For the record, this is where those winter scenes at the end of Dances With Wolves was shot, that sweet Kevin Costner paean to the beauty of the Great Plains and its aboriginal people. Now that factoid would be of little consequence to me if it weren't for the fact that Costner knew what most historians of the region know--that the Sioux loved the Black Hills because canyons like this one offered something of a respite from winter, sheltered as they are in the dark green pines that give the whole region its name.
What I'm saying is that where we were yesterday, where we are today, is traditionally a place of peace, even when the temps dip to obscene levels, as they did when we got here. The Black Hills--and Spearfish Canyon itself--was, you might even say, something of a vacation spot for a hundred bands of Lakota--and others too I suppose. As it was, and still is, for us.
The truth is, sane retired people tend to go places, mid-winter, where the temps are seventy degrees or so warmer than they are here in Spearfish Canyon. But my wife's husband has always loved the Black Hills, and we'd just bought ourselves two pairs of snowshoes we'd used outside our back door but never in exotic country like this, where the smoke from those Sioux winter campfires still seems to linger between steep canyon walls.
When I googled "Black Hills snowshoeing," I'd decided on this place, a place where I'd been before, because whatever on-line veteran I was reading claimed one of the best showshoeing trails in the Hills was the trail on the way to Roughneck Falls, where Dances with Wolves was shot.
Done. We got ourselves a room--Speakfish Canyon Lodge. So, yesterday, we got the new Redfeather snowshoes out of the back of the Pilot, pushed our still warm feet in, and started out. That's Barbara, looking almost Minnesotan, don't you think?
What they told us at the Lodge desk was that the trail was all of a mile, only slightly uphill, and greatly doable by rookies. They didn't say anything about our age or relative physical condition, but told us, smilingly, that it was as beautiful a hike as anyone on line could have described because what's there at the end is simply gorgeous this time of year.
On the way up, we ran into some women coming down in showshoes, who claimed--I swear--that she thought we were looking like real veterans. They're nice people, snowshoers, I mean. You got to be when it's this cold, right?
Anyway, we made it. Here we are, Roughneck Falls behind us, looking all happy.
The truth is, on the way back we just about died. Even though, back home, we walk two miles daily or work out at the gym when the weather's too ugly, even though the people at the desk claimed this sweet trail was a piece of cake, getting all the way back again in those clumsy things nearly turned us into the Donner Party, well inside at least. I'd have taken some sort of selfie upon our return, but I couldn't raise my elbows to eye level.
So our New Years Eve was spent in bed--well, on a bed, trying not to move a single aching muscle. So much for Times Square.
But I'm up and alive this a.m. I'm not so sure about Barbara. We'll see soon, I'm sure.
New Years Resolution #1: Next year, when we try Tucson, we'll leave the snowshoes at home. Besides, some great movies were shot out on the Arizona desert.
Anyway, Happy New Year from us and Spearfish Canyon.
