Folks, Pt. 1

My folks came to visit this weekend. Some people's families are shocked by their childrens' decisions to teach out here, and reluctant to venture out the rez. Not my parents. They were a lot more excited than I was when I was first placed in South Dakota, and they have done a very good job of informing themselves about the issues out here since my arrival. My mom teaches in the School of Ed at Central Connecticut State University, and she decided to talk about the schools out here in her class on Wednesday, so she visited school and took lots of pictures. It's hard to maintain my hard-won professionalism when my mom is in my classroom, though. It was very nice to see them, though. This is going to be a two-parter: first, I'm going to show off lots and lots of photos, and then in a second post, at some future date when I have more time, I am going to get all reflective.

After school on Friday we drove over to Mission to watch Little Wound play Todd County. A good way to introduce my parents to small-town life and to the bitter cold of South Dakota (sitting outside for 4 hours in 30 degree weather = great). It was a good game until the end, when the tides turned against the Mustangs.

Friday night lights.
Jeff was workng the camera on top of the press box, so Russ, Wes, Luke and I joined him up there. Pretty much the only place you can actually see the game.

Friday and Saturday nights I stayed with my parents out near Interior at the Badlands Ranch and Resort. This is the closest lodging to Wanblee, and is actually out Craven Road--although, as you can tell, that rental car could not have made it through all the potholes. The place was clearly built for summer. The cabin was essentially not insulated but it did have an A/C. Good thing I had a stack of 7 blankets on my bed.

Horses at the Ranch. The owners were out in Montana hunting, though, so there was no one available to give us the advertised trail rides.

Pitchfork: the real deal. Okay, that's a bad joke. That there gazebo holds the Resort's pool table, which is not only bit dirty from being exposed to the elements, but also tilts horribly. And the tight walls really impede your ability to take any kind of shot.

Most of Saturday we spent exploring Badlands National Park. Despite the fact that I live only half an hour away from the park, this is the first time I've really explored it. I took tons of pictures, none of which can really capture the granduer of it all; you have to see it in three-dimensions and unframed by any edges. I tried to pick only the best photos, but I couldn't really decide, so here are a bunch, which sort of give you a sense of the variety even within the Badlands itself.

Just after arriving in the park, on a short, half-mile nature walk.

A view down back towards the Ranch and Wanblee.

Black-billed Magpie, or something like that.

Beginning the Notch Trail hike--the longest one we did, clocking in at a mile and a half.

Nice sky.

Dad climbing the ladder on the hike.

Prairie and Badlands.

Looks like it goes on forever. You really need to see this one without the boundaries of a picture frame.

Notch.

A sense of scale.

The Wall.

This is huge, you need to see it in person. Feel free to come visit and do so.

End of the trail.

Cracked earth.

Yellow mounds.

Me and Dad in the Badlands. I gave myself that buzz; it's a lot easier than finding a barber out on the reservation.

On our way back from the Badlands, we stopped over in Conata, a ghost town that remains on the map despite its current lack of existence. It's basically a patch of debris along a dirt road, marked by the rut where the railroad used to run.

The largest of the debris.

The folks exploring Conata.

This used to the rail station, I think.

Old fridge.

The frame of a building.

One of Conata's remaining inhabitants.

On Sunday morning we headed down to Pine Ridge. My dad had found out about a buffalo release sponsored by Village Earth (see also the "Pine Ridge Project" link to the right. The program donates buffalo to Indians who have reclaimed their lands so that they can live self-sufficiently off the meat. This is about as close to a buffalo as I want to be, really.

The release.

Buffalo idling before heading off over the hills.