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Some Driving
The drive from Badlands National Park into Nebraska was an entertaining one.
As I left the Badlands, I passed a few tribal COVID checkpoints, where they stopped me to ask questions about my health and destination. Frankly, this made a lot of sense.
I passed into a small dusty town. I stopped for gas and an icecream sandwich at a cash-only station with dials and levers on the old timey pumps.
I mailed a few postcards from a post office that looked like a sunken bomb shelter.
(The bulletin board had signs involving local indigenous language instruction– which is super awesome. I lost the snaps I took.)
A Trump hat wearing man stopped me in the post office parking lot.
“How do you like your car?” he asked.
My answer didn’t matter.
It was a one-sided conversation in which he felt the need to impart how much he liked the mileage he got out of his diesel Jetta. He hopped into a lifted pickup truck and disappeared.
I crossed the border into Nebraska, continuing along underutilized highways crisscrossed with railroad tracks.
Some Lunching
It got to be near lunch time, so I stopped at Runza, a local Nebraskan fast food chain. I wandered past overall-wearing, sun tanned farmers and placed my order.
Check out this video from Eater for an explanation of the sandwich & its significance.
It’s basically a bread pocket containing beef and cabbage, derived from the cuisine of Russian-German immigrants.
My cellphone snap of my sandwich was forever lost to the ether, but my pal Andrew Wilkinson, visited Nebraska around the winter holiday times and was happy to provide the following photos for your viewing pleasure.
Andrew also said, “No other food could have served as as hearty a fill-me-up on a chilly New Year Eve pre–Michigan football game afternoon.”
A ringing endorsement, and one that I, unfortunately cannot second.
I recall thinking the bread of my Runza was not unlike an under-baked hotdog bun filled with meat and cabbage. Perhaps it was just my hunger, but I felt as though it was not quite as substantive or satisfying as I hoped.
I wish I liked it more than I did.
From there, I drove onwards until I started seeing some beautiful badlands on the horizon. Shortly thereafter, I was speeding down a dirt road towards the geological park.
Some Dilly-Dallying
The moment I got to Toadstool, I seized a campsite, set up my tent, and immediately set myself to… sitting in the shade.
I took a few photos of a near by Western Meadowlark, who was seeking the shade as well.
If you can imagine, it’s difficult to take good photos of a bird whilst it is hiding underneath a vehicle.
Other than that, I wrote some postcards, and did some reading.
And I looked upon nearby motorhomes with their central air conditioning with a mixture of disdain and envy.
After enough time passed, I went for a hike…
Some Hiking & Snaps
The hiking trails around Toadstool are mostly sunny and shade free.
I started on the Toadstool loop, which is a short 0.8 mile loop, but decided to switch to the longer Bison trail at the second junction.
From there, I went on a more expansive hike, eventually climbing over a ridge, wandering through a cattle pasture, and climbing back down into the badlands.
As I walked, I negotiated a few wire cattle gates, and marvelled at a lot of beautiful geology. And also an extremely long freight train in the distance.
During this section of the trail, I had effectively exited the badlands, and was firmly in the grasslands. I could look down at the sedimentary rock, or I could look over at cattle fields, fences, and troths.
Part-way through the night, I roused myself. The stars above were spectacular.
This was easily the least light pollution I had seen so far on my way to Seattle, the best since Maui. I grabbed my headlamp and tripod and hit the trail, taking several long exposures.