Digging South Dakota

This is the land of the Indian. These days, political correctness asks us to say native Americans. I don't know. I like the word Indian- always have. I have tremendous respect for their history and their culture, then and now. In the picture below, the Lacohta Indian lends his grace and silent power to the Prairie Edge- a store that specializes in high end art of the Lacohta. No tourist trinkets here; this is all for real, from buffalo robes and leather maiden dresses to jewelry and bone breast plates and feathered head dresses and peace pipes. We had planned to duck in for a glance and wound up staying a long time and talking to the native staff about what we were seeing.
The Lacohta, the Dakota, the Sioux- this is their land. It has their mark upon it. You can feel it.
As a child, when I visited my grandparents house in the city, the place mats at the table were most always filled with Indian Chiefs. I honestly don't recall why they had them, but there they were, telling the story of proud men- Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Chief Joseph just to name a few. From the stern faces, the heads held high, the costumes adorning their bodies and the short story about each, I stated to build an affinity for the Indian. Later, in camp, I met and actually became blood brothers with one Jody Ruth, a full blooded Cherokee Indian. I lost touch with him a long time ago but the event and the memory of the ritual remain a special one for me to this day. My family had many an outing in the corn fields of Pennsylvania hunting arrow heads and other Indian artifacts along the Schuylkill River. I had forgotten about most of that until coming here. It's so nice when the present helps you to recall the wonder of your past. Oh and one more connection- my best friend in the world is part Passamaquoddy Indian from Maine. I wish he could be here to share this time at this place with us.


The National Monument: Mount Rushmore. On a rainy day, we visited this classic tourist attraction- and we were not disappointed. It rained just enough that the presidents had giant tears running down their faces. Eerie perhaps but it added a dimension to the sculpture that few will ever see.


The Needles: Stellar rock formations near and somewhat within Custer park. The camera couldn't capture their size, but you sure do feel it driving between the towers or through the carved out tunnels you must traverse to get through them. No coaches on this road. Some cars and trucks can barely make it.

Custer State Park (SD, Custer National is in Montana and coming up next) was loaded with wildlife. Real wild wildlife. This ain't no Busch Gardens, baby. While we did find many of the animals tagged, some even with tracking transmitters, they are free to come and go and roam as they see fit within the boundaries of this enormous park system. What we saw, we had to WORK to see. No pay your money and have a drive through here. It was reminiscent of the Indian scouts send up ahead to find game, buffalo. Here's our list of what we saw (and there were quite a few things we could not locate in the park on this occasion): buffalo, deer of several kinds, pronghorns, wild turkeys, prairie dogs, elk, mountain goats (actually that was just outside the park below Mt Rushmore), wild burros once used to transport visitors to the top of Harney Peak, and so much more.

I may still be searching for the Great White Buffalo, but at least I found this white wild burro. Actually, as you can see, he found me.

There are signs in gift shops and gas stations in the state that state: "You know you are in South Dakota when there are more Prairie Dogs than people." Well we must be here I guess. I have no idea what the multiplication factor would be but it must be 100 to one if not a million to one. They are everywhere where the high plains are found and they are everywhere on that plain. They are cute, adorable, noisy and fast as lightning. They have it in their dna to sit up, look around, pose for the camera and then drop back into the hill before the shutter can open and close on the camera- hence, millions of "doggies", only one blessed photo!

Talk about "digging" South Dakota! After attending the GPAA (Gold Prospectors Association of America) show in the Black Hills in Rapid City, where we picked up a few prospecting supplies and attended several workshops on the topic, we headed out to the GPAA gold claim just outside of Sturgis- and had our first crack at it. We dug and panned and processed for about four hours in the afternoon on a magnificent day. Our reward: 11 flakes of real gold. Beautiful gold. Let's talk about gold with respect to size and value. A piece of gold encased in a vein of quartz and weighing a couple pounds or more is a boulder. Next comes the nugget, both large and small. Then comes the "picker," big enough to pick up with a tweezers but too small to grab easily with your fingers. Then the respectable "flakes" of gold, followed by "powder." We found flakes. Value? At nearly 700 dollars per Troy ounce, we did not get rich on this outing. We did not pay for our gear and equipment. We did not pay for the gas to get to the claim. We did not pay for the self packed ham sandwiches we carried to the site. . .And we probably didn't even cover two Diet Cokes to go with the sandwiches. But we found gold on our first time out- which says to us, our preparation has been good, our education has been fruitful and we are on the right path for having a most rewarding, in experience if not dollar signs, hobby. When we came home, we were quite pleased with ourselves. We were quite tired. We slept great.
And I think Marilyn looks so cute in those hip boots!