South Dakota tried to kill us

South Dakota is hot. Ow.

Our last few days in Iowa were nice. We stopped by the official campsite of the beginning of RAGBRAI (Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) and talked with some of the bikers there. We left that place, and proceeded to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Sioux Falls is a nice place- nice people, nice city (which I am sure has it's nice problems as well). Beautiful downtown, something that wasn't so big you'd get lost in, but wasn't small enough that you'd get bored easily.

But we had a problem. Refer to the first and second sentences of this post. Biking in 105+ heat is not something that we were prepared for. Quite the contrary, none of us were used to this type of hellish punishment. We camped out at a truck stop in Sioux Falls after trying in vain to hitch a ride with truckers. This turned out to be one of the more interesting nights we've had.

Earlier that night we met a man who went by the name of Prospecter, which was uncannily fitting considering his appearence- bushy beard from ear to nose/chin to ear; tanned, weathered skin; a slight build that could carry himself and a bag around, but not much more. He was probably in his mid to late thirties. He had been arrested and incarcerated 39 different times for what he refered to as "homeless shit"- sleeping on benches and yelling at the police when he was so rudely interrupted, climbing fences, sleeping under bridges, etc. This man was a hitchhiker by trade. After we had the tent set up, we went to bed. Or tried to. Prospector and his friend were up drinking, which didn't bother us in the least, but they were a little loud.

"You boys are gonna get it.. you're really gonna get it. You know when you get back to the lifestyle you lived, it's not going to be the same. You won't have that excitement of not knowing what's going to happen next- normal life will be boring. And you'll have to do all the dumb and boring shit you had to do when you left. Hell man, if I'm not broke when I wake up in the morning, I don't have to do shit." This man wasn't crazy, I promise. He was wisened. He embodied the restlessness that so many of us have felt for so long but have not known what to do. Or rather, not had the courage to do.

Cool guy. But he ripped our tent. I'm coming after you.

The next day we hitched a ride to a tourist trap of a town called Wall. This place is a FAR cry from the mid-western hospitality we encountered in Iowa and it's easier compadres. Everyone here knows you have money, and they want it. And if you're trying to do something for free, they give you a wary eye and say "I'm watching you" (I hope the librarian who said that can read this). We promptly left for the Badlands the next day.

And we should have left more promptly. 1pm, we thought we were okay. We got a little more than halfway through the Badlands, and Reed was starting to feel dehydrated. As did Kevin. I was alright, until the last 20 minutes of the ride, when I felt like I was going to pass out. Thank you, Cedar Pass Lodge. We got in there, drank some water, and Kevin passed out. I'm not sure if it was voluntary or involuntary, but he was on one of the benches, so it looked alright (later, I would be told that we were making the place look bad, and that the staff tried to keep it "upbeat". I reminded the woman of the subjugated people whose customs, beads, crafts, and the like were being exploited to raise money for her smoking habit, and she decided she needed to look at the stores vast selection of post cards). We left, and camped in the Badlands campground, sans gratis.

We saw the Minuteman National Reserve or whatever you wanna call it- a decomissioned Cold War rocket facility which was now open to the public. SO COOL, and scary at the same time. The two people down in the capsule were responsible for two keys that would decimate hundreds of acres of land for hundreds of years, with no thanks from anyone. The capsule was a suicide chamber. If the USSR had targeted that station, the sand which surrounded the escape hatch would have turned to a ten foot layer of glass. So they had two options from there- shooting themselves, or slow starvation or suffocation. They were dead when they walked through the eight ton door.