Christine Strusz

You should know by now that nothing for me is simple. Yes, I went to sleep enjoying the scenery, fresh breeze and lightness of embers still barely awake on the fire. It was not long after that I noticed the breeze picking up. “Dog-Kid” grunted at me as if to say “not again,” and we tried our best just to relax and go to sleep. Of course the wind became faster and faster and the tent was being hit harder and harder. I took a look outside and saw that my fire had given birth to itself once again. Yes, the area was mostly sand and rock, but there were still trees, Wild Sage and other anonymous plants that could maybe catch on fire in such dry weather. What really caught my attention was my vehicle, I am aware it would probably not catch my little Nissa Xerra on fire, but it was what was underneath that worried me. Earlier, after making coffee I thought to myself, “it may rain again tonight.” So, I put the campstove underneath the care so that it would not rust, or get wet. Along with my little chair, and pot of stainless steel coffee. What does a camp stove take to burn? FUEL. The fire was getting bigger and bigger, as it became windier and windier. The tent was wonce again being sucked in and out like a vacum. I knew damn well the only thing really holding it down was my 200 pound body. If “Dog-Kid” and I both moved it would certainly go. I had no choice! I have a vivid mind and imagination, I was picturing the car, the stove, and everything it it blowing up! What would I do then?

I made a run for it, and by run I mean, I hobbled out of a very small tent with my large body and ran to unlock the vehicle get water and once again put out the fire. No sooner then I reach the car do I hear “snap.” The tent had not only collapsed put was completely flat on the dessert like ground.

“Rory?!”

A gentle smile crossed my face as she comes stumbling out of the tent with a yawn and walks to my side! “Yes, mom?”

I drug my tent as close to the car as possible and tied it to the tent. Hoping the side I picked would be the one with the most wind. Luckily, and I am still not completely confident without ripping any holes in the bottom as I was dragging it in the dark across rocks.

I crawl back in get “Dog-Kid” settled back on her blanket and I crawl into my comfy twin air mattress (Hey, I am allowed luxury!) I hear a hissing sound, and then within minutes because I tried to ignore it I found my back completely exposed to the rock ground.

I spent a half hour trying to path it with… wait for it… duck tape and black truck stop silicon! The same stuff that fixed my windshield got me a few comfortable hours on an air mattress before I was back on a rock floor again.

Ahh, the good life.

I feel very “Ayla” like right now, a reference from the Clan of the Cavebear, a book a good friend recommended and loaned me a several years ago. I am running around barefoot in a sports bra and shorts in a remote(ish) camp site in the Black hills. I stumbled upon it, by happy fault of Adam, unbenonced to me it would be my own personal heaven. I have made fire, I have made coffee, I realize the cavepeople did not have that luxury, but it is one I defiantly earned over the past few days! She says this as she pounds her chest and rubes black ash under her eyes.

I sit, watching my dinner cook over an open fire, drinking fresh coffee and snacking on local fruit. The “Dog-Kid,” exhausted, lays at my feet fresh out of a swim in the trickling Spruce lined Spearfish creek that lives beside us. I am surrounded by lush piney wilderness, prairie grass, exposed rock, pine cone floored trials, and green. Everything is…green. The water from the creek is clear, so clear that you can see each and every spot for footing. It is cool, but refreshing and we both had a well deserved bath from the day of hiking. The “dog-kid” was less excited about this, but always enjoys a good toweling at the end.

When we arrived we set up camp, it was nice today as we stopped driving early and actually had time to relax while slowly setting up. When we got to hot we played in the stream. We explored the area, and found the perfect spot for the evening. The weather slowly cooled and came with a light breeze that is perfect for sunburnt skin, and furry friends. Rumor has it we will see upper fifties tonight which makes for perfect campfires, sleeping, and morning coffee.

I am relaxed, content, and looking forward to a beautiful South Dakota Sky. I have no idea what tomorrow brings. I have thoughts of Wyoming, but I do not know that I will be able to leave this place just yet.

We drove on.

We finally found Sage creek road, the remote road not recommended for most vehicles according to the brochure I got upon entering the Badlands. (Smirks) This is where the remote campsite is located, the one I wanted last night! There are stories of a large Bison Heard in this area, and they often cross in your path. I had no idea, that this would end up being the best adventure of all.

It was beautiful! Everything around me, miles and miles of plains followed by ridge lines, of colored clay rock. The road was dirt, and rustic which of course excited every vein in my body. There was a certain pretend danger to taking the road less traveled, and not knowing where it would lead, or what I would find along the way. After my car experiences earlier, I felt my self ready to take on the task.

The first stop was sudden, as I was driving along relaxing watching “Dog-Kid” hang happily out the window when I saw a blurr of motion out of the corner of my eye. I came to a quick stop, flipping my arm in front of Rory in order to brace her from the quickness of the stop when I saw what it, or “they” were. Prairie dogs! Everywhere, their were thousands all around me, sweeping in and out of holes, across the road, and from one dirt area to another! This topped the mountain goat I was lucky enough to find earlier! Rory of course wanted to chase them, but I retrained her and went long enough to get a few pictures and shack my head at the forgotten miracles and magic of nature most only see on the Animal channel.

As if that were not enough we continued heading down our rustic road and followed the blue skies to a prairie with a Bison graving! Rory didn’t see this one, even after I stopped to take some photos. (Safely from my car) I felt like I was in a drive through wildlife refuge, except this was real! These animals were actually made to live here! I was twelve again, heart pounding, excited, exhilarated!

We carried happily on, until it happened. By it, I mean it! A scary moment, that head my heart pounding again, but in a “Oh, my god,” sort of way. What do I do? I love facts, the history channel. documentaries, and I hold information well when it is visual, but nowhere in my memory do I recall seeing anything about what to do when you have pissed of a Bison!

Here I am driving along when right smack in front of me he sat, staring. He was 10 yards away, and not at all interested in letting me pass. Especially, after “Dog-kid,” my brave adorable, sweet, Rory started barking and growling at him! He was quickly angered and starteed reacting by stomping his feet and I swear there was smoke pouring out of his thick scary nostrils!

Of course, this is me… and things never come simply. Not only were we stopped on a very narrow dirt road, but we had just climbed up a giant hill! So, not only do we have the small de lima of the pissed of Bison, and barking dog, but we have to go backwards down a hill in order to back up.

So I did, I cautiously backed up while keeping one eye on this large beautiful angry animal and restraining Rory’s mouth with my other hand. I had no choice but to wait. Quietly, if possible for him to lose interest. The road was to small to turn around, and backing up backwards any further was impossible. I waited.

What seemed like hours later was only minutes, when I finally grew tired of nervously waiting for him to let me through. I watched him start eating again, just along the side of the road. I was hoping, since he had stopped staring at me, that he had lost interest and felt as though he had tortured me with his overwhelmingly large body enough. I covered super “Dog-Kid’s” mouth (fearless leader) and drove. I didn’t make eye contact with him and lost ten pounds of sweat along the way, but we made it! I cleared the visions of Rory and I turned over on the side of the road, coffee creamer, ice, and deer sausage leaking all over and wild animals feeding on us and the contents of my cooler, and moved on. Once again.

My favorite part of the trip so far was pulling into the Black hills. I was mystified, felt small, and suddenly like I had come home. Beautiful trees, rocks, animals, and a million roads and paths at my disposal. Hour spent driving aimlessly, hiking random trails, swimming in trickling creeks, and exploring what this land had to offer.

Once exhausted, stinky, and hungry we took shelter in Deadwood. A town tha had much nightlife, casinos, and a wild west themed. We didn’t wake up until ten oclock the next morning.