Catching up in the Badlands

When we left Alaska I was so full of feelings, experiences and people to share that I had a hard time figuring out the words. It was also hard finding the time to put them into words. Now here we are, nearly a month after coming home and leaving again and I'm caught with loops of words floating through my head. Typically these loops come at inconvenient times such as when I have not internet, charge to my computer or will to stay awake. Rather than trying share our adventure park by park I'm just going to write. If I can go back and write the ones I would I have I will but even if I can't, I'm sure they'll wander into my writing from time to time.

So here we are in the South Dakota Badlands. Where it is, yet again, 90 degrees. Last night wasn't cold but it was a much cooler and windier introduction to the area with lightning that didn't know how to quit. With nothing out there on the prairie the darkness just kept going in a way that thrilled me. We woke up to a bright, clear morning which showed off the color and contrast in the area beautifully. Turns out, though, walking around looking at rock formations with wonder meant I neglected to watch my feet and I found some residual mud pools. These mud pools are, gratefully, quite different from the thermal mud pots of Yellowstone. It's thick and sticky and and definitely not over 100*. I'm pretty sure once the mud gets on you, you're not getting it off. I am grateful I am not responsible for keeping a clean home here where if it isn't the mud, it's the blowing dust, the flies or the freezing snow. I know I'd be the pioneer lady who didn't quite secure her clean laundry to the drying lines. Who then had to go chase it down and start the whole process over again. Probably after wrestling with a big horn sheep to get back my petticoat. I'm very optimistic, aren't I?

Which circles me back to those who lived on this land years ago. The idea of coming into this area to collect resources makes sense. So does moving on to somewhere more hospitable once you've found what you need. Trying to settle in this land does not appeal despite my unwavering childhood desire to be Laura Ingalls Wilder. I'm looking across the campsite, with it's perky and appreciated shelters and nothing has a feeling of permanence. If the prairie doesn't reclaim the land, the badland formations will take it as they erode. The slow impermanence of it speaks to me of needing to soak it in now rather than trying to capture or subdue it. I want to drink in the strange shapes and beautifully subtle colors. To feel the hot, dry wind and the hear the rustling grasses. To look out into the purity of darkness and the quiet of this ancient landscape. I'm not sure what we'll find here but I am looking forward to the discovery.