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Needles Highway in Winter

Needles Highway is also known as Highway 87. It is part of the Peter Norbeck Scenic Byway, a 66-mile circle that also includes Iron Mountain Road. When snow become too deep for vehicles, state officials close it until snowplows are able to reopen the route. During such closures, hikers are welcome.

Rich Zacher and his family happily welcomed a foreign exchange student from the Czech Republic last winter, but they struggled to entertain the worldly teen.

“Of all the places we showed her in South Dakota, the thing that she really enjoyed was hiking the Needles Highway in winter,” Zacher says.”That and a rodeo at the Monument.”

The young European has good taste in hikes. More and more people are discovering that the historic, 14-mile Needles Highway (aka Highway 87) takes on a special ambience when experienced afoot in a landscape of white. Perhaps that’s because the steep and winding route — which ranks among America’s crookedest roads — was designed on foot.

“You are not supposed to drive here at 60 miles an hour,” said Peter Norbeck, a visionary leader who founded Custer State Park in 1913 when he was still a state senator.”To do the scenery half justice, people should drive 20 or under; to do it full justice, they should get out and walk.”

Norbeck, despite his portly 240-pound frame, did literally walk the high country as he personally selected the route.”With C.C. Gideon and Scovel Johnson, state engineer, he tramped the trails on foot because horses could not walk over much of the terrain,” wrote author Gilbert Fite in a Norbeck biography, Prairie Statesman.”Working their way through towering granite cliffs and heavy forest, they finally traversed the entire distance of a road which would take tourists through the Needles. The governor’s trousers were badly torn and his legs were scratched.”

Summer traffic makes it difficult to enjoy the Needles Eye Tunnel, but winter hikers like Michael Belmont and his golden retriever, Salvatore, can dawdle in the unusual passageway.

Fite noted that Norbeck and the road engineers had heated arguments.”His desire was to preserve the natural beauty and to build roads where the public could obtain the best artistic view. This contradicted commonly accepted engineering principles, but his policies usually prevailed.”

Fite wrote of a particular day when Norbeck sat on a log, breathing heavily, and asked Johnson whether he could build the road.

“If you can furnish me enough dynamite,” Johnson answered.

Norbeck was then governor. He found both the money and the dynamite, and Needles Highway opened to traffic in 1922. It became a huge success for South Dakota. Up to 1,700 vehicles now pass through on a busy summer day, maneuvering the dips and dives and hairpin turns, and squeezing through narrow tunnels designed for Model A’s rather than today’s big SUVs. Though 1,700 a day may not sound like a huge number, it’s enough to cause congestion — especially at the two tunnels — because, as Norbeck planned, the drivers crawl along at 10 to 20 miles per hour.

Since the highway is difficult to clean after heavy snows and dangerous to drive when the roadway is icy, the northern half has long been closed to car traffic in winter. Zacher, a 29-year veteran of the State Transportation Department (he now serves as Area Engineer for the Black Hills region), says the state kept it open for a winter about 30 years ago as a test.”We did a count to see if there would be any traffic, but the only people who drove it were Custer State Park employees looking for a shortcut from Sylvan Lake to the park headquarters. Except for them, there was zero use.”

Consequently, the state highway department still blocks the road with steel gates on the day before the first forecasted snowfall. That creates a one-day holiday for Black Hills bicyclists.”We get more calls asking when we are going to close it than we get in the spring about when it’s going to reopen,” Zacher notes.”The bikers want to bike the dry pavement before that first snow, without the car traffic.”

Once closed, a 7-mile stretch beginning at Sylvan Lake stays off-limits to cars and trucks until spring.

*****

We parked by the lake and walked the highway on a January morning. Several inches of snow had fallen overnight. There was one other set of tracks, so we knew we were not the first.

With only a few inches of snow on the pavement, walking was easy. The snow muffled the forest. Soon after passing the winter gate at Sylvan Lake, the only reminders of civilization were road signs, bridges and the tunnels that were blasted with Norbeck’s dynamite.

In summer, the road seems like a busy Main Street carved through a forest. On the frosty, cloudy winter morning we arrived, it was so quiet that you could hear tufts of new snow slipping from the pine branches. A squirrel playing in the banks and a few small birds were the only living creatures to be seen.

You hear no traffic, no livestock and no people — only your own feet loudly crunching in the snow. The silence and the scenery combine for an apocalyptic atmosphere, as if all the world has frozen and you are alone with nature on a good day. Civilization is represented only by the concrete ribbon of highway and yellow road signs that warn of curves and tunnels.

Iron Creek Tunnel, one of two tunnels along the winter hike on the Needles Highway, has an elevation of 5,285 feet, considerably lower than Needles Eye Tunnel, which stands at about 6,000 feet.

The Needles Eye Tunnel is just a mile or so from Sylvan Lake. In July, you wouldn’t dare to walk through the 8-foot tunnel for fear of being hit by a car, but in January you can take all the time and photographs that you desire. You might see bits of red and orange glass along the tunnel’s edges, evidence that a car or truck grazed the granite.

Further along, the jagged and jutting Needles spires inspire your imagination. You discover granite heads, shoulders, fingers, castles and caves. Soon after you pass the Needles Eye Tunnel and the nearby Cathedral Spires formations, the roadway descends nearly a thousand feet as you exit some of the Black Hills’ highest country. Walking is easy. You can either continue another 4 or 5 miles, covering the entire stretch of highway that is closed (if you have a way to return to your vehicle at Sylvan Lake) or you can retrace your steps. We went back to our car.

*****

The next morning, we drove east of Custer into the park on Highway 16 and turned north on Highway 87, which is the southern segment of Needles Highway. That stretch remains open in winter for about 6 miles. Once you reach the winter gate, which is north of the Playhouse Road, you can park and proceed on foot.

Zacher, the DOT engineer, asks that you never block the winter gates with your car.”You never know when an emergency services vehicle may need access, or we may be on our way to open the road and need access.”

The southern hike differs from the northern. Now you are lower in the forest. The pine trees are thicker and you’ll hear the gurgling of running water, though the stream, Iron Creek, is often invisible below ice and snow.

As with the northern route, you arrive at a hole in a mountain — the Iron Creek Tunnel — after less than an hour of walking. The two tunnels are milestones for winter hikers.

Dan Ray, an outdoor enthusiast from Rapid City, says both tunnels can be challenging.”Sometimes you have to break through a drift on one side or another. Sometimes the opening is completely blocked, I’ve heard tell, and that could be a blast to push your way through.”

Ray says some people use cross country skis on the roadway, though drifts and deep snow can make skiing difficult. He says snowshoes are helpful.”Prepare for 3 feet of non-packed snow, and if you are in a group, switch up who’s in front often.”

Ray also advises against blue jeans.”If you sweat or trip and fall in the snow, the jeans will get wet and then freeze. You will be miserable. Wear nylon pants and long johns that are polyester based. In the winter, cotton kills if you get it wet.”

Ray also recommends that hikers carry water, but leave the camelbacks at home.”They do not work well in winter. The water line from the bladder and the mouthpiece will freeze solid if it’s cold. Water bottles work well.”

While thousands of people travel the road on a summer day, park officials say a dozen or less usually do so in winter — partly because many hikers don’t know that the opportunity exists. Michael Belmont and his wife, Amy Hornstra, of St. Anthony, Minnesota, learned about it when they stopped at an art studio in nearby Hill City.”My husband asked the clerk for suggestions, and she told us you can hike Needles Highway.”

Hornstra, a native of Yankton, said the highlight for them was,”having the road to ourselves. The area is gorgeous Ö it was peaceful and beautiful. We have both hiked many parts of the world, and the Needles Highway now ranks near the top of our favorites list.”

She also recommends dressing for winter.”We were very happy that we both had on boots, as there were parts where the snow had drifted and was fairly deep. Other parts of the road were clear.”

In winter, many of the Black Hills’ other popular trails can become treacherous due to buildups of ice and snow. Ironically, the famous Sunday Gulch Trail, which also starts at Sylvan Lake, is closed to hikers in the winter because it is considered so dangerous. That makes the Needles Highway an even nicer find.

Norbeck is now remembered as the father of the highway and Custer State Park. Though he loved the outdoors, he wasn’t a hunter or fisherman. He found joy in the splendor of the natural world, and he would be delighted to know that hikers are following his very footsteps.

We thought of him as we enjoyed his creation. One man or woman can truly make a difference, given enough dynamite.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the November/December 2023 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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West River Autumn

September usually signals the end of hot summer weather in South Dakota, but this year things have been warmer than usual. The dry and dusty days of late September reminded me of the hot and dry summers of my youth growing up along the Ziebach and Dewey County line. The only difference was a lot more grasshoppers back then and these days I pack a camera any time I’m back in West River country. Such was the case when I took a much-needed vacation to the Badlands and Black Hills the last week of September.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that as amazing as these locations are, it is in the golden and blue hours when magic happens. For those of you wondering, the golden hour is the hour before sunset and after sunrise. The blue hour is the time after the sun sets or before it rises when the sky is not fully dark. These are the times that wildlife is most active, particularly when the day is going to be baked with a side of gritty wind.

Since daylight shortens in late September, there is also more night. In the Badlands and more remote parts of the Black Hills, added darkness is a boon to stargazers and amateur astrophotographers. The Milky Way can be observed as a near vertical shaft of distant starlight in the southern sky about an hour and a half after dark in late September. As the night wanes, the Milky Way slides westward and slowly sets. This year, I finally attempted a Milky Way composition I’ve been wanting to do for about a decade. I wanted to align the Milky Way with the Needles Eye in Custer State Park. With clear weather, this was the year to give it a try. At elevation, the hot air of the day cooled as the evening deepened. The wind died except for an occasional vehicle passing by and I soon became alone with the stones and stars. It’s hard to explain that feeling, and photos can’t do it justice.

Late September also brings out the first blush of autumn’s color, particularly in the high draws and high country. Spearfish Canyon is a national scenic byway, and early fall is among the best times to take the drive. Further up and into rural Lawrence County, even more beauty can be found with stands of aspen and birch glowing in the sunlight. And there are fewer tourists and dust clouds along the county roads to boot.

I spent my last few days in Custer State Park just after the big annual buffalo roundup. Call me anti-social if you want, but I prefer the quiet parts of that park and adjacent Wind Cave National Park. I did stumble on quite a scene, thanks to the roundup. While traveling the Wildlife Loop Road, a scene that could have been taken from centuries ago revealed itself as I approached the bison corrals. The trees of Lame Johnny Creek were showing off their autumn color and scattered beyond on the receding hills was a portion of the big bison herd grazing peacefully. Moments like this are what keep me coming back to this part of the world when the seasons change.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Finding Fall

Fall has arrived in South Dakota, although in some places a few winter blasts have already tried to push autumn out. These same locations that have seen snow are some of my favorite early autumn haunts. The high country of the Black Hills is always a treat in late September. The last week of the month is typically the most colorful time to cruise the backroads and do some leaf peeping.

That said, Badlands National Park lies between my home and the Black Hills, and I cannot resist getting off the interstate to spend time there. This West River spectacle sparkles in early autumn with wildlife active around dawn and dusk. The golden light accentuated by the season’s dry and dusty air makes great photography opportunities.

After staying the night in Wall and driving to Sage Creek Wilderness on a crisp morning with temperatures in the low 40s, a low fog hung in the bottomlands as the first light of day struck the tops of the formations. The resulting scenes were otherworldly. I’m not a morning person, but a view like that will get me up well before sunrise any day.

After saying farewell to the Badlands, I arrived in Custer State Park about four days before the Buffalo Roundup. The trees in the draws were just starting to turn and the mountain bluebirds were flocking along the southern reaches of the park. I spent a good hour watching at least a dozen juveniles and adults prowl a prairie dog town on the hunt for insects. Occasionally two or three would squabble and take flight to show off their airborne acrobatics, the blue wings flashing like azure electricity in the early autumn air. The afternoon was quite warm, which made the insect activity abundant and the small stream where I parked a favorite pit stop.

It was cold again the next morning. Mist and low fog hung over the small lakes. Bismark Lake was particularly beautiful as dawn approached. Just enough frost clung to the small bushes and brush on the back side of the water that each leaf looked sugar coated.

Later in the day, I ventured to the Spearfish Canyon Scenic Byway. It was the middle of the week, but as busy as I’ve ever seen. Wanting a little more solitude, I traveled into the high country to discover some quieter autumn scenes. There is a place where the Tinton Road converges with both Wagon Canyon Road and Schoolhouse Gulch Road that offers an exquisite view of aspen and birch, and I had arrived in peak fall color. Later, as I returned to my cabin near Legion Lake, I saw three white-tailed bucks near the Badger Hole. The largest, a four-by-four, was just starting to gain girth in the shoulders and neck for the upcoming rut. For now, it simply grazed in the tall grass just north of the road and paid me little mind. I wonder if it understands how lucky it is to call this little corner of South Dakota home.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Autumn in the High Country

Autumn always comes early to the high country. While late summer lingers across the rest of the land, the high coulees and upper draws seem to consistently show the first real signs of the season. The last week of September is normally the peak of fall color in places like Spearfish Canyon, the Slim Buttes and even Sica Hollow in the northeast corner of the state. For this reason, I regularly find myself wandering the back roads and trails of the high country every year about this time. It’s not that I welcome the end of summer, but it’s hard not to love autumn around here.

The beauty is fleeting, admittedly. When the weather patterns switch in this season of change, it brings strong winds that rob the trees of their dying leaves. That’s a lesson unto itself. There is beauty in endings. Sad though it is, it helps that there is promise of new life returning after the long winter.

This year I started around Sica Hollow during the golden hour on September 26. I was a bit early for fall color peak, but the color that was showing in the late afternoon and evening light seemed to accent the autumn beginnings quite wonderfully. A couple of days later I hit Badlands National Park, where the upper draws of Sage Creek were brilliant. One thing I learned is that yellow-leaved trees make for interesting visuals in a black and white image. They look nearly white.

After spending a day and half wandering around the Badlands, I made my way for Custer State Park. Needles Highway offers unique autumn color combined with winding roads and sweeping vistas. The fall foliage along the park’s creeks also offers colorful hues. From Custer State Park, I headed to the high country of Lawrence County by way of the Mystic and Rochford roads, finally ending up in Spearfish Canyon by late afternoon. This scenic byway is a must-drive in autumn. One extra perk this year was a small herd of mountain goats grazing near Bridal Veil Falls.

I finished up my tour of the high country in the first days of October by traveling north to the Slim Buttes and Cave Hills of Harding County. These areas are part of the Custer National Forest primarily for their stands of evergreens atop the buttes and hills, but they both offer great stands of deciduous trees along the draws and valleys. These places have become an autumn favorite for me. This year I missed the peak at the Slim Buttes as the color was nearly gone when I passed through, but the Cave Hills were nearly perfect. It goes to show just how fleeting fall’s beauty can be here on the high plains, even within a single county. Even so, the drive and views were worth every minute. The good news is that now the rest of the lower country as well as city and towns should be starting their autumn transformations. So, if you couldn’t make it to the high country, you still have a chance to get out and enjoy the rest of the season.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Off Trail in Custer State Park

Most of the hiking trails in Custer State Park are point-to-point. And while linear excursions are great, some of us are like a cowgirl roping calves: we appreciate a good loop. There are a few designated loop trails in the park but you can also customize your own if you’re feeling adventurous and have land-nav skills (or GPS). In the process, you’ll glimpse parts of the park few humans ever see.

There are many logging and park roads you can incorporate into your route, though any off-trail trekker should be prepared to follow game trails or trailblaze, so trekking as a team is recommended and snake-proof gaiters wouldn’t hurt.

We recently tested this theory with a venture to the Hay Flats area in the southwest corner of the park. The Hay Flats is a high, grassy plane (about 4,200 feet in elevation) surrounded by rocky hilltops, where prairie dogs burrow, raptors and coyotes hunt, elk, deer and antelope browse, and buffalo wallow. It’s a secret small grass sea where you can see for miles across a flattish expanse with waves of big bluestem, and close-clipped buffalo grass in the prairie dog towns (just watch out for abandoned burrows).

It’s a place to escape humanity. You may wonder, “If I lay in the buffalo wallow until I achieved true buffalo-mindedness, would they adopt me into their herd?”

The answer is probably no. But if that’s the zen you’re after, those signed-up, mapped-out trails might not get you there. You’ll have to dial up your store of navigational knowledge, or tools, to get you to the Hay Flats — and then back to the car if you don’t just drop everything and go live off the grid.

Both the Centennial and the Prairie Trail get you close to the Flats. I parked (no fee required) at the Highland Creek parking area, on NPS 5 where the Centennial crosses from Wind Cave National Park into Custer SP.

From there, you can cross the street into the state park, open the gate and be on your way. You’ll hike through patches of ponderosa pine forest and open meadow, and through some recent burn areas, though many of the larger trees survived. Just shy of 3 miles in, a logging road crosses the trail right as you reach a gully that joins Flynn Creek a short ways west. (You can see it on a good GPS map. I use Gaia GPS on my iPhone.) A right turn leads to a climb with sweeping views of a half-burned valley to the north. The road peters out a mile in. From there, I followed game trails down a pass into the dog towns of Flynn Creek valley, close to the Prairie Trail. The little creek still coursed with crystal clear water this late August.

From here, another two-track took a northeasterly climb up out of the valley before meeting another that switched back southwest onto the Hay Flats, where three coyotes prowled and an antelope trio browsed. The wind rustled through rusty seed heads of bowing bluestem. Portents of fall mingled in the breeze with phantom winds from seasons past.

From the Hay Flats, some southeasterly trailblazing led to another two-track over some piney hills and back to the junction of the NPS 5 and the Centennial Trail. My route clocked in at 8.6 miles and probably only included about a quarter mile total that were truly off-trail (no two-track, no game trail).

Though the park is crisscrossed by logging and park “roads,” once you leave designated hiking trails you can’t depend on those to get you where you want to go. (This especially applies to the more mountainous areas). But if you’re a seasoned hiker with a little know-how or tech (water and food also help) you can explore parts of the Black Hills the guidebooks don’t cover.

Michael Zimny is the social media engagement specialist for South Dakota Public Broadcasting in Vermillion. He blogs for SDPB and contributes arts columns to the South Dakota Magazine website.

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Winter Wonderland

A couple weeks ago I wasn’t sure this column was going to happen. Since October I had planned on taking the full week off before Christmas to spend some time in the Black Hills, camera in hand. Early winter in the Hills is a magical time. Fresh snow, active wildlife and very few people make great reasons to wander places like Spearfish Canyon, Wind Cave National Park and Custer State Park. This year, however, things were looking grim for a peaceful vacation in mid-December when little to no snow was on the ground and the massive Legion Lake Fire was tearing through Custer State Park and portions of Wind Cave National Park.

Thankfully, through great work by local and regional firefighting teams and some much-needed snowfall, the fire abated and the parks re-opened just days before my scheduled arrival. I was nervous about what I might see as I arrived on the evening of Dec. 21. I had spent the majority of the day in the Northern Hills waiting for the snow to end, and then cruising Spearfish Canyon as the sunlight broke free of the clouds and danced along the high ridgeline. The play of light and shadow through one of our state’s most scenic byways was worth the trip by itself. By the time I arrived in Custer State Park it was nearly dark, and I could smell the faint odor of burned grass and timber, but otherwise all was quiet and peaceful.

The next morning, I accidently turned off my alarm when attempting to hit the snooze button, so I missed my planned rendezvous with the sunrise. But the morning was not lost. Just outside the window of my room at the Creekside Inn a flock of nearly 30 blue jays were calling, flying and digging in the snow. Beyond the creek a lone deer crossed the road. On the flanks of the far ridge, a flock of wild turkeys slowly made its way eastward and at the top of the same ridge, the early morning sunshine began to kiss the tops of the snow-covered ponderosa pine. It slowly enveloped the entire ridge as it chased away the blue-tinted shadows with warm, yellow-hued light. The scene before me was truly a winter wonderland. It was a special kind of peace and quiet that I think only the Black Hills can provide.

Later that morning, I made the rounds on my favorite park roads looking for wildlife and trying to measure the extent of the fire damage. Enough snow had fallen to cover the blackened ground and singed trees, so I had to look closely to spot fire damage. About mid-afternoon, snow-laden clouds rolled in from the north and west. I found a group of old bison bulls along the southern curves of the Wildlife Loop road, and those same clouds let loose. While taking bison portraits, my camera and I both had a hard time finding true focus through the snowflakes. Even so, the out-of-focus shots were cool too, showing the extent of the snowfall with the bison silhouetted in the background.

As I was leaving the park on Dec. 23, I stopped at the Game Lodge chapel to snap a photo. Just a week before, I had seen an image on social media showing the fire line behind the chapel and cabins. Now the whole valley and park lay under a peaceful blanket of snow. The fires were out and the beauty and peace of winter in the Black Hills had once again fallen over the landscape. All seemed right again — at least for now.

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 South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.

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Fall Roundup

Around 20,000 spectators were on hand to watch the 52nd annual Custer State Park Buffalo Roundup last Friday. Park employees and volunteers gathered about 1,200 bison into corrals to be branded, vaccinated and checked for pregnancy. Around 400 bison will be auctioned off on November 18 to keep herd numbers manageable. Photos by John Mitchell.

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Looping Along

“I would rather be remembered as an artist than as a United States senator,” said Peter Norbeck.

If art imitates nature, then Norbeck’s wish is reality because his conservation advocacy resulted in the creation of parks, preserves and bird sanctuaries nationwide. His greatest environmental canvas is Custer State Park, and a favorite way to enjoy the park is a ribbon of road known as the Wildlife Loop, an 18-mile auto tour through prairie and pine forest.

“He was attracted to and loved natural beauty,” wrote Gilbert Fite in his biography of Norbeck.”A deer grazing in a protected glade in his beloved Black Hills, a flock of honkers winging northward, or trees, lakes and mountains blended into a picture of serene beauty — to him were the embodiment of art in nature.”

Growing up in Clay County as the son of a minister-farmer, young Norbeck gained an appreciation for the natural world. In his childhood, the fauna of the Black Hills was changing. Wolves, elk, pronghorn, bighorn sheep and bears disappeared, and the bison was nearly hunted to extinction.

Norbeck became a well driller. He began to champion the notion of a state park in the southern Black Hills after a trip to the Custer area in 1905, but little was accomplished until he arrived in Pierre as a state legislator and persuaded his fellow lawmakers to create a state game preserve. When the park was fenced (under Norbeck’s supervision) in 1914, he estimated there were possibly as few as 15 deer in the entire 61,000 acres.

The state soon purchased 36 head of buffalo from the Philip ranch at Fort Pierre, and today 1,300 call the park home. Elk were reintroduced in 1916 and bighorn sheep were brought from the Canadian Rockies. Black bear sightings have been reported, but never confirmed.

Nearly 200 species of birds live in the park or migrate through in the four seasons.”The park is where east meets west, so there is a crossover of birds you won’t find in other places,” says Craig Pugsley, the park’s visitor services coordinator.

And burros arrived in the 1960s.”They were being used to haul visitors to the top of Harney Peak,” says Pugsley.”When they discontinued the rides, the burros were let go in the park. They are such a hit with visitors that they’ve always let them remain.”

The Wildlife Loop’s attraction is its natural beauty and wildness, just as Norbeck intended. Elk are rarely seen from the loop, except in springtime when the grass along the loop road is greenest. And don’t expect wolves or grizzlies to reappear. Pugsley says the park might be a tad too civilized to accommodate them. The elk and sheep agree.

But the other flora and fauna of today give visitors a view of the untamed West, a God-given masterpiece that survives only because of some strokes by artist Peter Norbeck.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the July/August 2014 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.

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Rounding up the Herd

Thousands gathered to watch the 51st annual Buffalo Roundup last weekend at Custer State Park. Employees and volunteers corralled about 1,200 bison for branding, vaccination and pregnancy checks. Between 200 and 500 will be auctioned off on November 19 to help manage the herd size and generate money for park operations. Photos by Joel Schwader.

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The Enchanting Black Hills

This spring I was able to do something I had been wanting to for some time. From Memorial Day weekend to mid-June, the fine folks of Sylvan Lake Lodge of Custer State Park allowed me to sit in as an artist in residence. I got to meet folks from all over the county in the afternoons and evenings. Then was free to roam the area with my camera at night and morning. Two full weeks wandering the Black Hills area is a great gig for a guy and his camera. Believe me.

I love to visit this part of the state in spring. There are wildflowers on the prairie hillsides and newborn wildlife to be seen in prairie dog towns and bison herds. This spring was a little on the dry side so the flowers were a bit harder to find. Even so, there was still plenty of color flying through the air with brilliant mountain bluebirds, red-headed woodpeckers and so much more. It also seemed to be butterfly season. I hiked Hell Canyon near Jewel Cave and was rewarded by seeing one of the largest concentrations of Eastern swallowtail butterflies as well as the all-black American swallowtail.

The real treat for me, however, was hanging out at Sylvan Lake and watching the sky change over one of South Dakota’s prettiest bodies of water. From storm clouds in the afternoon to vivid sunsets in the evening, the view never gets old. Towards the end of my stay, I witnessed an incredible lightning storm approach the lake right as daylight faded. It was calm and cool after a warm day. The music of distant thunder rumbling over the hills and faint scent of rain on the breeze still lingers in my memory. Moments like that aren’t few and far between at Sylvan Lake. Maybe that is why it is such a magical place.

Speaking of magic, one of my favorite drives in the world is Highland Ridge Road to Red Valley Road in the northern part of Wind Cave National Park. At early morning or late evening light, you almost always see something amazing. Elk move out into the prairie and coyotes sing to each other while moving through the prairie dog towns. Pronghorn and bison use the road and sometimes walk within a few feet of my vehicle, allowing for interesting close-up photos. One morning this time around, I was lucky to spot a burrowing owl pair in a ridge-top prairie dog town. One was flying scout and the other was in an old burrow with its head not quite halfway out. The owl slowly levitated upwards for about 20 minutes until I could see its whole body, all the while looking towards me with a suspicious eye. When I opened my door to get a better angle the pair flew off to a safer perch. I figured I’d bothered them long enough and decided to move on. Even so, spending an unexpected half hour with these unique birds was magical. As was my two weeks in the area. There’s truly nothing like the Black Hills in spring.