Fifty years ago, in early 1972, my dad bought a Chevy pickup with a hard-shell camper for a summer trip to the West with mom and me. Dad had retired as a Chicago police sergeant and took a job as a school bus driver in Florida, in part so he would have vacation when I was out of school. I hadn’t been farther west than St. Louis where we’d visited the new Gateway Arch (now National Park) a few years before. I’d picked up the travel bug from my parents, but this 10,000 mile adventure, including stops at a dozen national park sites, would ignite my love for national parks.
On spring break we took a shake down trip with my friend Doug up the Blue Ridge Parkway to Shenandoah National Park. In late June, just after turning 14, we took our annual trip to Chicago with a stop in Vincennes, Indiana for a reunion picnic with dad’s family. We might have visited the George Rogers Clark National Memorial, since we often did when visiting there. It’s possible this was the first national park unit site I’d ever visited.
George Roger Clark National Historical Park, Vincennes, Indiana
We then continued on to Chicago to visit family there. Dad stayed in the city to attend the Moose convention, while mom and I rode the Greyhound bus to northern Minnesota to visit her mother, brother and his family. After dad joined us, we headed west.
First stop—Badlands National Monument (it wouldn’t be designated a national park until 1978). We camped near the Ben Reifel visitors center and attended our first evening ranger talk. I was hooked and would make sure to find the schedule for these campfire talks for the rest of the trip. Badlands would become one of my most visited parks.
Badlands National Monument, South Dakota — me and mom
The Badlands would be a stop twice with Jane and our kids on road trips west. Our second visit there as a family was in 2003 when Joe was as old as I was on my first visit. He and Dan scampered up some of the formations.
Badlands National Park, 2003
My first time returning to camp in the park would be in 2009 as part of a solo trip to visit Theodore National Park in North Dakota. I set up the tent in the remote Sage Creek campground where I woke to a bison walking through the campground.
Badlands, Sage Creek Campground, 2009
In May 2020, tired of Covid quarantining, my photographer son Dan and I decided we could take a safe, isolated trip by packing the car with food, drink and camping and photography gear for three days in the Badlands.
Badlands, Dan on the Door trail, 2020
We had a great time, with exquisite photography conditions and had fun camping even though the intense winds blew our tent away one day while we were out shooting. I’m pretty sure we saw our campsite location in Frances McDormand’s Nomandland that year. We had lots of wildlife encounters and got to enjoy the night skies. Now, back to 1972.
Milky Way over Badlands National Park
Our next stops in 1972 were the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore National Memorial. I remember seeing the destruction from the flood that had hit Rapid City a few weeks before killing over 200 people. I was struck that the devastation I’d seen in pictures on the news was confined to an area along the river and not the destruction of the whole city I had envisioned. Travel puts places and events in a special context that books, pictures or even movies cannot provide.
From there we drove to Devils Tower National Monument and I saw prairie dogs for the first time. It wouldn’t be too many years before I’d be surprised to see Devils Tower in Close Encounters of the Third Time, and I could think, “I’ve been there.” With travel, time and events continue to fold back on each other as well as provide glimpses of new horizons to wonder about. On to Yellowstone—Part 2 next week.