I have a new appreciation for the dismay that early pioneers must have felt upon encountering the Badlands of South Dakota.  Imposing dirt-and-rock features rising from the prairie, they were a formidable opponent to forward progress.  Last weekend, I went backpacking in them.

The Badlands are not for backpacking novices.  I was in the Sage Creek Wilderness area of Badlands National Park, which has neither established trails nor sources of water.  The summer weather is hot and dry, and the terrain is exhausting.

When you’re not hiking up and down bluffs, you’re slogging through soft sand in washes or through knee-high thick grass, which threatens to trip you on every step.  You’d better watch those steps, too, because a poorly placed one could find your foot in a prairie dog hole — or worse, on top of an angry rattlesnake.

In exchange, you get fantastic views and immense solitude.  I hiked from one of the most popular backcountry access points, and according to the log book, there were only two other hikers out there at the same time I was.  Compare that to, say, Yosemite Valley, which is crawling with tourists.

The route I followed is generally known as the Sage Creek Loop.  There were no trails, and footprints in the mud are erased whenever it rains, so my guides were my topo map, my GPS, and some vague waypoints.  Backpacker.com suggests it as a three-day route, but I did it as an overnight.  The 4.1 liters of water that I carried wouldn’t have lasted me through another day.

The author in front of Sage Creek Basin

I hiked west from the parking lot, encountered a lush oasis called Deer Haven, did some route finding, did some scrambling, encountered a dead-end on a route up a bluff, and cursed the many curves of the Sage Creek wash.  At midday, I was approaching heat exhaustion when I stumbled upon a rare bit of shade in the shadow of a bluff.  It was out of the sun, had a nice breeze, was bug free, and wasn’t muddy.  Perfect for a couple-hour nap.

Looking out over Sage Creek

Rejuvenated, I pressed on to the Tyree Basin, where I set up camp on the prairie for the evening.  In the background, there were massive banded earthen features.  In the distance, thunderheads loomed.  I set up my ultralight camping shelter — a tarp and my hiking pole arranged as a lean-to — and hunkered down for the storm.

The rain came, and so did the lightning.  I was the only thing on the prairie for some distance, and my hiking pole was made of aluminum, so all I could think of during the storm was, “Don’t die.  Don’t die.  Don’t die.”  I watched the hair on my arm intently for any signs of static buildup, some vague notion in my mind that if I saw impending doom I would somehow be able to run away from the bolt.

When the storm passed, I was treated to a spectacular sunset.  A cool breeze blew throughout the night, and I had one of the best nights of backpacking sleep that I can recall.

In the morning, I hiked down the Sage Creek Pass and back to civilization.

Total distance (according to my GPS): 24.0 miles