Tag: winter activity

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Our Favorite Winter Sport

By Roger Holtzmann

Remember that old pioneer tale about the guy who gets trapped in a blizzard? He’s lost, can’t get a fire started and is unable to find any kind of shelter. As a last resort he shoots his horse (or in some versions, a cow) in the head, cuts him open and survives by utilizing the warmth of the animal.

Luckily, no one had invented animal rights yet. Aside from that, I’ve always had problems understanding that story. What exactly is the procedure here? Do you climb in the animal’s stomach? Or do you just stick your head in for a while, then alternate with your feet? Maybe you stick your feet up through his neck, running your torso through his stomach, which would put your head right about … no, that can’t be right.

Doesn’t the carcass freeze up after a while anyway? So there you are, covered with blood, your head (or whatever) stuck where no man has gone before, and you’re still freezing.

Right about then, more than one immigrant probably thought, “Geez, I should have stayed back in Europe. Starving to death in a potato famine wouldn’t have been all that bad.”

Unless some of those pioneers were world-class liars, which is a possibility, somehow it got done, and here we are. When we think of stories like that we sometimes feel a little twinge that we whine about such piddly things — we wonder if maybe that pioneer gumption hasn’t been diluted by central heat and factory-rolled cigarettes.

In defense of modern men and women, though, just let me say this: Sleeping inside a dead animal is an accomplishment, all right, but there are few things that will test the mettle of humanity more than today’s favorite winter sport, Getting The Car Stuck.

There are all kinds of variations on the theme automobilae immobilicus, winter variety. There’s one which happens right outside your home that even novices can enjoy since this version doesn’t require you to do anything at all. It occurs when you awaken to find your car — or rather, a tiny portion of your car — peeking out from a gigantic drift.

If you live in a city, and your car is parked on the street, you’ll find that for the first time in history they plowed your street early, piling up additional snow and leaving you a $25 ticket to boot.

If you live in the country, you’ll notice you parked your car with the engine side north. This allowed snow to blow in, completely filling the engine compartment and insuring your car won’t start even if you do get it shoveled out.

For advanced grief, there ‘s nothing like The You Bet Your Life Whirling 360 Spin Of Death. All you need for this is a plain old road, a coat of ice, and the foolish belief that you absolutely must be somewhere else. Someone who ‘s enjoying this activity is easy to spot: They’ re in the ditch with a pulse of about 210, clutching their steering wheel, repeating their favorite expletive over and over. And over.

After the heart attack phase, you sit there thinking should I try to walk for it or not? Every expert says stay with your car, but you know that advice is bogus. They assume you’ve packed an emergency kit in your trunk. but of course you never got around to that. Besides, anyone stupid enough to accumulate experience being stranded in cars doesn’t sound like someone you can depend on for advice.

You’ll try to get a tow truck, but there will be three bozos in front of you. You’ll try not to think of yourself as a member of bozodom but it won ‘t work. That delay will leave your car out there becoming encased in its very own drift. Which will hide it from snowplows.

As you sit in the gas station drinking vending-machine coffee you’ll ponder them –large steel blades welded onto 20-ton trucks whose drivers have been living on caffeine for 48 hours. And your car — your nice, barely half-paid-for car — on the same road.

“Boy, I wish all had to do was sleep inside a dead horse,” you’ll say.

Then there’s plain old garden variety getting stuck, invariably following the thought “I think I can make it.” This situation is (a) a major pain in the caboose (b) embarrassing and (c) often costly.

First, you’ll mentally run down the list of people you consider bosom friends to help you in your hour of distress. Or, people you barely know but who own four-wheel drives and a tow rope. Then get set for physical activity that, when people do it on flat ground in front of their house, frequently causes heart attacks. You’ll be asked to shovel around, over, behind and under — especially under — your car.

When you need a break, try pushing the car. Strain your back, arms and legs in one easy motion. Occasionally fall down and get sprayed in the face with snow and gravel. Work up a good sweat then stand around in the cold. Repeat until dizzy.

As the smell of burning rubber wafts up from your 60,000 mile deluxe radial that now has 134 miles left on it, take heart in your heroic part of a continuing frontier saga.

This year, in a bit of nostalgia, I am encouraging all my friends to do their winter traveling with a large, live animal in the trunk. Then, during winter emergencies, they can recreate their pioneer past. You can too.

Either that or join Triple A.

Editor’s Note: Contributing Editor Roger Holtzmann’s column “Seriously, Folks” regularly appears in South Dakota Magazine. This column is revised from our January/February 1993 issue. To subscribe, call us at 800-456-5117.



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First Day Hikes

By Rebecca Johnson

First Day hikes began over 20 years ago at the Blue Hills Reservation, a Milton, Mass. state park. This year is the second time all 50 state park systems have sponsored First Day Hikes on New Year’s Day. South Dakota parks are offering 12 free hikes as part of America’s State Parks First Day Hikes initiative.

Blood Run, our newest state park, is hosting its First Day Nature Hike on January 1 at 10:00 a.m.”It will be a guided hunt about nature in winter,” says Jennifer Nuncio, Seasonal Naturalist for South Dakota State Parks.”We hope to experience animals, tracks, and birds plus a few fun activities along the way.” Nuncio will lead the 1/2-mile hike and plans to share history about this Native American historical site near Sioux Falls. For information, contact 987-2263.

Other hikes include:

Riddle Hike, Newton Hills State Park near Canton, sunrise to sunset. Info: 605-987-2263

New Year’s Bird Count Walk, Lewis and Clark Recreation Area near Yankton, 10 a.m. CST. Info: 605-668-2985

Creekside Stroll, Custer State Park, 10 a.m. MST. Info: 605-255-4515

New Year’s Get Out and Go Scavenger Hunt, Adams Homestead Nature Area near North Sioux City, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-232-0873

Lewis and Clark History Hike, Spirit Mound Historic Prairie near Vermillion, 1 p.m. CST, pre-registration required. Info/register: 605-987-2263

First Day in the Forest, Richmond Lake Recreation Area near Aberdeen, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-626-3488

Snowshoe If Snow, Hike If No, West Whitlock Recreation Area near Gettysburg, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-765-9410

Birdwatcher’s Hike, Angostura Recreation Area near Hot Springs, 1 p.m. MST. Info: 605-745-6996

First Day Snowshoe Hike, George S. Mickelson Trail, 1 p.m. MST, pre-registration required. Info/register: 605-584-3896

First Day Find It, Lake Herman State Park near Madison, 1 p.m. CST. Info: 605-256-5003

After the 2011 Flood, LaFramboise Island Nature Area in Pierre, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-773-2885

First Day Hike, Oakwood Lakes State Park near Bruce, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-627-5441

Snowshoe Along the Big Sioux, Big Sioux Recreation Area in Brandon, 2 p.m. CST. Info: 605-582-7243

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What Will Winter Bring?

By Bernie Hunhoff

When the donkey blows his horn
It’s time to house your hay and corn.

South Dakotans are wondering what winter will bring this year. How cold? How much snow? We know the wind will blow. Hopefully it will deliver warm fronts from the south and not the cold Canadian air which is the enemy of all men and women who are not parka dealers.

A curiosity about winter weather is instinctive to Northerners. It forces people who are otherwise famous for procrastination to prepare. We need to know how many bags of potatoes to store in the storm cellar … how many tons of prairie hay to have ready for the cows … how many microwave popcorn bags to keep in the cupboard.

What a tremendous service we could provide our subscribers if we could predict what the winter will be like. Old-timers tell me that if we watched the animals we could do that.

Some say that when pigs squeal in winter, there will be a blizzard.
When sheep cluster together, expect a snow storm.
When cows quit giving milk, expect stormy, colder weather.
When a cat sits with his tail to the fire, expect bad weather.

For centuries, farmers have tried to learn how to predict the weather from the animals around them. Many felt that the thickness of an animal’s coat in the fall was a harbinger of a bad winter. Some say the flight of the birds and chirping of crickets can be meaningful. Gardeners might pay attention to their onions.

Onion skins very thin
Mild winter coming in
Onion skins very tough
Winter’s coming cold and rough.

Perhaps one of the best-known harbingers of winter is the wooly bear caterpillar. The wider the black band on his mid-section, the longer winter will be. Scientists poo-poo such talk, but they probably don’t believe dark spots on the goose bone means a bad winter, either.

Indians taught early settlers to watch the size of the muskrat and beaver huts. Big huts meant a bad winter. Likewise, oversized nests made by rabbits, hornets and birds were a sign of a long, tough winter according to Native Americans.

We know people who rely not on animals to tell them what lies ahead, but on the almanac. There is the story of a farmer who, seeing a meteor shower, thought the world was ending. He called his wife and told her to come quick “and bring the Bible.” She called him a few minutes later and said she could not find their Bible. “Well, hurry then,” he said, “and bring the almanac!”

Scandinavians are less likely to put their faith in an almanac. They have a saying that goes, “The almanac writer makes the almanac, but God makes the weather.”

They are right, of course. Nobody but God knows what weather is coming. Not even the National Weather Service.

Here in South Dakota, blizzards are the most dangerous weather we face. We measure them against the January 12, 1888 storm which killed 177 South Dakotans and thousands of livestock. Everyone said we wouldn’t see another storm like that because weather forecasters now warn travelers, because the countryside is more thickly settled, and because there are better facilities for livestock. But a 1975 blizzard caused large livestock losses and reminded Midwesterners that winter storms can still be deadly.

Big snow storms have a way of focusing people’s attention. Suddenly life is simpler. Our only hope is to stay safe and warm. If the food holds out and the furnace keeps blowing, we are satisfied. If only we were so easy to please all year through.

Editor’s Note: This column is revised from the November/December 1992 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

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Mills on Wheels

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the March/April 2011 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

It was the dead of winter and John Mills needed to cross his Brookings County farm, but he suspected his four-wheeler wouldn’t make it through the snow. So he sat at his kitchen table and brainstormed ways to make the cross-country trip easier.

That’s how J-Wheelz were born, though they might still be an idea if not for Mills’ son, Jake.”He was the motivation that got us off the sketch pad and into the shop,” Mills says.

J-Wheelz are a lightweight attachment that bolts onto the outside of each wheel. They add traction in mud and snow and 310 pounds of flotation (that’s music to an ice fisherman’s ears). And because of their unique upward angle, they don’t hinder drivability on solid ground.

The Millses sketched and prototyped for nearly a year. When they had a solid design, they sought help from the South Dakota Enterprise Institute, which assisted with market research.”There was a hunger for a cheaper option to add capacity to the machines,” says Andy Johnson, sales manager for Creative Solutions, which produces J-Wheelz.”Guys used to put dual wheels on, but those are heavy. Track systems can be $5,000. J-Wheelz are a nice, middle ground option. It’s something guys can justify to their wives.”

J-Wheelz are made from high impact plastic and marine-grade foam. Much of the manufacturing and assembly is done at the company’s Brookings office.


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Quiet, Beauty and Snow

By Kerry Temple

“How does it feel,” my companion asked as he sipped coffee at dawn, “to be perched on the edge between heaven and earth?”

The assessment seemed right, for several reasons. The most immediate was our sunrise breakfast on a high-pitched ledge of rock on the eastern slopes of the Black Hills. There was fire in the sky that morning as the flaming sun rolled over the dim horizon, as the lower sky broke into a radiant orange, as the last of the morning stars glimmered in the cobalt-blue expanse of the infinite overhead.

We had spent the night on the shelves of this cliff some 6,000 feet up, and there wasn’t much between us and the towering South Dakota sky. Harney Peak, which at 7,242 feet is the highest point east of the Rockies, was an over-the-shoulder glance behind us. We could survey bony outcroppings of granite thousands of feet below. The world had been laid at our feet.

But the sense of being poised between heaven and earth had as much to do with the character of this landscape — the Black Elk Wilderness Area — as it did with our aerie lookout to watch the turning of the celestial orbs. Some say the place is sacred. The Black Elk Wilderness Area is at the heart of the Black Hills which were held in holy trust by the Native Americans who lived for thousands of years on the plains surrounding them. Not only did the area provide an abundance of needed game, plant life and seasonal refuge, but it was also believed to be an especially sacred area.

It was a place for seeking visions — often at the summit of Harney Peak, known in various Plains Indian dialects as the “tall rock mountain at the center of the world.” Now comprising over 13,000 acres of undeveloped national forest land, the area was named in 1980 for the Lakota holy man whose life story is chronicled in John Neihardt’s classic Black Elk Speaks.

The feeling that these woods, these rocks, these meadows are special persists today. Even those who are less romantic, less sentimental about the natural landscape will admit sensing something different here. Others will tell you the preserve (like Bear Butte to the north or the Stone Medicine Wheel in Wyoming’s nearby Big Horns) is among the world’s sacred spots. Those who are inclined toward the mystical may report extraordinary soundings in these woods, and earnest New Agers appreciate the sense of place and point to the glittering mica and quartz crystal found here.

Of course, my companion and I did not hold such lofty views a few mornings prior to that luminous dawn watch. We had awakened to snow. Maybe three inches. Startling our stockinged feet. Draped generously on our tent. Blanketing our metal cook gear.

This was not our first trip to the Black Elk area in late fall or early winter, and each time we had just missed heavy snowfalls. Feeling either lucky or blessed we kept coming back, largely because we like the Hills this time of year. The temperatures are brisk but pleasant and the place is mostly empty.

One of the main advantages of this wilderness area is its accessibility: the highest reaches are but a day’s hike from the car. An elaborate trail system networks the wilderness area with the surrounding forest lands as well as Mount Rushmore, Custer State Park and Wind Cave National Park. It also splices into the Centennial Trail which runs the length of the Black Hills from north to south.

But the accessibility is also one of the area’s biggest drawbacks: backcountry backpacking and solitude can be quickly undercut by trooping vacationers, picnickers and day hikers. Even Harney Peak’s summit, capped with a stone lookout tower built in 1938 but no longer used, is an afternoon’s jaunt from a parking lot. So we come in autumn and take our chances with shifting winds, and waking occasionally to ice in our water bottles.

And there we were now, waking to a snow-laden landscape after star-gazing the night before. So we cooked breakfast in the cold, wet snow and ate in the snow and took our tent down in the snow and hiked all morning in the snow — in a grey and white wonderland of pine, birch and oak, and big, heavy flakes, under a low-hanging sky of slate-grey.

But by early afternoon the beauty and novelty weren’t enough to offset the soggy boots and numbing toes, and a closing-in sense of foreboding. After a chilly lunch, we stood in a bitter wind and looked at the cold, grey day and kicked at the three-inch snow as if it would tell us how long the storm would last.

There are no weather reports in the woods and not much sky when you’re hiking the shoulders and ravines of precipitous forestland. We didn’t know what to do — head for cover or carry on?

But before we had to choose between foolhardy courage and cowardly caution, a patch of white clouds appeared. Then a window of blue sky. Then a puddle of sunlight. And by midafternoon the storm had passed through and the sky was clear and the sunset was brilliant.

We set up camp that evening in a gold grass meadow, laid out our sleeping bags to dry, and scrambled up some rocks for a cocktail hour of Gatorade and trail mix. The vista was stunning — red sun sinking in the west, full white moon rising over rocky peaks in the east. Luminescent.

I like being in a place where I am not confined to campgrounds, but am left to my own allegiance to low-impact camping. I like to get off the trail and explore a bit, whether it’s struggling to the top of Little Devil’s Tower, finding a perch to admire Cathedral Spires, or climbing around on the huge slabs of granite scattered about the area.

One of my favorite features of the Black Elk Wilderness are the rock formations — giant boulders and splintery crags, projectile needles and weathered knobs. They will make you stop and stare. And think. These fingers and fists emerged from a seabed as a great dome of molten rock plunged through and transformed the layers of limestone and sandstone sediments laid down 600 to 700 million years ago. Erosion and weathering have left the granite pegmatite exposed and gnarly and wondrous. But then I favor rocks.

There is also a fair amount of wildlife here — ground mammals, deer, wild turkey, beaver, an occasional elk or bobcat or mountain goat, bald and golden eagles. But the main attraction, it seems to me, is something which comes through the soles of the feet when you have hiked here awhile, or through the pores when you least expect it. It is an awareness that there is more here than might be detected through our meager senses — something luminous, something of the heart of the place, something which puts you in touch with both the earth and sky.

Editor’s Note: Kerry Temple lives in South Bend, Indiana, where he is editor of Notre Dame Magazine. This story originally appeared in the November/December 1992 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.



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Sertoma Butterfly House and Marine Cove

By Rebecca Johnson

It was my birthday last Saturday and, among other festivities, my husband and I visited the Sertoma Butterfly House and Purdy Marine Cove at 4320 Oxbow Avenue in Sioux Falls. The Butterfly House opened in 2002 and was built with funding from the Noon Sertoma Club. The Purdy Marine Cove addition, made possible by donations from Charles Purdy, opened the fall of last year. The butterfly flight room is a popular winter destination because it’s kept at a temperate 80 degrees, but that temp felt cool compared to the 95 degree weather.

Nearly 1,000 butterflies from around the world flit around the little indoor garden with waterfalls, streams and skylight for natural light. I found the Blue Morpho to be most remarkable, with its shimmering wings and impressive size. Many were at least 4 inches wide.

Touching the butterflies is discouraged because it could damage their sensitive feet, but if one lands on your hair or clothes it is OK to take it for a ride. Kory Willard, Volunteer Coordinator and General Curator, had tips for those who would like to pick up a hitchhiker.”The best thing you can do is wear bright clothing, like the type of clothing that will show up under black light,” says Willard.”That’s the type of UV perspective butterflies will perceive.” He also suggests coming on a sunny day and sitting quietly in direct sunlight on one of the garden’s benches.

And flash photography is OK in the butterfly flight room, but not so in the darkened Marine Cove housing the tropical fish.”Some of the fish can perceive beyond the boundaries of the tank they are in,” says Willard.”With flash photography it stimulates a fear response in a lot of fish because it simulates lightning, signaling a pending storm or crashing waves.” Even so, it’s fun to just observe the thirteen freshwater and saltwater aquariums with their kaleidoscope of colors. The newest attraction is the 2,500 gallon touch pool made possible by a donation from Richard and Eloise Elmen and designed by Willard and Grant Anderson, Curator of Fishes. It’s a bit like a tropical petting zoo where we found the stingrays to be quite slimy and the sharks a bit scratchy. But I’m not sure how to describe the starfish. You will have to find out for yourself.

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Governor’s Snowmobile Ride

By Rebecca Johnson

I spoke to Diane Hiles of De Smet yesterday while she and her husband, Greg, headed to the Hills for the 32nd annual Governor’s Snowmobile Ride. Hiles is the secretary of the Town and Country Snowdrifters Snowmobile Club, hosts of this year’s ride. The event takes place at Hardy Camp, a Forest Service station in Lead. Winter weather has been unseasonably warm but Hiles says the trails are in excellent condition for the 200 people expected to attend. She and Greg were able to snowmobile the Black Hills trails last week to test them.

The ride starts at 9:00 a.m. on Saturday with brunch, registration and introduction of special guests. Hiles says Governor Dennis Daugaard and his advisory council are expected to attend, as well as U.S. House Representative Kristi Noem. Invitations are extended to all state legislators and at least 12 plan to participate from Sioux Falls, Baltic, Mitchell, Big Stone City, Rapid City, Spearfish and Lead. SDSA provides snowmobiles for the invited guests with help from Yamaha Motor Corporation and Arctic Cat.

The large crew of snowmobilers will split up with experienced riders designated as group leaders through the Black Hills trails maintained by Hardy Camp. The day culminates with a meal and social gathering for riders to visit about their experiences of the day. “The ride was started by the South Dakota Snowmobile Association (SDSA) as a way to showcase the trail system in the Black Hills,” says Hiles. “SDSA works for the good of the snowmobiling sport, trying to make sure the trail system continues to operate both East River and West River.”

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Sioux Falls’ Funski

Media One Funski, held annually at Great Bear Ski Resort in Sioux Falls, is the premier outdoor winter event for Eastern South Dakota. Proceeds from the event benefit The Children’s Inn, a domestic abuse shelter for women and children in Sioux Falls. This year, snow arrived just in time, meaning more fun for everyone! Photos by Media One.

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We Don’t Need No Zamboni

By Lee Schoenbeck


When your little princess looks at you with big eyes and says she wants you to flood an area for her to skate, what South Dakota dad is going to say no? It’s important to remember that heart-warming smile she gave you when you assured her you would build that ice rink. It is one of the few things that will warm your heart as you stand in the cold at midnight, wrapped like an Eskimo, spraying your yard with a garden hose.

That’s how it starts. Dad will say yes, because we all know ice grows wild in South Dakota. It grows on our sidewalk, on our driveway, in our eaves troughs and in front of every stop sign we plan to stop at. It just can’t be that hard to make a little patch of the shiny stuff to skate on. But wild ice and skating ice are two very different animals.

Wild ice can have ruts in it, and be patch-marked with dirt. Tame ice, the kind you skate on, needs to be as smooth as a baby’s bottom — and that, my friends, does not happen by accident. In fact, it takes an obsessive-compulsive disorder to make good tame ice.

I am fortunate to have a couple of buddies that have flooded their yards. They are puck heads. Unlike our neighbors in the states to the north and east, hockey really isn’t much of a winter deal here in the 5-7 zip codes, so they are unique and handy resources for creating tame ice.

Vince lives for ice, so I started there and got this wisdom:”You think you’re going to turn on a garden hose and drink a beer while your pasture floods, don’t you?” Of course, that was my plan. He sagely warned:”It doesn’t work that way.” Now into my second season of making ice, I concur. Growing tame ice in South Dakota is much harder than most would imagine. You can safely expect to spend 20 to 30 hours in single-digit temperatures, holding a garden hose, to make your promise a reality.

First, you aren’t making ice when it is nice out, and generally not when the sun is shining. The temperature has to dip below twenty degrees to really get the ice program going, and that’s going to happen at night. So after dinner, while most people are curling up by the fire, you don the Eskimo gear and unwind the garden hose. Pretty much the best ice-making time is when it gets down in the zero range, and that means you’ll be the only person in the neighborhood standing in your yard with a garden hose around midnight, stamping your feet to keep warm, and spraying water to make that perfect ice sheet.

Between last year, with its snowfall rhythm of early and often, and this year’s desert look, we have had two very different environments for this project.

If you can wait for a snow base, life is better. Trying to create ice by spraying water on bare ground doesn’t work. (I called my consultants this year to check again what I was doing wrong — turns out that even in the winter the ground is warm enough to soak up all the water you want to give it.) You need a little snow pack to build on.

The easiest way to get a base is to take your snow blower out and use its weight to pack the snow. This year that meant walking it backwards around the rink so you didn’t blow away any of the meager snow fall.

Once you have a base, the second big issue is: hot or cold — that would be the water, because there’s no question about what the outside air temperature has to be for this project to work. According to my consultants (for this I expanded the list to include a cousin that used to run the skating rink), warm is generally better. But, if you don’t want to lose your meager snow base (this year) I suggest you start with cold water — lots of it. The ice needs to layer on about 3 or 4 inches deep, and it won’t come out smooth. You’ll get pits, holes, bumps, mounds, runs and variations that you couldn’t have imagined — all of which must be removed for that OCD quality of tame ice, which is where the warm water comes in. Like the Gallo Brothers, you can’t really finish ice before its time. That time will be when you have a base, and a night that it is so cold your eyes hurt. Then, finally, with a generous supply of shaping warm water from your garden hose, you can smooth the highs and lows, and finally produce that perfect sheet of ice.

But it won’t last. The sun will become your enemy. Every morning when your family cheers the forecast of weather peaking over 35 degrees, you will mutter unkind words under your breath. You will understand the damage that sun plans to wreak upon your ice while you are away at work. Any place where a clump of grass or a speck of dirt left some darkness in your ice, the sun will focus on it like a laser — burning a hole in your perfect sheen. After work, even though your kids may not be using it until the weekend, you’ll need to go back out in the dark with your trusted garden hose and touch up your Rembrandt.

There are a few tools I have experimented with. First, the sprinkler sounds like a reasonable option for spraying the yard that you want to magically become a skating rink. I would advise against this tool. It won’t freeze up, like most people think. No, it’s worse. It will produce ice clumps that will be embedded in your otherwise perfect ice, adding hours to the time you will stand in zero temps with hot water trying to smooth them down.

Second, the snow blower is a must. After every snow, go once around with this tool to chip off the bumps and pack in the holes, so the whole surface is again ready for some warm shaping water.

Third, white paint. This is for the advanced course, and I’m not there yet, but they tell me that there is some kind of white paint you can put on your ice so that you don’t have to curse the sun each day. Next week I plan to learn how to ice paint.

Finally, the snow rake, which is a pricy miracle wand made by some company in Canada that spreads your hot water out in lines that makes your ice look like you raked it.

There are probably fancier tools and techniques, but this is one dad’s view about how to fill your pasture or yard with winter fun. Our rink is circular, built around the fire pit like a donut, so you can skate with a bonfire. It’s also next to the guy shed which is equipped with outdoor speakers so you can skate to James Taylor’s Christmas tunes, or the entire Jimmy Buffet collection. We don’t have a Zamboni, because on this project, Dad is all the Zambalogni my little princess needs.


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

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Snow Is Coming

By Chad Coppess

So far in 2011-12 South Dakota hasn’t experienced much of a winter. It’s coming though. It just has to be. Those of us with cameras will be out attempting to capture nature’s beauty under a blanket of white soon, I’m sure. So here are some tips for shooting in the snow.

Light meters in cameras tell us what they feel the “proper” exposure should be for whatever situation we point them at. In the case of white snow, the light meter is going to think everything is too bright and want to darken the scene. Sometimes we need to fool that meter so that our pictures will have white snow, not dingy gray snow. Overexpose by one to two stops and I think you’ll like the results better.

If it is snowing while you are shooting or the sky is overcast and white itself, look for subject matter that will stand out from all the whiteness in your scene. A twisted tree trunk, a Custer State Park bison or a bright yellow school bus will make nice contrasty subjects in an otherwise colorless landscape.

Using the rule of thirds — where the picture is divided into thirds horizontally and vertically and the subject placed at one of the intersections of the thirds lines — can make a nice composition.

Look for patterns and textures in snowy scenes. Tree branches, piles of rocks, animal tracks or flocks of geese against the sky all look great with a white background.

On a day when big fluffy flakes are falling experimenting with shutter speeds can be interesting. A high shutter speed will freeze the snowflakes in mid-drop. A slow shutter speed can make long blurry streaks of white against dark evergreen trees or a red barn.

Quite often the best time to shoot a snowy landscape is immediately after a fresh snow. If snow has fallen overnight and the sky clears for sunrise it can be a magical time to be out shooting. As the low angle light sparkles off the flakes that haven’t melted or packed down, truly spectacular photos can be made that won’t be available later in the day. The colder the temperature the better, unfortunately. That way the individual flakes will keep their shape longer before the sun melts them into just a snow pile.

Snow shots at Mount Rushmore can be especially tricky. Even on a cold day if the sun is out at all the snow on top of the heads begins to melt and drip down, leaving dark streaks. I always watch for predicted night time snow and a bright sunny morning, but make sure I get there very early so I don’t see faces with “tears” running down them.

Keeping your camera batteries warm can help them last longer in cold weather. When not shooting, holding your camera or the batteries inside your coat will help. I’ve heard of some photographers attaching chemical heat packets to their cameras in extreme temperatures, but I’ve never felt the need myself.

Don’t forget to keep yourself warm as you are out shooting, but have fun when the snow does fall!

Chad Coppess is the senior photographer at the South Dakota Department of Tourism. He lives in Pierre with his wife, Lisa. To view more of his work, visit www.dakotagraph.com.