It took me a while to write about yesterday, and I stayed up past bedtime to get it done. I could smell the laundry soap on my towels and pillows, a scent that will be rare once I’m hiking on the PCT for days at a time, finding post offices and businesses willing to hold my resupply boxes of food and send me back to the sweaty wilderness.

Caleb goes out to the car for our hoodies as we forget that it’s no longer hot and humid but a cool 49°F at this latitude. We are leaving at our usual wake time this morning. I had planned a stop at sunrise, but the wildlife area has dirt roads, so we took a minute to get our PCT permits ready to print. It’s exciting to see it with the rules and regulations and a space to count children and livestock traveling with.

The foggy morning is alluring. I want to sit by the covered picnic tables and watch the sun move the clouds: thick and thin, bright and gray, in low fields and over the road; and be captivated by the bald eagle as it flies about. There is no shoulder-stopping for us as I don’t want to risk the trailer, though it wouldn’t matter. I have this issue every time I travel. I just want to see and do it all, but I know that’s not an option.

I see the car parked in front of a deer that hasn’t been hit multiple times yet, and Caleb confirms it’s because they just collided. I’m sorry for the animal and the inconvenienced people, but as we see a motorcycle going the other way, perhaps it worked out for the best. We debated stopping at Hitchcock Nature Center until we saw the “RV” on the exit sign and turned. I’m getting better at towing, so much so that Caleb thinks I should do it more often.

We follow a path along the road to the multi-layered viewing tower, a bit shaky at the top, and spot a few birds (goldfinch, blue jay) with the viewing binoculars as we listen to the turkeys down below. There are more trails available than I realized, and though we are prepared for multiple days, we don’t have that kind of time today. We get back on the reddish highway, I-29 N, and it has us scooching (my word) and bouncing (Caleb’s choice).

I slow down and switch lanes, but that doesn’t help. We stop at a rest area, but there is nothing we can do to change the road, so it’s back up to speed, at 60 mph, to Dorothy Pecaut Nature Center. The main gate is closed, but the trails are open. It’s a welcome respite until the picture of baby spiders keeps Caleb hiking on in the shade. He has already removed his hoodie, but I will wait until the next stop, at 70°F, to do so.

We miss the welcome sign for South Dakota, which Caleb has been diligent about ensuring we catch a passing photo of each state, so he’s forced to draw this one in. The speed increases to 80 mph, but I’m maintaining our more fuel-friendly pace, which works out for the 65 mph slowdowns when one lane is closed as I just cruise through. Only one tumbleweed will blow across our path.

Caleb chooses a different entrance for Falls Park, and I have the option to stop behind a row of cars or go across the street to an overflow area and have a space to myself. I had only planned on places to walk, so I hadn’t looked into the history of this place. Drake Polishing Works used the petrified wood from Arizona’s now national park (as of 1962) in the 1880s for table tops and picture frames and sent them down the Big Sioux River.

After the Drake building was abandoned, the stones in the Lower Falls were removed for the hydroelectric plant. Other stones were transported by prisoners and were used to help build their domicile. We climb up to the viewing tower here, too, and the park expands when you can see further. There’s another building here without people around it, so we wander into the Stockyards Ag Experience.

The woman at the desk lets me know she counted 52 visitors yesterday and has ten states colored in on her where-the-tourists-are-from map. We’re glad we could help her add another. John Morrell was the largest employer in South Dakota until 1958 and remained in the top three until 2012, supplying beef, pork, and lamb. The final heifer sale was in 2009 and marked the end of 92 years of service for the Stockyards.

Downstairs, we learn that a bee will take 154 trips from flower to its hive to produce 1 tsp of honey and that cupcakes got their name from cakes made by ingredients measured by the cup-full. The road looks endless, but we have another stop. We’re in luck that the Corn Palace is open today, and we aren’t missing an opportunity to see inside.

This year’s theme is Wonders of the World. The first palace was built in 1892 when the small town of Mitchell had something to prove. A tradition was started, and a replacement was built in 1905 that proved too small for the gathering of farmers to celebrate their harvests. A third palace was completed in 1921. Grains were missing from the decorations during WWII but rejuvenated through the designs of Oscar Howe. 

He would go on to design murals from 1948 to 1971, so there’s a second-floor exhibit dedicated to his craft, which draws some half a million tourists annually. This venue is used for basketball games, performing artists, and dance recitals. The new murals are placed each September using 12 different shades of corn and roughly 325,000 ears, along with rye and sour dock, to complete the image.

The passing view of the Missouri River is beautiful and then we return to being cooked through the windshield; Caleb chose to wear all black. The Inn manager has built his home next to his office, and we can hear his kids while we check in. He lets us know that Sundays aren’t the best for food options and Caleb finds a spot ten miles away – we’re not doing that.

Our room comes with a shoe tray as did last night’s. I suppose all the other times we have been through here we were camping. We also have a fly swatter, a recliner (that I’m in), and a pile of rag towels for our convenience. The a/c is aggressively loud, and Caleb says the heater in the bathroom looks like a fire hazard. I think we got a deal.