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Winter Hike On Black Elk Peak

Climbers who reach the summit of Black Elk Peak can gaze upon four states: South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming and Nebraska.

Want to play like a mountain goat for a winter afternoon? Then hike to the summit of Black Peak after a soft snowfall, picking your way up the rocky, tree-strewn 3-mile trail that leads to the tallest point east of the Rockies and west of the Pyrenees in Europe. You can’t see Spain from the top, but you can easily find Montana, Wyoming and Nebraska.

I started up the trail at high noon on a sunny Sunday. At times it was dark in the deep canyons of the 7,242-foot mountain. More often, the trail led to granite-strewn overlooks so bright that I needed sunglasses to look out on the white and blue landscape.

You can hear the winter wind whispering in the pines, even on a still day. On blustery days, the wind whooshes and roars past the treetops, but down below you’re so protected by trees and canyon walls that you hardly feel a breeze.

Take a walking stick, or pick one up along the trail. A mountain goat would not think of traversing the heights of a snow-slippery mountain path on just two legs, and neither should you. A stick is like an extension of your arm; it might help you catch your balance or slow your fall. Walking uphill doesn’t seem as tricky as walking downhill, and there’s a mathematical explanation; it has something to do with the nonlinear partial differential of miles-per-hour divided by the angle squared. But leave your pencil and paper at home; you’ll understand when you step on the trail.

Few hardy souls climb Black Elk Peak in winter, but our writer met college students Caleb Chapman (left) and Chase Merfeld near the summit.

A stick might also give you a weapon in the very slim likelihood that you meet a mountain lion or wolf. Such encounters are almost unheard of, especially in winter. Wolves haven’t been seen on Black Elk Peak in modern times (Mount Rushmore A.D.), but a young male was hit by a car near Sturgis two years ago and another was caught in a trap in Harding County.

Dave Pickford, a ranger with the Black Hills National Forest’s Hell Canyon District, says lions have been spotted. Sightings are rare, but believable to our friends back down the mountain.

Deer, elk, turkey and mountain goats are common in the other seasons, but they winter in the meadows and thick pines at the foot of the mountain.”You might see rabbits and squirrels on a winter day,” Pickford says,”but you’re less likely to see birds and the bigger animals than in the summer.”

The lack of wildlife, along with the fact that there’ll be no motorcycles or tour buses echoing down below, adds to the solitude that winter hikers like.

Pay some attention to the signage as you go. If you’ve been known to take a wrong turn in Rapid City or Sioux Falls, then you can certainly lose your way on Black Elk Peak. I was on Trail Nine and missed a left turn on the way down; within 100 yards I saw a”3″ etched in a tree, signifying Trail Three so I reversed course. If only making a U-turn was as easy on Omaha Avenue in downtown Rapid City.

After two hours on the trail, I could see the summit. But the last stretch is the most treacherous. That’s ironic because it is the most civilized. The Forest Service created smooth stone steps and a short metal stairway just below a legendary old lookout tower that was built on the summit by Civilian Conservation Corps workers in 1939.

You don’t want to fall off now, not while 7,242 feet in the air. Pickford says accidents do happen on the mountain, and he agrees that the final steps can be tricky.”We have such huge swings in temperature and weather that we tend to get a freeze-thaw effect on the steps, both at the top and all along the trail,” he says.”Especially there at the top, the steps can become windswept and they are particularly icy.”

While the wind whispers down below, it roars on the summit, especially as you climb those last steps to the observatory tower. But it’s worth the wind, even on a cold day in winter, because most of us will never see so much land with our feet on the ground.

Just before you ascend the fire tower, look for the small plate with the inscription”Valentine McGillycuddy.” It’s the name of a man who arrived in the Black Hills in 1875 as a surveyor. McGillycuddy climbed Black Elk Peak to record its height, and supposedly used a pine log as a ladder to reach the very last granite ledge. Later he became an Indian Agent on the Pine Ridge, mayor of Rapid City and dean of the School of Mines. After he died in 1939, his widow received approval to bury his ashes atop the mountain.

Valentine McGillycuddy’s ashes are interred near the top of Black Elk Peak. Surely his resting place is the highest grave east of the Rocky Mountains.

Certain questions come to mind when you’re standing at the top. Maybe the thin air plays tricks with the mind. At first you’ll wonder why the Forest Service and Roosevelt’s CCC workers went to so much effort in 1939 to build the tower on a difficult and treacherous mountaintop. Can you really see a fire better at 7,272 feet than 7,242 feet?

You’ll also wonder why more people don’t climb the mountain in winter. Pickford reports that about 41,000 people make the journey annually; he knows, because electronic counters are hidden along the trail, and they can generally distinguish a man from a goat. But only 3,000 climbers are counted from November to March, and the number of hikers is very small in the dead of winter.

New Year’s Day is an exception, when about 200 hikers climb Black Elk. Pickford speculates that the tradition began with people who wanted to start the year with a positive activity. Eventually it became a holiday routine for some.

You might also wonder, while standing atop the Northern Plains, if widows or widowers other than Mrs. McGillycuddy have brought their ashes here, without seeking approval or disapproval from authorities, and scattered them among the granite boulders that seem more eternal and glorious than any memorial ever carved by man.

And while contemplating the eternal, you’ll wonder, while catching your breath at the top, what would happen if you began to have difficulty breathing, perhaps from a heart attack? It must be terribly embarrassing to hear your name on the evening news while you’re lying in a hospital bed: perhaps one of your children is thanking the Search and Rescue team from Custer for risking their lives to get you off the mountain, and then someone says,”We thought he was in perfect health. He eats right and exercises, but I guess he’s slipping.” It’s always wise to stay off the evening news.

But soon your thoughts are interrupted by the realization that the sun is sinking toward the western horizon. Time to descend the mountain. Carefully.


Mountain Do’s & Don’ts

We asked David Pickford, the Forest Service recreation specialist, for his advice on winter climbs up Black Elk Peak.

ï Check the forecast. Even mountain goats stay off Black Elk Peak during snowstorms.

ï Use sturdy footwear, and in winter consider either ice creepers or shoe chains.

ï Carry along a survival kit with first aid, food, water, etc.

ï Dress appropriately. Wear a synthetic liner next to your skin to keep moisture away, and dress in layers.

ï Let someone know you’re going up the mountain.

ï Cell phones can be helpful, but don’t depend on them at the expense of other preparations because they may not work. Many hikers prefer to leave electronic gadgets at home. It’s an ethical choice, says Pickford.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the January/February 2009 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Timon Cave

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.