Category: columns-outdoors

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Lost in South Dakota

By Katie Hunhoff

A woman and two men spent the night in the Badlands this summer when they lost their way in the Sage Creek Wilderness Area. The hikers, all in their twenties, called 911 on Sunday evening after becoming lost in the rocky crevices and peaks.

The park’s search and rescue team headed to the Pinnacles Overlook to look for the hikers. They spotted them by air from a mile away. After a texting conversation, the hikers and rangers decided the safest option was for them to sleep in the wilderness. The rough terrain is dangerous to traverse in the dark, and the sun was setting fast. Early the next morning, the rangers rendezvoused with the hungry trio.

The mishap had a happy ending, but it was a reminder that although sometimes it feels like there isn’t much room for exploration or discovery, South Dakota has some big wide open spaces. Kim Ode, a Sioux Falls native who now writes for the Minneapolis Star Tribune, wrote some tips to traversing the Badlands in a recent issue of South Dakota Magazine. First, she advised that you should bring a compass, but not depend on it. She recommends keeping a recognizable point in front of you and behind you so you can know your position at all times.

“It’s amazing how the landscape blends into sameness once you’ve hiked over a few ridges,” she wrote. “Stay focused.” The easy ability to find yourself lost in the Badlands is also the reason it is worth visiting, according to Ode. “Enjoy the Badlands for the respite they provide from modern life. You are walking amid the bones of an ancient land. If you can, give them a couple of days — the first to get the buzz out of your head, the second to let in the silence.”

Dale Korslund, an Irene farmer, also spent a night in the wilderness after getting lost while hunting with his uncle in the dense Ponderosa pines in the Black Hills. It was November of 1965 and Korslund was tracking a deer in Rifle Pit Canyon, southwest of Cheyenne Crossing. By 5 p.m. the sun had sunk over the mountain horizon and he realized he was lost.

“They say I was walking in circles,” Korslund recalls. “I finally found shelter under a couple of fallen trees.” The next morning, after a grueling night of temperatures near zero, a team of game wardens and forest rangers found him.

He was reunited with his uncle, who joked that he was about to put Korslund’s face on a milk carton. “That wouldn’t have done any good,” Korslund was in a good enough mood to joke in reply. “Most of the guys out there drink Jack Daniels.”

Stay safe as you explore South Dakota. Our population is already too sparse. We’d rather not lose anyone.

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Another Good Day in the Badlands

By Christian Begeman

I think it is appropriate that the last column of this photographic series of South Dakota’s natural landmarks is dedicated to the unique landscapes of Badlands National Park. According to the National Park Service’s website, approximately one million visitors from all over the world visit the Badlands every year. And why not? The park consists of 244,000 acres, 64,144 of which are deemed wilderness acres. It is the largest expanse of protected prairie in the national park system. The park is home to American Bison, white tailed and mule deer, bighorn sheep, prairie dogs, rattlesnakes, fox and wily coyotes. Hawks, owls and occasional eagles grace the open skies above the eroded masterpiece of land below. It is a perfect place for a camera-wielding nature lover like me.

While researching the history of the Badlands, I found an online booklet describing the history of Badlands National Monument. (It did not become a full-fledged park until 1978.) From that booklet, I read that early French-Canadian trappers called the region le mauvaises terres a traverser, which means “bad lands to travel across.” Other traders applied the term “bad lands” to this locality as well as to any section of the prairie country “where roads are difficult….” The Dakota Indians called the region Mako Sica (mako, land; sica, bad). General George A. Custer described the area as a part of hell where the fires burned out.

Despite the seemingly bad press from the history above, I’ve grown to love the area over the years. Any trip I take to the Black Hills is almost certain to include a detour through the Badlands. I’ve learned that some of the best opportunities for photography in the state are found there, particularly in the golden light of evening or early morning. An earlier column of mine was devoted to a single morning of spectacular light on the eastern borders of the park on a Thanksgiving Day morning. I’ve also had good luck seeing and photographing the park’s wildlife. One of my favorite stories of shooting wildlife is the cold February day where I ended up racing a coyote near the Bigfoot pass. The park also has bobcat residents as well as the endangered black-footed ferret. I’ve not been able to see or photograph either of these yet, but those animals are definitely on my bucket list.

My absolute favorite time to be in the park is during and after bad weather. I’ve witnessed some of the most amazing and breathtaking light when a late afternoon or evening summer storm passes through. Twice, I’ve seen the setting sun backlight the billowing clouds and change the landscape to eerie oranges and deep reds. This spring, I was able to see a massive full rainbow form at the panoramic point overview. This rainbow lit up the eastern sky after the sun had set. I’d never seen a rainbow occur so late in the day before. In late August, I happened to be in the park when a late afternoon storm struck. I witnessed the late day sun breaking through the clouds on the west side of park with dramatic rays of light. Later, the setting sun proceeded to paint the retreating remains of the summer storm with fantastic light and detail.

Later in the night I stayed out to shoot to do some stargazing. This part of South Dakota is nearly devoid of light pollution, which means seeing more stars shine in the heavens. I was not disappointed. The Milky Way shown bright against the rugged pinnacles and once again I stood in awe under South Dakota skies amidst the rugged and torn beauty of the Badlands. It was another good day in the Badlands. They almost always are.


Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.


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Grand River’s Wall

By Christian Begeman

In the southwest section of Corson County is a landmark I’d heard mentioned from to time by locals but had never seen. The landform is referred to as”the wall” and marks the steep, cliff edge of the Grand River breaks on its southern flank for a considerable distance.

A few summers ago while shooting the Isabel Centennial Wagon Train, South Dakota’s own sculpture artist, John Lopez, and I got re-acquainted. During the entertainment in the evenings, local cowboy poets and singers made regular reference to the wall. I asked John about the landform, as I knew he grew up in that area near Black Horse Butte. He told me about the long, tall line of mini-badlands along the Grand River and then graciously invited me out to get a tour. I finally took him up on that offer this summer.

It’s a wonderful place to take a camera. I grew up in a similar landscape (the Moreau River breaks to the south) so I may be a bit biased, but I believe there is a true visual poetry to West River ranchland. I’ll admit the rhyme and rhythm of the landscape can be elusive. Depending on the weather of any given year as well as a hundred other factors, it can be a challenge to find beauty. Some folks look out at the land and think it is a wasteland or akin to a desert. I respectfully disagree.

When you look at ranchland going by your car window at 65-plus miles an hour, it’s hard to see the detail that contributes to its beauty. Going that fast, it is impossible to pick out the doe and her fawn in a creek bottom, or the flashing purple and yellow of wildflowers waving in the wind on the hilltops. Corson County’s wall country isn’t near any highway and unless you have a death wish, driving the narrow county roads is best done under 45 mph. I recommend doing it at about half that speed in the cool of the morning or the last light of evening. When the sun turns the prairies golden yellow and the bright ribbon of the Grand River shines against the deepening shadow of the looming wall, maybe then you can see what I mean by visual poetry.

This corner of South Dakota has a rich history to it as well. Black Horse Butte, just above the wall in one of the Grand River National Grassland allotments, was a well-known landmark along the Deadwood to Bismarck Stage Trail. The trail ran just under the butte on the west side of the wall before it crossed the Grand River going northeast.

Going back further into the depths of time, this landscape once teemed with dinosaurs — the kinds of dinosaurs that most of us grew up reading and daydreaming about. In late July, I was able to visit a dig right along one of the cliffs directly above the river. While there, a beautiful Tyrannosaurus Rex tooth was found. The excitement of the camp was palpable (and I certainly added to it). All of the bones found, including a full Triceratops skull, are cleaned up and then displayed at the Grand River Museum in Lemmon, SD.

The wall may be one of the least well-known landmarks that I’ve photographed this year, but it is also one of my favorites. It is remote and it is beautiful. In younger days I spent countless hours under the western South Dakota sky in a tractor or chasing cows to and fro. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I was falling in love with the simple beauty of it all. This kind of country is and will remain home to me.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.

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Annie Creek Falls

By Lee Schoenbeck

Spearfish Canyon has so many secrets hidden back in the canyon walls that you wonder if any one person knows them all. After a summer of exploring, this writer is still discovering. On the way to the Black Hills earlier this month we talked with some friends, Mike and Robin Moran of Watertown, who told us about a pretty place in the canyon called Annie Creek Falls. The next day, while having lunch at the Latchstring in the canyon, we learned that our waitress was a South Dakota native and a student at Black Hills State. The pipeline to knowledge about where to hike in the canyon flows through BHSU, so we asked her what favorite unpublished place she liked. Annie Creek Falls was the first one she named, so our next destination was set.

LEAVE YOUR AUDI AT HOME

We have an old Jeep Ranger that won’t win a beauty contest anywhere outside of the Ozarks, but it is the vehicle of choice for a trip up Annie Creek Road. The Annie Creek Road sign is the first right past Elmore as you drive north into Spearfish Canyon from Cheyenne Crossing, heading towards Savoy. The road is an old narrow gauge rail bed. As you drive up it you’ll see the remnants of old rail ties, long ago embedded in its floor. Turning around is never an option if you have a full-size vehicle, and is barely an option in a Ranger. The potholes are a definitive test for loose fillings, and there are several times you’ll plow through water holes of indeterminate depths — a free car wash of sorts.

YOU ARE THERE

When a spot appears on your right that looks like you can pull over a little, you are there. Across the road, from whence you hear the rushing water, is a trail into the brush — take it. It’s a very short hike to a landing that looks over the canyon below and the water falls to your right. But, the fun doesn’t end there — the adventure has just begun.

To get down to the falls you have three choices. First, you could jump. If you pick that option, don’t bother wasting time snapping a quick photo on the way down — a quick prayer would be more useful. Either of the other two options is marginally safer. To the left you can make short switchback-like cuts as you climb and work your way to the bottom. Be careful — it is treacherous. The left path brings you about fifty yards below the falls. The hike up the creek affords more beautiful views of the area. The option to the right is one we didn’t even see on the way down. This is the shorter and maybe safer route, but it is crawling from handhold (tree root) to handhold (rock ledge) all the way down. The right side route brings you out near the base of the falls — and is clearly the easier route for the hike back up.


IT’S BEAUTIFUL DOWN THERE

The path to the bottom probably deters most, and from a safety perspective, that may be a good thing. But if you are one of those hardy souls that can navigate the way down, the pretty and peaceful creek bottom at the base of Annie Creek Falls is worth the hike. This is the kind of place where people would want to take wedding photos, if they could figure out how to get all the gowns down there in their original color and condition.

ANNIE CREEK HAS MORE TO OFFER

The old trail is also the route used by 4-wheelers between Terry Peak and Cheyenne Crossing. A Minnesota group, whose leaders hailed from De Smet, stopped at the falls while we were there. After exchanging the traditional South Dakota greeting:”Where are you from?” followed by”Do you know __?” we discerned that the leader was a cousin of friends of ours from Watertown, and they knew my law school classmate from De Smet, Todd Wilkinson. In South Dakota speak, we had bonded. The 4-wheelers explained to us that there was more to see by travelling further up Annie Creek Road, so the adventure continued.

About a half mile further up the road (where road speeds are about 8 mph on a good stretch), you cross the creek. The road bed has been built up well above the creek, and presumably there’s a big culvert in the brush below, but the driver is well advised to adhere to the biblical directive of staying focused on the narrow path ahead. When you’ve crossed the creek, the”road” ends — but the adventure doesn’t. To the right is a strictly 4-wheeler route to Terry Peak. To the left there are two paths. We took the high road, which is a continuation of the narrow rail bed.

If you hike for about a mile, you’ll come to first one, then another, former railroad trestles. The trestles have been felled, probably to avoid hikers using them to cross the gullies they forded. To get to the second former trestle, you of course need to be crazy enough to hike down, through and up the first trestle gorge. This would be a good point to suggest another whole set of safety disclaimers. But if you have the endurance and lack of good judgment for the trip, it’s a pretty view and a neat crawl through the remnants of Black Hills railroad history.

There’s some”treasure” to be found on the more remote sections of the rail bed, as we learned from a family we met near the first gorge. We came up on a father, mother and son digging in the dirt along the remote rail bed — not exactly everyday behavior. It piqued our curiosity. We learned that they were using metal detectors and shovels to unearth the spikes that had been discarded when the rail lines were pulled up years before. They said that you could even find the old spikes lying on the ground sometimes along the route. My very curious wife, after navigating there and back through two gorges, couldn’t resist digging in the shallow dirt along the trail in several places looking for the hidden treasure — but alas, to no avail.


TAKEAWAYS AND TREASURES

The hidden gems to hike to in the Hills are worth the time and effort. We hope others will tell us of more of these to explore. Also, the rich railroad history of the Black Hills would be fascinating to explore, if a knowledgeable guide would surface.

Finally, the treasures of the Hills really are there for the taking. On the walk back along the old rail bed, with one of my wife’s steps on the trail came a metallic”clink” sound. There, just waiting to be picked from the ground by the adventurous, was a rail spike — a Black Hills treasure to the memory of Annie Creek.

Lee Schoenbeck grew up in Webster, practices law in Watertown, and is a freelance writer for the South Dakota Magazine website.


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Dakota’s Other Dunes

By Christian Begeman

Every year as I travel South Dakota’s roads something new surprises me. The latest example was discovering the north edge of the Nebraska Sand Hills is actually located in South Dakota. South of Martin, in Bennett County, the Sand Hills march at least seven miles across the border. When I discovered this, I looked at a topographic map and noticed the lack of roads in this region, which intrigued me. Doing more research, I stumbled across an article online that lamented the fact that hardly any photos can be found of the region in state publications or South Dakota Tourism material. Sounded like a challenge to me.

The Sand Hills eco-region is fascinating. Most of the area has never been under the farmer’s plow, mostly because no decent crops can be grown. It is just over 20,000 square miles of land that is 85% intact natural habitat. Geologists say the area used to be active sand dunes as recent as eleven hundred years ago. It is hard to imagine Sahara-like dunes in South Dakota but once you take a hike out into the hills, it is actually pretty easy to see it. The ground is soft and easy to move. The grasses and plants are not as dense as in other South Dakota grasslands, but the variety of species are surprisingly vast. It is good cattle country and many large, sprawling ranches still thrive.

Sitting on top of the vast Ogallala Aquifer, the Sand Hills boast many wetlands and small lakes throughout the rugged country. Because of this, the area has become a hugely important corridor for migrating birds. Right up against the northern edge of the Sand Hills, pretty little Lake Creek sends a healthy stream out into the picturesque valley of LaCreek National Wildlife Refuge. The US Fish and Wildlife Services maintain this important wetland area of over 5,000 acres. I spent a good amount of time traveling the refuge’s roads, hiking a few trails looking for wildlife and being surprised by brilliant wildflowers at almost every stop.

LaCreek is full of wildlife in the summer, but if birding is your thing, then the refuge is actually better visited in the spring or fall during the migratory seasons. I saw an owl, a couple eagles and a few pelicans, but these sightings are nothing compared to the numbers of birds the place hosts at migration’s high tide. Trumpeter swans are the biggest attraction — LaCreek was a key place that helped the bird’s population rebound in the United States in the early to mid-1900s. A group of cygnets (young swans) was transplanted from Montana and a new colony grew and soon thrived at LaCreek.

Although I missed the swans, I thoroughly enjoyed my two-day stay in Bennett County. The weather was hazy and humid. In the evening the setting sun resembled a molten ball of rock settling into the west. As I looked out over the wide valley and into the Sand Hills on the horizon, it struck me that this place reminded me of my visit to East Africa’s Serengeti in December 2009. I mean, there are no lions or zebras at LaCreek, but I could easily imagine a hippo or two popping out of one of the trout pools. It is funny how the mind plays tricks on you out alone under a vast South Dakota sky. Then again, there used to be real sand dunes and a desert on the southern horizon. So who am I to question South Dakota’s variety and ability to continue to surprise?

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.


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Eleventh Hour Gulch

By Lee Schoenbeck

SLOW IS BETTER IN SPEARFISH CANYON

“Fast is better” — a TV ad humorously makes the point, and as a society, they’re preaching to the choir. We want internet and cell phone service that is instantaneous, and headache pills that make the pain end in 30 seconds, not 60. Faster sounds better. But when it comes to enjoying Mother Nature, I fall back on the old slogan”speed kills” or at least a modified”speed numbs.” There’s a place in Spearfish Canyon that proves my point.

A HIDDEN ENTRANCE TO A SPECIAL PLACE

It’s like having Bruce Wayne or Ali Baba right here in South Dakota. The Eleventh Hour Gulch has a hidden entrance that only the slow and informed will see — while thousands will drive through the Canyon without a clue to the gift they have passed by. If you can see it, you’ll see a waterfall from the highway. Not the big three — Roughlock, Bridal Veil or Little Spearfish Falls — this is the fourth, the smallest, and the hardest to see.

OPEN SESAME

You don’t have to know the Arabic version, “iftah ya simsim,” for the entrance to the Eleventh Hour Gulch to open up to you, but you do have to drive or walk slow. In Spearfish Canyon the creek is on the east side of the highway and its turbulent trek down the canyon is spell-binding, which is the secret to the Gulch’s hidden entrance. In the creek, near milepost twenty, are the Kissing Rocks, two very large rocks in the creek that are touching (“kissing” to the imaginative). Less than fifty yards to the north of the Kissing Rocks, and on the west side of the road (look away from the distracting beauty of the creek!) you will see, for a second, an opening in the foliage — and water falling. If you are driving north you need to drive slow and look backwards to see the narrow break in the shrubbery. If you are driving south, you’ve got a better shot at noticing the entrance.

Armed with directions, we still missed the entrance on our first attempt, because it doesn’t look like there could be a gulch there. We started at a spot a quarter mile down the road, hiked in a mile, and figured that the secret entrance had escaped us. The second effort was worth the time.

HIDDEN TREASURE

When you get through the roadside foliage, you’ll see a narrow space between the rock walls, and water falling over it. The trail is simple: follow the water, hike up. There are places where the gulch is so narrow that you can touch the opposite walls of the canyon at the same time.

The hike would be more difficult if the Gulch didn’t have benefactors. In at least two places, somebody has constructed wooden ladders, and laid them in between the rocks. You’ll even see washed out and destroyed old ladders, a testimony to the persistence and care of the Gulch’s fan club. The trail goes up and beyond for as far as you care to hike, but there is a point where you have obviously climbed as high as the Canyon’s 1000 foot walls.


GREAT VIEW

It’s a short hike over to the rim of the Canyon. This walk shouldn’t be taken by those with vertigo or any kind of fear of heights. This is Mother Nature at her finest — no handrails or guardrails. You are looking 1,000 feet down at roaring Spearfish Creek, as it tumbles through and past the Kissing Rocks. Spearfish Canyon abounds with breathtaking views. Roughlock Falls and the 76 Trail would make most lists, but the view from top of Eleventh Hour Gulch is on that same list, for those who slow down and take the time to find it.


ALI BABA’S GOLDEN MOMENTS

Gold and things precious come in many forms, and their value is largely defined by the seeker. Ali Baba’s gold couldn’t be any brighter or more inspiring than the treasure hidden behind the foliage in Spearfish Canyon. at the entrance to the Eleventh Hour Gulch.


Lee Schoenbeck grew up in Webster, practices law in Watertown, and is a freelance writer for the South Dakota Magazine website.

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Harding County Treasures

By Christian Begeman

Western South Dakota is known for its wide open spaces and rugged landscapes. This is particularly true in one of the least populated counties located in the farthest northwest reaches of the state. Harding County’s population was under 1,300 folks as of the 2010 census. With an area around 2,700 square miles, the population density is roughly one person for every three square miles. So unless you stop in the county seat of Buffalo (population 330), you are probably going to see the greatest concentration of human beings only when driving through the county on the CanAm Highway (US route 85). But don’t let the small population fool you; the area is rich in beauty and scenery. Places like the Cave Hills, Slim Buttes and the Jumpoff are fairly easy to get to and can take your breath away if you take the time to explore them.

My first experience seeing the Slim Buttes was from a school bus window as my high school basketball team traveled to our farthest opponent in the Little Moreau Conference, the Harding County Ranchers. I had heard stories and legends of”wild west” battles and hidden loot still buried in the buttes. It wasn’t until recently that I took the time to explore the area and learn a bit about the history. There was indeed a battle that took place in the Slim Buttes a few months after the Battle of the Little Bighorn in Montana. A Lakota village was destroyed and a counterattack by the legendary Crazy Horse was fended off. It turned out to be the beginning of the end of what was called the Great Sioux War of 1876.

White-sided buttes now peacefully rise from the prairie, with only cattle, horses and wild bands of pronghorn to disturb the grasses at their base. Ponderosa pine graces the top of the buttes and make up part of Custer National Forest. The name”slim” comes from the landform itself. The high points of the butte tops are never more than a few miles wide as they tower 300 to 400 feet above the prairie. This ridge is roughly 30 miles in length and makes a natural”L” shape. There are only three passes through the buttes. Two of these passes are paved. Highway 79 crosses the buttes to the south and Highway 20 to the west of Reva, SD. At the Reva Gap, there is a campground and hiking area with a majestic view of the”castles” area of the buttes.

A little further north and west are the Cave Hills. This formation seems more like high mesas than hills to me. The top layers of rock on the hills are pockmarked and full of many small cave-like entrances, the most well-known being Ludlow Cave. I did not make it to Ludlow Cave this time around, which is a shame as there are ancient petroglyphs to be found as well as markings from soldiers of Custer’s 7th Cavalry. I imagine that the legends of robber’s loot hidden in Harding County probably have something to do with the caves of the Cave Hills. Even though I didn’t get to explore these caves, I did spend a good amount of time in the camping area of Picnic Springs in the north section of the hills. Wildflowers were everywhere. I spotted deer in the box canyons and watched mountain bluebirds, goldfinch and various swallows dart among the rock formations. The roads into and through the Cave Hills are rugged but well worth the time to explore.

When I was looking a detailed map of the region, I noticed an area labeled as”the Jumpoff” that was directly west of the Slim Buttes and little north of the Short Pine Hills. I discovered it was a rugged mini-badlands area of hills, ridges, valleys and cut banks that separate the headwaters of the Grand River to the east from the valley of the Little Missouri River to the west. I was there at dawn and saw the sun rise over the Slim Buttes on the horizon.

Although I may not have left Harding County with any long-forgotten buried loot, I did experience one of the treasures our great state has to offer: the promise of a new day breaking over the wide, windswept high plains. Thankfully this is the kind of treasure anyone can share in.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.

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Timon Cave

By Lee Schoenbeck

YES TRISH — IT’S STILL THERE

Everybody likes an adventure. After reading my column on Devil’s Bathtub, Trish commented about a cave that her mother had taken her to decades ago:

“There is a hidden cave up Roughlock Falls Road. The entrance is hidden up on a hill across from a camping area (I believe it is called Timon Campground. The cave is named after it). Last time I was there, a pine tree had fallen across the entrance. It is near impossible to find now unless you know exactly where it is. The entrance is small anyway. You have to crawl into it. Once inside you’ll see the cave is well lit because it goes all the way through the ridge. The other opening is large and provides breathtaking views of the area. My mother showed me this cave as her father (the one who found it) showed it to her.”

The search was on. Trish hadn’t been there in over thirty years, but her memory was good — and the cave hasn’t moved. But like many of the best hikes in the Hills, there are no signs or marked trails for Timon Cave.

TIMON CAMPGROUND

About four miles above Roughlock Falls you’ll find Timon Campground. It’s just past the marker where they cut down the South Dakota tree that became the national Christmas tree. It’s a pretty little fee camping area with a creek running past. If you were only looking for a restful place to have lunch, this much of the trip alone would be a success. But the cave requires a little more work.

LOOK UP

At the entrance to Timon, if a person stands and looks across the road from the campground, there’s a hill — a big hill. Actually, it’s more of a wall with some trees sprouting from it. The wall has a washout that runs straight down to where you are standing, and that’s where the climbing commences. There is a tree laying in the washout that functions like a guard rail to hold onto and keep you from sliding backwards with every step. The hike isn’t that long, it’s just all up — straight up.


AT THE TOP

When you’ve run out of log to hold onto, climb about another twenty yards straight up to a stump. This is a well-designed stump. If you get above it, it’s just about waist high. You won’t need prompting to figure out that God put that stump there for you to park your rear against as a rest and to aid in the battle against gravity. To the right of the stump (and up, of course) is a trail that leads to a ledge. A short walk along the ledge and you’ve found the cave entrance.

SEE-THROUGH CAVE

Ok. I’m comfortable enough in my masculinity to admit that I am way not into bats, maybe even scared of the little vampire wanna-bes. I don’t want to have them in my hair, I don’t want to walk in their guano, and I surely don’t want to provide their nourishment (you get a bunch of rabies shots for that one). So, we took my yellow farm gloves in case I’d be crawling on guano, my purple Sisseton Livestock Sales barn hat (no bat nesting through that), and a flashlight (ok, it’s not as efficient as baseball bat — but it’s a lighter carry). Happily, Timon Cave has NO bats, just a great view.

You can see through the cave to the entrance on the other side that overlooks a huge canyon. Since there are no bats, you can happily crawl into the cavern and enjoy the view. The cavern is roomy enough for you walk around in, square dance about or throw a party. It’s pretty clear from the initials on the walls that your event wouldn’t be the first one held there.

WORTH THE TRIP

The view is stunning. Take a lunch and enjoy it. The setting is perfect for sitting in the sun and looking out over the canyon on either side. But remember that whole Isaac Newton thing about stuff going up, because down is no picnic. That gravity thing doesn’t seem to understand that you want just a little of it at a time with each step; it would prefer to dump the whole load on you at once. Straight down felt a lot steeper on the descent than it did on the way up.

As for Trish, who wanted to be able to tell her mother about what happened to the cave they hiked to in the last century, she can tell her mom it’s got centuries more life in it. And it’s safely tucked away, way up there in the canyon wall.

Lee Schoenbeck grew up in Webster, practices law in Watertown, and is a freelance writer for the South Dakota Magazine website.


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Sioux Quartzite’s Ancient Beauty

By Christian Begeman

Last December I turned 40. I guess I’m supposed to be”old” now (at least to anyone under 40, that is). Other than some achy knees and various aches and pains I don’t feel old — especially now that I’ve done a little research on the landmark that helped shape Sioux Falls and the surrounding area. Sioux quartzite, the hard stone that the Big Sioux tumbles over at Falls Park in Sioux Falls, is ancient. I mean really, really ancient. Those that study rocks say it was formed around 1.5 billion years ago. That is older than old — I mean it is really hard to fathom. The last dinosaurs are supposed to have been around 60 million years ago. That’s a drop in the bucket compared to our Sioux quartzite. This rock formation has been fairly stable and in existence for roughly a quarter of the time Earth has been a planet.

I first visited the falls of the Big Sioux when I was a young teenager. For a West River kid, it was like a whole new world. Back then, the park hadn’t been cleaned up nor was there much for walkways, but nonetheless, I still remember being surprised that such a thing existed in South Dakota. I later learned that Sioux Falls is not the only place to see outcroppings of Sioux quartzite. Palisades State Park just south of Garretson may be small in terms of size, but it packs a large punch in terms of unique and stunning scenery. There, Split Rock Creek cuts through a section of Sioux quartzite, leaving dramatic cliffs and standing stones seemingly in the middle of rolling farm hills.

Just upstream, on the other side of Garretson, is Split Rock Park and Devil’s Gulch. Legend holds that this is where outlaw Jesse James escaped a posse of armed men after fleeing from a botched robbery attempt in Minnesota in 1876. James and his horse supposedly leaped the narrow gorge leaving his pursuers behind. A small walking bridge marks the spot today. Whether the legend is true or not, the area is a great place to hike and see the quartzite formations.

Another place that shows off the beauty of the quartzite is just south of Dell Rapids. Here the Big Sioux divides into two streams with the smaller channel cutting straight through cliffs of Sioux quartzite called the Dells of the Big Sioux. There is a small park and overlook to check out, or if you have a more adventurous spirit, there is a sort of natural staircase to the north of the picnic area to climb down into the gorge. In visiting the area earlier this spring, I also found it to be a great place to bird watch. Insect catchers swoop through the canyon picking off their prey and the cliffs allow for nests for all sorts of swallows as well. The abundance of trees provide nesting and resting areas for many species too.

This summer I was introduced to a couple of Sioux quartzite areas that were brand new to me and very worth visiting. Arrowhead Park on the east side of Sioux Falls is a great place to take a short hike with family members in around some quarry pools. The waterfowl are used to people and many folks like to take some bread along to feed them on the edges of the pools. Along the South Dakota-Iowa border is another pool in the Gitchie Manitou preserve that is a little more off the beaten track but well worth the visit as well. I went there on a hot July afternoon and basically had the place to myself. My task was to take a portrait or two of ancient beauty over a billion years in the making. Makes me feel young and spry just telling you about it.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing our prettiest spots around the state. Follow Begeman on his blog. To view Christian’s columns featuring other unique spots in South Dakota’s landscape, visit his landmarks page.


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Trial and Error at the Community Garden

By Rebecca Johnson


Community gardening has a long history in the U.S. It began in the 1890s in Detroit then the government promoted community gardens during World War I to supplement food supply. Gardens helped the unemployed during the depression and the federal victory garden campaign during World War II was used to show patriotism and build morale. Interest dropped off a little after the war, but there was a resurgence in the 1970s and community gardens have been growing ever since (pun intended).

Our Yankton Community Garden started in 2009. It’s sponsored by the Healthy Yankton Committee with grants from the South Dakota Department of Health and the Avera Health Community Service Fund. It’s great for people who don’t own a yard or don’t have the space. Our yard is too shady to grow vegetables, so this is the 4th year my husband and I have gardened in the plots on the west side of town.

We lease two 12′ x 18′ plots for $20 each. Volunteers till the plots at the beginning of the season and water is free–just bring your own hose. Each plot is marked with a 2 x 4 painted with a folksy quote or saying, like”God made rainy days so gardeners could get the housework done,” or”You can bury a lot of troubles digging in the dirt.” My husband’s favorite is”I was determined to know beans.”

We began our first garden without any real horticultural skills. And we’re no master gardeners today, but here are a few things we’ve learned while digging in the dirt.

  • Though“Sneak Some Zucchini on Your Neighbors Porch” day implies otherwise, zucchini is not foolproof. My first zucchini plant got vine borers. I performed plant surgery, slicing the base of the plant to dig the offending grubs out, but the poor thing never fully recovered. Now I watch for moths that lay their eggs on the stems and apply organic pesticide accordingly.
  • “Water evenly” or your zucchini and beets grow in funny shapes and your tomatoes get”bottom rot.” I’m still not really sure what”water evenly” means, though. Does that mean water every other day? Apply the water evenly to the ground? Don’t stand on one foot while you water? Please tell me below.
  • Gardening makes you really interested in the weather. I start a lot of casual conversations with”Did it rain last night?” or”Have you heard if it’s supposed to storm?” I attribute this to my quest to”water evenly.”
  • Weeding is very satisfying, but if you squat to weed for a long time you will get a serious head rush when you stand up. Sit or bend over.
  • When planting, leave more space between plants than you think you’ll need. And even if it seems wasteful, thin plants early and generously. I’m still learning this one. Our melons are slowly taking over and they’re nowhere near finished growing. Sigh.
  • Always bring a bag or bucket to your plot once mid-summer hits. Even if you think nothing will be ready to pick, your garden will surprise you with a small harvest.
  • Last but not least, if your dog poops in your compost pile forget about using it to fertilize anything meant for human consumption. This one’s not quite community garden related, but helpful nonetheless.

I’m sure my list is unimpressive to the expert gardener, but if you’d seen our first attempt you’d know we’ve come a long way. What are some of your gardening tips? Do you garden at home or rent a plot?