Frat Boys in the Wild

Number 4, and it's still not the last post about my weekend in the Badlands and the Black Hills! I think I need an editor. Missed posts number 1, 2, or 3?

I passed through hunting grounds

That Sunday morning, I awoke around 7 in my cold tent and, after realizing that cuddling up in my damp sleeping back wouldn’t really warm me through, I decided to break camp and get back on the road. The day before, I had picked Crow Peak Trail as my first destination for today. Located in the northern Black Hills, the summit would allow me a view not only on large parts of the national forest, but also into eastern Wyoming. And I really wanted to hike today. So after less than an hour’s drive I found Higgins Gulch Road southwest of the small town of Spearfish. According to the information I had, this gravel road was where I would find the trailhead to get to Crow Peak. Hmmhh, I drove a few minutes but only saw private properties to my left and right until I arrived at a sign that told me it was forbidden to go further in a private vehicle. So I went back, thinking I had just overlooked the trailhead. Nothing. But now that I was here, I didn’t just want to leave without trying, so I returned to the sign, parked my car, packed some water and food, and took off. I did not have a GPS signal here, so I could only guess that I might, with some luck, probably be on the right way. The road led out of the woods into an area where the gulch opened up with meadows to my right and a little creek to my left which the road then crossed at a shallow spot. With occasional forks in the road, I was not sure at all if this way would take me to Crow Peak Trail, but since these were a pretty area and a beautiful morning, I did not want to get back to the car yet. So I walked on, passed by a car every now and then, which I thought could only mean that these people probably owned land here and thus were allowed to drive past the sign I’d read. As the woods closed in after two miles or so, I entered the Black Hills National Forest again, but still no sign of a trailhead after walking for way more than half an hour now. Luckily, I didn’t lose heart. After walking through the woods for another 20 minutes, I saw a couple of cars parked and the trailhead next to them. So, like these folks, I could have ignored the sign and just driven here. But on the other hand, I generally subscribe to the idea that the journey is its own reward. And now the second part, the actual trail uphill, over rocks and roots, would begin.

halfway up

Aside from a few fellow ramblers I passed along the way, the trail was not very crowded. It was only sparsely covered by all the tall and slender pines growing on the hillside; as soon as I reached a certain elevation I could see the surrounding lands, the wooded hills near and far, the patches of grass, and the scattered grey rocks breaking through the ground every now and then. It might have taken me a little more than an hour to reach the summit. The trail was steep at times, and due to the relatively low temperature among the trees, I wore long pants, kinda baggy (Dickies, way too big for me, which I bought at WalMart for $9 just to have something sturdy to hike in when it’s too cold for shorts), and a jacket, feeling kind of stupid when I met a mom and her daughter on the sunny peak in tank tops and shorts. Anyway, we talked a little and they told me they’d moved to the Black Hills a couple of years ago from a small Iowa town. When they left I sat down on a rock and had my usual lunch: the still very tasty ciabatta-like bread I’d bought four days ago, some crackers and cheese spread. I took some photos and enjoyed the view, the solitude, the silence. It’s moments like these when awareness strikes me that I should make the most of right now. What that means, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just trying to be as conscious as possible, paying attention to everything that happens around you in the grass and the trees and the air. Acknowledging the privilege you’ve been granted. Being thankful.

Crow Peak, 5760 ft

After being thankful for a while, I heard voices and footsteps, and the little dog hastening ahead who carried his own tiny backpack signaled that it was the two girls I had passed earlier on. So I greeted them once more and ceded the summit to the trio. I realized that I had lost the spot where the trail leads onto the ridge, and I stumbled along through the trees for a bit but then found the path again. On my way down, the trail was packed with people; I met at least six parties, two of them comprised of annoyingly loud dudes showing off their studio-tanned-and-trained upper bodies to the single girl in their group. And these groups were the only ones who were barely willing to say hi while others commented on the weather or asked about the view from the summit. I’m not quite ready yet to incorporate frat guys into my image of the West. Other than being annoyed, I was mostly hoping to find someone non-fratty who would be willing to give me a ride back to my car. But right now, no one was leaving, so I walked back until, after maybe half the way, a car approached me, and I signaled to stop and asked if they would give me a ride, and the two guys said sure. We exchanged the usual where-are-you-froms and how-do-you-like-it-heres, and then they dropped me off at my car. First thing to do now, change clothes, and then get back on the road. I had half a day left, and there were great parts of the Badlands I hadn’t seen yet.