Day 4 - The Mount of all Mounts
6/21 Wednesday
Yep. Up again early. We loved being on Mountain time. That and long days of light. After a camp breakfast of Cafe Nutella and scrambled eggs with hash browns peppered with onion and bison (this time cooked!), we packed up camp and headed out of Custer State Park into the Black Hills. Traveling north on Route 16A, with several long distance views of the spectacular Mount Rushmore, we wound through the Black Hill mountains getting ever closer to our destination, the National Memorial.
Arriving at the park we made our way to the Presidential Trail along the base of the mountain sporting the great granite sculpture. 422 steps later, we arrived at the museum to learn that Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and T. Roosevelt represented the founding, growth, preservation, and development of our great nation. The sculptor, G. Borglum selected Mount Rushmore for this monumental sculpture to show the grandeur of this country's ideals placing the sculpture as close to the heavens as earthly possible. The blasting, carving, and smoothing was accomplished in 1927-1941 and the sculptor died at the age of 74 just 6 months prior to the project's completion, his son Lincoln finishing the work.
Filled with gratitude for those who have made this country what it is, we embarked on a drive through the Black Hills on the Iron Mountain Road and Needles Highway.
Tunnels created by blasting through solid rock were just wide enough to accommodate our 7' wide teardrop trailer. The highlight of the route was ever so carefully passing through the lengthy Needles tunnel to see the Needles Eye high in the rock face overlooking a vast spread of vegetation below.
We wound our way up to Hill City and stopped for a truly Mexican and truly delicious lunch, tostadas and carnitas tacos. Escaping the crowds at Hill City we made our way northward on 385 to Deadwood. You know you are getting close to Deadwood when you see littered across the landscape - numerous fallen logs, whole tree size. I wondered, why so many dead trees? Deadwood, aptly named, is now a National Historic Landmark, 'entertaining guests since 1876.'
Deadwood was a wonderful surprise - beautiful old Western town feel, a bustling metropolis during the mining craze and the very place where Wild Bill Hickok was shot dead. Two days later, in 1876, Seth Bullock became the first sheriff in town and saved Deadwood from the lawlessness of the day. We stopped in to explore the visitor center, strolled the river walk and drove through historic Main Street.
Tempted to stay in Deadwood to explore the historic buildings, we decided instead to call it a day and find a campsite north of town on BLM land. We left town heading north on 85 and pulled off the paved road at Mount Theodore Roosevelt finding a cozy open grassy spot tucked away from - well, anything. We had the place to ourselves.
Scott cooked up black bean, beef, and onion to layer over tortilla chips, sprinkled with cheese and we enjoyed the nachos and then a warm shower before retiring for the night. Shortly after drifting off to sleep, we were awakened by bright flashes of lightening and Scott clamored out to put up chairs and equipment before getting drenched. The storm lasted some time into the night, but we were safely tucked away and slept right through it. (
51275, 90 miles)
