Greeting the Sun in a Way I Never Have Before

The other night, I camped out in the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. After checking in at the ranger station, and getting the "OK " from the Ranger (who insisted on checking out my gear prior to letting me go) I headed to the campground. Surprise! I was the only one there. The Ranger informed me that since I was planning just one night, if I didn't check in by noon the next day, she'd head up that way to check on me. Once I got to the campground, I was reassured by her comment!

The campground was primitive, with a few picnic tables, and one outhouse. There was no running water. (This wasn't a surprise, since the Ranger told me what to expect and made sure I had enough water with me.) It was beautiful... set down in a bowl surrounded by ridges and hills covered in snow, prairie grass, and a few cedar trees dotting the landscape. There was a small creek nearby, but it was frozen solid. It was clear, still, and very, very quiet. The temperature was a cold, but tolerable 19 degrees.

As I got myself set up and began to make dinner, I spotted a lone coyote up on the ridge about 300 yards away. He seemed to be somewhat interested in me... this lonely, furry creature on two legs. He watched me for awhile, and honestly, I wasn't really scared... but mesmerized. I knew if worse came to worse and he came charging down the hill, I could just jump in the truck and let him have my beef stew! But after a few minutes, he decided that I wasn't worth the trouble, and trotted off over the hill. I kept one eye on my stew, and the other on the ridge!

That stew might have been the best tasting stew I've ever eaten... for obvious reasons. They say that atmosphere makes the restaurant... well, I certainly had some ATMOSPHERE!

It was starting to get dark, so I got myself ready for the night and got into a great new book that I bought at the Ranger Station/Visitor Center. It's all about Native American spirituality, specifically, the Ogalala Sioux. I'll have some of my thoughts on this subject in a later post, but it really speaks to me as making the most "sense" of any religious material that I've studied lately.

I was preparing for a very cold night since it was clear, calm, and already down to about 7 degrees within just an hour and a half of sunset. I had just gotten cozy when I sensed some movement near the truck. In the moonlight, I saw that Brother Coyote had decided that the beef stew earlier just smelled to good to pass up, and had come down to the camp to see if I had left any scraps laying around. He sniffed around for awhile, then, not finding any morsels, went off to hunt for one of the local rabbits. I didn't see him again that night or in the morning, but it was still an exhilarating experience.

I tucked myself into my bag and enjoyed looking out at the moon and the stars, and listening. Listening to the sound of absolute silence. No ambient noise, no jets, no cars, no ANYTHING. Just pure, 100% silence. I became aware of this strange clicking noise...rhythmic... What the heck is that??? I was about to get a bit spooked, then realized with a great sense of relief, and a bit of foolishness, that it was just the ticking of my watch. I couldn't believe that it was that LOUD! It's amazing what happens when things quiet down.

I drifted off to sleep, and awoke what felt like six or seven hours later. It was actually only 10 o'clock! HA! I realized that it was going to be a long night! But not in a bad way. I fell back asleep, and slept soundly until about 2 a.m. I woke up and the outside nylon of my sleeping bag, near my face, was covered in ice from where I had been exhaling! Oh my! It must be cold out there! I reached over for my bottle of water that I had heated before going to bed, specifically so it wouldn't freeze overnight. WRONG. Frozen solid! OK, just how cold is it? My bag is rated for minus 20 degrees, and I'm cozy enough inside of it, but I can tell that it's just NASTY cold out there. I tried to go back to sleep, but was able to only manage another hour and a half.

I woke up for good at 3:30. Nature was calling, which meant crawling out my toasty sleeping bag, slipping on my (now frozen) boots, and trudging over to the outhouse. I knew that I wasn't going to be going back to sleep, so I went ahead and got the stove going to make some coffee. After returning from the outhouse and getting the coffee started, I was curious about just how cold it was, so I fumbled about for my little pocket thermometer which bottoms out at minus 10. It was bottomed out. Good grief! I wondered if it might be even colder than that. I climbed back in the truck and turned the key to look at the digital thermometer. It glowed in it's eerie blue-green color, and I wasn't sure I was reading it right. MINUS 16. SIXTEEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO??? Do they actually MAKE a temperature that cold? COME ON STOVE... COME ON COFFEE!!!

The coffee thankfully started to boil, and I drank it after it cooled to one degree under boiling. AHHHH! I felt warmth spread throughout my body. In the past, I had kind of scoffed at those survival shows where the guy goes semi-orgasmic over a hot cup of water with a few pine needles in it. Now, I have a better sense of it. OK, it's not the same, I know that. After all, I had real coffee and I hadn't been in the wild for a week with nothing but a single match and a multi-tool. But still, I think that the minus 16 degree reading was justifiable cause for my reaction.

I did more than drink that cup of coffee. I made love to it. I held that steaming mug in my hands and caressed it. I let the steam wash over my face and into my sinuses. That cup of coffee touched my SOUL. The second cup was just as good. So was the third.

I did some more reading to pass the time until sunrise, and slowly, the sky began to lighten in the east. I had just been reading about Mother Earth, Father Sky, and Brother Tatanka (Buffalo). And there, silhouetted on the hill above me by the now yellow horizon, was a small herd of buffalo! I sat on a stone and let the rising sun wash over me as I gazed at the magnificent animals. Each second brought more light, and the rays were like a promise to me. A promise that all was OK and would be OK. Although I knew it wasn't any warmer yet in reality, I felt warmer. But one thing I knew... I was ALIVE. More alive than I think I've EVER been. And it felt GOOD.

I don't know how long I sat there, and it really doesn't matter. I could have been two hours... it could have been 10 minutes. With a spring in my step, partially brought on by the temperature, and also in part due to the dawn, I went about cleaning up, and getting ready to move out.

I gave the truck a pep talk, and thankfully, after just one little "you've got to be kidding me", she turned over. It was minus 15 degrees now, but I felt like it was 80! OK, maybe not 80, but still...

As I drove out of the camp and up to the ridge road, the temperature soared to zero degrees. I guess that frigidly cold air had just settled down in that bowl. I headed back to the ranger station to say good morning, and Darlene seemed genuinely happy to see me. Not that she was worried, but I guess that her job can be pretty slow this time of year. We sat and talked for about an hour, then I headed out to do some more hiking and sight-seeing, all the while with a feeling of renewed spirit that I had wondered if I could ever find again. Memo to self: You found it.

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I'm in a little town called Buffalo, Wyoming tonight. It's at the start of the road across the state into Yellowstone. It's near where I-25 and I-90 come together. I spent about half the day driving, and the other half visting Devil's Tower here in Wyoming. I got some great pictures of some folks climbing it! I'll post those and some others next time.