We afraid of rocks...

It wasn't mentioned in any trip advisor or travel blog that Britt or I read, but if you ever visit the Badlands, try to arrive in the dead of night. I think that, more than anything is what etched this park upon our memories. After traveling through state after state of mostly flat plains, we began to pass short, sharp standalone peaks. Then all at once we're surrounded by what look like unreal cardboard cutouts, layers upon layers of ghostly grey shapes just placed to mess with tourists. Kinda like the distant mountains of a video game with sub-par graphics resolution.

The iPod chose that exact moment to play Vampira by Devin Townsend.

Into the niiiiight... Into the daaaarrrrkness...

Now it isn't the strangest landscape we've ever seen, but the alien world from Pitch Black. They aren't 2D constructs, they're menacing towers housing evil soul-sucking horrors of the night waiting to break free and descend upon the only the living things around. Us.

We drove around for an hour, working ourselves into a petrified frenzy that culminated with screaming in terror and speeding away at the sight of a clump of weeds moving under their own power against all logic. We might have been hallucinating at this point, but we weren't taking any chances. It turned out that the campsite we were headed for was actually 45 miles away, so we pulled into a viewpoint, set our alarms for a couple hours later to catch the sunrise, and settled down to sleep in the car. Except the blankets and pillows were in the trunk of the car.

So I bravely flung open the door, plunged into the darkness unknown, raced around to the back of the car, and wrestled the sleeping from the clutches of backpacks and grocery bags. I rushed back to the safety of the car's interior to lock the doors against the beasts outside and celebrate my victory. Huzzah! Oh, wait-- Did I close the trunk?! I could remember! But the Batmobile could tell us! As I tried to wedge myself into the backseat, Britt turned the car on to check.

HONK! HONK! HONK! WHOOOP! WHOOOP! WHOOOP! OH MY GOD, HOW DO I MAKE IT STOP?

So we slept. Cold, crammed into seats, and convinced we'd just alerted any nearby predators and park personnel to our location. Awesome.

***

We missed part of the sunrise. We woke to a sky barely clinging to the colors of dawn, and stumbled (fell) out of the car. That's when it hit us that we were actually on this road trip, far from home and halfway across the country. Maybe we hadnt realized it because we hadn't stopped to sleep before other than each of us taking a nap or two in the car while the other drove. Maybe it was because we've seen cities and we've seen corn (just not so much or for so long), but we'd NEVER seen anything like the Badlands. Even when we knew we were taking the same kind of pictures over and over, we kept pulling over and snapping away.

Surprisingly awake

Rocks.

Rocks.

Rocks.

GOAT!

Rocks.

Rocks.

GOAT!

 

We had to leave in the middle because running up and down the sloped roads sapped our gas more than we thought it would. Nearest town? Wall. Home of Wall Drug. Kitschy tourist trap, here we come!

We thought we would spare you the kitschtastic.

Breakfast was an omelet and lots of coffee at the rather sad Cactus Café, then we wandered over to the nearest souvenior store to buy some mandatory magnets and postcards. The cool looking stores weren't open yet, so we popped into a t-shirt and jewelry store, specializing in delicate pieces made of Black Hills gold. Pretty, but expensive. Wall Drug itself was only a few doors down, and it was seemed kinda neat except for the creepy mannikin people everywhere.

Then it was back to the Badlands!

Binocular win! Zoom lens win!

Photo composition brought to you by Bison-R-Us

American Bison? American Buffalo? What do we actually call these behemoths? Phil settled the matter on Facebook for everyone concerned:

Phil: How do you know they are American. Did they tell you. Did the bison say, YO!! I B A American. And on another thought, what about the Buffalo nickel, I never heard it called a Bison Nickel. What about Buffalo Bill, Nobody called him Bison Bill.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Buffalo it is. Besides, saying 'bison' makes me feel all pretentious.