KML File
I’ve
maintained, for most of my adult life, that I’ve always had to work harder than
those around me to realize the same or lesser achievements. Where I would bust my butt for 4 months to be
able to bench press 215lbs my co-lifters would work just as hard to put up
305. I’d put in two-a-days, train smart,
eat right, just to break 1:25 for a half marathon, meanwhile my competitors
would lay off the chips and soda for a week or so, just to have me hold them
off in the last ¼ mile.
Perhaps I'm weaker by
nature, and sometimes certainly not as smart… but I work hard and push myself in just about everything
I do.
That would be
important on this trip; very important.
My friend
William, no – my brother, really, and I set out on our first annual Men’s Trip
and we picked a doozey – The Badlands of South Dakota.
In younger
years both of us were endurance athletes competing in long distance running and
adventure racing. We are no strangers to
deprivation, physical struggle, and topo maps that lie.
The plan was
to spend three nights in the Sage Creek Wilderness of South Dakota. The Sage Creek area is 64,000 acres of
grassland, dry wash, and formations.
Populated by goats, bison, and prairie dogs, this desolate land spoke to
us as a grand adventure.
The Sage Creek
loop is between 17 and 22 miles depending upon the route taken. We felt there would be little issue with
making 8 miles a day, even with weight, and while challenging, this would be a
challenge we could meet and still enjoy the trip.
My first
concern was that of water. At my best I
was 5’8” 155lbs and could go all day.
Today, 40lbs heavier and I can go all – four hours. I sweat a lot more, can’t take the heat well,
and I’ve never really been able to carry much more than 40lbs for very
long. My recent experience with day
hikes left me very comfortable with the distances we’d need to cover, but not
the weight.
I figured I’d need at least 3 liters of water
a day (a full 100oz bladder). I knew I
couldn’t haul all that water, so we planned to carry about 200oz and make a
death march out of the last day, knowing there would be water at the end.
Fully loaded
each of us was between 47lbs and 49lbs with 8liters and 9liters of water
respectively. The weight was not
overwhelming for me, but was quite heavy.
I practiced several times leading up to the big day, but it did not get
any lighter. Still, I knew I could count
on William, a strong person, to help with some of the weight. Plus, just 8 miles a day – I was confident I
could do it.
Day 1 – August 7th
We left La
Crosse, WI at 4:05am. A quick 8.5 hours
brought us to the visitor’s center, where we informed the staff of our
plan. At first, the look we received
simply said, “Right. And Santa Claus is
picking you up at the airport on the other side.” When we gave them the information about the
path we had planned, our GPS points we expected to reach, and that we already
had our maps marked, they felt much more comfortable and pretty much dismissed
us.
The weather
that day was hot, near 90F in Wall, which mean the Badlands were around
95F. This idea about “dry heat” holds
merit. The summers in Wisconsin have
humid days that rival the deep South and there is a certainty that humidity
hurts worse than heat. But, for me, hot
is hot. When the temp gets above 68F – I’m
looking for ways to stay cool.
We hit the
Conata picnic area, packed up, and we were on the trail by 14:30.
Our path would
take us slightly south along some formations, then a climb up to Deer Haven,
down the back side of Deer Haven, and then a couple more miles through a dry
wash to a spot we thought would make a good camp site – Point 10 on our map. We’d put in about 6.5 miles per the plan.
I handed over
about 3lbs of water to William right out.
He was willing, able, and I have no compunction about shifting weight
elsewhere. The going right off the bat
was very smooth and easy. A bit warm,
but a cool breeze was blowing, we were both well hydrated, and the path was
flat, smooth, and easy to navigate.
 |
| Conata picnic area |
 |
| Deer Haven - half mile away |
Deer
Haven. Good heavens, Deer Haven. On Google Earth, the National Geographic map,
and the USGS top map, Deer Haven looks like a rolling plateau of grass and
trees with a couple of moderate climbs up.
The hardest part appears to be finding a route down the backside, but
even that showed, on the maps, that there were two places for a reasonable,
walking descent. The approach to get up
Deer Haven, well, on the maps, it looked like there was a spine that could be
climbed, then one tough spot through a fissure, and bingo, on top. Couple hundred feet, shouldn’t be too tough,
even with packs.
Deer
Haven. By the time we did get on top we
had added a vulgar adjective to that name.
The “spine” we were planning on is fronted with a 15ft sheer cliff. Even had we been able to get up there, the
“spine” is fractured by several crevasses that are not navigable without a
ladder.
We found a
spot where we could scramble up about 8 feet of loose dirt to a grassy
knoll. From there we were able to hop a
crevasse and go up about 3 feet to another grassy knoll, where we were cliffed
out. This happened a couple more times
until we actually finally made it up to a larger grassy knoll. But, now where? I was already worn out. The 45 minutes of climbing with 45lbs sapped
my energy. My left leg was already done
in (sciatic issues – left leg is always the first to go). Worse was – I was very warm and needed to
drink. Already, only 2 hours in it was
obvious that 3liters was not going to be enough for today.
We had a
couple more small climbs to navigate before we hit a large plateau of grass and
small trees. This 100ft x 200ft area was
a virtual oasis – minus the water.
William had to help carry my pack up the last couple of climbs. I was beginning to have issues with the
heat. While he scouted I rolled out my
foam sleeping pad and lay down underneath a tree. Still trying to conserve water I hoped that
the shade and rest would do me some good.
 |
| Halfway up - William scouting a route |
After about 40
minutes William came back and thought he had found a way to get near our Point
9, the pass we needed to find to get down the back side. We went to an open spot and surveyed the spires
that top Deer Haven. Well, crap. Nothing looked good. Some were downright impassable. We kept coming back to that one region as not
just our best, but our only chance.
Unfortunately, this meant about 2 more climbs and 70 more feet. These are hand over hand climbs, not walking
climbs. I was still feeling dizzy and
weak, but we needed to move on.
We made the
first climb of about 25 feet reasonably easy.
I was able to get up it with my pack, but the second one I just couldn’t
keep from falling backwards. William had
to get up that 45ft first with his pack and then with mine. My inability to carry my weight started to
take its toll on him as well. The 95
degree day and the terrain of Deer Haven was having its way with us.
Even so, we
made the treeless top and could see where we’d come up. We could also see where we were going. There were going to be two descents and
neither of them were walking descents.
We picked a spot where there was a longer 20ft drop where we could
gently slide down in a fissure to a broken ledge of sorts. Follow the ledge a few feet – very carefully
– and then another 10ft slide into the dry wash.
 |
| Last climb to the top of Deer Haven |
 |
| On top |
We were
tanked, both of us. My legs were
starting to cramp and I’d stopped sweating up on top. Heat exhaustion was coming quickly, for both
of us. We were not in a spot where we
could camp, so we needed to push on. The
wash was essentially a canyon and this did jive with the lines on the topo map,
mostly. We were not surprised. A hundred foot wall on the left and a 20 foot
wall on the right, we kept marching. We
forgot completely about Point 10.
Mileage was no longer a factor today as we’d spend all our time and energy
navigating Deer Haven. After about a
mile we found a grassy spot that could support two tents that was a few feet
above the wash. We made camp about
18:00. Camp!
William was
not feeling well at all and went inside his tent for a bit. I couldn’t lay down without my legs and back
cramping, so I sat in my camp chair until the mosquitoes came out.
I finished off
my 3 liters for the day. I needed more,
but I felt I needed to conserve water. I
gnawed on some jerky, and eventually fell asleep. William felt a bit better after an hour and
actually made some food.
Coyotes. And not far off. Just as the sun set, the yipping
started. When I lived near Sparta, WI I
lived among 300 acres of woods. Coyote,
turkey, deer would wander through my backyard.
Deer grazed next to my deck.
Coyotes would trot on the dirt path about 80yds from my back door. This was a great song to fall asleep to. And we slept well.
Day 2 – August 8th
 |
| Good Morning! |
The first day
was far more difficult that we’d planned it would be. I was unable to handle the weight of the pack
in that terrain and the heat was more than I’d planned on. Heat exhaustion is never fun, manageable, but
not fun.
I was looking
forward to the 2nd day, though.
The forecast was for mostly cloudy skies and a high of 78F. Now we’re talking. We also would not have to scale any cliffs. I was far more optimistic. However, we did make a change of plans. Today would have to be a long day. Instead of camping at Point 16 in the Tyree
Basin, we would have to push on through the Sage Creek Pass. We’d setup camp there, then make the 4 mile hike
to the car, get more water, and hike back to the camp at the pass. This would be a long long day, but the prize
at the end was water and a great night under the stars.
We were up
about 5:45 and made some breakfast on our pack stoves (I used a JetBoil). The morning was humid and foggy. The temp was probably already around 65F, but
again oddly humid. When that fog burned
off this day was promising to be far more than 78F. But, we’d get in several miles before the fog
burned off, we could drink as much of that remaining 5 liters each as we
wanted, and the going would not be as difficult.
Unprepared. Well no. We had prepared plenty. We read. We studied maps. We studied satellite images. We are not strangers to wilderness. But the wilderness of the Badlands is unlike
any other.
We started
down the dry wash, which gradually became less and less dry as other dry washes
met with it. We followed the twists and
turns, stepped around and over (and a couple times through) patches of muddy
water. These are not mud puddles you can
just walk through. They may only be shin
deep of mud, but they’ll suck your boots right off. Every time you need to pull or be pulled out
of a mud puddle is more energy burned.
More water required.
We found many
coyote tracks. They had been as close as
300yds from where we camped.
The washes
gradually became impassable and we needed to climb out of them and make our way
across grassland between the turns of the washes. When we looked at the topo maps for this were
not too worried about that. We knew we’d
have to climb out of these washes, but we expected some gradual 4 or 5 foot
climbs and maybe some 3 foot cliffs to hop up on. Oh, yes, we understood there would be some
higher walls that would be impassable, even some 20 or 30 foot walls.
There were no
easy climbs. Every climb up and every
climb down took more energy. Most of the
time we’d only have to drop or climb about 4 to 8 feet of steep grass, sand,
and rock to avoid small ponds of muddy water, but each of those climbs – with
45lbs – in the gaining heat – in the humidity, quickly sapped my strength. Even
William was stopping to take breaks, not just for me, but for him. I was working hard and it was clear I’d run
out of water in a few hours. I was
conserving water, but really need to be drinking more.
The water in the washes was completely
undrinkable. I don’t believe it could
even be filtered. There was just too much sediment. However, it worked very well for getting a
camp towel wet and putting on our heads.
By mid-morning we did this at every opportunity. That definitely helped keep my core temp
down.
We had three
points plotted that we wanted to reach, but standing on a higher grass area we
were able to survey the basin and determined that to meet those points was
going to be a great deal of work (now that we understood what the topo map was
REALLY trying to tell us) and actually took us further from our goal. Our goal was to get to the end of very long
table, round the end of it and hit the Tyree Basin and the grassland. We knew the grassland would be no cake-walk,
but also understood it would be easier than this wash hopping we were currently
engaged in.
The grassy
areas above the washes are generally easy to cross, but are not in any way like
walking through a prairie field in Wisconsin.
Also not quite as tough as bushwhacking through the woods in Wisconsin
either. Somewhere in between. There is
some kind of plant in that Badlands grassland that grows about 3 to 5 feet
high, is made of the strongest DuPont rubber, has prickly seed pods, and enjoys
taking your trekking poles out of your hands and tossing them aside.
We did come
across two bull bison while navigating the basin. The first we nearly walked right into. We were walking in a wash looking for a good
route up to the grass. We came around a
bend and not 30 feet way and five feet up in the grass was a bison happily
munching. We backtracked, took a less
convenient route up that keep us about 50yds away. I kept looking back to make sure he
maintained his casual disinterest in us.
By 11:00 the
sun had burned off the fog and the day immediately became stifling. We’d made about 4 map miles and about 6 real
miles. Six miles is usually about when
I start getting tired on my 15lbs pack day hikes. Most of those go anywhere from 8 to 15 miles,
but at 6 miles is when my legs start reaching the point of no recovery. I can still go on and go on well, but only a
full nights rest will bring on recovery.
At this point, as well, I was starting to notice the signs of heat sickness
– again. Plus – only about 90oz of water
left. That would only last me another
couple hours.
We were still
in good spirits, but I had to be honest with William and I told him I was
becoming concerned.
I needed water and
rest and of course that was a long long way away.
It was understood, as we understand each so
well, that forward was the only way.
There was no chance of quitting because there was only one exit.
Still, I had to let him know my state of
health.
Fortunately, my state of mind
was strong.
 |
| Break time! |
 |
| who dat? |
 |
| Well... now where? |
The wash walls
did start to get easier to navigate. We
kept the table to our left (South) and basically ignored any points of
reference to the right (North). In terms
of navigation the right would only bring us through more canyoned washes, more
mud, and further from the end of the table.
We found ourselves in a bit of a rough spot. We were closer to the table, but there were
20 and 30 foot canyons snaking from the edge of that to the wash we’d been
following. We really did not want to go
right and fight our way through more ups and downs.
We found a
small formation that still provided a sliver of shade. I unfolded my foam pad and tried to get some
rest, stretch my legs, a couple trips to wet the towel and try to cool
off. Munched on some jerky. William rested for a bit but then went off to
scout. About 20 minutes later he came
back. The conversation was basically:
W: So, this just looks bad. But I followed a bison trail for a little bit
and I think it might take us past those canyons.
M: Yeah, so, there isn’t much climbing.
W: There is. We’ve
had worse, but it’s doable. My thinking
is that the bison want to head to the grassland. We want to head to the grassland.
M: Right. And
they’ll take the path of least resistance.
We followed
the bison. And brother – that was key. The bison trail led up and over a few more
wash walls and then into a very flat grassy area that finally gave way to flat
rock and sand. The table was mere yards
away. The end of the table was still a
bit off – maybe another half mile and it looked like some nasty wash hopping
would be necessary. I started to get
deflated. Actually, I started to get
sick. I was breathing hard, sweating
badly, and had to really coach myself to look up and pick up my feet. My body was about done. 32oz of water left.
The bison, oh
the bison. Smart animals. The path took us right up to the wall of the
table, but ducked into this narrow little channel, up an easy 30ft climb. This whole area looked like the surface of
the moon. Just rocks. Not one single plant. Desolate.
We made that easy climb, came between two ridges of gray rock and
stepped into the grassland.
14:00 – Tyree
Basin
I cannot quite
describe the mixed emotions that I had coming through that little bison
pass. We’d made it through what we’d
expected to be the two toughest parts of the trip. Really, in the sense of terrain they
certainly are. We’d made it to the
Grasslands. Far off to East was the Sage
Creek Pass, then a few more easy miles (riiiggghhtt) to the car and water.
At the same
time, stepping out of that pass and into the grassland the sun immediately bore
down on us. There was no shade, not
anywhere. There were no formations
anywhere. The nearest tree was at least
a half mile away. The next one beyond
that, another half mile.
And worse, on
the map we could see that we’d have to cross another wash, at least three
times. We knew what that meant all too
well.
We took a
moment to look around. We checked the
map, the compass. We’d bypassed points
13, 14, 15 by taking the bison trail.
That saved us about 2 hours of brutal hiking. Point 16 was where we had wanted to setup
camp this night. We spotted that, more
or less, the vicinity of it anyway. But,
we’d skip that now. We needed to make
the pass and as fast as we could. We
were both going through water and I was fading quickly. At this point I could only walk for about 10
minutes then I needed a 5 or 10 minute break just to get myself under control
again. I’d never been this bad from heat
sickness before. I’d also hiked about 8
miles now and was pretty much nearing my limit on a good day. The temp was in the low 90s. I was in a bad way.
Through the
grasslands we went. William did his best
to find routes that kept us out of the nastiest stuff, but that was not always
possible. I pitched in with the
navigation when I could, but much of the time I spent my mental energy digging
deep to keep moving.
 |
| Looking good! |
 |
| Bison path to Johnson Creek |
At one point
we were walking through grass and green stuff that towered over our heads. We called out to each other to keep contact.
Then we hit
Johnson Creek. At the point we hit
Johnson Creek it is a steep canyon with 8 to 15 foot walls. It looked completely impassable. We had to traverse the rough and tangled
greenery for nearly a half mile before we found a place we could get down and
get back up again. Compared to what we’d
navigated this morning this was a very doable crossing. Plus – there was mud water to help cool
down. 14oz of drinking water left. I needed to rest. We’d been pushing hard for about an hour and
I was very dizzy and hot. Sick to my
stomach. I sat down on the edge of the
wash – and the cramps in my legs nearly brought me over the edge and down into
the wash. William helped pull me back
up. I tried to lay flat, but then my
back would cramp. I finally found an odd
position that let those major muscles relax.
We needed to push on. So, I stood
up, put on my pack and nearly fell over.
Nope – this was bad. I wasn’t
going anywhere anytime soon. I started
to feel cold and I was cramping in many places and cramping badly. On the Mosby pain scale (my good friend
Mosby) I was hitting 8 and 9. Trust me –
I know pain. This was pain. William was scared for me in a big way.
When I was
able to communicate (at times I just felt too dizzy and sick to talk), we
determined that we needed to get out of the sun. My rain fly could be used as a standalone
from the tent, but we couldn’t figure out how to get that to work. We were nearly in a panic, but finally got
back to reality. We were still too far
to leave me out here and have William make the next 7 miles to the car and get
back. Chances are he’d run into issues
of his own trying to get 14 miles in this heat and terrain. Very simply, I needed to be able to move
on. Maybe without my gear (any option I
did not like at all). We determined
that we simply need to take an extended break, and protect ourselves from the
sun as much as possible.
I wrapped my
legs in my rain fly, opened my shirt up all the way. William went down and got my towel dripping
wet. I put that over my head and face
and lay down to deal with the cramps best that I could. I don’t cry, but I have to say that I was
very close. I was upset that this all
seemed so overly dramatic. I’d try to
maintain a sense of decorum but when my left calf, left thigh, right thigh,
left forearm, and right lat all cramp at the same time – tell me what you’d
do.
William put
his spare t-shirt over his head and we stayed like that for about 45
minutes. I might have even slept a few
minutes. Before we got quiet I told him
that “we should be concerned, but not alarmed.
I’m hurting pretty badly, but I don’t feel like I’m out of control.” And that was true – mostly. When those cramps hit it was tough. But once again, there was no option but find
a way forward.
I had been in
that situation once before back in 2005 in Olympic National Forest. I had to hand over hand climb up nearly a
mile long 1500ft climb. My back and legs
were in far worse shape back then (yes, they have been worse) and I’d reached
my limit. A freezing rain was falling
and I was only a ¼ way up the climb when my left leg simply stopped
working. It was cramped and I could not
put weight on it without it buckling. I
was alone – 4 miles and 1000ft of vertical from the car. There was no other path. No choice but to find a way forward.
So we sat
under the blazing sun in the Tyree basin.
William was very quiet as he sat there worried for his best friend. I tried to be as quiet but the cramps would
occasionally get the better of me. I am
sure that the goats and antelope and bison out on the Tyree basin thought some
new horrible beast was inhabiting those lands.
They steered well clear of us.
After a
fashion I knew I was as good as I was going to be. We quickly packed up and I gingerly made my
way down into the wash and then back up again.
I was exhausted, cramping, and out of water.
Once across
the wash we were able to pick up a bison trail.
This led us along some flat terrain with ankle high grass and very easy
travel, perhaps as easy as the first mile yesterday. We took a break near a short formation in the
middle of the pass that provided the barest shade. Anytime I tried to sit down I started to
cramp, so we just pushed on.
We came through the pass, lost the bison
trail and headed for the fence line about 19:30. We found a water source. I’ll give no description of how or where, but
we found water. Lots of it. Cold water.
It needed filtering and sterilizing and tasted like a warehouse, but it
was cold. We drank until we were nearly
sick. Filled up about 100z of filtered
and sterilized water and immediately pitched one tent. There wasn’t time to pitch another as the
first of three thunderstorms raced across the region.
We spent the
next hour holding the tent down from the inside while the winds whipped around
us. The storm itself did little by us as
was the case with the next two.
The water took
a few hours to work through me and ease the cramping. By 23:30 the cramps were minor and infrequent
and we both were able to get some sleep.
 |
| View from overlook into Sage Creek basin |
Day 3 – August 9th
We woke about
5:15 and packed up and headed for the car.
Breakfast was in Wall. Following
that we drove to the Sage Creek Campground on the west side of the
wilderness. We claimed a spot for two
tents and then headed out to be tourists for the day. We even went on an easy 4 mile hike. My legs had recovered enough to handle that,
but little more. The day was mostly
overcast and was only in the upper 70’s until later in the afternoon when the
sun came out in force. Still, a much
cooler day than the two previous.
We had a relaxing evening with camp
food. Had a bison nearly walk into the
campground and a very pleasant night falling asleep to coyotes.
I Survived
I’ll say it
right out. I have very mixed feelings
about the trip. We talked ourselves into
understanding that the trip really was a success. The trip had its failures, particularly for
me.
The failures
were our under-estimation of the terrain and our under-estimation of the water
requirements.
The success
were many.
We had planned
well. No doubt. We mapped our points. Studied our routes. We had a strong understanding of what we had
on hand. We know topo maps and what they
show, but the Badlands present a different view. Our tourist day we stood at an overlook that
sits a couple hundred feet above the Sage Creek Basin. We had a view of where we had been. We pointed out to each other our route far
below and miles away from where we stood.
The terrain looked imposing, but passable. The terrain looked nothing like what it did
when we were in it. We began to
understand what the topo map was telling us on Day 2. That was both enlightening and frightening at
the same time. As we stood at that
overlook a younger couple was nearby.
The wife said “wow, that look really rough down there.” We turned, walked away, and in a low voice
William said “She has no f***** idea.”
We navigated
well. That started with good
planning. Knowing our points and being
able to recognize features when they presented themselves. William’s navigation skills are much improved
from our adventure racing days and they were damn good then. Once we understood what the map was about in
relationship to the kind of terrain we were in, we moved as well as we could.
We
communicated well. At all times there
was a consensus on the route to take. When
we got sick we were not bashful about it.
Hurt is hurt. There was only one
miscommunication on Day 1 climbing around Deer Haven. I misunderstood a hand signal (which I should
not have had I really been thinking at the moment) and it caused to me to try
an unnecessary descent that cost me some skin and a nice bruise on my
knee. I didn’t notice the bruise until
we made camp.
We adapted
well. Yeah, that was the highlight of
the trip. We changed plans a couple
times. We did everything we could to get
ourselves through there and safely out.
And there is my
one big regret. The three day
backpacking trip turned into a two day survival outing. We tried, along the way, to enjoy the
scenery, but it just wasn’t possible. Oh
we saw a few things like a dead goat head, two bison, baby rattlesnake, a large
green snake, live goats, but we took few pictures and never really got a chance
to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.
Had we been able to spend that night in the grassland perhaps we could
have.
I’m also a
little dismayed in my abilities, but they are what they are and are not likely
to dramatically improve in my lifetime.
Maybe a little, but some of that is the new me and is not correctable. I know I cannot carry weight. If the pack is above 30lbs on moderate
terrain I’m in trouble. If the pack is
above 15lbs in difficult terrain I’m in trouble. I know I can carry 45lbs for about 3 easy
miles and then I’m done for the day. I
know I can carry 30lbs on moderate to easy terrain for about 6 miles and then
I’m done for a couple hours. I know I
need readily available water sources. I
know I wilt in the heat. Hiking in 85F
or above is not a good idea except for short 4 to 6 miles jaunts where water
will be available.
I’m also not
very pleased that my body turned on me as badly as it did. I’m not really embarrassed. You get heat sickness and well, you’re sick,
simple as that. Nothing to be
embarrassed about. I already know there
are stronger, faster people in the world.
William had
made the comment on the first night that through it all we may have
demonstrated some of that stuff that makes the elite military operators what
they are. I responded that I think there
was some truth to that. We are not able
to reach the physical achievements that they can. They are stronger and faster (younger,
smarter, better looking, underpaid, and under-appreciated). Still, we managed to push ourselves through
some of the most unforgiving terrain and through difficult physical issues and
came out the other side.
This
experience will be one that I will grapple with for some time, maybe years, to
come to grips with how I feel about it.
I do know I wish we’d taken more pictures.
Final Thoughts
The Badlands
of South Dakota are no joke. The name
itself says it all, Bad Lands.
Throughout history only the most desperate or the most careless have
travelled through there. If I were younger
and in the physical condition I was in 15 years ago I might have had a better
time of it. But, I’ll say this. If you are going to go through Sage Creek
Wilderness or the other large wilderness areas in the Badlands, understand
these things.
-
There really is no drinkable water. Period.
If you need more than 2liters on a 95F day, don’t go.
-
There are no gradual inclines, or at least
precious few. The lines on the topo map
are 20ft elevation lines. In most parts
of the world, even the mountains, wide spacing between elevation lines means
gradual ascent/descent. In the Badlands
this means two 20ft walls.
-
You need to be able to carry weight, especially
since you’ll need lots of water. 50lbs
or more, even if you travel light. We
had very little gear. Very little
food. My pack was 28lbs without water.
It was 47lbs with water.
-
If you fade in the heat easily don’t go. Summer days can be hot or cold, all in the
same day. They can be humid and
dry. There is no shade from 11:00 to
16:00. None.
I’ve been to the Badlands twice. The first time with my wife and kids as
tourists. We did one of the easy 2 mile
hikes. This trip was my first time
getting in deep and it will be the last.
That land is simply beyond my capabilities and so much is my regret at
that. The Badlands are a truly awesome
spectacle and cannot be appreciated from the car or the short trails along Hwy
240. Those trails, the overlooks, the
view from the car are nothing like being in the wash itself and having
formations on either side with no view to anything else. Knowing you are at least a couple miles away
from anything and you couldn’t navigate that couple miles if you wanted to.
If you go to
the Badlands Wilderness be fit, be prepared, be smart, and for the love of Pete
– take pictures.
