We ate, arguably our best meal of the trip, in Spearfish, SD, as we prepared to embark on our return journey.  The Green Bean, organic coffees and eatery, provided us with the best blueberry scone I have ever eaten and a variety of other scrumptious sandwiches (apple, bacon, cheddar panini; urban cowgirl chicken salad with grapes; pesto chicken panini) and beverages (frothy italian cream sodas and blueberry-pomegranate blended tea).  Everyone was very pleased, an uncommon dining experience.

Back on I-90, we drove two hours back to Wall Drug (never thought I’d have to see this place again) in order to purchase an inappropriate t-shirt for Eli.  I’ll let you experience it in person rather than detail it here…but suffice it to say, it goes well with the neon ball cap and hematite magnet piercings.  Since we were in the neighborhood, we all voted to go for one final jaunt through the Badlands.  All of us except Harcourt, the full-fledged teenager who had been unanimously voted “off the island” the previous day…her vote doesn’t count anymore.

On the short two-mile drive to the Badlands, we made a very brief stop at a national historic register site housing a minuteman missile silo.  With the push of a button, it was set to go from South Dakota to Moscow in under an hour and destroy whole cities during the Cold War.  A half mile further we passed a sod homestead prairie house.  Quite a bit of history in the middle of nowhere.

Once in the Badlands, we hiked, or rather climbed, the “notch” trail.  The kids scampered along ridges, slid (often unintentionally) down the crackled rocky peaks which crumbled underfoot, and paused momentarily to appreciate the view, when prompted.  Tyler commented, again, that looking out over the badlands/plains landscape he keeps expecting to see dinosaurs.  Which is only somewhat unreasonable, given the number of fossils excavated in the park.

A final trip to the porta-potty and we were on our way once again.  It was about 7pm, but we’d had a snack on the hike so we figured we’d drive awhile before dinner.  At 11:15pm, in Mitchell, we finally found a recognizable restaurant, McDonald’s – our first during the trip so far! – and gas station.  The town was infested with a plethora of vile mayflies flocking to the light, so we nodded in the direction of the Corn Palace but dared not venture further.  The middle of South Dakota is a bizarre void.  I think I passed about six cars in four hours (and it goes without saying that none passed me).  It was only slightly disconcerting that my check engine, VSC, and traction warning lights were lit.  No matter, we made it the 400 miles across the state in a single afternoon and saw an amazing sunset over the plains.

When morning did arrive, we hiked .75 miles to the ridge pictured above…a quick ascent of 1000′ with a view back down to our lodge.  Indeed “strenuous,” at least for the over-forty and under-nine set.  (Under-nine degree of difficulty can be attributed to general sleep deprivation at this point.)  But well worth the effort.  As a wise friend once said, “there is something ‘more’ in the Black Hills, listen for it.”  Up here, I think we all found it.

Hike number two of the morning was to Little Spearfish Falls.  We held out hope for a stream below the falls where we could pan for gold and perhaps even take a dip…and we weren’t disappointed this time.  Stites brought his official plastic gold pan, and although (alas) there was no gold to be found in the extensive twenty-minutes he dedicated to panning, it was well worth the $5 purchase.  Priceless, according to Mastercard.

Meanwhile, the older two threw caution to the wind and demonstrated a western-spirited courage by tiptoeing into the ice-cold stream.  A few minutes later found them shooting the rapids neck-deep and then shrieking that they could not feel their arms or feet.  Making memories.  I was a happy girl.

With a dip in the hot tub as a substitute for showers, we packed up and left our peaceful canyon home…somewhat reluctantly.  As we pulled off the final stretch of scenic byway 14A in the Black Hills, Red Cloud of the Oglala Sioux was quoted in Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee:

Whose voice was first sounded on this land?  The voice of the red people, who have but bows and arrows.  What has been done in my country I do not want.  I did not ask for white people going through my country.  When the white man comes in my country, he leaves a trail of blood behind him.  I have two mountains in that country:  the Black Hills and the Bighorn Mountain.  I want the Great Father [the President of the US, Abraham Lincoln at the time, in 1864] to make no roads through them.  I have told these things three times.  Now I come to tell a fourth time.

The irony was not lost on us.

This ridge is the view from our lodge window.  Spearfish Canyon, where we are currently residing…for two whole days!…is stunning.  The weather is perfect (70s) and the lodge has three hiking trails which lead to waterfalls and a canyon ridge.  A stream runs alongside the property and the boys quickly found themselves in it, daring each other to plunge into the cold clear current.

Following a hearty breakfast and some down time (imagine the pleasure of being able to sit in dappled sunlight beside a stream reading after being confined to a car for over 1500 miles) we filled our backpack and headed out on a short hike through the canyon to Roughlock Falls.  We couldn’t swim in the falls like we had hoped, but that didn’t stop Harcourt and Stites from dipping in the creek on the way back.  Eli, in an atypical burst of energy, ran back down the path and was a bit concerned that we took 45 minutes longer than he did to return to the lodge.  Sometimes natural consequences come naturally.

 After years of pleading, the Allen children’s parents finally took them to a gold mine where they could pan for gold.  But first we made them endure a (very entertaining) tour of a historic gold mine.  The Broken Boot Gold Mine was never terribly successful as a mine, producing only 1.5 ounces of gold a day back in its heyday, but we got to see a variety of minerals (graphite, copper, quartz, iron, pyrite, and…gold) in its tunnels.  And then the kids got to pan for gold.  Using gravel in which gold flakes had been “planted.”  We bought an extra pan to give authentic panning a shot in the creek behind the lodge.

Last destination of the day:  Deadwood.  Let me assure you, it is not as entertaining as the HBO series.  (Which I haven’t seen.)  It’s touted as a historic wild west town; the final resting place of Will Bill Hickock and Calamity Jane, as well as a gold prospector named Potato Johnny who purportedly found a gold nugget as big as a potato. (I’m assuming that event preceded his nickname.)  Now it is home to slot machines.  And t-shirt vendors.  And hourly dramatizations.  

We sat in the sawdust-floored festive museum/bar Saloon 10 and witnessed a re-enactment of Wild Bill’s demise.  Quick summary:  he never sat with his back to the door, but just this one time he did and…he got shot.  Unfortunately, the real-live pretend street gunfight we had been waiting for all afternoon got rained out.

The silver lining of too much historical kitsch:  we got to see a double rainbow on the way out of town.

It IS exciting to see the four faces sculpted into the rock for the first time.  And then a little confusing as to why it needs so much hoopla.  We were fortunate enough to happen upon a ranger-led “multicultural” tour under the Presidents’ noses where we sprinkled a little education into our adventure.

And then we sprinkled it with some serious kitsch in Keystone.  Fried pickles, buffalo burgers, Indian tacos, and two dudes – one with a bullwhip (he was 7’2″!) and one with a gun – in the middle of the street peddling their wares.  Meaning, shooting the gun into the air and cracking the whip.  We got right out of town.

Iron Mountain Road, which is part of Norbeck’s National Scenic Byway is unbelievable for its twists and turns and tunnels and one-lane wooden overpasses. We learned this very early on when we rounded a hairpin turn to find the couple on the motorcycle, which had been just ahead of us, on the ground under their bike.  Fortunately, they were safe and back on their way after a few strong hands righted the motorcycle and helped push it out of the brush.

We didn’t make it much further before we intentionally pulled off the road.  The allure of the jutting rocks was just too much for the boys in the car.  They needed to conquer them.  We all did.  I was lucky enough to savor a few moments alone – watching a hawk soaring above the hills – and marvel at the stark contrast of my past hour.

In Custer State Park, we watched a line of buffalo and their calves march across a canyon field.  We passed alpine fields and beautiful hills of pine trees on our way to the Crazy Horse Memorial.  You could see him from a distance, but instead we paid $24 to see him just a little bit closer.  Once we were inside the gates, an introductory movie, artifacts, photographs, a gift shop, the sculptor’s home and studio, a marketplace of sorts, and the view of the mountain itself held us captive for about two hours longer than we thought it would.

The car was relatively quiet for the next hour.  Yes, electronics played a part, but so did the audio book Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown.  The kids were actually listening now.  How can I be sure?  Every 15 minutes of so, Eli of the neon-orange cap would pipe up, “White people are jerks.”

First official tourist stop of the trip:  Wall Drug.  I had built this up because I figured it would be the highlight of Eli’s trip.  He walked out of there with a neon orange baseball cap with an appliqué mule deer on the side.  I wasn’t disappointed.  (Tyler was a little alarmed.)  Good news:  we will be able to spot him when he runs away later because he is so fed up.

Stites thoroughly enjoyed the courtyard area with photo-ops galore (riding a bucking bronco, at the reigns of a Pony Express covered wagon, on a jackalope).  But it was hot.  Good thing Wall Drug is known for its free ice water.  We took them up on it and filled 5 water bottles and a jug as we prepared to embark down the road to the Badlands.

The Badlands National Park…the raison d’être for this trip.  At 103 degrees, I was a little concerned the car would overheat and we’d be stuck with a long walk back to the “civilization” of Wall.

As we drove through the National Grasslands on Sage Rim Road we looked behind us and saw a thunderstorm rolling in…and were delighted with the breeze that accompanied it.  We spied prairie dogs darting in and out of their holes and chirping to each other.  Stites tracked them for a bit, but he wasn’t armed with the rifles he had been toting at Wall Drug, so I figured they were mostly safe.

The next two hours brought bison, mountain goats, antelope, more prairie dogs, spontaneous climbs, and stunning panoramic views of the badlands.  It’s wild…on one side of the car there are flat grasslands and on the other are these multi-colored, striated, crumbling dirt/rock formations.  We couldn’t go more than a mile without hopping out of the car for another round of pictures.

Which is what led to the hinge of my door being ripped off.  I opened the driver-side door and the strong winds – which had moments earlier inspired us to yell to the kids who were balancing on a rocky precipice, “Come back.  NOW!” – caught the door and extended it beyond its intended capacity.  I was only alarmed for a moment when the door wouldn’t shut.  I just slammed it and prepared myself for entering the car Dukes of Hazard-style for the remainder of the trip.  It was fortunate that it closed, because that’s when the rain caught up to us.

We reluctantly left the Badlands and headed to Rapid City for dinner and a night at the only hotel we could find with a vacancy…which is a bit more of a challenge at 9:30 at night.  Super 8.  After squashing a bug and applying three coats of purple glitter nail polish to Harcourt’s right hand, I fell fast asleep.

We made it as far as the rolling hills of New Albany, IN, before I wondered if this was all a big mistake.  Not because there was mutiny in the car, excuse me, minivan…that had already happened at home…but because, according to my well-laid out plans, we were facing a 12 hour day in the car, followed by another 8 hours Monday, three good days in the Badlands and the Black Hills, and then two more long days in the car on the way to Michigan.  Thank goodness for the allure of Lake Lelanau and Fishtown.  Eli says it is his second favorite place in the United States.

St. Louis, check. We saw the arch.  Kansas City, check.  We saw the exit to Liberty where the Whitsitts live.  We’re making great time.  Harcourt has finished one book and is mid-way through a second.  After a brief affair with Madlibs, which surprisingly featured the words “stupid” and “ugly” an inordinate number of times, Stites has used technology to turn his cousin Jackson into a smurf.  Eli has won a FIFA championship in his mind (and on his I-touch). I’ve got my top 40.  Next stop, Omaha, NE.

But wait…Iowa is flooded.  It’s overwhelming. It’s beautiful. It’s been this way for two months??  It dictates a detour because I-29 is flooded as well.  I’m a little concerned because it’s close to dinner time, and Tyler is watching 40 Year old Virgin on his I-Pad and cackling.  It’s annoying our children…mostly because they want to watch it too.  But the corn fields are stunning. I’m actually appreciative of the flood for diverting our route. And mindful of how many lives must have been devastated by it.

When we returned to the interstate at Council Bluff, IO, we happened on a restaurant called Smash Burgers.  It was tasty. And provided our first of what I hope are many beautiful sunsets. And the launching point for the final 3 hours of our day.  After one more detour, numerous one-lane sections of interstate lined with sandbags and pumps, and a serenade by the Dixie Chicks, we pulled into a Sioux Falls, SD, hotel at midnight.  We may not have left very early, but we arrived very late.

Although Tyler is out and about all over the city, one of the few places we have gone as a family in the past few weeks has been to our kids’ HYR (Highland Youth Recreation) soccer games.  This non-competitive league practices and hosts games at Atherton High School, Tyler’s alma mater.  (Yes, he is a Rebel.  Maybe that’s where he learned to challenge the status quo and think outside of the box.)  HYR is a great league, and our kids’ fantastic volunteer coaches have truly nurtured their love of the sport!

After running our kids ragged on the soccer field, we like to take them out to a local lunch. Douglass Loop is just down one hill and up another from Atherton, so we ventured there for a fine meal at Cafe Lou Lou.  (In the past we’ve chosen Twig and Leaf for diner-style eats as well.) Tyler grew up with the owners, so we have been Lou Lou fans since the original restaurant opened in Clifton. It’s a very family-friendly restaurant with excellent food – I won’t go into why I have to order the blue cheese polenta every single time I go there.  Fun art too, says the about-to-be art therapist.

From there we had a choice between Desserts by Helen or Graeter’s Ice Cream, which both boast and deliver some of the tastiest desserts in town.  Since we had Helen’s great niece with us, we strolled down to Desserts by Helen to try out Molly’s favorite:  Chocolate Surprise. Yum!!  Grown-ups grabbed a cup of coffee from Heine Brothers and we were set!  Life is good on a full stomach.

So where should we explore?  Douglass Loop garnered its name as the turn-around point of the 1912 Louisville streetcar line.  The construction of the streetcar line spurred the development of the surrounding farmland into popular neighborhoods in the 1920s.  One of my best friends in high school lived on Woodbourne, which is the namesake of the original estate dating back to the 1870s.  Maybe our family could go wander the neighborhoods?

We thought about walking down Bardstown Road and checking out the ARTCLUB for kids and other local retailers like ear X-tacy.  We could go to the Louisville Zoo, where we have enjoyed many a fine day over the past 12 years with our kids.  We could walk around Bellarmine University or play at Tyler Park.  This list doesn’t even begin to touch on what  the Highlands has to offer.

In the end, on that sunny Saturday, the kids unanimously voted to go home and play in their own backyard.  That seemed like a good idea too.  The Highlands have been around for a while and we’ll be back in the area next weekend for another game and another adventure.

And with our chins on the wall facing west, we were treated to a beautiful view of the Ohio River.  We could see a barge moving up river, and we talked about how, in a few short miles, the barge will have to go through the McAlpine Locks, which we visited back in January.

This stretch of land is between Chickasaw & Shawnee Parks, both of which are bordered by the Ohio on their western edges. (Shawnee Golf Course has amazing views of the river.)  Stites was impressed with the three playgrounds in Chickasaw Park. And the duck pond. I was impressed with the new-fangled “sports complex” in Shawnee Park. The older two just wanted to get home after a long day at school.

School, for our boys (Harcourt “graduated” from 5th grade last year), is Brandeis Elementary School in the Parkland neighborhood.

Brandeis, at 28th and Kentucky Streets, is a Jefferson County Public School math-science-technology magnet program. Tyler and I have been very pleased with the well-rounded education the excellent teachers at Brandeis have given all three of our children.  Brandeis encourages “outside the box thinking” (literally) – the teachers and students are currently building an outdoor classroom.  Last year, Artists-in-Residence Al and Penny Nelson came to teach their trade, stone carving, to fifth graders, helping them design and create a bench for the outdoor space. This year, every student in the school painted a picket for a fence around the classroom, which will include a small pond, butterfly garden and vegetables.  Meaningful, hands-on, experiential learning is a priority at Brandeis. (Which is what these neighborhood tours are all about!)

A few blocks away is the “old” Brandeis Elementary School building in the California neighborhood. Last Friday afternoon we joined about fifteen other women and children at the Brandeis Learning Center jewelry studio. It is open from 4-7pm every Friday, and is FREE, funded by ArtsReach a Kentucky Center for the Arts program and participant donations.  I thought my squirrelly children would last about 45 minutes. Turns out we were beading and twisting wire and designing earrings and bracelets and necklaces for two and a half hours!

Gwendolyn Kelly, the artist and motivator behind the workshop, patiently assisted all three of our kids with their creations.  Eli made some “bling bling” in the form of a sparkly KY CATS necklace, Stites designed a heavy-duty thick wire and 2″-diameter glass bead necklace (which he hung on my back pocket), and Harcourt took full advantage of the plethora of beads available, constructing three very original pairs of earrings and a bracelet.  Tyler even succumbed to the pressure and made a spiral pendant…which I’m hoping he’ll give to me (hint hint).  The women and children who are regular attendees at the jewelry studio were very gracious and helpful.  And creative!  One girl made an entire bracelet of multi-colored overlapping buttons. We hope to go back again soon!

On our way home, we drove by Muhammad Ali‘s childhood home at 3302 Grand Avenue.  It’s a non-descript home in the middle of a long block.  We had to drive by twice because we missed the house number the first time.  A little boy who became the “Greatest” lived there. It’s exciting to think about the great possibilities for the future of Louisville’s children.  Brandeis Elementary School and the Brandeis Learning Center are just two examples of places in our community where innovation is being nurtured. While many such programs exist in Metro Louisville, we can never have enough.  We all benefit from creating a climate that allows our children to discover their passions and then unleash their potential!

Last weekend, we spent an afternoon and the next morning wandering around neighborhoods in the Iroquois Park area.  We were somewhat familiar with Southside Drive and the area around the Kingston Park Apartments (which used to be Americana Apartments), because in 2001, our family helped sponsor four “lost boys” from Sudan who were resettled to this area of Louisville.  We took them on their first grocery shopping experience at ValuMarket and participated in the Peace Walk which was held in Iroquois Park. As we were walking, one of the guys said to me, “We walked for a whole month once.  Some of our friends were eaten by crocodiles.”  Suddenly the hills of Iroquois Park seemed a little less challenging.

Nine years later, I realize the hills of the surrounding neighborhoods are repositories of hidden treasures. Perched on the crest of one of these hills, Hazelwood ICF/MR Facility serves a population of primarily mentally retarded adults. Another hill (Kenwood Hill) holds the Little Loomhouse.  Unfortunately it was closed, but we still walked around and peeked in the windows of the three cottages.  The Esta cabin, first constructed in the 1860s, was home to the developer of the trolley system that connected Louisville’s South End to downtown.  It was also the first place where the Hill sisters’ Happy Birthday song was sung!  Inside the cabins, we could see colorful weavings, and what looked to be a loom workshop. We’ll definitely come back.

Do you know me well enough yet to be wondering where the reference to food is? Never fear. One of the things I love and appreciate most about my husband (candidate for mayor of this fine city) is that he seems to know where he’s going wherever he is.  He has this innate sense of direction…and understanding of place.  (In this case, it could be because he went to church at First Cumberland Presbyterian Church on Manslick Road for the first 18 years of his life, but he has it everywhere we go.)  He sniffed out some delicious cuban sandwiches and empanadas at Miami Don Food & Bakery.  While ordering, he struck up a conversation with an Uruguayan who said he travels from his home in Fern Creek for this food!

After a brief interlude at Ken Bowl (without the lane bumpers, which was a bit traumatic for our youngest who just missed the cut-off age of six), we went around the corner to a Vietnamese French bakery, DaLat’s Gateaux and Cafe for dessert.  I will not elaborate (petit fores, cashew clusters, cookies, four-star ho-hos, breads), for you must go try it out yourself!

The next morning, we needed some coffee before tackling the highest hill in Louisville.  Sister Bean’s Coffee House provided us with not only caffeinated nourishment (consumed by adults only), but sitting on the table by the screen fire was a large binder of editorials written by seventh graders at Johnson Traditional Middle School.  I skimmed a couple, but the one that stood out the most to me was by a girl who was pleading with her parents to pay attention to her. As Stites was bouncing in circles around me, touching everything in sight while I sat entranced by these editorials, I realized I should take her message to heart.

So with a hug for each kid, we headed to the culminating event of our neighborhood tour, the overlook at the top of Iroquois Park.  For some reason, the access road was closed for the season, so Harcourt and Eli, with an adventurous spirit, headed straight up the hill, ignoring (until becoming entangled in them) sticker bushes and other treacherous limbs.  Stites was already at the top, and Tyler and I took the switch-back path.  The view of our proud city was definitely worth the short climb.  Stunning. The lookout pavilion was another story. “Rededicated in 1987,” this site, one of three flagship Louisville Parks designed by Olmsted (along with Cherokee and Shawnee), appears to have received little attention since then.  Graffiti, crumbling walls, litter and few plantings grace the setting which showcases our city like nowhere else in Louisville.  The playground at the base of the park was packed.  Why are resources not being directed to protect and preserve this beautiful overlook as well?  Well over 100 years ago, our city leaders invested in this spectacular site – we need to demonstrate the same commitment to stewardship of our local community assets today.