A Shaking Bum in a Bad Land

The Badlands (Saturday, June 13th – Day 3)

After we completed our short hike with the Ranger that culminated the year-long wait for their Badland Junior Ranger badges, we did the unthinkable.

We took a drive.

In spite of the interesting scenery, you can well imagine that the children had an interest in another hike.

“Can we please, please, please, climb a mountain, Mom?”

I took Andrew and Gladys up a small ‘badland’ near the campsite, while Jay prepared dinner (and George probably colored at the table). If you are a Ranger reading this, please know that it was that little hill beside the amphitheater that is climbed every evening by evening program watchers. My Junior Rangers would never climb a badland that was outside of a trail. The kids yell at me if I get off the trail to take their picture.

It doesn't really look that steep.

But, it is pretty steep. That is our truck down below.
The hike was very short. I promised them a ‘better hike’ before we left for Yellowstone the next day.

I promise.

Sunday, June 14th – Day 4

We had a full breakfast that morning in the camper. After Gladys and Andrew came back from throwing away the trash, we drove to the Notch Trail.

I probably should have read this sign more carefully before we started. On the other hand, we could have followed the GPS and read our gas gauge as well.


Gladys and Andrew bounded off down the canyon. I ran after them snapping pictures and barely finding my footing. Within minutes, Jay and George were left in our badland dust.

When the fairly narrow canyon took a left and became narrower, the trail turned right up a log-and-wire ladder to the top of the ridge.

Gladys and Andrew scrambled up the ladder.



That is Jay and George at the bottom of the ladder.

I followed fairly close behind Andrew once it became steep, encouraging him up the tall stairs until he was hoisting himself up the log ladder, one rung at a time. He seemed fine. Gladys dangled her legs down at us from the ridge until we made it to her level.

Andrew looked at me with an unusual expression.

“Mom, my bum is shaking,” he said with a nervous giggle.

“Are you a little nervous, Andrew?”

“No. My bum is just shaking.”

“Maybe you should sit down here until it stops,” I recommended.

It was a steep cliff. Andrew was born and raised in the flat lands of Ohio – with a mother who likely pleaded for him to 'please be careful' every 3 minutes for the first couple years of his life.

Now, in spite of his stoic bravery, his bum shook with fear.

He did sit for a moment, but his enthusiasm for the hike and a wellspring of bravery he probably never knew he had kept him pushing just a little farther down the path. We did continue a short distance down the knife-edge cliff, but it soon became very narrow and I became concerned for safety. The rocks were quite loose. Andrew could have fallen from fear (I was concerned he would succumb to it eventually) – Gladys would have fallen due to fearlessness.

We could see Jay and George looking down the canyon, but I don't believe you can pick them out in the picture above. That is the trail we hiked.

"Daddy's waiting with George, let's go back."

We returned to the ladder. Andrew seemed a little nervous, in spite of his claims to the contrary, so I backed down the ladder in front of him one rung at a time. I went back up for Gladys and helped her down in the same way. She had to hang from one knee in order to reach all the way to the next rung with her other foot.

They bounded back down the trail, proud of their ascent to the summit.

It was 11am in South Dakota. Our next stop longer than 20 minutes would be in Western Wyoming, long after dark.

While we were on the cliff, George had fun with his Dad. He jumped streams, found flowers, animal tracks, and discovered some unusual cliff-dwelling birds.

Paternal Insanity - in a naturalist sort of way

As we approached Chicago on June 12th (Day 2), we had a choice. We could take the “southern route” in I-80 and arrive at Jackson, WY as quickly as possible according to our GPS. Or, we could take the “northern route” via I-90 through South Dakota. We were planning to return via I-80, but we also realized that we probably would be screaming back to Ohio with little time to take in the sights.

It wasn’t much of a decision. After our trip to South Dakota last year, we had returned without the coveted Junior Range Badge from the Badlands. The Badlands required that the children attend a specific Ranger Program that we could not make happen. My children love the Badlands (remember Andrew’s birthday party last year?). And, they also take a tremendous pride in their collection of Junior Ranger badges.

We took I-90.

Of course, you cannot take I-90 through Wisconsin, Minnesota and South Dakota without experiencing the roadside culture. That would be disgraceful.

In Wisconsin, you must visit the Great Cow of Ehrenbacher’s Cheese Haus.

In Minnesota, one should never miss the Jolly Green Giant in Blue Earth.

And, if you are going to stop, you should take in a gourmet meal from the DQ. We wouldn’t miss it, I assure you.

Before the close of business in Minnesota, I called the Badlands.

“The next Junior Ranger Program is at 10:30am tomorrow?” I repeated it back to the Ranger on the phone.

“That’s right.”

“Thank you.”

I looked at Jay, who pondered the information. “I only really need six hours of sleep. We’ll sleep in the car and I’ll set an alarm.”

I nodded my head. I expected as much. You would think we were on a road trip chasing down a rock band. I am sure people have been branded as ridiculous for merely standing in line for tickets to see a Disney princess. We hauled our trailer across three states and slept in the car in two truck stops (same night) so our kids could receive their Junior Ranger badges in the Badlands.

I’ll call it paternal insanity, knowing I am guilty as a full accomplice.

I never relish sleeping in a passenger seat in a truck stop. I suspect I am too old for such ridiculous behavior, and probably even setting a bad example for my brood.

On the other hand, I recall reading somewhere that the Western Prairie is often poetically described as a ‘sea of land.’ I have driven across the prairie a few times, and flown over it many, and I never truly understood the analogy. It is pretty flat like an ocean, sort of. If you see grain, it does ‘wave’ like an ocean – well, sort of. I always thought it was a poetic exaggeration.

I saw it with my own eyes at about 5:30 am. My pictures do not do it justice. When it comes to the emotion of a landscape, no camera will ever do. The picture is merely a bookmark for my memory. A 360 degree sea of fog with small hills that look like islands or even waves.

It is so difficult to describe, but I won't forget it.

It almost made me forget that I slept in a truck stop.

From then on we watched the sunrise unfold.

After our incredible morning, we found we had made good time, so we stopped at a diner for breakfast. Since there were eight Ford trucks in the parking lot, we were sure we had made it to the right place. The folks inside confirmed that for us quickly.

And, yes, we made it to the Badlands National Park in time for the kids to receive their badges – before noon on Saturday. George will show you his badge.

"See!"

Gladys looks cool and nonchalant. After all, it is barely noon on Saturday and we just left on Thursday evening. All she had to do was eat snacks and sleep in her car seat - and she even got a badge.

Life is soo good.

Lessons in the Desert

Day 3 - June 28, 2008 (Exactly one year ago today)

When we woke up, the wind was still blowing, hard. Holding the door of the pop-up against the wind, I looked out over an incredible landscape. We had camped inside of Badlands National Park. Beyond the lush prairie of wildflowers lay the unique desert formations that can only be the Badlands. Wow. We’re here.

We decided that I would drop my husband, Andrew, and Gladys off at the Castle trailhead. Two hours later I would pick them up on the other side. It was so windy when I dropped them off that we could only manage to open one door of the van at a time. Yes, he was sure he wanted to go with the kids. Yes, he had water for each of them. I took pictures of them heading off, then drove back to the main road.

What do you do with a toddler in the desert on a windy day? Hmm, two hours.

I stopped at an overlook, then another. I took in the beautiful scenery. At one pull-off, I took pictures of the wildflowers. I was lying on the desert floor trying to get the best shot, when another car pulled in ahead of me. A girl jumped out of the side door and ran into the desert toward a rock formation. A split second later, an older man (in his early 70’s??) leapt from the car with a camera. I saw him run down a little hill, and then immediately disappear.

I craned my neck.

Finally, the man stood back up, brushing himself off. Not seeing anyone else in the car, I stood in my door to ask him if he was okay. He laughed.

“Yes, I’m fine, just dirtied my trousers a bit. I was trying to get a picture of her on that rock.”

He smiled broadly. I smiled and scolded.

“Well, serves you right for gallivanting through the desert like that.”

He laughed again. “My wife and I used to come through here with our kids when they were little. I’m finally able to show my granddaughter. She’s never been here.”

I looked. The girl was about seven or so. “It is a priority for us to travel with our children too, there is so much to see and learn.”

He looked over my shoulder, by now George was asleep between two empty car seats.

“My 5 and 3 year old are hiking with their dad.” He nodded approvingly.

“How old is your granddaughter?” I asked looking again at the young girl.

“Oh, my granddaughter is in the car, that’s my great-granddaughter.”

My jaw dropped so suddenly, no one could have interpreted it as anything but an honest reaction. He took it as the compliment that it was.

“I’m 88 years old,” he said with pride.

I shook my head and smiled. “I guess we should all spend more time gallivanting through the desert.”

After two hours, and still contemplating my youthfulness, I headed back to pick up my husband and kids. I knew they wouldn’t be there yet, but I would spend time at the fossil trail across the street. As I drove up, I saw a bouncy, curly-headed Gladys coming through the rocks with big brother and dad at her heels. I took George out of the car and let him walk across the desert towards them. He loved the rocks. “Mommy! Mommy!” they finally saw us “we saw all sorts of rocks, and cactuses, and a snake and, and, and . . . it was SO cool!!“

I guess we all learned something in the desert.

I wrote this last year after our vacation. I did not have a public blog at the time. I am posting this on a timer before I leave. - MIT Mommy