Getting My Kicks

Interstate 90 across South Dakota is like a mini Route 66, with mom and pop attractions and tacky tourist stops hugging the freeway. It’s been one of my favorite parts of the trip so far- a classic Road Trip experience.

Some of the stops I made along the way: 

Downtown waterfalls in Sioux Falls- a series of waterfalls right downtown!  

Porter Sculpture Park in Montrose- metal sculptures, some whimsical, some disturbing, accompanied by poems that attempt to explain the message behind each sculpture 

The Corn Palace in Mitchell- workers were disassembling the corn murals on the outside of the building the day I was there 

Lewis and Clark Visitor Center and “Dignity” statue- small but informative museum 

Akta Lakota Museum- well done; lots of information to take in (and they sell sweetgrass braids!) 

Badlands Petrified Gardens in Kadoka- I almost didn’t stop here because it was drizzling (then raining), but once I was in the garden, I realized how lucky I was. You know how getting a rock wet brings out its color? I got to see the petrified wood at its most beautiful.  

Wall Drug- The place is basically a huge souvenir shop. But they do have a collection of paintings on the walls in the restaurant that you can peruse, if you don’t mind a few dirty looks from diners who think you are staring at them instead of the paintings above their heads.  

Ranch Store in Philip- You buy a bag of peanuts at the store, then walk out to the yard, which is a prairie dog village. The day I was there, it was raining on and off, so the whole yard was like a mud pit. But the prairie dogs still came out of their burrows, and when I held out a peanut, a prairie dog would gingerly walk over, then take it out of my hand. I was the only person out there feeding them, so I got to meet a lot of prairie dogs. I was having such a good time that I bought a second bag of peanuts.  

Badlands National Park- Loved the Badlands! What an alien landscape (to me). I kept saying (yes, out loud), “This is Amazing!” I even said a few times, “I can’t believe I’m really here!”, which surprised me. I mean, I drove hundreds of miles to get there, so I’m not sure why it was so unbelievable. And the Badlands hadn’t been a huge destination that I’d been looking forward to, so the feeling wasn’t “Yay! I finally made it!” Maybe the mystery of my reaction adds to the otherworldly feeling of the place.  

Mount Rushmore & the Rushmore Borglum Story museum that documents the making of the monument- I can appreciate the work that went into carving the sculpture. But the monument is so iconic that I already knew what it was going to look like, so when I got there, my reaction was, “There it is.” I walked a short trail, but there wasn’t a whole lot else to do there, so I didn’t spend a lot of time at this attraction.  

Custer State Park & Wind Cave National Park- both have wildlife driving loops that allow you to see bison and beautiful hilly landscapes

Photo: “Dignity” statue, Lewis and Clark Visitor Center and Recreation Area, Yankton, SD

Paging through some old papers last night, I came across this poem I wrote for English class back in fall of 2005. [I changed one word in the poem that kept getting on my nerves.] The assignment was to write a long essay based on a list of (I thought) convoluted technical stipulations that answered the question Who Are You? After a lot of struggling, I was fortunate that my teacher allowed me to write the assignment as a poem, since, I reasoned, that is how I could best express myself. Here is what I turned in. I felt vindicated when she told me that she cried.

I’m raindance rainsong pounding loud
I’m hallelujah to a crowd
I’m a great blue taking flight
a pirouette
I’m second sight
I’m the reading between the lines
I’m thinking out loud
I’m the warning signs
I’m Prussian blue, emerald green
and every shade in between
I’m swirling petals, silk on concrete
I’m a prairie plant, roots twelve feet deep
I’m overflow
an oasis of light
some people, they can’t stand the quiet
east coast west coast jive the swing
holding out all year for spring
I’m an asterisk*     *a little more
a weightless voice and solid core
panoramic Aspen scenery
a clean sheet of paper, possibility
I’m a scrubby thorny brambly briar
I’m spreading fast like wildfire
I’m the word on the tip of your tongue
I’m space to breathe and room to run
I’m a lush green canopy
a thousand shadow symphony
I’m muddy water
I’m overcast
worn away, filling in the cracks
I’m earth I’m dirt I’m tumbleweed
cascading
falling to your knees
I’m a gypsy
I’m a shooting star
a luminescent battle scar
backroad barefoot energy
I’m clear quick motion, rising heat
the resonance of violins
and eyes that you could walk right in
restless mist
imagination
stormclouds rushing
exaltation
I’m a sailor on this ocean of grass
skimmed over its hills and never looked back 

Photo: tarantula, Lake Meredith National Recreation Area, TX

Everything’s bigger in Texas. Many mornings, I’ve woken up with insects taking refuge on the screened walls or ceiling of my tent. Once, after a rainstorm, I counted thirteen daddy-long-legs (and those were only the ones I could see). The first morning I woke up in Texas, I saw the silhouette of this spider resting on the outside of my tent. I took a picture before chasing it off with a stick.