Let the show load, then click the arrow on the bottom left to start the presentation. Enjoy, because we sure did.
Each layer in the soil and rock was formed during a different geological period.
By Tim
It was impossible for me to say the word “badlands,” much less visit Badlands National Park, without getting the Bruce Springsteen song of the same name stuck in my head.
Not that I’m grousing. After all, we could have been visiting Hokey Pokey National Park or One Tin Soldier National Monument or something.
Walker enjoys his visit to Badlands National Park.
Badlands (”whoah woah woah woah,” sorry, can’t help it) is a beautiful park that reminded me of a scale model of the Cumberland Plateau. There are large relatively flat areas punctuated with ravines and craggy hills created by erosion. Layers of soil and rock are on prominent display, creating the bands you see in any photo of the Badlands (”Badlands, you gotta live it everyday,” darn can’t get it out of my head …).
The four faces: famous for being famous
By Tim
Mt. Rushmore is a publicity stunt posing as a national park unit.
Park units come in all shapes and sizes, from the wild natural expanses of parks like Rocky Mountain or Yellowstone, the cultural and political importance of a place like Gettysburg, to the purely commemorative spots like the Lincoln Memorial or the St. Louis Arch. What they have in common is the goal of preserving what is best about our nation for the enjoyment of future generations, whether you define “best” as natural or cultural.
Mt. Rushmore is a strange combination of cultural and natural assets presented in a contradictory, ambiguous, and commercialized manner. For me, it was a disappointment of … well, monumental … proportions.
My disappointment with the memorial is a combination of things.
First, it’s not that I don’t like the commemorative type of park. The Lincoln Memorial, for example, leaves me with a sense of awe every time I visit it. The statue of Lincoln and examples of his writing allow me to experience a historical figure in a personal way.
In contrast, the faces on Mt. Rushmore convey little if anything about the people whose images are blasted into the stone. They are remote, impersonal, literally unapproachable. Mt. Rushmore did not inspire a sense of awe in me.
It’s not that I don’t like parks created merely to draw visitors to a place and idea. The St. Louis arch was a publicity stunt created to revive the city’s waterfront and attract visitors. But it’s also an engineering marvel and a monument that reflects something about that place’s significance in American history as the gateway to the West. It’s got a reason to be where it is and look like it does.
But what are Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and … who’s the fourth guy, oh, yeah, Teddy Roosevelt … doing on a cliffside in the Black Hills of South Dakota? What is their relevance to that place, other than the fact that the raw goods of their assembly (rock) were located there? By that standard, most of the national Capitol should be located in some quarry in Tennessee.
The Black Hills are beautiful and unique. They really don’t need our design help. I’m not saying tear the monument down. But why build it in the first place?
The answer is that a son of South Dakota thought it would be a great idea and attract visitors. He got a sculptor and a majority of Congress to go along with him. A memorial is born.
Finally, the Black Hills are a traditional sacred site of the Lakota and other native Americans. I don’t know the history of Mt. Rushmore’s interpretive plan (each park has one), but it’s obvious that the park service has attempted to answer native American concerns with some modest concessions. There were a few teepees and a native musician at the site. But nothing in their presentation told me why these elements were there, if I didn’t know already. It would have been far better to have presented these elements in some manner that acknowledged the difficult relationship between the white guys up on the mountain and the native American elements down below. I’ve seen other museums and parks do it (notably the museum of natural history in New York in their new interpretations of their famous — and inaccurate — depictions of animal life).
Seven faces: Which one is Teddy Roosevelt?
Finally, the park recently underwent a major construction of a huge granite amphitheater used in a nightime lighting ceremony. It reminded me of a Disney World amphitheater we visited a few years back. There was also a walkway with granite pillars (one for each state) and a huge granite pavillion. Oh, and a huge granite parking garage. The construction was designed to complement the memorial. But frankly, it was more of a competition, like a showy frame for a bland painting.
Obviously, I’m down on this park. My disappointment comes from the many other great park experiences we had on our trip — the arch, Rocky Mountains, Yellowstone, Grand Teton, North Cascades, Badlands — and the many other parks I’ve visited throughout my life.
I think everyone would be better off if the nation turned over Mt. Rushmore to the South Dakota Chamber of Commerce. They in turn could subcontract to Disney. I bet the light show would be better. Maybe they could replace Teddy with Mickey. At least people would recognize the mouse.
We pulled into the driveway at about 8:30 p.m. Eastern, 7/19/08
I’m sure we’ll provide more details later. But just so you know … we are back in Norris, safe and sound. The pets are retrieved, the plants are alive, and all is well.
Missouri doesn’t have better rest areas than Montana. But the Show Me State rest areas do get better publicity.
We stopped at not one but TWO Missouri rest areas today that had received the 2007 award for quality. There were at least a couple others that we saw that didn’t receive this distinction, so we do know that every rest area didn’t receive the award. But there was precious little information on just what the selection criteria were.
Cleanliness? Obviously (afraid to say one of the rest areas had slipped in this regard during the current calendar year). But what else? Latest editions of the Thrifty Nickel in the newstand? Appropriate “you are here” marks on the state map (a surprising number of rest areas don’t include this feature)? No rattlesnakes (also a very helpful feature).
One Missouri rest area had a unique item — something we’ve seen nowhere else from Tennessee to Tucumcari … an automatic handwasher. The sign said it provided warm water (mine was cold), soap (I didn’t get any of this — hmmm), and heated electric fan hand drying, all in one spot. Automatically. All I had to do was stick my hands in there. (see photo).
It was right of out Star Trek, The Second Generation. But it did not respond when I said “Earl Grey, hot.”
Toured Mt. Rushmore and Badlands National Park today.
Spending the night in Sioux City, South Dakota.
By Tim
Montana has many fine attributes. Its interstate restrooms are not among them.
Of the 47 or so rest areas we availed ourselves of today, one had a water quality warning on the bathroom door. Coliform bacteria had been found in the drinking water. Now, I myself have had coliform bacteria in my drinking water when I lived in Jeremiah, Kentucky. It’s a common problem for folks on well systems, especially shallow wells. Nonetheless, it does set one back a bit when a rest area warns travelers about drinking the water.
The second rest area warning was far more dramatic. This was a sign advising visitors to stay on the sidewalks as rattlenakes had been seen in the area. Of all the signs I have seen at rest areas (no overnight parking, curb your dog, etc.) I found that this sign had a very good compliance rate. I know I stayed on the sidewalk. I’m pretty sure the kids did too, but you can never tell. I would advise groundskeepers trying to discourage walkers from taking shortcuts across the grass to try a sign like this.
We logged more than 700 miles today. I had planned on something more like 550, but turns out I had a small oversight in my calculations. Wyoming.
By Tim
Tomorrow we board the ferry, roll off onto the mainland at Annacortes, Washington, and start a 3,000-mile sprint back across the country.
But today, the sun sparkles on the water to the east. The glare hides Mt. Baker, 30 miles or so off in the distance of the North Cascades. The channel to the north is clear of the armada of weekend fishers who were here yesterday. And to the west, two sailboats are making their way toward Waldron Island.
But it’s time to make our best effort to find our things among the shoes, cameras, clothing, and paperbacks scattered around the house and start toward home.
Has anyone seen my other flipflop?
A taste of the ocean in every shell
By Tim
The appetizer Thursday night at the Inn at Ship Bay was so good, I asked for the recipe. The waiter was obliging. Here’s what she said:
Go down to Judd Cove, grab a couple oysters from the sound, shuck, and eat. Lemon juice or melted butter, optional.
Actually, the oysterman might frown on your taking oysters directly from his beds. So it’s better — not to mention more convenient — to purchase a dozen or so at the gas station, which has them on ice out front. You can get them for 50 cents a piece.
Fresh, salty, with a slight taste of mint …
These are extraordinary oysters. They start out fresh and salty, and then there’s a slightly minty taste. Just when you think this is a GREAT oyster, the suprise comes. The taste of the sea wafts through in an earthy combination that hints at seaweed, mud (good tasting mud, if you can imagine), and sea foam. For those who love oysters, they are a treat beyond compare.
… And then a wonderful taste of the sea
So last night, Maggie and I “cooked” the appetizers for dinner. The verdict was unanimous. Among oyster lovers (who constitute 3 of 9 of us), it’s all grins.
An unfortunate dog shakes after a torturous dip in the frigid waters Cascade Lake at Moran State Park
By Tim
Abby, our dog, didn’t make the trip. She’s visiting friends on the West Norris Commons. Reports are that she is having a good time, but she does miss us, usually around supper time and 5 a.m.
Abby has been reading about our trip on this blog and emailed recently to ask that we include some posts geared toward her interests.
Abby, you would have loved the Western national parks. We know how you like to chase deer in our yard. What fun you would have had with buffalo, elk, antelope, moose, and black bear. And what fun these mega-fauna would have had with you!
Cute? Yes. Happy? We don’t think so
I’m sure you would have enjoyed sleeping four to a tent in 40 degree weather (Liz purchased her sleeping bag with you in mind). And, since they don’t allow pets on national park trails, you would have enjoyed many sunny, warm afternoons napping in the hot van while we explored the park. (And we would have enjoyed paying the fines for leaving you in the van alone.)
And the hotels, well, let’s just say we know how much you enjoy the sounds and smells of the few hotels that do take pets. And obviously the other hotel guests would have enjoyed your sounds and smells, too.
But, alas, we have had to make our own fun and excitement without you, Abby. We’ve done as well as we could, under the circumstances. And we trust that you are doing the same.
We have seen a few dogs on the trip, most recently at the Cascade Lake beach at Moran State Park here on Orcas Island. These dogs only appear to be having fun. We’re sure they would rather be curled up at home on someone’s lap, blogging and emailing their friends, and yapping to go out. And in. And out.
See you, soon, Abby.
More miserable dogs endure the beach