Lightning sparked a fire that blazed across Crow Peak near Spearfish from June 24 into July, burning more than 2,700 acres and temporarily closing its trail. John Mitchell recently explored the popular path, much of it now running through a direct burn area. The forest service urges visitors to stay on the trail due to unstable trees.
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| Korczak Ziolkowski envisioned the Crazy Horse carving as not just mountainous art, but as a living symbol. That’s never more evident than on volksmarch weekends. |
Can a man have a wilderness experience with 5,000 people on the same mountain? We sought an answer to that question by joining the multitudes of hikers at the annual Crazy Horse Volksmarch.
Traffic snarls are nearly as rare as white buffalo in the southern Black Hills, so you know you’re on the right road to the Volksmarch when Highway 16 west of Custer becomes bumper-to-bumper vehicles. Follow the crowd to a flat valley in the pine-covered foothills, where volunteers on horseback provide some semblance of order since there are no yellow lines in the grass to organize the parking.
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| The ascent to the peak begins on logging trails in the pine forest. As you climb, the trees give way to expansive views of the forest, mountains and prairie. |
A few registration preliminaries are required (entrance to Crazy Horse is free if you bring a cash donation or canned food for Feeding the Hungry, but the Black Hills Volksport Association charges a flat $3 per hiker). Within minutes you’ll be walking into the forest.
We were a three-generation group, the youngest a 5-year-old with a walking stick who kept running far ahead of us and then darting back. He was taking four steps to our one.
The beginning trails are dirt or gravel work roads and deceptively easy. The morning mountain air is cool and crisp, so you congratulate yourself for wearing a jacket and bringing warm clothes for the kid.
In the clearings, you’ll soon have a glimpse of the mountain sculpture that was begun in 1947 by Korczak Ziolkowski. Crazy Horse’s 87-foot-tall face is now complete, and on his 263-foot outstretched arm you can see that some of the hikers got a much earlier start than you. Hikers can begin as early as 6 a.m. They must have been very cold, you think. Didn’t they know better?
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| Though climbers share the mountain with thousands of fellow hikers, the only congestion is at the top and the bottom. |
The first stretch of the 6.2-mile roundtrip is a pleasant stroll like you might take in some hills by the Missouri River. Jump over a fallen log, duck under a low branch. Uphill and downhill you go, happy for that jacket and your good sense to start in mid-morning. Local church and youth groups offer snacks and beverages at rest stops, and candy for the kid. Medical professionals are also near at hand.
After a mile or two, the pine trees become fewer so you lose their shade just as South Dakota summer sun shows its strength. That’s also about the time that the climb becomes more vertical, although the elevation only rises about 500 feet on the entire march.
Up we went. The jacket comes off. The 5-year-old, who has probably already traveled 10 miles in his circuitous style, wants a ride on someone’s back. And why did you bring the binoculars and the camera bag?
But people twice your age are climbing and talking, and passing you and the 5-year-old so you can’t slow down. Well, maybe a short rest so the kid can share his licorice from the last rest stop.
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| Walking sticks and canes are helpful aids to older hikers and handy toys for their youthful companions. |
Your fellow travelers are mostly South Dakotans, but some have East Coast accents and a few speak a foreign tongue. The atmosphere is festive. There’s much picture-taking, of course. Some hikers find friends from home, and others stumble on long-lost acquaintances. The Ziolkowskis, who are still in charge, say a few marriage proposals have even been made in the heady air of the world’s largest mountain carving.
The last ascent is a steep grade but you can see the stone face now, and a thousand people ahead of you and behind you. One step after another. Stop to enjoy the expansive Black Hills landscape. A few more steps. A few hundred more. And you’re there, atop Crazy Horse, 6,000 feet above sea level.
The fastest and fittest hikers make the trek in less than an hour, but most people take two hours to climb and an hour or so to descend.
While walking down the mountain you realize that a wilderness experience doesn’t require solitude. Five thousand people only add variety to the Volksmarch, especially once the 5-year-old regains his stamina on the down-hill side.
Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2014 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117. The 31st Crazy Horse Volksmarch is June 4-5. An autumn volksmarch on the mountain is set for Oct. 2. It’s considered the most popular organized hike in America.
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| Hikers refer to the northernmost stretch of the Centennial Trail as The Prairie Walk. The forest gives way to grasses and a view of Bear Butte. |
A glorious South Dakota daybreak was illuminating a clear, still summer day. The rising sun painted a portrait of unequaled tranquility. There among the pine-clad, rolling hills and interspersed grasslands of northern Wind Cave National Park stood a mix of American bison, pronghorn antelope and ever-wary whitetail deer nonchalantly grazing. Black-tailed prairie dogs were busily scurrying about. A red-tailed hawk passed high overhead while magpies, jays and white-winged juncos noisily flitted about in their various niches.
Framed in this cacophony of sights and sounds, a majestic bull elk with a massive rack lay placidly at the center of it all.”My imagination tells me this has to be analogous to gazing out over Africa’s Serengeti Plain,” Paul whispered. The idyllic scene is a mere sampling of what awaits those who hike, mountain bike or horseback ride the 111 miles of South Dakota’s historic Centennial Trail, which first touched my heart and soul during a solo thru-hike in 1994.
Just minutes earlier, in the summer of 2007, the two of us had embarked on my second thru-hike. Honestly, not many individuals with a passion for long-distance hiking return for a repeat performance. In our view, a day or two or even a section of a long trail is never enough. Life is short and nobody is more aware of that than an aging distance hiker who, comparable to everyone else, must still juggle work and family. Before committing a precious two weeks or more to an interesting trail, one has to seriously ask,”Why re-hike an old trail previously mastered when dozens of new prospects beckon?”
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| Paul Kloepper enjoys a panoramic view of the forest. |
That debate occurred in earnest during the winter of 2007 when Paul Kloepper, my great friend and fellow distance hiker from Hastings, Neb., approached me one evening and insisted,”Let’s do the Centennial Trail in 2007!” I promptly cut him off.”Paul, you know I did it in’94.” After much contentious discussion, he would not accept my reticence and exasperatingly pleaded,”Come on, just do it!” Eager to return to my beloved South Dakota, but reluctant to”repeat” a trail I had merely considered”OK” in 1994, my consent was begrudgingly granted. Now, back home in Florida, the recently completed eight-night, nine-day thru-hike is a fond memory.
From the southern terminus in Wind Cave National Park to the summit of Bear Butte, our south to north hike inspired in me a change of attitude. In my humble opinion, the Centennial Trail has transformed itself from being merely”OK” to being one of the finest and possibly least known long distance trails in the nation.
The Centennial Trail represents South Dakota history, geography and biodiversity at its best. The vision for the trail came in the 1980s as South Dakota leaders organized a statewide centennial celebration that culminated in 1989. Trail No. 89 was designed to represent the terrain common to western South Dakota, and the Black Hills in particular. Prairie grasslands, high granite spires, lakes and streams are readily accessible throughout its entire length thanks to multiple trailheads. Depending on time constraints or logistical necessity, explorers can thru-hike the Centennial Trail from either end, section hike or day hike any portion that attracts the individual’s interest.
Quite deservedly the multi-use Centennial Trail was designated as a”National Recreation Trail” in 1997. Embarrassingly for hikers, the Centennial Trail probably has better name recognition among major organizations that promote mountain biking and horseback trail riding. Two northern sections of the trail permit motorized ATV/dirt bikes in designated zones. All trails need supporters, and nowhere was this better exemplified than at the French Creek Horse Camp at the conclusion of our first day of hiking. We were pleasantly surprised to discover a jam-packed, festive encampment of horseback trail riders from Iowa and Illinois. The riders had traveled hundreds of miles with trailers, equipment and livestock to share a long-awaited adventure. Making conversation among that sea of smiling, hat-framed faces was easy. Two statements summed up their opinions:”We love it out here in the Black Hills,” and”Everybody always says you have to get out here (Black Hills) to ride.”
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| Forest Service officials consider the Black Hills to be the, “premier working, multiple use national forest in the country.” |
Accolades for the stunning 13-year evolution of this trail from (my opinion)”OK” to”great” can only be credited to the multiple agencies who work in a coordinated fashion to construct, re-construct and maintain the 111 miles. Government agencies are often maligned, but we harbor nothing but gratitude and appreciation to the U.S. Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management, the National Park Service and the S.D. Department of Game, Fish and Parks. Equal credit goes to private landowners who provide access. The hard work and meticulous planning has created a gift not only to South Dakotans but to all Americans.
What has changed in 13 years? Certainly not the historical perspective summarily outlined along the entire length of the trail. Imagine the famous 1874 expedition of General George Custer literally crossing paths with the Centennial Trail near French Creek or Nemo. Who cannot smile while peering down at Grace Coolidge Creek and envisioning the local folks nocturnally stocking trout, in secret, so President Calvin Coolidge could have the satisfaction of thinking he was a master angler?
Of course, the natural beauty of the area has not changed. If anything, the environ is more captivating. Three weeks of preceding rains had transformed grasses to a spring-like green and birthed a protrusion of vibrant wildflowers. The white bark and yellow leaves of birch trees are interspersed with a splash of red in the undergrowth.
What has changed, in my view, is the subtle impression that the trail has matured. In 1994, the Centennial Trail was a relatively underdeveloped novice. Today, the trail is a valued entity.”As a designated National Recreation Trail, the trail is a forest priority to receive routine trail maintenance during the spring and summer, annually, by each of the ranger districts it crosses,” explains Rick Hudson, a recreation program manager for the U.S. Forest Service.
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| John Rud (left) and Paul Kloepper share a congratulatory handshake atop Bear Butte. |
Unless one has end-to-ended other long trails around the country, it may be difficult to notice or appreciate the subtleties that make any trail-based experience more pleasing. Thirteen years later on the Centennial Trail, there is more and better signage. Fallen trees, rocks and debris have been cleared, and the trail bed is well delineated. Logging and thinning sites have been carefully rehabilitated, and strategic relocations have enhanced the ease of travel and now showcase awe-inspiring views that were not as easily enjoyed in 1994.
With his 33 years in the U.S. Forest Service, Hudson is justifiably proud of the Black Hills and the Centennial Trail.”The Black Hills National Forest is the premier working, multiple-use national forest in the country,” he says.”Logging, mining, grazing, hiking trails, motorized recreation, wilderness, reservoirs, recreation areas, wildlife and fishing along with some of the finest hunting in the state ó we have it all.”
At the center of these activities, in its own quiet way, the Centennial Trail provides visitors with an alluring variety of natural and historic wonders. It is an opportunity no trail enthusiast should ignore. Thankfully, I heeded the call a second time.
Bear Butte stands as an immense monolith luring us onward to its summit and the conclusion of our nine-day walk along the Centennial Trail. Not a wisp of a cloud obscures the sharp, blue-sky background on this cool, gusty day as we seek our ultimate goal at the trail’s northern terminus.
The end of the”prairie walk” portion of the trail will be marked by a sense of accomplishment, but tempered with apprehension. Why? Because the final, two-mile climb to the very crown of Bear Butte will spell the end of another brief period of personal freedom and challenge. Black, red, yellow and white prayer cloths flutter in the wind on the upslope of a mountain considered sacred by many Native American brethren. The four colors are from the Lakota’s Circle of Life, or the sacred hoop, which represents man’s spiritual bond with nature and one another.
Finally, a small wooden platform marks the zenith of our journey. Gazing to the south and west, over terrain that had been home for a fleeting nine days, I turn to my hiking partner, look him in the eye, shake his hand and simply say,”Thank you for bringing me back.”
Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the May/June 2008 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call (800) 456-5117.
Seth Bullock met Theodore Roosevelt during Roosevelt’s years on a North Dakota Ranch. The two remained friends during his presidency and Roosevelt appointed Bullock U.S. Marshall. Shortly after Roosevelt’s death in 1919, Bullock and the Society of the Black Hills Pioneers built Friendship Tower on what’s now known as Mount Roosevelt as a memorial to his friend. You can find the trailhead leading to the 31-foot tower on the north edge of Deadwood. Head out of town on Highway 85, take a left on Mount Roosevelt Road and follow it for about 2 1/2 miles to the trailhead, parking lot and picnic area. Photos by Ryan Clayton, Rapid City. See more of his work at www.facebook.com/imagesbyryan.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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.
John Mitchell shared these photos from a section of the Mickelson Trail near Kirk Trailhead south of Lead. Trains thundered along this north-south route through the heart of the Black Hills for nearly a century. They stopped in 1983 and the abandoned line from Deadwood to Edgemont was converted to a 109-mile recreational trail. The first segment opened in 1991 with the entire route completed in 1998. It’s named after Gov. George S. Mickelson, one of the project’s first supporters. See more of Mitchell’s photos on Facebook and at sodakmoments.com.
Scott Korsten shared these photos from a hike yesterday in Good Earth State Park at Blood Run. The park southeast of Sioux Falls is South Dakota’s newest state park and one of the oldest sites of long-term human habitation in the United States. Early occupants of the 600 acres of land were primarily Oneota Tradition Peoples, including Omaha, Ponca, Ioway and Otto. Naturalists are restoring the area to its original grasses and wild flowers.
Sylvan Lake is considered Custer State Park’s crown jewel. It was created in 1881 when Theodore Reder built a dam across Sunday Gulch. It’s now a popular destination for swimming, hiking, rock climbing and fishing.
Michele Richter shared these photos from her weekend visit. “The lake was busy with people enjoying their last summer day,” Richter says. Visit this link to see more of her work.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
