we've done this. I want to be down there." I waved my hand at the rocky formations set below us and off to the side. We had walked about mile already on flat land heading along the Castle trail and I wanted some fun. Dave must have agreed with me because he without warning he disappeared into the labyrinth of grey rock.
"I love this!" I squealed with pure delight, hopping from the slope of one hill to another, avoiding the narrow space where they met, then stopping abruptly.
"Apparently, I can only hop from one foot to the other once." I chuckled making a mental note to work on this deficiency.
Dave laughed with me, and occasionally at me, as we took turns leading the way further and further into the heart of this puzzle. There were narrow walkways to traverse, prickly plant life to avoid, deep chasms to cross without falling into, streams trickling through muddy banks with softly crusted tops. It was glorious.
"One of us is going lose our pants on this hike." I quipped feeling my butt slide over some sharp rocks for the second time on a slope we had to partially sit down on to reach the bottom or risk tumbling there.
"We need to pick up the pace." Dave added trying to find the best way down yet another three foot plus drop off. "It'll be dark soon."
So off we trekked at a more determined speed. He was right. As much fun as we were having now, the sweeping walls around us eroded from flash floods were a blatant sign we wouldn't enjoy it if the ever gathering dark clouds in the distance reached us and became angry. Even without that threat, finding our way out in the inky blackness of night would be treacherous.
"Really?" Dave sighed heavily at me as I recapped my camera then secured it to the strap on my camel back.
"What?"
"We don't have time for you to keep stopping for photos."
Did I mention my inconvenient timing with photography? I tend to get absorbed in taking pictures of where I am without paying attention to my surroundings. It's not my best habit. I knew he was right so I soldiered on struggling to resist the urge for more pictures of the ever changing landscape.
Daytime was hastily retreating from us.
An eternity, but most likely only half hour, later we crested a plateau where we could see the far off headlights from passing vehicles. We were close to exiting. Overhead, the blotchy bluish black cloud cover of an evening storm was highlighted too often by distant flashes of lightning.
"This way." Dave was headed toward the road.
"I'm a little concerned we can't go that route." I said moving slowly to follow.
"The road's right over here." He countered and he was correct.
"Yes, but I believe there's a gully between us and it."
A moment later Dave was back by me confirming my suspicions. We looked around. It wasn't too dark to see yet by but it was dark enough to make swift travel risky.
More lightning...getting closer.
"We need to be over there." Dave pointed to a spot across the wide ravine we were standing above as he looked for a safe way down.
"Here." I was already half walking half sliding down what I presumed to be a path as I spoke, giving my husband no choice but to follow or chance losing sight of me.
Once at the bottom, Dave took over leading. He has a far better sense of direction than I do so I generally follow without arguing. The route was only mildly sketchy, mostly due to the fading light and a brief uphill scramble. Lightning continued coming closer. "Odd though, not much thunder." I thought.
With the unerring accuracy, and tonight alacrity, that never ceases to amaze me, Dave guided us right to the check in book at the beginning of the trail. The rain finally came as we hurriedly dropped our packs and climbed into the Butterfly. Moments later as we drove toward home, the previously gentle rain changed into a downpour with lightning illuminating the heavens around us. After a particular bright strike that turned night into day, we looked at each other and laughed the exhilarated laugh of people who knew they had made it out just in time. And had a fabulous experience in doing so.
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