Road Trip: chapter 2, the big heads

We left the campground and headed south on US16 towards the heads. Galen was mocking the name of the Black Hills, they didn't look black. He was listing off all the names he would have appointed. Magically, not fifteen minutes into our drive, an Interpretive Site sign appeared. I pulled off the road and into the parking lot, sure enough there were placards giving a brief history lesson. The indigenous peoples thought the trees looks black from a distance, the forest was dark. The Lakota Sioux named the area Paha Sapa, translated to us as Black Hills. Galen was unimpressed, but he also quit providing his own alternate naming.

I don't remember where, but somewhere along US16 or SD244 (or probably both) were places we could get a distant view of the big heads. Upon this first viewing Galen declared, "those aren't big." I tried the, "perspective, they're still far away," argument. He was not convinced. It wasn't until we pulled up and around into the parking lot that he decided that yes, the heads are big.

We walked the trail along the base of the carvings and into the workshop. Walking on the trail, down the steps and back up, that I was reminded that I'm old, and Galen is a cross between a jack rabbit and a billy goat.

We were there for about 2 1/2 hours including a grueling twenty minutes or so in the gift shop. It didn't take me long to identify my souvenir. However, Galen seemed to vacillate amongst everything that was priced less than his $20 spending money. The $20 was supposed to last for the week, but he was bound and determined to spend it all at once. There was also the souvenir induced heart-attach I had when I found him playing with a $200 crystal doo-dad.

Finally back on the road, we needed somewhere to snack. Just to the north-west of the park we eyed a road, pulling in we dropped down a bit and parked next to Horse Thief Lake. It was a perfect place to explore, snack, hydrate, and enjoy a bit of nature and solitude. And after the crowds of Mt. Rushmore and the expensive confines of the gift shop, I needed solitude.

Signs for caves were eye candy to Galen, he wanted to visit. So we headed south and drove through Custer looking for the Jewel Cave National Monument. I missed a sign, turned east instead of west. Before we headed out of Custer I pulled into a parking lot to verify where we needed to go. The parking lot belonged to Scott's Rock Shop. Pretty, sparkly, glittering rocks were an inducement to stop and look. It was here where he first realized he had already spent too much of his money. I was drawn to several large chucks of petrified rock. But I had neither the money or trailer required to take them 590 miles back home.

Jewel Cave was a short jaunt down the road, but one with a disappointing end. Seems that cave access is scheduled, one purchases a ticket for a tour and time. It was nearly noon and the tours were sold out clear into 3 or 4 PM, depending upon the tour. The cave tour idea was nixed, and he was OK with that. So off we went back toward Custer for lunch. There, we found a park and playground, a perfect place to have lunch. The park was busy with several kids, ones that looked ready to play. I enjoyed a bit of tailgate shade with our cooler food. Eventually Galen's hunger brought him over to re-energize. All too soon I announced it was time to go and head north for Deadwood.

There and back passed Crazy Horse Memorial. After the education on perspective that Mt. Rushmore provided he was more impressed with the scope and size of the carving.

We got into Wild Bill's Campground, the Black Hills Cruiser Classic event site, by mid-day, checked in and claimed a campsite. But we had a mission. Galen was Jones'n for some ice cream. We quickly headed back out for Deadwood in search of some. He wanted Dairy Queen, but I declared we didn't drive over 600 miles to get the same ice cream we can get at the mall back home. The outskirts of Deadwood had a chocolate and ice cream shop, but I wanted to see Deadwood and hoped for a shop somewhere along the touristy section. The jaunt into town didn't provide for an easy identification of such a spot, so it was back to the Chubby Chipmunk. While their ice cream selection wasn't huge, their truffle and chocolate selection was superb. He got a milk chocolate guitar, I got a raspberry dark chocolate truffle, and we both got cones. The porch was a fine place to enjoy both. He liked the place so much he was willing to pose with the namesake.

I must say, the proprietors of the Chubby Chipmunk are most accommodating. Their porch had a truffle vending machine. You know, for when you need that 3 AM truffle, everything else is closed, and you just can't wait.

It was a quiet drive back to the campground. We were here. Time for dinner and bed.

to be continued...