South Dakota

Judy. Some years ago Ted was working on finishing up visits to all fifty states (he still has to get to Alaska), and so we went to Minnesota, took a quick drive across a corner of South Dakota, and stopped in Fargo, North Dakota. I decided right then that I didn’t care if I ever saw South Dakota again. Flat and ugly was the description that came to mind. This year, however, on our cross-country trip, Ted wanted me to see the Black Hills, one of his favorite parts of the West, so I reluctantly agreed.

Well, in the first place, we were clearly told that South Dakota is Midwest, not West. This was the first step in my re-education.

I have to admit, eastern South Dakota is--well--farmland, with all that entails. It was flat, flooded, and not terribly exciting. If you’re from there, I hope I’m not hurting your feelings, but it is.  I did perk up when we passed a rest stop with that huge sculpture of Sacajawea that you may have seen on social media, but we didn’t stop.

South Dakota farmland

Rich and Keeley had regaled us with stories, however, about the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota (also home to George McGovern).  It seems that when the territory was becoming a state, there was not yet a capital city chosen. Mitchell bid for the rights for that honor by building a palace to display and show off their best crop: corn. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Pierre was chosen, as it’s more centrally located. But Mitchell had the last laugh—hundreds of tourists pour into that city every day to get a look at the Corn Palace. Tour buses line up to drop off folks ready and willing to watch a film about its construction and explore the wonders of this castle of corn. 

Military corn murals

Corn Palace

And it’s literally a castle of corn. Every year a new theme is chosen and corn ears of different colors are made into giant mosaics around the outside of the building that are really cool to see. This year the theme is the military. Although the $5 fee is now waived and a visit is free, signs explain that it costs about $13,000 to decorate the structure with vertically split ears, so donations are encouraged and accepted. There are cutouts where tourists can have their faces photographed on an ear of corn (how could I resist?), and exhibits of creative uses of the grain, like the shoes the high school art students created. Walk up a short flight of stairs and you find yourself in a huge basketball arena. On the floor are pop-up shops with all manner of corn-made or -embellished items, so bring your credit card. All of these shops, though, can quickly come down when the concerts come to town, and the stars come:  this summer Clint Black and Trace Adkins, among others, will be performing there.  

Interior

Corny shoes

Yes, we laughed. But they have the last laugh. As I said, people flocked to see it all, as well as the nearby museum and gift shops. And it’s kinda neat to celebrate the crop that has literally fed the state for years. I’m glad we stopped there. But we skipped the museum and gift shop.

We also skipped Wall Drug. If you don’t know what that is, look it up. There’s only so much time.

Once we crossed the Missouri River that divides the state, we hit ranch country—completely different! The topography changed to rolling hills, filled with light green grass, dark green trees, and a superbloom of a beautiful yellow plant called sweet clover, often growing waist-high. A ranger told us that it’s a plague to ranchers, even though it’s a native plant, because it’s invasive, and the cattle don’t like it. Buffalo, on the other hand, love it. 

Ted in sweet clover

We stopped in Rapid City, the gateway to the Black Hills, where, among its natural beauty, you can find Mt. Rushmore and the beginnings of the massive carving of Crazy Horse. We got up early in hopes of missing the crowds at Mt. Rushmore, and arrived just after it opened. In ten minutes we had walked up to the terrace, taken a couple of photos, and walked out just as two tour buses arrived. 

Then we drove down the road to get a look at what progress was being made on the Crazy Horse sculpture, which is much larger than the carvings on Mt. Rushmore, but still has a long way to go. His face is done, and vague further shapes, but it barely resembles the model. Still, I admire the idea of honoring him. From where we stood, there was no way to get a photo.

Frankly, what really wowed me was not the carvings, but the absolute beauty of the rugged mountains—sharp boulders surrounded by dark evergreens, with snow-capped peaks just behind. The road in Custer State Park switched back and forth, and we got out for a short walk in pristine surroundings. Everyone we met was smiling and saying, “Can you believe how beautiful this is? And how about this perfect weather?” No way could a photograph do any of it justice.

There were some crowds, but not enough to make life stressful. In fact, we had two stops for delays:  one for road construction (there are two seasons here, winter and construction), and one for a buffalo jam. The first took about thirty minutes, but the second took a good hour as the herd of buffalo wandered across several sections of the road. We were up close and personal with several mamas and their babies. It was the best traffic jam I’ve ever been in!

On our way out of the park, we stopped in the Valley of the Donkeys (thanks, Terry, for the suggestion), where crowds of families fed the begging donkeys. I tried to pet one, but he sensed that I had no food and headed for more promising tourists.

These folks brought food

After a late lunch in the town of Custer, we headed back to the hotel and reveled in the sights we’d seen. An old high school buddy who used to live near there told me he thought Custer State Park was the prettiest State Park in the country. I believe he may be right.