The next morning the family checked out of their cabin and hit Custer State Park’s Wildlife Loop for sight seeing.
“What is that?” Astrid leaned forward in her seat, squinting to better see what comprised the brown mass of things which was moving toward them on the highway.
“Yeah, one of the websites for the park mentioned that this might happen.”
“Are they … are they buffalo? Or is it bison? Why do Custer’s signs say, ‘buffalo?’ I’m gonna look this up when I get home. Are they walking in the road? That’s a lot of bison!”
A expansive herd of bison, ranging in size from gigantic bulls to more reasonable-sized babies, was moseying up the road, spreading to the grassland on either side and coming right toward them. Bjorn slowed the car to a stop as the wave of dark brown hairy behemoths filtered around them and the other cars. The bison didn’t seem to mind the car traffic, they just went around, which gave Astrid an up-close look: they were all branded on their backsides and had weed burs in their furry hair. These were super-charged bovines, furry, muscley animals of a beautiful, rich dark brown. They were a little scary.
Nomenclature
Teddy Roosevelt National Park used the term “bison” for these majestic bovine creatures. Custer State Park used the term “buffalo,” for the same animal. Scientifically speaking, the creature found in these areas are Bison bison. Yep, that’s their scientific name. They are very bisony. There are two subspecies in America: Bison bison bison, (Plains Bison) and Bison bison athabascae (Wood Bison). Buffalo is a term usually used for “old world buffalo” like water buffalo or African buffalo. Custer State Park holds an annual Buffalo Roundup and Auction every fall. You could buy a bison, if you wanted.
They watched and waited patiently as the herd moved past, because there was nothing else they could do. Some of the bulls walked off-road and kicked up clouds of dust as they rolled and frolicked. Once able to move the car again, they encountered feral (but really they were super-tame) burros standing in the road, waiting for some soft-hearted family to feed them. Onward up the road, after traveling through rolling prairies, they stopped at a small visitor’s center/museum and learned some things, then retraced their drive. By this time, the burros had flagged down a family and were eating bread and carrots from their hands. The burros are not native to the area, but were left to run wild after they lost their usefulness as pack animals.
On their way out of the park they drove past the giant herd of bison again, but this time the beautiful beasts were on a expansive hillside pasture, dark brown patches dotting the golden meadow.
On the road to Wind Cave National Park, signs warned of “bison”because national parks have bison, state parks have buffalo. As named, the Wind Cave attraction was a cave, but since it included a closed-in ride in an elevator, it was closed, because COVID. So they took the mostly uphill Rankin Ridge Trail to a fire watchtower (but the watchtower was closed, because COVID), where, at the top, one could see 40 miles away to The Badlands National Park, the family’s next stop.
Back on 90 East, Astrid started to notice some interesting signs … some advertised Free Ice Water, some advertised food, some, jewelry, some were for .05$ coffee, all from a place called Wall Drug. But before they could reach the famous store in Wall, South Dakota, they came to The Badlands National Park, where they would be camping for the night.
Because COVID, the ranger pointed a credit card reader on the end of a stick at Bjorn for payment, and they traveled down a dusty road, along a canyon-type formation filled with hills of striated colors. It was hot, with temperatures reaching 100 degrees Fahrenheit as they moved along the bumpy road to stop at pull-offs for Bjorn to take pictures. It was the start of a day largely filled with Looking and Waiting.
At the Pinnacles viewpoint off the Badlands Loop Road (240), they were mobbed again by the tiny, gnat-like biting insects. They swarmed anything white, including tee-shirts.
Looking and Waiting was a big part of their family trips. It was not a bad thing, but one must plan for it, by packing something to do while waiting in the magnificent landscapes Bjorn was immersing himself in, because just to be in these places was an extraordinary experience. Snorri usually packed electronic games. Astrid packed books, pens and notebooks. The previous night Astrid went to read her e-reader and … nothing. Something had happened which erased all her books out of her e-library (huge con for e-readers, pro for paper books). She had nothing but some pamphlets and papers from their previous stops to peruse. And that she did, as she waited for Bjorn to shoot and click at the magnificent dirt.
As the sun snuck closer toward the western horizon, it was time to think about dinner and where they would spend the night. Backcountry camping was free in the park, allowed within some of the usual parameters: 1/2 mile off a trail or road, not visible from said road or trail. The Badlands National Park is a narrow strip of hilly, dry, gullied, unusable land in South Dakota, so there wasn’t a lot of choices. But they had coordinates from a hiking website. The strange decision was made to hike (without packs) out to the site to see if it really existed. With the help of spotty internet, GPS and after a few wrong turns down dead-end small canyons, they found it: a flat, almost cement like space just big enough for their tents, marked by big rocks in a medium sized canyon, backed on all three sides by high walls of rugged dirt hills. So they trudged back to the car, signed in at the trail head, got all their gear and went back to their little canyon. Astrid warmed and rehydrated some taco meat while Snorri put up the tents and Bjorn set up his tripod.
Our Campsite 
Red Clouds
After eating and getting settled, Snorri and Astrid went to bed while Bjorn caught some night-time light. Lightning lit up the sky in the far distance and Astrid scoured her weather apps for the forecast. The park pamphlet and website had warned her: “Severe thunderstorms are common during the summer, so are days above 100ºF (38ºC). September and early October are the best backpacking months.” and “Sudden and dramatic weather changes are common. Visitors are urged to dress in layers and be prepared with hats, sunglasses, sunscreen, and adequate water for hiking.”
As the available forecasts indicated no rain or storms that night, she put away her phone and tried to sleep. Between wind gusts, it was eerily quiet in that little canyon, and warm. On the way in, she saw evidence of rabbits, but could believe that snakes frequented the area, too. Strange, night-time bird calls echoed in the breeze. Since sleep eluded her, Astrid dearly wanted to distract her mind with a story–any one would do–but her e-reader remained empty. She opened the Bible app on her phone and read a little, but didn’t want to run the battery down.
Milky Way
If Astrid had slept that night, she didn’t know it. Bjorn came in from the dark after the shining moon rose, ruining his chances of good night sky pictures. Between staring up at the ceiling of her tent and reading snippets of the Bible, time passed in the dark and creepy quiet. At about 4:30 a.m. MDT, she decided to check the weather report. It hinted at something, close, maybe. Trying to figure out what city was closest, and/or what county they were in was a little challenging with spotty internet, but the skies were hinting at something too. “Golf-ball sized hail,” the weather report said.How could she deal with that in tents? They might have to get under their sleeping pads….
Not I 