Custer and Discuster

July 8-9

We reached the Days Inn in Custer, S.D., around four on July 9, after spending much of the afternoon marveling at the big game in Custer State Park. We passed signs for Custer Gulch, Custer Mountain, and Custer Whatever.

He was a celebrity in his day. But I believe that, if he hadn’t been arrogant enough to attack the entire Sioux and Cheyenne nations with half a regiment of cavalry, we might not even remember his name today. 

On the eighth, we prowled the Prairie northeast of Wall. The road passes a huge Wall Drug billboard accompanied by a green dinosaur facing east on a bluff over interstate 90.

Then you dive into that rolling sea of grass. We entered the town of Philip. With a populaton of 858, it is bigger than Wall by 40 souls.

There is a small park with a log cabin that was a schoolhouse at the end of the 19th century. It has been placed next to the clapboard one-room school house that was the town’s original school.

We went back to the Badlands; it’s hard to keep away. We rephotographed the south wall. We also revisited the section called the Yellow Mounds. The yellow resulted from the burial of an ancient jungle. The jungle came back, was buried by more deposits, and this time turned the earth red. 

We went to the Red Rock Restaurant in Wall for dinner. Even with all the farms around us, this is processed-food country. I think the clam chowder was not made from scratch in the kitchen. Ditto the breaded wall-eye filet. Not bad, though, for a change from buffalo and beef. 

The bar serves Barefoot wines. I tried the chardonnay and pinot grigio. They were light, and I think the chardonnay had more flavor than the pinot grigio. I had a cabernet sauvignon, too, and it was fine.

Of course, I have almost never tried a wine that I didn’t like.

We went to Wall Drug for pie.

Then we set out to see the sun set over the Badlands. The shadows put many of the formations into high relief. The Yellow Mounds are gold and red. Buffalo are said to be active at dusk, but we didn’t see any.

Custer State Park, on the ninth, was a different story.

You enter from the east side on U.S. 16A. You pay $20 for a ticket that’s good for a week, so we’ll probably be going back there once or twice over the next few days.

The park is in the Black Hills, not far from where Custer’s expedition of 1874 found gold. The Black Hills were ceded to the Sioux by treaty, but the gold rush was on. The cavalry sent the first trespassers home, but when the big rush came, gave up. Or didn’t care. Anyhow, it was the end of yet another treaty between the United States and an Indian nation.

The Black Hills are covered with dark evergreens. I understand that is the origin of the name. 

The animals in the park are apparently enured to traffic. A group of young pronghorn rams drew quite a crowd of cars and motorcycles. They were right by the side of the Wildlife Loop Road, and were perfectly undisturbed by the uninvited company.

We saw a cluster of wild ponies grazing in the distance, and a couple of herds of buffalo. We needed to use the binoculars to see them clearly.

A solitary bull buffalo was lying on the grass maybe 50 feet from the road.

Later we saw cars going up a side dirt road called Four Mile Draw. This was yet another herd, maybe a hundred or so, bulls, cows, and calves. They came right up to the edge of the road. Cars were lined up and arms were sticking out of them with cameras and cellphones.

Ignoring the advice at the visitor center, I got out of the car. Those animals couldn’t have cared less about me. They didn’t even look my way. I can’t blame them. They were hungry, and besides, all one would have to do is step on me if I got out of line.

I got lost for a few minutes on the way out of the park. I had started out toward a few features in the far north end. These are narrow tunnels, and something called the Needles Eye. Joanna looked at the park map and said, “That’s near Crazy Horse.” We’re going there later so I decided to save it for another day. 

I told Joanna that I’d turn around and head for Custer. She thought we didn’t have to turn around. But we’re on 87 North, I told her, and pointed to the map.

She pointed out some landmarks that we had just passed. She was absolutely right, and I was so damned sure I knew where we were. 

The first gold prospectors were a family named Gordon. They entered the Black Hills illegally and after a year were driven out by the U.S. Cavalry. They had built a stockade near what is now the western entrance to Custer State Park.

There is a reproduction of it just outside the park by the highway. It was raining, so we didn’t stop. 

Custer is bigger than Wall. It has more than three restaurants and even has a car wash.

Joanna and I are headed out for dinner soon. The man at the desk told us we had to eat dinner early, because the town closes up by 9:30.

But that’s all right. After a day on the road, so do I.

Be well, all.

Harry