Black Hills in summer

I still don't like the way Teddy Roosevelt is looking at me. 

Entering Custer, I got cut off by a leadfoot in a giant motor home towing a Jeep … on a trailer. The one-vehicle caravans get larger all the time, and the drivers act like they are still burning pavement in their sports cars. They aren’t. I got to the key intersection, past a few blocks of clogged boardwalks and tourists wandering clueless. 

The hill out of town had a truck determined to see how slow he could mount the incline. Here I cut around and enjoyed having U.S. 385 to myself until I reached the traffic light at the Crazy Horse Memorial. Stone by stone, more of the Lakota warrior rises from the mountainside. 

 There were no illusions about the Black Hills in summer. I expected summer crowds at every step. I saw people turned away at Jewel Cave. The moments alone on the path between Black Hills sites would not last. So I tried to revel in the silent time. 

I cringed at my next step. Mount Rushmore in summer - I had to push away my memories of my April 2023 visit, when maybe 20 people milled around the entire complex. At the turnoff for Sylvan Lake and the north end of the Needles Highway through Custer State Park, I imagined the conga line of cars head to the scenic drive that winds through the towering pinnacles among the highest spots in the Black Hills. 

Then came state Route 244, one of my favorite scenic drives anywhere. It curves through the high country of the Blacks Hills, the fire tower atop Black Elk Peak visible at times. Mount Rushmore stays hidden until the viewpoint where only Washington is visible between neighboring mountains. Even at its summer peak, the traffic was light and the views never ended. Well, they ended at the bustling hive of Mount Rushmore. 

No one call Guinness, but I think I set a record for shortest Mount Rushmore visits (in the movie Nebraska, they don’t actually go into the complex, they stop outside and the father decides he has seen it and doesn’t need to go in). 

Firehouse saison

I turned into Parking Level 1, paid my fee, strode up several flights of stairs, into the avenue of flags, stamped my passport, and took the same path back. As I wound around the mountain, a stiff breeze entered the car, bringing a chill I had not thought possible days before. The blast of cold enlivened me. 

After the brief slowdown at Keystone, another tourist-heavy town that passes in a few traffic lights, I resumed the winding highway to Rapid City, passing the venerable tourist destinations of Reptile Gardens (the world's largest reptile-focused zoo), Bear Country USA, and the Fort Hays Old West Town, best known as a filming site from Dances with Wolves. Then the Black Hills high country drops right into downtown Rapid City. 

Lunch choices were myriad, but the usual choice seemed best – Firehouse Brewing Company. A pint of saison and a plate of bison lasagna set up nicely. 

 I spotted a few U.S. presidents on the drive through downtown, with John Quincy Adams and Ronald Reagan standing out. It's a nice way to add activity downtown. 

This time I lacked the time to wander and see which chief executives I could encounter. But I knew they would line the streets of Rapid City for a long time to come.