I wrote this post a fair while ago (2020), as part of an elegy to my stint in New York City.
It is part of my answer to the age old question, ‘How could you leave New York?’ (pandemic notwithstanding)

You stop to catch your breath inside the shoebox you call “a New York City apartment,” arriving again at the realization that the city is unspeakably lonely.

You scarf down two pizza slices on paper plates, thinking back to your near run-ins with Empire State Building ticket hawkers and tourists who suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and you shudder.

Some days it feels like it’s only through advance planning and effort that people connect with anyone at all. Your breath is caught, but maybe it wishes to escape again. You think to yourself, “what’s it all for?”

At least you have your neighborhood?

Toadstool Geologic Park, located in the Oglala National Grassland is a fantastic little underappreciated gem of Badlands in Northwestern Nebraska.

I visited it on my trip to Seattle and took a bazillion photos, which I’ll now share with you, dear reader.

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Camera Make	OLYMPUS CORPORATION
Camera Model	E-M5MarkIII
Lens Model	OLYMPUS M.12-200mm F3.5-6.3
Focal Length	12mm
Aperture	ƒ/5
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When I entered South Dakota, in my mind, at least, I was far west enough to start hitting some really famous national parks, and some really beautiful places. (And for that matter, some 80 mph speed limits on the Interstates…)

I remember visiting the Badlands as a kid, and I was stoked to return.

After a lovely day eating cheese curds, visiting Pipestone National Monument, and stopping by the World’s Only Corn Palace, I drove on to my campground for the night: Left Tailrace.

It’s an Army Corps of Engineers-created campground, located very close to the Big Bend Hydroelectric Dam and its reservoir, Lake Sharpe.

It was only at some point after I hastily reserved my campsite that I learned of the area’s sad history…

I bid farewell to the Twin Cities fairly early in the morning.

The next day’s plan was to travel from the banks of the Mississippi River in St. Paul to the Missouri in South Dakota, traversing terrain between two of America’s most important rivers.

In a few ways, it would be a jumping off point for me for the rest of the trip. After this, I had no plans to stay with friends, and in fact, virtually no plans to sleep anywhere other than my tent.

But, I did still get to bump into an old pal, if you know what I mean…

By the time I reached St. Paul, I had driven quite a ways. Probably over 24 hrs of solo driving (spread across several days), and I had added about 1,500 mi to my odometer, through stops, detours, and unavoidable hours on the interstate.

This experience gives me the ability to say the following: Of everywhere I have driven in my life, by far, the friendliest and most courteous drivers were those in Saint Paul, Minnesota. A much needed respite after… other cities.

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Camera Make	OLYMPUS CORPORATION
Camera Model	E-M5MarkIII
Lens Model	OLYMPUS M.17mm F1.8
Focal Length	17mm
Aperture	ƒ/4
Exposure Time	1/640s
ISO	200

My milkshake was unfinished.

The lumps wouldn’t make it up my straw.

Night had long since fallen by the time I made it to the Highland Ridge Campground.

I picked the spot (near the Eau Galle Lake in Wisconsin) because it had some nearby hiking trails, a lake, and it seemed good for birding. And, it had a few nice, tent-specific campsites. And, of course, it was well-situated for my next and final urban friend visit.

I accidentally circled the campground road twice, struggling to make out the signage specifically for the tent sites which were genuinely hard to see from the road, but easily making out the signs for each irrelevant (to me) car site.