Res Life

After all my days of cruisin’, I finally arrived at my destination on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation!

I arrived a bit later in the day than I expected, partly because I took a scenic detour through the Badlands and partly because I got horribly lost. At any rate, Shannon, the woman in charge of volunteers, directed me to the construction site and told me I could set up my tent anywhere on the property. It was late, dark and cold, though, so I opted to snooze in the car for my first night. My car’s back seat, believe it or not, has given me some of my best nights of sleep on this trip.

I should probably explain this reservation project. Although it’s part of the WWOOF network, it’s not exactly a farm. A house belonging to Shannon’s father-in-law burned down over a year ago and she’s spearheading the project to rebuild it. Not only is it being rebuilt, but Shannon is turning it into a large permaculture project to help the community. This includes straw bale exterior walls, cob interior walls, a composting toilet, a solar heater, a rainwater catchment system and several permaculture gardens that will hopefully produce veggies and medicinal herbs that can be sold for profit.


The Pine Ridge reservation is the poorest Indian reservation in the country, and this construction project is smack dab in the middle of its poorest area (by the way, I’ve learned that “Native American” is not kosher by most Indians). Shannon is using this building project as a way to reach out to the tribal community, teach them to do their own sustainable projects and hopefully generate some revenue for locals who are willing to help out with the garden and get involved with selling its goods. She is currently encouraging people to turn their old refrigerators into worm farms/compost bins—as just about everybody out here seems to have an old refrigerator lying around the yard.

I knew most of this info before I arrived, but the area doesn’t look as impoverished as I expected. It may be low income by national standards, but I quickly realized that it’s a close-knit community where everyone habitually pitches in to help each other out. For example, Gerald, the father who will eventually live in the house, needs to travel 10 miles every day from his daughter’s house to the construction site. He doesn’t have a car, so in the morning he just starts walking until someone passes by and picks him up. His sons do the same thing, and I’ve learned most people in the community get around that way.

There is barely anything out here other than lots of small houses. The region consists of several small towns each about 10-20 miles apart, and it’s rare to find even a gas station in most of them. I’ve been in rural areas with gas stations and stores further apart than this, but never among so many towns with such dense populations. The poverty level probably has something to do with lack of businesses, and therefore jobs, but it seems like nobody here is really interested in money-making schemes. I’ve heard a few comments to verify that many Indians here hate how capitalist white people just want to make a buck.

Well, I chose this place because it seemed like a radically different project than what I’ve been doing and I wanted variety in my farms, as well as a cultural experience. So here I am…

What's Out There Anyway?

I still had several days before I needed to arrive on the reservation, so I hit as many national monuments and tourists sights as I could. My first stop was Devil’s Tower, which I actually thought it was in Colorado. When I saw a sign for it along the Wyoming highway late at night, I decided it was worth it to pull over and sleep in the car so I could take a few pics in the morning. After all, it’s not every day you can see where the aliens landed.

I may be dating myself here, but did anyone else carve this into their mashed potatoes as a kid and then turn to their mom and say “This means something… this is important!”

After the tower, I raced to the southwest corner of South Dakota. There isn’t much in the Dakotas, but what is there is located in this small region. Not long after crossing the state line, I found myself in the infamous town of Deadwood.

I didn’t watch the Deadwood TV show past its first season, but I caught enough to know that this place is where Wild Bill Hickok met his end. He was playing poker with his back to the door—something he almost never did as a lawman with lots of enemies—and was shot in the back by the cowardly villain Jack McCall. The poker hand he held was a set of aces and eights, thereafter known as Dead Man’s Hand (I wrote a book report about Wild Bill in junior high and it had a big influence on me, so there). I toured the town, then found Hickok’s grave with Calamity Jane’s right next to it (her last words: “Bury me next to Wild Bill”). As for the town itself… well, it definitely has it’s wild west look and tourist museums. What I wasn’t expecting, though, were all the casinos. Deadwood is like a cowboy’s Vegas.

Hickok's Grave

A couple hours south of Vegas is Mount Rushmore. For some reason I can’t totally explain, I’ve wanted to see Rushmore for years. And when I finally stood in front of it, my first impression was “that’s all?” I mean, it was cool and I was impressed after watching the history video that showed how it was built, but still, it just seemed kind of… small. I guess I had it built up in my mind as this humongous, towering sculpture that would leave me completely awestruck. Really, I think it should be called Rushmore Hill, as the “mount” seemed like a bit of a misnomer. And, even more disappointing, Elvis still isn’t up there.

I'm not quite sure why they put a bust of Lenin at Mt. Rushmore, but whatever. It's cool.

The Crazy Horse memorial, just a few miles down the road, was considerably more impressive—or at least it will be when it’s finished. All of the Mount Rushmore heads will be able to fit in Crazy Horse’s head and hair, and it’s three-dimensional! Since the builders of the project have refused all government support and have chosen to have it privately funded, the work is taking a bit longer. I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished in a few thousand years.

The mountain and the sculpture of what it should eventually look like.

That night, I came across another unexpected surprise and found Wall Drug. I didn’t know much about the place, except that I had a couple friends on the East Coast who proudly bore Wall Drug bumper stickers on their car. I always thought it was in South Carolina, so when I saw a billboard (or thirty) advertising it, I felt compelled to check it out. Turns out it’s quite the tourist hot spot now. What was formerly the only drug store in Wall, South Dakota (famous for giving out free ice water), now takes up a whole block with a gift shop, restaurant, second gift shop, drug store, third gift shop, etc. I’m afraid I arrived ten minutes before they closed, so I didn’t get to see the animatronic t-rex. I did stock up on free bumper stickers, though.

Those friends with the Wall Drug bumper sticker now live in Minneapolis. I haven’t spoken to them in about five years, but sent them an email from the Deadwood library asking if I could come see them on this trip. The ironic thing is that they called me just as I was pulling out of the Wall Drug parking lot. Now it was a race to see how fast I could drive to east Minnesota!