Well we've made it halfway across the country to Badlands National Park only to discover that these South Dakotite (is that a thing?) rangers don't allow campfires... As a result, my toes went through a 12 hour state of complete numbness. I also had the happy joy of discovering that the zipper on my sleeping bag was broken, and the battery of my camera was dead. Because, like a buffoon, I didn't turn it off when I left my house on Wednesday morning. I guess this means I'll have to remember to charge it in 4 days when we get to a hotel. And if all goes as planned, I'll have a chance to pick up a new sleeping bag today. Sorry, classmates, for the inconvenient stop. And sorry, mom and dad, for the slight dent in your bank. But I'm a poor college kid just trying to survive in the bitter cold western wilderness! You must understand.
But you know what I don't understand? Blogging. I'm conflicted. I like the idea of blogging during this trip because it makes me pay more attention to what happens. I think, "oh hey I could write about that." But at the same time, I'd rather enjoy my time here without being burdened by thoughts like, "oh hey I could write about that." I'd rather be present and in the moment than be on this rented iPad recording the moments that have already passed. That made a little more sense in my head. I guess if I have to keep a record of the trip, then I might as well include everything and try my hardest to make it interesting. It could be worth it in the end.
This afternoon, we drove the van through a small part of the park and got out every few miles to admire a new section of the badlands. This landscape is unlike anything I've ever seen... I don't know the technical jargon, but apparently this all used to be underwater a few million years ago. Or maybe a billion? Or maybe it was last year. Ha. It's all the same to me. But regardless, it's fascinating. Anna noted that it looks like it should be much larger and that she feels like a giant out here walking among small mountains. Or like someone made a miniature model of a much bigger mountain. Because of erosion, it shrinks about an inch a year (according to the documentary we sat through at the visitors center. Classic tourists.) And when we got out to walk around on it, the ground was like Dipin' Dots-- just a bunch of tiny little circles of clay that look hard until you step on them and discover that they turn to mush under your feet. We wandered into the many crevices of the mountain structures trying to find something interesting. Tim and I got a little crazy and explored deep into one particular crevice that blew our minds. What we discovered was probably the closest thing to Narnia since C.S Lewis's last chronicle. We got on all fours and crawled through a little tunnel to discover a big dead end circle whose walls were probably 50 feet high and only let in a little sliver of sunlight. It was like feeling imprisoned and feeling free at the same time. Imprisoned because of the unbreachable walls, but free because we'd discovered something new that required a lot of mud and even more courage to find. (See how philosophical I just got? You can tell because it didn't make sense.) So after we came out of our newfound "cave," Dr. Ranson established that it was too dangerous for people to crawl through the tunnel. Apparently it wasn't too sturdy and could've caved in. But look how excited Tim and I were!
So it was worth it. They always say it's better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. It's a shame that neither of us had a camera in there. I could try to draw it, but I'm honestly quite bad at drawing. Art majors aren't always artistic. It's all an illusion. We tried to imagine ourselves in a billion year flashback, completely covered by water and surrounded by huge swimming dinosaurs. Then we got a little scared and traveled back to present time where everything was desolate and muddy and precariously poised, ready to fall apart. Oh how I love imagination... It's the only thing that can enhance an already beautiful reality.
After our cave escapades, we made our way back to the fireless campground. Tyler and Kelly cooked some fancy walmart spaghetti on the stove, and we all sat around our would-be fire pit and told all kinds of stories, from high school prom to marriage proposals to spoofs of the Lion King. (Speaking of the Lion King, this whole place is an imitation of Pride Rock. I'm diggin it.) We watched the sun go down and felt the temperature plummet. Then, as is natural on camping trips, I retired to bed before the stars had even come out. I coughed. I snorted. I shivered. And I wheezed. But after a nice dose of Tylenol nighttime, I managed to sleep for about twenty minutes at a time. And like a champ, I persevered. First night survived. Hoorah.
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