Day 7: Nebraska and South Dakota
We decided that we would cherish the hour we clawed back by crossing into Mountain Time: instead of adjusting to local time, we stayed on Central Time, making the most of daylight hours by waking up at around six o’clock.
We began
the day by driving west towards Chimney Rock. It is known by the Lakota as “Elk
Penis”, which I find to be a much more colourful name, though I cannot vouch
for its accuracy. We originally thought we would view the rock from the local
cemetery, but the road was unpaved, and a cryptic sign seemed to prohibit our entrance.
Instead, we got good views of the landmark from the local visitor centre. From
there, we continued to Scotts Bluff, a major landmark on multiple historic
trails, including the California, Oregon, Pony Express, and Mormon Trails.
Having much time to spare, we drove up the rock and absorbed the views of the
surrounding landscape, though the best view was that of Scotts Bluff itself.
After
eating lunch in Gering (we had pizza and salad), we were ready for a stop that
had previously caused many a dispute between me and Kelly. I really wanted to
see it and included it on my original draft of our itinerary, while Kelly
absolutely despised the idea. Rescued by some last-minute haggling (and also
owing to the force of inertia), the stop stayed. We rolled up to Carhenge listening
to the iconic tones of George Gerschwin and felt as though the soul of America
had materialised to form the surreal vision around us. The sheer absurdity of
this monument, whose genius consisted of replicating Stonehenge with old cars
instead of menhirs, eventually won Kelly over.
It was
still early in the afternoon, and we had already seen all the stops I had
wanted to see that day. I think it was a combination of the extra hour as well
as my budgeting more time than we needed that led to this unexpected surplus. Realising
that we could make much of this time, we decided to visit some of the stops we
were going to see the following day.
The
landscape started changing dramatically even before we had left Nebraska. The
hills turned steeper and greener, springing forests here and there, and we soon
found ourselves in Wind Cave National Park. I had not planned to stop here at
all, but as we drove up a bend, we saw a car parked at a scenic view. We
thought that perhaps there was something worth seeing, so we pulled over as
well. Sure enough, we spotted a lone bison off in the distance, his massive
body dwarfed by the monumental scenery.
The bison
was much cause for rejoicing, as was an entire field of prairie dogs that we
could see from the car windows. Nevertheless, we continued on our way to the
Black Hills. As the landscape changed, so did the weather. Everything seemed
lusher, so it was no surprise that dark clouds started building up and we got
our first rain in several days. When we stood by the unfinished statue of Crazy
Horse, things were still all right. As we headed down the scenic Needles
Highway, however, a true downpour began. Every time I left the car to take
pictures, I got completely soaked.
We decided
not to drive all the way to Crazy Horse and pay an outrageous fee to see a
statue that has had only a face for decades upon decades. Some believe that
after eighty years of stalling, the project is a money-making endeavour rather
than a memorial, while others criticise it on principle. The statue was
envisioned as a remedy to Mount Rushmore, which defaced a mountain sacred to
the Lakota Sioux. Nevertheless, it has been argued that defacing another
mountain with the likeness of a human – especially one who desired to be buried
in anonymity – is a hypocritical response. Be that as it may, we thought it a
better use of our time to see some of the region’s natural beauty instead.
Driving up
and down the winding Needles Highway, we lost our way. We had become so
engrossed by the rocks, lakes, and pines, that instead of leaving the highway
in the direction of Mount Rushmore, we accidentally continued the loop and were
back to where we began. It took a little longer, therefore, to reach Mount
Rushmore, but at least it had stopped raining by the time we got there.
Our final
stop for the day was Rapid City. We were surprised to find three restaurants specialising
in the greater Indian/Nepalese/Tibetan region; apparently, the Dakotas have
seen the sharpest rise in Asian immigration in recent years. The food was very
good (and we would have lunch at another regional restaurant the next day).
We drove 422 miles, with the total mileage now at 2648.
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