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Published: October 11th 2007
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Obfuscator writes: After sleeping on a pinecone for most of the night, we woke up and took a walk down to Lake Pactola to see the dawn. The lake level was extraordinarily low, and so on our way to where the lake actually is, we got to walk on a lot of ground where the lake actually was. This was evidenced by the concrete bucket anchors we found littering the ground we were walking on. There were also some tall and mysterious plants (mainly mysterious because we're willfully ignorant of plants) and cool shale formations all over the place. It was a pretty morning.
We got to Mt. Rushmore at a reasonable time, and were able to hike the presidential path before pretty much anyone got there. The path has stops and scenic overlooks for each of the presidents, and at those stops they have nice little displays about each of them, and why they were chosen to appear on the monument. Perhaps the National Park Service just doesn't like Jefferson very much, because he alone is entirely obscured by trees from his scenic overlook. Roosevelt, Washington, and Lincoln are all easily viewed and photographed from their overlooks, but not
Jefferson.
When we got back to the main viewing point, we decided to explore the Lincoln Borglum museum. Lincoln Borglum was the son of the sculptor, something or other Borglum. On a side note, we had been seeing signs about Borglum since sometime in Wyoming. They always said things like “He carved the mountain!” or “He ate as many pancakes as a thousand men!” This led us to believe that Borglum was in fact a 40 foot tall monstrous being, with a chisel for one hand, a giant mallet for the other, and huge rock crushing jaws that could break granite down into convenient 7 inch chunks. Really, what other explanation could there be? We also concluded from this, that he must have been an old associate, and probably now enemy, of Paul Bunyan.
About 20 minutes and several drinks later, we had written a play about Borglum and Bunyan, which is much too long and interesting to reproduce here. We have however included a small excerpt from the play, for your enjoyment:
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*Enter Bunyan stage left*
Borglum: So we meet again Bunyan.
Bunyan: Yes Borglum, as it was foretold.
Borglum: It
has been some time. How's Babe?
Bunyan: You know perfectly well what happened to Babe. You . . .
Borglum: Oh, yes, I know. But what a host I've been. Please, have a seat. I have a wonderfully comfortable overstuffed Ox-chair over here.
Bunyan: BORGLUM!
Borglum: BUNYAN!
Bunyan: This ends now!
*Enter Korczak stage right, with a giant beard and looking wild eyed and crazy*
Korczak: Not so fast, gentlemen.
Borglum: KORCZAK!
Korczak: Yes Borglum. When last we met, I was but the apprentice. But now I have begun the creation of a monster that not even you and your rock-crushing jaws can defeat.
Bunyan: Hahahaha! For years I have anticipated this day!
Korczak: I wouldn't laugh Bunyan. My partially finished Crazy Horse has no love for you and your imperialistic, deforesting ways either.
*Enter Zombie Lincoln, center stage*
Zombie Lincoln: Rarrrr!! Braaaaaaaaaaains! Rarrr!!
------
As you can see, the play is a masterpiece of modern storytelling, and weaves together subtle themes of love, family loyalty, and revenge.
We went to Deadwood after that, and wandered about the town for a while, going to the
location of Saloon #10, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed. The actual saloon burned down a few years later, but the bar that lives in the location now has a nice little interpretive center in it. Deadwood also has a very good museum with all sorts of Wild Bill memorabilia, as well as stuff owned by Poker Alice, Calamity Jane, and other western icons. Now, of course, Deadwood is about 99% casino. It seems like every door you come to on Main Street has gambling of one sort or another. (Onaxthiel notes: We stopped at the local Lutheran Church, where they showed us their slot machines. Obfuscator was satisfied that it at least had traditional architecture.)
When we got tired of Deadwood, we tried to go along a scenic drive through the Badlands. Several badly marked wrong turns, and awful I-90 construction later, we were on the right road. The road took us through the Buffalo Gap National Grasslands as well as parts of Badlands National Park. We noted with interest that there were no signs telling us that we were entering or leaving a land of many uses. This is probably because the proximity of Buffalo Gap National
Grasslands to Badlands National Park renders it a land of precisely zero uses.
The Badlands were not nearly as awful as Onaxthiel remembered, though this may simply be because we were there in early October, rather than the height of summer. They were more awful, but interestingly so, than I remembered. The desolation of the area got us wondering though. We've noticed that everything neat in the west is Satan affiliated. There's Hell's Canyon, Devil's Tower, Diablo Lake, Devil's Gate, and countless others. We've speculated that the early settlers who named these obstacles had different insight into the sights than we have retained over time, and perhaps the names were meant to serve as a warning of the awfulness of the route to any future travelers. It's odd then, that the single most terrible piece of terrain, the Badlands, somehow escaped this naming convention. By all rights, it should have been Lucifer's Sandbox, or something. Badlands just seems so tame.
We were going to press on to Pierre, and camp there, but on our way out of the Badlands, we saw Minuteman Missile National Historic Site. Though this would leave us considerably further west, we really didn't see
any choice but to attempt to take the 10 AM tour of the nuclear missile silo and launch site the next morning. We turned around, and grabbed a camping spot in the Badlands, (which had more campers than we have seen in weeks) ate dinner, and went to bed for the night.
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