Teddy Roosevelt National Park: North Unit, North Dakota

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Entry 13: Nature’s Politician: Teddy Roosevelt, July 31, 2010

If Yellowstone National Park is the heart of America, then Teddy Roosevelt National Park is the soul. If the North Dakota Badlands had not had such an impact of our former President, who first ventured there on a cattle-buying deal with a partner in 1883, then there’s a good chance that he would have not have started the “National Park” process going by establishing the Antiquities Act of 1906. Noting that the Plains’ large animals (buffalo in particular) were being depleted by mans’ hands in alarming numbers, one of Roosevelt’s strongest agendas was to begin to preserve similar primitive lands in America. In fact, he created 5 National Parks, and termed other lands “wildlife refuges,” allowing many to later become National Parks. Quite positive action from a man himself who loved to blow away big game.

This relatively small Southwestern North Dakota Park is broken up into two units, north and south, and is situated in the Little Missouri National Grasslands. I arrived at around 2 p.m., having gotten totally lost in the Northern Unit of the Grasslands after my dusk arrival time. In addition to driving right next to “live” and active oil wells (no fences), I followed some road construction to some massive clearing of the grasslands to make way for a natural gas company’s operations.

I bought an annual National Park pass at $80, and entered the Northern Unit, its highlight being a 14-mile road that meanders through both upper grasslands and on the edges of the glorious Badland canyons. Melting glaciers formed massive and meandering rivers that eventually revealed layers and layers of previous eras, as proven by the colorful “bands” held within the canyon’s walls. It was blazing hot, and I was still a bit woozy from last night’s and this morning’s drives, so I quickly grabbed a spot (only $10) at Juniper Campground, a primitive space offering two loops and approx. 50 total spots. It was a pleasure to know that I was to be staying the night, and I quickly set up camp, much to Sophie’s the dog’s delight.

Here Come the Rednecks

I had an excellent spot in this little-filled loop, the furthest from the campground’s entrance, and, thus, away from other people. My hopes of keeping this area to myself were shattered, however, when from a distance I heard a loud diseal engine. It belongs to a big, black supped-up Dodge truck that slowly made two obnoxious rounds around the loop in search of the perfect spot. It turned out to be, you guessed it, only two spots down from me.
Chubby Redneck, his wife, screechy-whinny lady, and their two Plump, Jr. brats (one of whom later turned to pulling up 2-foot plants and beating them on the cement road) blew in, and started playing, of all things, house music. My tranquil afternoon was over, the nice songbirds that the park was famous for was overpowered by Redneckism.

I had a chance to chat with the Park Ranger, who was making his nightly rounds. (An on-site “campground host” now runs the scene on-site in most parks, National and State). We chatted for about an hour about the Roosevelt cabin (and alternative access for trails with Sophie—it didn’t matter, the cabin was 110 miles away), outdoor travel experiences, how the federal government is getting into the mining business (using antiquated 1930s mineral rights written into sales contracts), and, perhaps most alarmingly, how he was not liking being in a “hot spot” campground, meaning that, because of the rise in natural gas production in the region, an influx of individuals are swelling surrounding small towns. These rowdies are now “weekend camping” in the National Park (an annual pass to any National Park is only $20 per year), bringing their guns and, get this, methamphetamine. An eerie sense of distrust and insecurity lead me to closer scrutinize the various small, casino-filled towns in which I was passing. And, in truth, I did notice some suspected “meth-heads” and saw numerous public service billboards regarding meth usage (“Not Even Once…”).

As the intense summer sun faded ever-so slightly (the Badlands, both in North and South Dakotas, seem to me to be one of the hottest places in America that I’ve experienced), Sophie the dog and I jumped in the truck to drive the road to the Oxbow Overlook, 9 miles from the campground. The leisurely drive provided a solitary experience, and I made a point to sit at one spot for at least 45 minutes.

Back at the camp, I had a use for my birthday present from Jennifer (given, obviously, before the trip started). I took a cold water shower behind the tent, taking time to moon the rednecks (although, of course, it was an unseen gesture for them…). My nightly activities throughout the trip are to blog (if the computer is charged up), study my This Land National Forest Book, and peruse the road atlas for the roads, towns, forests, and features west as I continue my journey towards Seattle, Wa.

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Comments

[catchinz]

Nice
Nice Pix Pyle!

[ChicagoDave]

Nice Pix, Pyle!
Thanks for the (hopefully) positive comment!