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Remaining Ranchland

Johanna Meier Della Vecchia (left) points to trails she rode with her friend, Rosalie Aslesen, on Oak Hills Ranch.

Johanna Meier Della Vecchia stood by the gate at one of Spearfish’s last ranches and looked out over the grasslands bordered by big patches of oak and pine. She traveled the globe as one of the top sopranos in the world of opera, and then came back to Spearfish — hoping her hometown could avoid some of the troubles she observed elsewhere.

“So many beautiful places are completely developed,” she says.”Wide open areas like this have been lost forever.”

Standing with her at the ranch gate was longtime friend Rosalie Aslesen. The two talked of riding their horses on the ranch, exploring the hills for hours and sometimes pondering what might become of the natural splendor.

When the two were children, Spearfish’s population was only about 2,500. Small farms and ranches still surrounded the town. Today, Spearfish ranks among the fastest growing communities on the Great Plains, and most of the agricultural land has been subdivided into ranchettes, commercial developments, hotels and golf courses.

Johanna and her late husband Guido Della Vecchia, who was also an opera singer, bought the 800-acre site years ago. Now she is working with the South Dakota Agricultural Land Trust to create a conservation easement so that it will continue as ranchland. When she made the announcement at a media event in 2022, a young reporter asked,”How long does perpetuity last?”

She still smiles at the question because she relishes the answer: forever, of course. The young man’s issue might have been as much about disbelief as vocabulary. It is difficult to grasp that a piece of land this spectacular will look and function just as it does now in a century, given the appetite for Black Hills real estate.

Lone Tree Hill is the name given to one of the highest points on Oak Hills Ranch.

However, the benefits go beyond just the scenery of cattle grazing on meadows and seeking shade under the oak trees. The ranch, which sits southwest of town on a high plateau, is a clean watershed for the community and home to deer, elk, wild turkeys, coyotes, mountain lions, eagles and rare pine martens. Black bears occasionally traverse the ranch, using it as a corridor between the Hills and surrounding plains. Photographs capture the ranch’s beauty, but no description is complete without mention of its scents: pines, grasses lush or dry, wild raspberries and the aroma of thunderstorms approaching from Wyoming.

“This is the land where I rode as a child, beginning with my Shetland pony and then full-size horses,” Johanna recalls.”Frank Thomson owned the land then and he knew I’d stay on the trails and close the gates.”

Johanna’s parents had moved to Spearfish in 1939 to start the Black Hills Passion Play. Her father, Josef Meier, built an outdoor amphitheater near the Thomson ranch. Meier loved South Dakota life, and he developed a herd of Hereford cattle. Johanna helped with the Passion Play even as she established herself as a major figure in 20th century opera. Best known as a Wagnerian soprano, she sang roles at the Metropolitan Opera, New York City Opera and on storied European stages. Wherever performances took her, Johanna’s thoughts were seldom far removed from the Black Hills.

“I’m grateful for the career I had, and I loved it,” she says.”But I spent 37 years living in hotels and airports.” She and her husband always knew they would retire to the Black Hills. Johanna also knew her father had offered to buy Thomson’s land. But Thomson, who lived into his 90s, loved the land and showed little interest in selling.

When he died in 1975, a Spearfish friend called Johanna and told her she believed Thomson’s son, George, would sell the property if Johanna could fly home quickly and close the deal. Johanna was performing abroad, and the couple lived in New Jersey with retirement still a long way off. Still, they jumped at the opportunity. Johanna arranged for a fast South Dakota trip and acquired a property documented as a piece of micro-history like few others in South Dakota.

Frank Thomson lived a simple life on the ranch. His house, which still stands, was little more than a small barn. But he was respected by his fellow ranchers, and he served as president of the local cattlemen’s association for 52 years. He grew oats, wheat, barley and corn along with his beef cattle, and gardened for his family of five. He also harvested timber (it’s likely that what Johanna knew as horse trails were developed as lumber roads) and established himself as a noted historian and author. Whatever work Thomson did by day, it often figured into his writing at night. He described birds, including solitary thrushes,”that gave a peep-peep-peep, each peep being a single note after a short pause … the plaintive notes could be heard on clear, still nights, and they would carry your soul somewhere.”

Ranch manager Mark Weber (second from left) appreciates the history, heritage and natural environment at Oak Hills Ranch. His family includes (from left) grandson Oakley, wife Terri and daughter and son-in-law Cindy and Christian Raby.

Thomson marveled at the mountain air that seemed to magnify distant objects and kept Venus visible on bright days.”Such is the climate; the birds; and the sky that holds men to this enchanted land,” he wrote.

The ranch felt less enchanting through the Dust Bowl years of the 1930s. Thomson wrote of clouds of grasshoppers, and he also observed clouds of windswept topsoil, both of which nearly obliterated the sun.”I stood and saw my field of winter wheat of seventy-eight acres, top soil and seed wheat, being lifted by a strong west wind and carried high over Lookout Mountain that towers eight-hundred feet above the city of Spearfish,” Thomson wrote. The date was April 24, 1937. To his great credit, Thomson worked to rehabilitate his land in the coming decades.

He did it well. Rosalie Aslesen first experienced the ranch nearly 50 years after that vicious wind of’37 and found it breathtaking. In school, she and Johanna knew one another, and they shared a love of horses though they had never ridden together. At a Spearfish High School reunion in the 1980s, Johanna asked Rosalie if she still rode. Rosalie said yes but added that she didn’t then own a horse.”I’ve got horses,” Johanna said, and suggested a ride together through her recently acquired Oak Hills Ranch. It marked the beginning of nearly 20 years of trail riding for the two friends.”I remember wildflowers in summer, fall colors, views from the high points, and staying cool on hot days riding in Hungry Hollow,” Rosalie says.”They were unbelievable rides, and we could take many without repeating one.”

Spearfish rancher and conservationist Karl Jensen (pictured in the doorway of the Thomsons’ now-dilapidated ranch house) believes easements are an important tool for the agriculture community.

Frank Thomson, like most South Dakota farmers, never named his land. Johanna and Guido called it Oak Hills. Some Black Hills neighbors said they liked the sound of it but wondered if it was a misnomer. Looking at hills leading up to the ranch, pines dominate.”But there are oaks, beautiful oaks,” Rosalie affirms.”From the ranch buildings you look over the oaks and see the pines below.”

Some days, Rosalie and Johanna packed picnic lunches for their rides, or they relaxed over dinner with their husbands back at the ranch cabin. In their discussions, Rosalie could tell how committed her friend was in finding a way to preserve Oak Hills Ranch forever from the encroaching concrete of civilization. Johanna considered national organizations, but she chose the South Dakota Agricultural Land Trust because it reflects the state’s values of keeping agriculture strong and respecting landowner rights.

“Johanna had an incredible opera career, and she did something incredible, too, in coming home to South Dakota and conserving land that would have been worth millions had she decided to sell to housing developers,” says Tony Leif, the Land Trust executive director.”It’s really humbling that she put her trust in our organization. It’s helping us to be seen as an entity that can and will get these things done.”

The South Dakota Agricultural Land Trust was incorporated in 2019. Leif says it is currently working with about 50 landowners interested in establishing conservation easements for properties ranging from 30 or 40 acres to 13,000.”We never contact landowners and solicit easements,” Leif says.”They have to make the first contact.”

Johanna appreciates how much latitude she had in structuring her easement, even the option of keeping some land open to development.”But for me,” she stresses,”it means absolutely no development whatever. People in the Black Hills are so accustomed to open space and natural beauty that they may think one more piece of development won’t hurt. But it’s easy to get caught up in the sweep of concrete, and when a piece of land is gone, it’s gone forever.”

Mark Weber, whom Johanna selected as ranch manager, shares that view and the belief that as a working ranch the property must limit public access. A former law enforcement officer for 37 years with Lawrence County and then the City of Spearfish, Weber knows how to handle trespassers. Increasingly, trespassers with no connection to ag lands pose threats to both livestock and themselves. Weber says there are plenty of public lands near Spearfish, including the national forest and Spearfish Canyon.

The public can get a closeup look at Oak Hills, however, by hiking the city’s historic Thoen Stone Trail, which stops just short of the ranch. The Thoen Stone is a controversial bit of local history that possibly dates back to gold miners who were there in 1833. Ezra Kind, the last of the ill-fated miners, reportedly scratched the story of their misadventure on a sandstone slab found across the valley. Frank Thomson believed in the stone and defended its authenticity throughout his long life. The short trail can be found at the end of St. Joe Street in southwest Spearfish, and Oak Hills Ranch stretches west of the trail’s end.

Corrals at the ranch feature stone walls built by the Thomsons.

Weber appreciates the history, heritage and natural environment of the ranch.”I love this place and it feels like I’ve gone full circle with it,” he says. He grew up in Spearfish and at age 9 earned”a nickel a bale” loading hay for the Thomsons. As a teenager, Weber sometimes spent nights during calving season on the ranch. His wife’s grandfather, Bud Sprigler, helped Thomson rehabilitate the land after the Dust Bowl, terracing fields with just a blade and horses for better water retention.

“But I didn’t really understand the ranch until recent years,” Weber says.”How it’s a watershed, how important healthy grass is, how the shape of cattle hooves aerates the soil. You hear some people gripe about farmers and ranchers, but there’s lots of land that wouldn’t have survived like this without them.”

Of course, nature contributed what can be seen as ranch amenities today, long before humans knew the Black Hills. It is bordered by two steep canyons, Fish Hatchery Gulch and Hungry Hollow, about a mile-and-a-half apart and forming a natural barrier to livestock movement.

South Dakotans who respect the importance of maintaining farmland can rest assured, along with Johanna Meier Della Vecchia, that these unique 800 acres will be part of South Dakota’s agricultural culture for perpetuity. However, even strangers to the state’s farm culture will benefit.

“Travelers on I-90 can see the ranch a couple miles off, turning into town at Exit 12 at Spearfish,” Leif says.”It’s the green plateau straight ahead. Everybody gets that view forever.”

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

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Discoveries at Englewood Springs

South Dakota is a special place, partly because of its sheer variety. Everyone has heard or shared a joke about the constant change of weather, but I wonder how often people stop to think about the ecological variety that exists within our borders? Last year, I was tasked with finding and photographing a”green orchid” in the Coteau des Prairies of northeastern South Dakota. Before that request, I was unaware that orchids even grew in our region. I was quite wrong, and thankfully so. Depending on who is counting, there are up to two dozen different orchid species found in South Dakota. What does knowledge like this do to a photographer who loves a macro lens and beautifully colored wildflowers? It starts a self-motivated project that if not careful, borders on obsession.

While researching local orchids, I”discovered” Englewood Springs Botanical Area near Lead. It’s been a place of botanical interest since the late 1960s, but I first read about this little corner of the Black Hills in a 2011 National Forest Management Strategy document found online. I had learned about the fairy slipper orchid from David J. Ode’s Dakota Flora: A Seasonal Sampler, and while using the internet to learn where these amazing plants can be found, I noticed the above-mentioned report and learned the fairy slipper had been documented at Englewood Springs along with at least a dozen other orchids. That was all it took to ensure I visited with camera in hand.

My first trip there was in late June of 2021. I battled a downed white spruce, steep hillsides and shortness of breath being the flatlander that I am. I was also unable to find a fairy slipper. Most likely I was too late in the season, but I did see three”new to me” orchids as well as a variety of other amazing flowers I had never photographed before. Along the way, I suffered a torn pair of jeans thanks to an unseen branch on a downed log. Even so, the excursion was well worth it.

This spring, I was determined to go earlier to find the elusive fairy slipper. However, spring was late this time around and my first trip, over Memorial Day weekend, found Englewood Springs just waking up from winter and not many new buds could be seen. Even so, new to me flowers included bearberry blooms and drops of gold.

Undaunted, I came back a mere two weeks later. Again, I was stymied in the fairy slipper search, but I did photograph my first alpine milkvetch, as well as the uniquely diminutive wister coralroot orchid. My searching was cut short on that trip after a log unexpectedly gave way, resulting in an awkward lurch into thick mud and one of the worst hamstring pulls I’ve ever experienced. Chalk another one up to Englewood Springs.

I was back a few weeks later, only to discover that I was again too late to find a fairy slipper, but just in time to find a rare broad-lipped twayblade orchid. I also saw and photographed an orchid not on the Englewood Springs list, a frog orchid. So, I’ll take that as a win and will visit again next spring in search of that yet unseen, but very well named, fairly slipper orchid.

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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South Dakota’s Sledding Hills

Local youth take to their sleds at Yankton’s Morgen Park. Photo by Bernie Hunhoff.

South Dakota’s reputation for geographic diversity holds true when it comes to snow sledding. Some of our eastern cities are too flat, and the slopes in some of our mountain towns are too rugged, steep and rocky.

In Aberdeen, where the terrain has been described as”flat as a barn door,” city leaders manufactured a 25′ hill so kids could enjoy winter. However, we discovered that most communities have a natural hill that becomes a hot spot when it snows.

Pack your sleds as you travel this winter because there are plenty of hills to explore. Most of the snow hills are unsupervised, so adults should be ready to act if they see something dangerous — a heavy toboggan sled, for example, that could carom out of control and hurt someone, or a motorized vehicle on the slopes. Sledding has long been a favorite winter tradition, even for our flatland friends. Let’s keep it alive.

Here’s our list of city slopes. Tell us what we’re missing. We’d also like to know where to find the closest and richest hot chocolate after a day on the slopes.

ABERDEEN — God created most of South Dakota’s hills and mountains, but man assisted with the modest slope in Baird Park (1715 24th Avenue NE), the most popular sledding spot in the Hub City. City officials created the gentle 25-foot just for kids.

BELLE FOURCHE — Slopes behind the Tri-State Museum (415 5th Avenue) are a favorite, though they may be too fast for younger kids and there is a walking path at the foot of the hill so watch for pedestrians.

CUSTER — Pageant Hill has been touted as one of the finest family sledding spots in the Black Hills. It may be too steep and long for younger kids, but you don’t have to descend from the very top. The hill is the summit of beautiful Big Rock Park, which also includes hiking trails and a disc golf course. It rises above the city’s south side.

HOT SPRINGS — Southern Hills Golf Course (1130 Clubhouse Drive) is fun and scenic.

HURON — Toboggan Hill (6th Street & Lawnridge Avenue), aka Slide Hill, is a bluff above the Jim River valley on Huron’s east side.

LEMMON — The ever-resourceful people of Lemmon discovered years ago that it was less expensive to build a small hill for their new water storage rather than just build a taller tower. Then someone got the great idea or also making it into a sledding slope with a warming shack. Tank Hill is quite easy to spot on the city’s west side. Many years ago, when the water tower developed a leak during a cold spell, kids were able to slide on the ice flow all the way downtown.

PIERRE — The slopes above the soccer fields in Hilger’s Gulch are popular. The gulch is a scenic valley just north of the State Capitol building.

RAPID CITY — Meadowbrook School Hill (3125 W. Flormann Street) is a good spot, as well as the Civic Center hill that rises above the Holiday Inn Rushmore Plaza parking lot downtown.

SIOUX FALLS — Tuthill Park in southeast Sioux Falls is the site of weddings and parties in the summer months, but when the snow falls it becomes the domain of well-bundled children with sleds. Spellerberg Park (2299 W. 22nd Street), closer to the city center, also has a fair slope. Great Bear Ski Valley welcomes snow tubers, who get to ride the ski lifts.

SPEARFISH — Hills behind the Donald E. Young Center on the Black Hills State University campus are fast and fun.

STURGIS — Lions Club Park (off Lazelle Street) is a good place for younger kids, and Strong Field Hill on Ballpark Road is fun for older youth.

WATERTOWN — St. Ann’s Hill, a sledder’s delight, is so named because St. Ann’s was the original name of the nearby Prairie Lakes Hospital. Take Highway 20 to 10th Avenue and turn uphill.

WESSINGTON SPRINGS — It’s worth a drive to experience Ski Hill on the west edge of Wessington Springs. The natural setting in the Wessington Hills is idyllic, but the real attraction is an old, homemade invention with an electric motor that powers a 1,200-foot rope lift. Jokingly called the”Rube Goldberg ski lift,” the simple equipment has been lovingly cared for by handy volunteers, including Lloyd Marken, 85, who helped to build it in 1956.

YANKTON — Morgen Park (1200 Green Street) is the go-to sledding hill in town, however kids also like to slide down the earthen slope of Gavins Point Dam, where it rises above Pierson Ranch Recreation Area west of Yankton.

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Snowy Mountain Winter

Photographer John Mitchell shared these photos of the snowy season in Spearfish and the surrounding Black Hills. See more of his work at SoDakMoments.com.

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West River Wintertime

Winter is settling in over the Black Hills, bringing many opportunities for beautiful photography. John Mitchell, Spearfish, has been exploring the frosty nooks and crannies in his neck of the woods. Here are some of his recent shots.

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Foliage at Friendship Tower

Seth Bullock built Friendship Tower on Mount Roosevelt for his close friend Theodore Roosevelt. Bullock chose the location north of Deadwood for its overlook of the plains beyond Belle Fourche and into North Dakota where Roosevelt owned a ranch. A half-mile hiking path leads to the castle-like memorial. John Mitchell visited recently to photograph fall color.

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Dinosaurs and Big Art

Bison roam freely inside Wind Cave National Park.

Just after dawn I hit the Nebraska-South Dakota line, moving north on U.S. Highway 385. I had a hundred bucks in my pocket and lots to see and do along this incredible road, leading 122 miles from the state line to Deadwood. It would be a good day.

For the next 25 miles I drove through southwestern South Dakota’s beautiful grasslands. Most people, though, think of Highway 385 in this state as a way to experience the heart of the Black Hills, and the Hills were my destination. First I wanted to visit a favorite place that bills itself as a”transition zone between ponderosa pine woodlands of the Black Hills and the mixed grass prairie of the northern plains.” I spotted my turn-off at Wallygator’s Bait and Tackle and in five minutes sat sipping coffee from a Thermos, watching the full morning break over big Angostura Reservoir — a damming of the Cheyenne River. While the Black Hills stand within view of Angostura, the lake feels more attuned to the prairie. Pronghorns bounded through lush grass just yards from the water.

Twelve miles later I arrived in Hot Springs and felt fully enveloped by the Hills. The town is home to plenty of attractions: Evans Plunge, the Mammoth Site, lodging and dining in historic sandstone structures. But this morning I sought the Black Hills’ heartiest breakfast. That’s the liver and onion breakfast served on two platters, with eggs and potatoes and toast, at the All Star Bar and Grill right on 385. Usually I’m not much for big breakfasts, but something about spending a full day in the Hills suggested that one was in order.

Janell Andis (center) has been serving Spudburgers for 20 years at Custer Crossing, a Highway 385 pit stop enjoyed by locals and tourists.

After devouring the liver and onion specialty, a traveler may feel a walk is needed before climbing back into the car. There’s an excellent urban hike through downtown and up old slab stone steps to the hilltop 1893 schoolhouse. These days the four-story sandstone school, now the Pioneer Museum, puts every square foot to work interpreting the history of the Southern Hills. The grounds offer a pretty view of the town below. This is the first of many museums along the state’s stretch of 385.

Ten miles beyond Hot Springs I entered Wind Cave National Park, established in 1903 by President Theodore Roosevelt. Immediately inside the park a sign read, BUFFALO ARE DANGEROUS, DO NOT APPROACH.

“It’s a deal,” I thought.”I won’t.”

But moments later a buffalo bull approached me. I pulled off the road and sat in my car, lost in notes for this article, writing about the view at the park’s south entrance: a mountain prairie dotted here and there by pines, with the Central Hills’ high peaks serving as a backdrop. Suddenly a great shadow darkened my paper and there the bull stood, right up against my car. I was glad I had been too lazy to follow through on my original plan of getting out of the car, sitting on the hood, and incorporating the scent of the summer morning in my notes.

Wind Cave National Park is home to this free-roaming bison herd, 30 miles of hiking trails, camping and the famous cave that spouts air. Park staff lead tours through the cave, officially the world’s fifth longest. But people in Hot Springs and Custer scoff at that designation. Most believe Wind Cave and nearby Jewel Cave, a national monument ranked as the world’s third largest cave, are one and the same. If passages connecting Wind Cave and Jewel Cave are ever mapped, the cave is the biggest on the planet.

North of the park the highway ran through a section of forest devastated by a 2012 fire, and beyond that point I saw increasing evidence of mountain pine beetle disease. As beetles kill trees, pine needles turn the color of dried blood. Those trees are widespread throughout areas of the Central Hills especially.

Approaching the town of Pringle, outcrops of granite began to appear as the highway entered a rocky zone beloved by climbers and sculptors. Pringle boasts two pieces of roadside art that by no means are the most famous along this highway. But I like them and always keep an eye peeled for them: the sculpted mountain lion slinking atop the Pringle Mercantile bar, and an unusual bicycle creation right next to 385 (left side when traveling north). Dozens of bicycles — some rusted, some gleaming and all with histories — cling together to make a curious geometric formation that glitters in the sun. This is serious bicycle country. The 109-mile Mickelson cycling and hiking trail runs close, and sometimes immediately adjacent to, Highway 385 for many miles toward Custer and Hill City.

Hill City is home to Prairie Berry winery, where travelers are welcome to stop for a tasting.

The outcrops towered taller and the great granite peaks loomed closer as I put Pringle behind me. The land is a mix of forest and clearings with homes, barns and horses, along with evidence of sawmilling and other entrepreneurial endeavors. The town of Custer announced itself boldly with billboards, and the community definitely has a whimsical side. Where else would I find a shrine to Fred and Wilma Flintstone, complete with a full-size replica of Bedrock City? The town has preserved the handiwork and legend of Wilber Todd, builder of Custer’s first stone jail. He used the money paid him for the construction to get drunk and rowdy and became his jail’s first occupant. Like Hot Springs, Custer turned a big public building, the 1881 Custer County Courthouse, into a history museum. Some visitors know the courthouse made significant history itself in 1973, when law enforcement and the American Indian Movement clashed there — a precursor to the Wounded Knee occupation.

My reason for stopping in Custer today, however, was to experience one of Claude and Christie Smith’s burgers. It seems that by consensus two years ago the Black Hills decided their just-opened Black Hills Burger and Bun Co. served the region’s best hamburgers. That’s high praise in beef country. Friends had told me that the little diner on 385 would be packed regardless of when I visited. It was. Two bites into the Hot Granny burger (with bacon, cream cheese, fresh jalapeÒos and sweet jalapeÒo sauce) I decided I would join the chorus of Smith burger boosters. Christie told me she and Claude formerly ran an Iowa grocery store, then moved west with their kids after several Black Hills vacations, looking for a better lifestyle.

“We found a lot of local support here,” she said. They stay busy. Claude starts with whole chuck roasts and grinds the meat daily. Buns, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans and a range of desserts are also prepared fresh every day.

As the Smiths get up every morning and grind beef, just up 385 to the north the Ziolkowskis prepare to blast granite. They’re creating Highway 385’s most famous piece of roadside art, the world’s largest mountain sculpture, recognized worldwide. The great carving of Crazy Horse is clearly visible from the highway, but turning into the grounds is well worth the admission fee. Mary Bordeaux, from Pine Ridge, is the new curator of the huge Indian Museum of North America below the sculpture, and she’s the site’s cultural coordinator, organizing artists-in-residence, performers, and lecturers.”We hope people will view the sculpture and then also interact with the museum collection,” she said.”For those hoping to buy art, here’s a chance to meet the artist, to have a connection with the artist.”

Paleontologist Pete Larson and his brother, Neal, founded the Black Hills Institute of Geology at Hill City.

As a kid I knew Hill City as a place of hard working loggers, a summer excursion train and mysterious Goodhaven,”the house of many doors.” It’s hard to think that any small town in America has transformed itself more completely than Hill City. The development of fine art galleries, including Jon Crane’s, has been well publicized, as has the arrival of wineries. The old city auditorium became a museum that never ceases to amaze, reminding visitors that South Dakota is prime dinosaur country. In addition to running this museum, the Black Hills Institute of Geological Research continues to dig for fossils and is a resource for science centers around the world. Probably this Hill City museum’s star attraction, although he has considerable competition, is Stan, a T-rex excavated by the institute in Harding County in 1992.

I visited Stan and his prehistoric peers, then went up the road to see a new museum in the back of the chamber of commerce building that documents the Civilian Conservation Corps’ work in South Dakota during the 1930s. The steam powered excursion train of my youth, the 1880 Train, still makes its scenic runs, and for the past five years it has shared a parking lot with the fine South Dakota State Railroad Museum. As I talked to museum director Rick Mills, author of several books about railroading, it struck me that there’s tremendous expertise along 385 in many fields. And every expert I’d talked to on this trip seemed to have all the time in the world for me.

I’m happy to say Goodhaven still stands, although it goes by another name now. In 1894 husband and wife John and Kit Good built a one-story house in the Black Hills town of Sheridan. Kit had survived a terrifying house fire and wanted a home with doors leading directly outside from every room. The”house of many doors” — 11 to be exact — won Black Hills fame because of its unusual look. It drew even more attention when it was moved to Hill City in 1944, right next to the highway. In 2003 David and Dawna Kruse bought Goodhaven and turned it into a unique bed and breakfast. They renamed it Holly House because of Dawna’s love of Christmas and flair for decorating for the holidays.”We still have seven of the 11 doors leading out,” she told me. But I had been told earlier that when visitors speak of Holly House these days, the doors rank second to another asset: Dawna’s breakfasts.”When I say I serve a full breakfast, I mean a full breakfast where everything’s homemade,” she said.”We offer a Mexican breakfast, and breads and casseroles, and biscuits and gravy and lots more.”

It’s an increasingly rare Highway 385 traveler who makes it out of Hill City to the north without being lured into Prairie Berry Winery for free wine sampling. I joined in and got personal instruction from my server about which foods go well with the wines I selected. She suggested asparagus with my dry Phat Hogg, and roast duck with my sweet Calamity Jane. Actually Prairie Berry is becoming a wine and beer campus, with a new events center next to the main building, and Black Hills Miner Brewing Co., the winery’s beer making arm, right across the parking lot. Sandi Vojta is the company’s award-winning winemaker, and she brews the beer, too.

Black Hills Burger and Bun’s crew includes (from left) Jessica Smith, Lindsay Percival and owners Christie and Claude Smith.

North of Hill City a sign told me to watch out for bighorn sheep, and immediately I spotted three. It appeared that they saw me, too, and watched me pass from a safe distance off the road. I thought they demonstrated more sophistication about traffic than lots of domestic animals I’ve known. Then Sheridan Lake came into view. A man fishing from shore reported trout were shy this afternoon but crappies were hitting his bait in a frenzy. I got back in the car and in no time came to spectacular Pactola Lake, the Black Hills’ biggest. Sheridan and Pactola are actually manmade reservoirs, products of 1940s era reclamation (as is Angostura). It surprises visitors who regularly bring boats, water skis and lake fishing gear to the Black Hills to learn the region was shortchanged when it came to natural lakes. Both Sheridan and Pactola are named for towns that surrendered the ghost to rising waters. It’s why Goodhaven ended up in Hill City.

Beyond the lakes the highway made a final 25-mile sprint to Deadwood. It’s the home stretch not only for South Dakota’s 122-mile section of the highway, but for all of U.S. 385, which begins at Big Bend National Park in Texas and extends north through Oklahoma, Colorado, Nebraska, and of course South Dakota, for 1,206 miles. Old-timers sometimes called the route the Potash Highway, after a form of fertilizer that transformed big sections of the Great Plains. The road is one of South Dakota’s Blue Star Memorial Highways, honoring the Armed Forces, and it has also been called the George Hearst Memorial Highway, recognizing the man whose investment brought Homestake Gold Mine to full production.

The road climbed and dropped over several ridges. Pines closed in at points, then opened up to reveal draws, meadows with grazing cattle, and Custer Peak with a summit so pointed it resembled an upside down V. And then, amid pastoral scenery, things almost surreal popped into view, like a Ferris wheel in the middle of the Hills, and the World’s Largest Log Chair. How large? About 34 feet high with a seat so big that a family and several friends could picnic up there. Why? That’s a harder question to answer. I stopped by the Sugar Shack, within view of the chair, and the best answer I got was,”Well, there are lots of logs out here.” Plus, of course, no one does anything small along 385. The Sugar Shack, incidentally, is a cozy old diner with a long wooden lunch counter, behind which are prepared huge and excellent burgers. It should be noted plenty of Northern Hills partisans consider these the best Black Hills hamburgers. Evidence that the Sugar Shack has topped public polls to that effect is posted in the diner.

Twelve miles north, the Ferris wheel stood at Brownsville, long ago a busy logging and sawmilling town and now sometimes called”50s Town.” That’s because of Boondocks, a roadside business that celebrates all things 1950s — Elvis, cars, food. The centerpiece is an authentic Valentine diner shipped in more than 60 years ago and still serving up sandwiches, milkshakes, apple pie and more.

I knew I was nearing Deadwood when I spotted the Tomahawk golf course. Then I made a steep climb and descent over Strawberry Hill, coasting past a runaway truck ramp and under hills left bare by a great 2002 forest fire. I breezed through the little town of Pluma and then … well, Highway 385 just ended. Abruptly and without ceremony.

I could turn left and drive on to Lead, Terry Peak, and Spearfish Canyon. Or I could go right, into the heart of Deadwood with its entertainment, casinos and dining. It wasn’t a bad place to be, stared in the face by attractive options the northern Black Hills offer. But I wished for a sign saying, CONGRATULATIONS! YOU’VE COMPLETED A TRULY CLASSIC AMERICAN DRIVE.

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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One Man Towns

Some Black Hills tourist promoters began to market Trojan as a ghost town in 1959, ignoring the fact that Alvin Carlson still lived there. Trojan was once a prosperous Black Hills mining town that lost population due to mine consolidations. Most residents moved to Deadwood or Lead to work for Homestake.

When Trojan was declared a ghost town, travelers began to stop and take photos. Some even walked into Carlson’s house without knocking. “I went down to the Chamber of Commerce and told those people if they didn’t stop tellin’ folks this was ghost town that this old ghost was gonna start shootin’ at a few people,” Carlson told a South Dakota Magazine writer in 1999. “They’d come in here with out of state license plates, walk in, snoop through my stuff and just take it. I come unglued when people take my stuff and that’s when I decided to move it back down the road a ways.”

Yes, in the 1970s, Carlson did just that: he moved the town’s buildings to a spot less than a mile away. He and his brother-in-law used a heavy-duty truck and a cable and dolly system to jack up each structure.

Trojan held almost all of Carlson’s memories. He went to school there, made friends there, married and worked there. Even without the people who made the memories, Trojan was still his home. But in 1998, Wharf Mining Company purchased the land under Trojan’s new town site. At age 74, he wasn’t up to the task of relocating the town a second time.

Several other South Dakota towns are one-man or one-house towns. Pat and Wayne Surat are the only residents left in the southeastern South Dakota town of Bijou Hills. It, like Trojan, was once a booming town home to a bank, newspaper, blacksmith shop, Ford dealership, soda fountain, churches and a grocery store. Unlike the slow decline suffered by most towns, Bijou Hills disappeared a building at a time because an eccentric farmer from nearby Academy bought them and moved them onto his farm. So although the Surats still live in town, the rest of the town has moved except for their house, Wayne’s mother’s house and a church.

Philip O’Connor, the last man living in the small town of Capa, was interviewed in 2009 for a BBC documentary about the Dirty Thirties. A crew arrived to film the town’s remaining buildings: a hotel, a barn, some houses, a school and church. The town was brought to life in 1906 when the railroad reached town. The Capa Hotel piped in mineral water from a nearby artesian well and became well known for its mineral bath treatments. The Great Depression greatly contributed to the town’s demise. Phil lives in the house his grandparents and parents occupied. He taught school for two decades in the surrounding counties.

What motivates a man or a woman to stay in a town long after the other people, and maybe even the buildings, of the past are gone? Perhaps Carlson said it best when he contemplated moving from Trojan: “I could go to Florida or Alabama where I have family, but it’s too hot down there,” he said. “I’m only satisfied here. As soon as I get to Boulder Canyon I start to feel better. The closer I come to Trojan the better I feel. I’ll find a place in the hills not too far away.”

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Winter on Mickelson Trail

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.