bighorn sheep – Veness Travel Media

We had two days left in Wyoming before heading into a brand-new state for Simon, and we were determined to end our time in the state of never-ending surprises on a high note. Little did we know how high we’d get!

Not THAT kind of high; this isn’t Colorado. But our final day’s trip did end with a long, long, drive at nearly 10,000 feet, with plenty of steep drop-offs, long ascents and descents, roads slick from the rain, and not a guardrail in sight.

Let’s forget about that part and start with the drive we took out to the Seedskadee National Wildlife Refuge, with its tongue-twister of a name and its wonderful visitor center. The refuge claims to have more than 300 species of birds, mammals, and fish, some of which are taxidermized and on display so you get excited about what awaits.

We saw exactly two eagles, a couple of trumpeter swans, one grouse, and a small handful of kangaroo rats (more appealingly called “gerbils” when you buy them at a pet shop). No moose, no coyote, no rabbits, no badgers, over the course of three passes along the main wildlife road (two during the day, one near dusk).

*Ruthie found plenty to sniff, so she was happy.*

After getting skunked (not by a skunk) during our first pass in mid-afternoon, we decided to head into Farson, where the visitor center guy told us we’d find the “best ice cream,” and a single-serving would be “enormous.”

*We saw lots of wacky signs warning of local dangers, such as cows and speedy “antelope,” (which aren’t antelope at all, they’re pronghorn, but that’s an argument for another day).*

*Farson’s Visitor Center, right next to the only other thing in town, the Mercantile, with its big ice cream cones.*

He wasn’t wrong. The place was hopping, and everyone was buying ice cream. We split a sandwich first, having skipped breakfast, and judging by the outrageous size of the ice creams we saw coming out of the building, we both opted for the Baby Scoop.

Turns out, that’s what nearly everyone else had, too.

Simon originally asked for a Single, but when the girl scooping it up started to mound a second massive scoop on top of the first massive scoop, he balked, and retreated to Baby Scoop.

Susan ate less than half of hers, Simon powered through his, and we spent a happy hour talking to the locals who joined us on the patio. One was a rancher having a treat with his grandson, and he told us all about his farm, and how he’d never been to Florida because he had no desire to “go to the other side of the world.” All the people we met were just passing through the tiny town, but insisted you “have to stop for an ice cream” when you’re here.

Our return trip to the wildlife refuge had the disadvantage of being right after a big rainstorm, and we were right in thinking we’d see less wildlife (meaning, none) because of it.

*Lots and lots of looking, but not a lot of seeing.*

Somewhere along the wildlife road we also missed our turn-off to the highway, and as darkness began to threaten, we had a choice to make. There had been no obvious roads turning off the wildlife road, so should we push on? Or should we go with a sure thing and make the many-miles trip back along the road we already knew would lead out of the refuge?

*This is pretty much what we saw most of the way.*

In this instance, we chose to backtrack, mainly because we’d passed a wreck of an RV that was camped on the side of the road, its owners were probably packing heat, and we’d be held captive if we didn’t get out before dark, since we’d been told the DNR closes the gates shortly after dusk.

The next day made up for any small disappointment we’d had, as we pointed Nippy south out of Wyoming and into the Flaming Gorge in northern Utah.

I’m a bit tired as I type this, both of us having been awake most of the night with a big thunderstorm and an antsy dog, so we’re going photo-heavy here, with captions that will do most of the work for me.

I’m putting this photo here first, and I’ll use it as a reference for how BIG the mountains we passed were, and how high the canyons walls were. This is nothing more than a large mound of rock, hardly worth noticing, but it gives you an idea of size.

On our way through Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area, we detoured down a road that led to the Sheep Creek Canyon Geological Area, a name that intrigued us, and we’re so glad it did. It turned out to be in our Top Two of astounding canyons.

*It started slowly, but even so, that boulder with Nippy in front of it is about the size of a single rock at the top of this mountain.*

*You wouldn’t be able to see the boulder without binoculars if it were at the top of this mountain. It would just be too small.*

*A creek ran alongside the geological loop throughout our entire drive.*

*“How cool and babbling and refreshing on this hot summer’s day! Too bad I hate water so much.”*

*The tiny points at the top of this massive, massive mountain are enormous pine trees.*

*The smallest rocks sticking up at the top of this mountain – whose structure looks like it was bent in on itself – are about the size of the boulder.*

We took hundreds of mountain photos, as you can imagine, but we’ll stop there. Instead, enjoy these two Bighorn Sheep, who blend into the landscape so well it was surprising we saw them at all.

*This is without zooming in. You can JUST make out their white butts below the trees in the middle of the photo. That’s how hard they are to see.*

We pulled off into a tent-camping area before leaving the canyon, and had the kind of lunch we were growing used to (meaning, odd). This time it was frozen carrots, cherry tomatoes, Paul Newman Italian Dressing in a packet we picked up at the lodge in Yellowstone, Triscuits, bread, and sausages.

Finally, we reached the Red Canyon, and while we didn’t get the best light of the day, the deep red of the rock and the depth of the canyon were still incredibly impressive.

*There are warnings to avoid the deep fissures all around the walkway that leads out to the overlooks.*

*You can just see two people on the ledge just past the small pine tree (the white dot is one person’s shirt), which gives you an idea of scale.*

Our final evening in Wyoming was celebrated with a glorious, full rainbow, and some fun with a fellow camper when we noticed our shadows on the fence. Isn’t life great sometimes?

Click photo for video

Why were so many places across the country named after a man who lost one of history’s most infamous battles, a battle aimed at genocide of the native peoples? We don’t know, and we’re not in a position to right the historical wrong or re-frame the story, but we will say the State Park named for Lieutenant Colonel George A. Custer, better known as General Custer, is one hellofa fabulous park.

We could yammer on about the rolling hills and the lush greens that splash across the landscape, as if some insane artist with a passion for the verdant is forever in the process of painting and repainting according to the whims of sunlight and clouds.

rolling hills in south dakota black hills

We could wax poetic about the Black Hills specifically, and we could throw in the fact that “hills that are black” is the English translation of “Pahá Sápa,” from the Lakota language of the Sioux people, and that the Black Hills rightful return to the Sioux Nation is a long-standing, contested issue the Sioux are currently losing.

If we really wanted to get all up in ourselves, we’d casually toss in the utterly self-promoting comment that the book, Paha Sapa: Land of the Gods, mysteriously made it into the queue for The Jungle Cruise at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom park, and therefore into Susan’s third edition of The Hidden Magic of Walt Disney World.

But we won’t spend time on those topics, because on our second full day in Hermosa we were all about animal tracking from the comfort and convenience of our car.

We had been lucky enough to see bighorn sheep in the Badlands, and you’ve already read about our encounters with bison in Theodore Roosevelt National Park, so today we were on a mission to track down a herd of majestic elk.

pronghorn in badlands national park — *This isn’t an elk*

We entered the park’s Wildlife Loop not far from our campground, and first up on our sightings checklist were the burros, fondly nicknamed the “begging burros” for their willingness to eat whatever you’ve brought them (more accurate than “willingness” is “insistence”). Hence, they’re super friendly, and come right up to you rather than waiting for you to approach them.

Their hearty ancestors were pressed into service nearly a century ago, toting tourists and their paraphernalia up Black Elk Peak from the Sylvan Lake Lodge. Only a small herd is left, but they’ve been roaming wild ever since their forebearers’ tourism-based employment end. Most of them are descendants of the originals, but a few of the burros are donated newcomers.

Having frittered away the morning working, it was well past lunchtime when we found ourselves caught up in another bison jam, so we got out our sandwiches and spent nearly an hour enjoying their wanderings, their playful calves, and one truly peevish specimen who wanted to pick a fight with everyone.

We don’t know what the deal is (probably salt from the roads?), but this herd also had a liking for licking cars, starting with the one parked in front of us. And again, one of the bison gave us the stink-eye through the front window, then spent about five long, long, long minutes alongside Nippy, deciding if it wanted to ram us or just move on.

simon viewing bison custer state park — *Scary bison makes a decision*

A certain dog in the back seat was riveted, but this time she didn’t bark. She just sat there making little huffing sounds, clearly aware now that the beasts surrounding us were much bigger than she is.

ruthie viewing bison custer state park — *Must. Not. Bark!*

We moved on when they moved on, and had a lone male on a side road nearly to ourselves as we made our way to Custer, with Needles Highway as our next major adventure.

We did stop at Calamity Jane Coffee Shop in the cute town of Custer to help Simon deal with his lack of caffeine, and while I’m not usually a coffee drinker, I got one anyway and it was honestly the best cup of mocha and Joe I’ve ever had. Sadly, Jane wasn’t on hand that day, but her employee was friendly and the bathroom was clean. Score!

Needles Highway is a 14-mile scenic drive punctuated by the most outrageous granite spires that were pushed up sideways by the forces of nature. Every turn reveals a thrilling aspect, and we goggled at the magnificence and took selfies like the tourists we are.

South Dakota’s governor, Peter Norbeck, mapped out the entire trail that would become Needles Highway on foot and on horseback. It’s so winding, and has so many tight turns, it takes nearly an hour to drive just 14 miles, even longer with stops for panoramic photos. But you want to go slow, because this is prime elk territory, and we’re out for elk sightings today. Right?

There are three tunnels along the highway, carved through the rock by wind, rain, and the area’s harsh winter weather. Each tunnel is impressive, but we’ve never seen a tunnel more impressive than the Needle’s Eye. Nippy is small, but Simon could touch the side of the Eye as we drove through.

We agreed we’d have to come back and do Needles again, next time stopping at the lovely Sylvan Lake for a stroll and a picnic lunch. When we finally did that a couple of days later, the weather suddenly turned freezing cold, and was hammering down with rain and pounding with thunder and lightning, so we sat in the car and had lunch while feeling very, very sorry for a bridal party running through the storm to get to the lake’s reception hall, with all the girls in sheer, sleeveless formalwear and the bride’s veil whipping in the wind.

sylvan lake custer state park — *This is what Sylvan Lake looked like three minutes before a massive thunderstorm hit*

After Needles we went back to the Wildlife Loop, where the Visitor Center assured us we’d have a chance at spotting elk as dusk came on. Instead, we saw deer and lots of pronghorn, including the wonderful treat of a mama pronghorn and her baby, with daddy not far behind.

pronghorn mother and baby custer state park

pronghorn mother dad and baby custer state park

We made two more trips into Custer State Park after that, determined we’d see elk, but to no avail. To add insult to injury, a couple we got to chatting with at the campground said they’d seen a herd of elk right on the road the previous evening, at around 6:30 p.m., which was about 15 minutes before we arrived at the same spot that same evening.

Would it take until Yellowstone before we’d see elk, or would South Dakota be kinder to us than that? Either way, what a grand and exciting place for wildlife and for absolutely magnificent scenery. But Custer wasn’t done surprising us yet.

Tag: bighorn sheep

The Flamin’ Gorgeous Flaming Gorge

The Awesome Ruggedness of Custer State Park