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Date Climbed
May 20-21, 2004
Conditions
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South Dakota's County
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I came to South Dakota for the first time (ever) in 1996, when I drove up from Nebraska to visit the state highpoint, Harney Peak. In 2004, I spent about a day and a half in the state, visiting some county highpoints around the Black Hills. On both occasions I had to dodge some pretty nasty and spectacular storms, including one in 2004 that dropped some baseball-sized hail. I've been inside the state one other time, in August 2002 when I came over from Montana and Wyoming to spend a day at the Sturgis Biker Rally.
This visit was unplanned: I had flown into Colorado Springs early yesterday morning with plans for a quick circuit of the three state highpoints that border Colorado: Nebraska, Kansas and Oklahoma. However, the weather was very unsettled, and by the time I had driven to the Nebraska highpoint at Panorama Point, things had deteriorated drastically. The skies were black with ominous clouds, and it was still only early afternoon. Even I know that's not a good sign. I monitored radio reports which indiacted the bad stuff was farther south, so on the spot, I decided to go north to South Dakota, and hope things improved the following day.
I spent the night at a cheap hotel in Hot Springs, and early the next morning, drove to Sylvan Lake and the trailhead for Harney Peak. I was here very early and the weather was foggy, misty and cool, but still. Also, I was the only person in the parking lot except for a work truck. In the mist, I followed the trail upward, trusting the trails since I had no real views. I made good time and in a little over an hour had arrived onto the rocky summit and the stone tower built atop it. Here, I came upon the worker, whose truck was parked below. He'd lugged up all sorts of gear and was doing some welding, but he was cool and even took my photo. I spent some time inspecting the tower but views were limited by the fog. The hike down went well, and I followed a slightly different route in spots, but came to my car with no problem, a total round trip of three hours, six miles and 1,200 feet of gain. It was still fairly early in the morning, perhaps about 10 a.m. My day was only starting to get interesting. A side trip to Rushmore was washed out: I couldn't see the faces at all.
The plan now was to drive south across the Nebraska Sand Hills into Kansas to situate myself for that state's highpoint. While driving out of the Black Hills I followed a paved highway that dead-ended in the middle of nowhere, with three unpaved roads leading from it. In good weather, this would have been no problem, but in this weather the unpaved roads were sloppy and slick. I took a chance and opted for the east road which led through Badlands National Park. In my tiny rental car, I skidded and yawed the 20 miles through this fascinating countryside, in mortal fear I'd skid off the road at any moment or get hopelessly stuck in the mud. But somehow I made it and came back onto a paved highway in the heart of the Pine Ridge Reservation.
On this rez, the paved roads were all chewed up and I made slow time. The area is extremely depressing all around. I listened to a local radio station, where the announcer would send out notices for specific people to visit their mom, thing like that, since for some people, the radio is their only link to the outside. I stopped at the Wounded Knee site as well.
Into Nebraska I had a fun drive up and down the Sand Hills through the tiny towns like Valentine and Arthur. Finally I was back into Colorado, where I drove on down to Burlington and spent the night, readying myself for more rainy and gloomy highpointing the next day in Kansas.
I was now on my 2004 High Plains County Highpoint tour. After a full day in Nebraska where I'd successfully completed five counties (three that involved hikes, two drive-ups), it was getting late in the day and I had time for one more hike. From Nebraska, I drove into South Dakota via the city of Rushville (Nebraska), and north into the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation at the South Dakota state line. I had been through this very area back in 1996 and didn't like it one bit. This was partly due to me getting lost on an unmarked dirt road in a tiny economy vehicle in rain, but also just the horrible poverty that I saw while in the region. At that time I spent just enough time to take in the Wounded Knee Memorial, then got moving. I just didn't get a friendly vibe while there. The Pine Ridge Reservation is very well known for its past uprisings and off-the-scale poverty. It is at best a very controversial place.
Driving up into the Rez from Nebraska, I passed through the town of Whiteclay, which sits inside Nebraska, just a short walk from the state line. The Reservation is dry in that they do not sell or allow alcohol, obviously to combat the rampant alcoholism there. But Whiteclay is just outside the boundary. The town is just a bunch of boarded up homes and about five minimarts. Not really a town any more, just a place to sell booze to the Indians. I saw about three dozen men just sitting around, some clearly drunk off their asses. For the four miles to the town of Pine Ridge in South Dakota, there were lots of people just walking back and forth between the two locales. Pine Ridge itself is scarily poor, and I didn't stop while passing through. Depressing.
Well, the county highpoint is definitely worth a visit. Located nearby Pine Ridge, I took a dirt road off of US-18 about 4 miles to where it topped out near a cattle grate marked by old truck tires. The terrain up in these hills was rather pretty, but the road featured two abandoned, burnt-out vehicles near the highpoint. I parked off the road, just a short walk from the highpoint. Again, I didn't feel like I really should be here and didn't want to chance meeting any of the locals, so I made a fast run to the top, tagged the benchmark, and jogged back to my vehicle. Although this hill is one of five areas that breach 3,700 feet in Shannon County, it was clearly higher than its neighbors. I did take a moment to verify that while up there. Back to my vehicle, I retraced my route and got back to the highway, where I drove through some rain to Hot Springs, South Dakota.
Shannon County is an anachronism: it is one of three counties that comprise the Pine Ridge Reservation, but the county itself is "unorganized"; it has no formal governmental structure whatsoever. In the olden days, counties would be created by legislative fiat, usually unorganized and attached to a nearby county until it could get its government and services in order. Shannon has never gone beyond being lines on a map, and probably never will be.
From Bell Hill, I wanted to get close to the Black Hills for the next day's adventures. I stayed at a small hotel in Hot Springs, and had a nice meal at the Elk Cafe on the main drag where I met a nice Aussie couple enjoying their "holiday" in America. I lived in Canberra back in 1987 so it was nice to practice my Strine again with natives. They'd been everywhere it seemed, and pretty much made up their trip as they went along. I was up early the next morning, on the road before 7 a.m.
First on the docket today was Sylvan Peak, located just a few air-miles west of the state highpoint, Harney Peak. Then, I had lots of fog. Today, I had lots of ... fog. Slightly bummed, I found the non-descript parking pullout southeast of the summit and set in for what was supposed to be a quick two-mile, one-hour hike through the trees to the peak and back. Sylvan Peak has no official trail, but public access seems to be allowed. I had in hand a trip report describing the route. I did not have, however, a good topo map of the peak with the UTM coordinate system on it (essentially rendering my GPS useless). I had a poorer version of the map copied from the web but without the fine detail I usually like. I was not too concerned about these shortcomings, though, since I figured the route was short and the description was solid.
It was 7:30 a.m. when I started the hike. The route follows a service road that switchbacks up the southeast ridge of the peak. The road, closed to the public, but open for hiking, ends at a small utility box. From here, I started up the steep hillside, heading north, and following white-painted blazes (dots) on the trees to remain on the "route". I did this and had no trouble at all. It was foggy, and in some places I had to search for the next blaze even though it may have only been about 20 feet away. Quickly the route gains high on the ridge and comes directly below some massive stone outcrops, some of which were easily 100 feet high. The route stayed generally west of these outcrops, which were quite impressive. Farther on, the route gained into a crook of these rocks and then periodically mingled with the rocks and trees. All was well until about three-quarters of a mile in where I lost the white-painted blazed route. There were lots of downed trees here. I descended about 50 feet, crossed the cleared area and then, without any blazes to help me, figured I should go back up high to the ridge. This worked out well as I found the blazes again. After a couple more false summits I came upon the real top, marked by a good-sized cairn amid a small rock outcrop (nothing like those massive ones along the way). It had only taken me about 50 minutes to cover the hike, with about an 800-foot gain. The fog actually began to lift and I stayed at the top for awhile for the views and maybe a photo of Harney Peak across the way, but the Sun, still low in the east sky, made any photographs that way impossible.
After a few minutes at the summit I started down. I followed the blazed tree route just fine for the few hundred feet it took to get me back to where the blazes had disappeared on me on my ascent. I spent about 15 minutes looking for the continuation of the blazed trees. No luck. I was starting to get a bit concerned, and a bit annoyed that I was having trouble doing something that shouldn't be so difficult. But nothing looked familiar where I was. Finally, I made a command decision: just start moving. I knew the main ridge went north and south, and with the sun still low I had a good marker for east. So I decided to proceed south as best as I could, which is what I did. I just kept walking, never finding those blazed trees again. As I descended, I got low enough to see the road below me (way below me), which at least meant I was not getting too far off route. The descent went through moderate forest, and often up, across and over many rock formations, although at no time did I ever get myself cliffed out. Finally, I descended low enough to hear traffic, and to where I could see a power line. Shortly, I was out to a dirt road underneath the power lines. I had a funny feeling of knowing exactly where I was, and not knowing where I was at all. But fortunately my poor quality map showed a creek and drainage that seemed to agree with my reality, so I now could peg myself on the map.
I had actually hiked out almost two miles south from the summit, and put myself easily over a mile southwest of my vehicle. I walked the dirt road in both directions until I heard a motorhome rumble on the highway which was just a few feet up a slope from me, but totally hidden in the forest cover. Soon, I was up on the highway, still not 100% sure of where I was. I walked one way a few hundred feet and saw a sign for the city of Custer. Well, I knew I shouldn't go that way, and I now knew exactly where I was. I had a two mile walk along the highway to get back to my vehicle. I was hoping some nice people would stop and give me a lift but no one ever did. The hike back to my vehicle went reasonably fast, and I had plenty of time to think about how I'd messed up. I arrived back to my vehicle at 10:30, exactly three hours after I'd started. I was fortunate that I brought along an extra water bottle. The hike came out to about six miles round trip instead of the two I had figured.
I took an extended break at the vehicle to change and relax. I was actually really relieved to be back, and out of the forest. This is only the second time I have ever been truly lost, although I still "sort-of" knew where I was. Had I not had the failsafes of the highway, I may still very well be in that forest, all dirty with a long beard and speaking in grunts. I decided to take it easy and went on to visit Mount Rushmore. My next highpoint for the day was over in Meade County, amid worsening weather.
The weather so far today had started out rainy and foggy, then clear and nice, but now, around noon, it was getting cloudy again: the big puffy kind that forms over the peaks. In other words, potential haymakers. Next up on the agenda was the highpoint of Meade County, an officially unnamed peak tucked in its southwest corner about 20 miles south of Sturgis. I had actually come down this way in 2002 after my Granite Peak climb in Montana, when I took a day out afterwards to go visit the mayhem of Sturgis during the bike rally week of early August. At that time I had a trip report but no map, and the weather wasn't so great either. Unless it was an obvious hike, I wasn't going to do it. This time I had all my ducks in a row and came back, ready to take it on.
The highpoint is not necessarily obvious. Nearby Flagstaff Peak is the most well known in the immediate area, while higher peaks are nearby but in neighboring Lawrence County. Other than its status as the Meade County apex, it doesn't do a whole lot to attract attention to itself. Nevertheless, it is a worthy little hike, requiring good navigation skills and a bit of sweat to make the top. Coming off my Sylvan Peak experience where I made some navigation blunders, I was ready to get back into the saddle and tackle another peak requiring mostly navigation skills to attain the summit. The access to this peak is along paved Forest Road-26 north of Nemo and accessible south out of Sturgis. I parked at a large pullout that is northeast of the peak and beside a stream. It was about 1 p.m. when I arrived, in weather that was mostly sunny but definitely getting more threatening. Wonderland Cave is the main nearby tourist attraction and not far from the highpoint, but I did not visit it.
From my vehicle I descended the grassy banks off the highway, scooted under a fence and crossed the small stream. Climbing up the other side, I was met by a thick mesh of downed trees, grasses, young doghair thickets and lots of undergrowth. Going mainly on instinct, I started up a ridge and mostly bashed my way up the steep slope until after about 50 vertical feet the forest became considerably less thick, which was a relief. The gradient was still steep, but now navigation was a lot easier. The peak is crescent shaped, and the route I was following goes up one of its main ridges, a prominent northeast-southwest ridge. I stayed on the ridge crest whenever possible, and could see through the forest cover to my left the rounded cliff edges of the ridge. Shortly the grade moderated and eventually became mostly flat. I was near the top, but I had to make a right turn and walk west about 300 feet in very thick tree cover to cover the top sufficiently. I found a large tree with a pink surveyor's ribbon tied around it that seemed to indicate something, maybe the top. Regardless, the slopes give way pretty fast and it was fairly easy to cover the summit area for its potential highpoints. After a few minutes I started back down. The hike down went fast, and I had no trouble with route-finding. Along the way I was treated to thundering booms and some lightning. The storm was building.
The round trip covered two miles and 650 feet of gain, done in an hour. I named this peak after a prominent Gulch at its base, Virkula Gulch. I have no idea what the locals call it, if anything. From here I drove a Brownian path through the hills and through Deadwood-Lead to try my next highpoint, Cement Ridge in Crook County, Wyoming. But by now the weather had taken a real turn for the nasty and I was initially foiled on that attempt, although I visited it the next morning. Instead I managed to succeed at the Lawrence County highpoint, once the storm had moved on.
The storm really kicked up, even dropping baseball-size hail, so said the radio reports. I was not in that specific area, but it was just as nasty where I was, and I was happy to see it break up and move along. There was still a few hours of usable daylight left, and I figured I may just get lucky enough to visit Crooks Tower in Lawrence County.
Crooks Tower is a small set of rocky spires, grouped very close by, and actually accessible via vehicle from their backside, which is the way I approached. A sketchy forest road leaves the main road and climbs to these knobs. The storm had soaked all the roads but traction was pretty good, until it immediately became slick, so not wanting to chance anything I parked, and walked to the highpoint areas. I had actually driven to very near the Crooks Tower hills, on (supposedly) the highest street-legal road in South Dakota. The hike to nthe top went quickly, and I visited two hilltops of near-equal height. This journey took just a few minutes and wasn't very interesting, but the views down into the meadows and forest below were very lovely.
A third area is about 1.5 miles southwest along the main road. Normally I'd have just driven the road and then walked out into the forest to visit the last area. However, this road had also become a muddy mess. I was able to drive down from the first two areas but I did a lot of slipping and sliding and spinning of wheels to do it. I decided not to chance fate and parked, meaning I'd have to walk this stretch. I walked beside the road south and west, always trying to find a path of least resistance, but often being forced onto the road by brush. The mud was goopy and sticky and nasty, and it stuck to my boots like tar. Finally, I got to a point due east of the last area. I entered the forest and walked through the moderate cover about 3/10 of a mile. The ground continued to rise ever so consistently, so I went pretty far, almost to the far west edge of the contour area, to be sure I found the highest area. Hail balls from the storm were still in the grass, looking like patches of snow. The weather was clear and cool and rather nice, all things considered. I returned to my vehicle and got back to the main highway (US-85), where I had enough daylight to get one more easy highpoint in Weston County (Wyoming also) before settling in for the night in Lead.
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(c) 1996, 2004, 2006, 2012 Scott Surgent. For entertainment purposes only. This report is not meant to replace maps, compass, gps and other common sense hiking/navigation items. Neither I nor the webhost can be held responsible for unfortunate situations that may arise based on these trip reports. Conditions (physical and legal) change over time! Some of these hikes are major mountaineering or backpacking endeavors that require skill, proper gear, proper fitness and general experience. |