The Badlands Aren’t That Bad

The mounds crawled along the horizon. Grass covered their pale sides, giving them the appearance of photosynthetic, flowering slugs. We were in the Badlands, and as of yet, I hadn’t figured out what made them “bad.” The sun was shining, crickets were chirping, and the scenery was lovely.

From our perspective, the Badlands were anything but! 

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/Zd6DR6KD8WQL9vR58

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May 30th, 2024 - Dakotas Day 7

Martin the Subaru careened from side to side as Tyler swerved to avoid another massive pothole. 

“Are we sure this is actually the road to our hiking trail? There’s nobody out here!” I exclaimed in disbelief. 

Tyler yanked the steering wheel to the right to avoid another cavernous crater. The dirt road had’t been graded in a very, very long time. The result was two tire ruts slicing through the ocean of prairie. It was very bumpy. Was this what the pioneers felt like when they travelled west?

Tyler hadn’t answered my question, but he didn’t need to. I could see for miles across the wide open prairie. There was no other road. If there was truly a hiking trail back here, we’d find it eventually. We parked the car when the blue line of our GPS ran out, but we were still confused. Was there actually a hiking trail back here? There was a small parking area but no signage, no park benches, no clean trails, and no porta-potties. The lack of porta-potties failed to surprise me anymore. I had long learned that the prairie affords no such luxuries for its weary travelers. You simply take advantage of a tree when you find one. The lack of a trail, however, was mildly confusing. In our travels, we have found that the National Park Service is amusingly inconsistent in its provision of commonsense amenities, such as trail markers. In a national park, a hiker is left to their own devices. State parks, on the other hand, coddle hikers. They put staircases and protective barriers everywhere! We often joke that the National Park Service must trust people to have a bit of brain between their ears.

Feeling confident that the Park Service trusted us to find the trail on our own, we drifted into the Badlands. Almost immediately, a spot of color caught my eye. Any color would stand out in the chalky tans of those martian hills. I swiveled my head towards the vibrant orange. Sitting demurely on a clay outcropping, a pumpkin and a squash quietly watched our descent into the Badlands. Instantly distracted, I approached the produce for a closer look. Why was there a pumpkin and a spaghetti squash in the Badlands? I poked one hesitantly. Its flesh was firm, not shriveled. It hadn’t been there all that long. I glanced around me. The top of Martin the Subaru was just visible above the grasses. There was nobody else around. No houses, no settlements, no hikers for miles. Just us and the pumpkin. I had endless questions and no answers. It was baffling.

After I resigned to live in confusion about the pumpkin, we commenced our hike. It wasn’t really a hike, we found out. We more or less just wandered around. It was a lot of fun, actually! We balanced like tightrope walkers on the tops of skinny clay ridges. We followed mule deer trails through cedar trees on top of the butte. I took pictures of spiderwort and rose blooms nestled in the grass. And when we became too windburnt and hot to wander anymore, we bumped our way back along the sketchy dirt road to find another hiking trail. 

In between hikes, we had a few interesting moments that are worth mentioning. I will describe them in brief vignettes below!

• As an escape from the bright sun, we made a stop at the Native West Trading Company. This old-timey Western store stood in the middle of an empty dusty plain. No other friendly storefronts accompanied it. It was alone. A FOR SALE sign flapped in the wind as we approached the doors. The store was still open, though, so we let ourselves in. The inside was a crowded array of Native American art pieces, animal furs, dusty pocket knives, and one harried, thin woman. We assumed she was the owner, as she bustled about the store tidying the shelves and complaining to anyone who would listen. In the same breath, she complained about breaking her ankle, the woes of horseback riding, and her cat named Princess Murder Mittens. She was simultaneously fascinating and scary. We were intrigued. 

• At a popular trailhead, we were stopped in our tracks by a strange sight. An adult woman casually strolled past us with a large stuffed Garfield in her arms. As we turned to watch her, she propped the stuffed animal on a park sign. Surveying her cotton companion proudly, she stepped back, lifted her phone, and took a picture with the Badlands in the background. I guess not everybody has a wonderful husband to travel with like I do. Sometimes you have to make do!

• At the Badlands Visitor Center, we were fortunate to snag a picture with the infamous Bearded Ranger. The unassuming park ranger had recently gone viral on the Badlands social media sites for a series of promotional posts featuring his characteristic unsmiling face. My favorite Bearded Ranger post was released during the harsh South Dakota winter. In the post, the Bearded Ranger had frost in his beard and rosy, wind-chapped cheeks. The caption was “If you’re cold, they’re cold. Bring them inside!” The follow-up post showed the Bearded Ranger cozily wrapped in a blanket, fingers wrapped around a dinosaur-shaped mug. It made him a legend. In person, the Bearded Ranger seemed embarrassed by his fame. He obliged a photo with us, but he didn’t seem enthused about it. Poor guy!

• On the road somewhere near the park, we stopped for some quick photos in Scenic, South Dakota. Scenic is aptly named, but not because it has pretty scenery or a cute downtown. In years past, perhaps that’s where the name came from. Now, Scenic is scenic because it is a ghost town. The remnants of the town stood bedraggled on the side of the road, slowly rusting into forgotten memory. The door to an open-air jail cell stood open, its log roof slicing the sunlight into strips of shadow. Storefronts were boarded up and desolate. There were stories lurking in those shadowy windows. I wished I could reveal them all. 

We hiked the Badlands from nearly sunup to sundown that day. While they can be tiring, Tyler and I love these kind of days the best. We enjoy the excuse to put the phones away, explore a new place, and spend time with each other. Our best conversations happen on the hiking trail. Our best memories have been formed with hiking sticks in hand and dirt on our shoes. Truthfully, I thank God every day that I found a husband like Tyler. We match each other perfectly. I’m so grateful we have had these trips together. 

We concluded our day with our minds solidly made up. The Badlands are beautiful, wild, otherworldly, strange. They are a place of mystery and intrigue. But, one thing is for sure. The Badlands are anything but bad! 

Hiking trails: 

Cedar Butte Trail 

Cliff Shelf Native Trail

Castle Trailhead