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Nightmare World

When I started this little quest of mine, there were a handful of sites that I knew I absolutely must see. I wanted to see Alaska’s glaciers and the tundra. I wanted to see giant sequoias. I wanted to see Devil’s Tower. And I absolutely wanted to see the Badlands.

Badlands. Badlands. BADLANDS. Oof, what a name! The word itself evokes harsh visions of a struggle for survival. If you’re a writer, you can’t go wrong if you include “Badlands” in the title of your Western novel. “Death on the Badlands”. “Terror on the Badlands”. “Vengeance on the Badlands”. “Ghosts of the Badlands”. Kick-ass names for what would hopefully be kick-ass books. And the name is so appropriate for the place. The Badlands of South Dakota is its own metaphor, exuding toughness and courage and evil and triumph. Even the native tribes of old didn’t like this place. “Mako sica” the Lakota Sioux called it: Badlands.

Badlands — © 2008 America In Context

And boy oh boy, Badlands National Park doesn’t disappoint. The elements scar this land like battery acid on new jeans. Water gouges at the exposed ground, leaving an eerie, yet oddly beautiful, jagged landscape. Dust chokes the lungs when the wind picks up. Even the dirt itself is harsh: when dry, it’s a hard, crusty material, unsuitable for supporting life. Add a little water, it adheres then hardens like concrete. Add more water and it becomes an unnavigable slick.

The Badlands is really nothing more than a separation between two levels of prairie. To the north is the high plains, to the south is the low plains. Erosional forces slowly move “the wall”, separating high from low, to the northwest. In the interim, infrequent rain scars the dividing line. And it’s not really dead, there are plenty of trees and shrubs and grasses and deer and rabbits and hawks. It’s just another facet of nature at work, acting in its own way. It is ugly, it is bad, it is dangerous, but it is beautiful. “Cool as shit” would be an apt phrase.

The Wall — © 2008 America In Context

The first day I went to the Badlands was intended as just a drive-through. I had visited the Crazy Horse Memorial earlier that day, and was running out of daylight, but I wanted to swing by the Wounded Knee site, and then take a short drive up this little trail labeled, innocuously enough, Sheep Mountain Table. What a wretched mistake! The Sheep Mountain Table road is a horribly rutted, muddy, dead-end trail. I ended up slip-sliding my way around, fearful of getting stuck, finally finding my way out with a filth-sodden rental car. What a mess!

The next day was much better: I got out of the car and hiked along The Wall for a few hours. So utterly fascinating, yet still so dangerous. Dehydration is a serious problem, as is the choking dust and the burning sun. But, as I said, immensely cool. It’s like a stroll through the Mos Eisley spaceport or something. Definitely a place to be experienced! Life, and especially nature, is not all sweetness and light. Some parts are tough, but that’s part of the fun. Get off your butts, get out of your car, take a rough trail, and put some toughness into your life!

Mos Eisley — © 2008 America In ContextA couple of recommendations:

For some good shopping, stop at the Cedar Pass Lodge near the Ben Reifel Visitor Center. They sell locally-made native art, really nice stuff. Got a few pieces for my collection.

For a good laugh, take a stop at Wall, South Dakota. This tourist trap spells “kitsch” with a capital K. Ludicrous gift shops, overpriced crappy restaurants, biker bars, the whole nine yards!

For a good cry, go to the site of the Wounded Knee Massacre on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. It’s not the history that’s the real sad part, it’s the surroundings. If you doubt that true poverty exists in America, go to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

For a good beer, go to the Firehouse Brewing Company in Rapid City. A most excellent place! Also take a walk amongst the statues of the Presidents, and shop in some of the neat stores downtown. Rapid City is one of the better small-city downtowns left in America.

I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to the Dakotas. I’ll make other posts about the other National Park Service sites in the Dakotas in the future, but for now, I can only recommend that you go and visit, if nothing else, The Badlands.

Green in the Valley —  © 2008 America In Context

[All photos on this post are originals © 2008 America In Context. To see more original photos of The Badlands, click here.]

Links:

Live Blooms — © 2008 America In ContextBadlands National Park

The Battle of Wounded Knee

Firehouse Brewing Company

Google map to the Badlands

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Love the Ocean … Hate Love the Beach

I love the ocean. I just love the vastness of it all (similar to my love of the Great Plains). I love the power of it, how it carves and weathers the rock and land around it. I love how it can create storms of such immensity men cower in fear, and how it also provides a tremendous bounty for mankind to eat. I love how it’s the giver of life, for we all can trace our roots back to its nutrient-rich waters. I love the serenity of it, how the waves lap the shores in a soothing, rhythmic, sexual fashion. The sea caresses the land, then, during moments of great power, parts the shoals and penetrates inward, over and over and over and …

Um, wait, where was I? Oh yes …

Ocean City T-Shirts — © 2008 America In ContextI love the ocean, but I hate the beach. I really can’t stand it, and it’s not just because I’m a fair-skinned freak who fries easily. It’s also not because it’s freakin’ hot (but that doesn’t help). I hate the beach because most of them are crowded, and filthy, and full of miscreants. Here’s a question: why do Goths hang out at the beach, going out of their way to alienate people? Aren’t they pretending to be vampires or something? Can’t they hang out in caves? Why do they hang out at the beach?

For that matter, why do bikers in full leather hang out at the beach? Don’t they cook in their black outfits? I don’t think that percolating in one’s own filth in a black leather suit is a great idea. And why do people squeeze into bathing suits against all the rules of physics to lay in the sun and broil themselves? Is the baked-potato look really that fashionable? Yeah, sure, there’s occasional eye candy at the beach, but for every hot babe, there are a dozen drunken louts frying their brain cells while aggravating all who pass. Bah!

Beaches are a pain to get to, impossible to park at, and surrounded by the sleaziest bars, restaurants, and crip-crap shops imaginable. Try to get a decent burger, or a good beer, or anything else, on a beach strip. Just ain’t gonna happen, not at a good price, anyway. And I dare you to walk across a beach without stepping on a cigarette butt … it’s mathematically impossible, I’m sure Stephen Hawking would agree.

Or, if you do find a beautiful beach, odds are it’s blockaded by tony, extravagant homes, owned by slimewads who think their money puts their beach rights over everyone else’s (well la dee dah). Why don’t the hurricanes target those dipweeds and leave the poor folks alone … if they want the beach to themselves, they can have the ruddy cyclones to themselves, too.

Red Wing — © 2008 America In ContextI originally planned to avoid all the National Seashores under the National Park System because of my natural antipathy to beaches. I figured the NPS just protected the little sliver of land between ocean and the t-shirt shop, and the rest was up for grabs by Goths and snobs. Who needs that?

Assateague Island changed my mind.

Assateague Island is a barrier island south of Ocean City, Maryland. It has a strip of beautiful, pristine beach that stretches for miles and miles. It’s totally clean, almost totally natural, and (at least when I was there) unencumbered by throngs of beach-goers. Yes, there are people, but on the day I went, I walked down two miles of gorgeous beachfront, just me and the sea and the birds. It was a gorgeous day, sunny yet temperate, breezy yet quiet. Yes, there were a few people, but they kept to themselves, and I to myself, all of us thoroughly enjoying one of the most spectacular stretches of land on the East Coast.

Assateague is a place where you can absolutely just stand in one spot, and stare out at the ocean, and wonder just what the heck is over that horizon. Looking back, I’m not even sure if I saw any shipping. I may be romantizing the island too much, but seriously, I can’t recall seeing anything: no freighters, no jet-skis, no parasailers, nothing. Nothing but birds, and seashells, and sand dollars, and that’s it. No industrial sounds, either. No horns, no ghetto blasters, nothing but wind and waves and that’s it.

Just Me and the Birds — © 2008 America In Context

The other side of Assateague is bounded by the Chincoteague Bay. Although the western side does have its share of boat docks and marinas, the eastern side, against the island, is still pristine and beautiful. Rent a kayak and spend an hour or two paddling around all the inlets and coves, it’s a great way to spend an afternoon. It was past bird-migration time when I was there, but there were still plenty of egrets, pelicans, and storks to see.

Of course, Assateague is most famous for its wild horses. Apparently, a couple of centuries ago, local farmers abandoned their horses on the island (perhaps in an early tax evasion scheme), and they thrived and bred on the island (smaller, of course, because of Foster’s Rule). Today, descendants of these horses remain.

I wanted to find these horses and snap some pictures of them in their environment. So I beat through the brush and walked along the waterways, hoping to take some spectacular photos. Oddly, though, they were nowhere to be seen … until I stumbled across an RV campground. There they were … eating scraps left for them by campers, totally against NPS rules. Yep, even on remote, protected Assateague Island, people have to muck around with nature. People just can’t leave things be, can they? No, they have to get their perfect picture from the comfort of their folding chair, while idiots like me traipse through the woods, trying to see wildlife as nature intended.

OK, to be fair, these horses aren’t really there as nature intended. Man put the horses on the island and left them there, but still, it would be cool to see them just living on their own, instead of begging for scraps at mankind’s overladen table. I did take some pics, I had to use some clever angles and cropping to make them look “native”. Such a shame.

I guess even the pristine beaches have their share of spoilers.

Wild Ponies — © 2008 America In Context

[See more of my Assateague photos, plus a couple from other sites in the area (including Atlantic City, where I won $2K at the slots — I don’t just hang around in the woods, ya know) here.]

Sand Toad — © 2008 America In ContextLinks:

Assateague Island National Seashore

Clean Beaches Council

Google map to Assateague Island

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Just for the heck of it, here’s a picture of a sand toad…

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The Paths of the Dead

Hoo boy, I’ve been writing a lot about the Civil War lately, haven’t I? That last post, about Appomattox, kinda drained me, and now I feel I’m gonna short-shrift Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. I just don’t have the energy in me. Let me just say I like the guy, and he deserves a memorial, and it should absolutely be his old home in Arlington, Virginia.

Arlington House — public domain photo courtesy of the National Park Service

Instead of writing more about the Civil War, let me talk about the grounds where the house sits, the famed Arlington National Cemetery. The cemetery itself is not part of the National Park Service, it’s managed by the U.S. Army. But it’s still open to the public, and if I had to assemble a list of the Top 10 Historical Sites in the U.S. to Visit, it would definitely be there. Arlington holds more history than any site other than the Capital and the White House. It’s a collection of the history of every armed conflict the United States has ever entered, it’s a string of tales that only dead men can tell.

Everything is represented at Arlington:

The Revolutionary War: Arlington House itself was built by George Washington’s adopted son, George Washington Parke Custiss, as a living memorial to the Founding Father’s memory. It passed down to Custiss’ daughter, who married Robert E. Lee, and therefore the house became Lee’s home. There are also eleven Revolutionary War veterans buried in Arlington, re-interred almost a century after they died.
Aerial View — public domain photo courtesty of Arlington National CemeteryWar of 1812: there’s a special Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington that houses fourteen men from that foolish conflict.
Mexican War: Many soldiers who fought in the later Civil War also fought in the Mexican War, and are buried in Arlington, including Phil Kearney, who lost his arm in the first, and lost his life in the second.
The Civil War: Not only was Lee’s house taken from him shortly after secession, but his lands were turned into the vast Arlington National Cemetery soon thereafter. Thousands of Civil War dead are buried at Arlington, from drummer boys to generals, including Abner Doubleday, the supposed inventor of baseball.
Indian Wars: Many Civil War veterans would go on to fight against the Native Americans in the West. George Crook was one, a man torn by those conflicts. He fought the Indians and chased after Geronimo, but also tried to defend and protect them from an unscrupulous government and hostile ranchers. It must have been hard to keep one’s integrity in those days…
Exploration: Polar explorers Adm. Byrd, Robert Peary, and Adolphys Greely are buried at Arlington.
Spanish-American War: the mast of the U.S.S. Maine (“Remember the Maine”) sits in Arlington, as well as a memorial to Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders.
World War I: Of course, thousands of soldiers from the War to End All Wars are buried at Arlington, as well as the last General of the Armies, Gen. John Pershing. It is worth noting, however, that the heroes of WWI never gained the celebrity status of those of WWII, in life or in death. I find that sad, but it’s simply a sign of the times in which the wars were fought. WWI was before mass-produced radios, WWII was after. It’s that simple.
World War II: If you want WWII celebrity heroes, Arlington has them. Gen. Omar Bradley; Claire Chenault, commander of the Flying Tigers; British Field Marshall Sir John Dill; founder of the CIA predecessor, the OSS, Wild Bill Donovan; Admiral Bull Halsey; “Pappy” Boyington; and some of the Marines in the famed Iwo Jima photograph: all are buried at Arlington.
The Civil Rights Movement: 3800 slaves are buried, unnamed, in Section 27. Medgar Evers is buried in the cemetery proper, as well as the first black four-star general, Gen. “Chappie” James. Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, champion of the Civil Rights movement, is also buried at Arlington.
The Cold War: Francis Gary Powers, famed pilot of a U-2 spyplane, downed by a Soviet missile in 1960. Ironically, he survived that, but was killed in a crash in California while filming wildfires. Admiral Rickover, the founder of the nuclear navy, is also buried there.
Challenger Monument — public domain photo courtesy of Arlington National CemeteryVietnam and Korea: Of course, thousands of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines who fought in Vietnam and Korea, including many Medal of Honor winners, are buried there. It is worth noting, however, that, thanks to DNA, there are no Unknown Soldiers from Vietnam buried in Arlington, nor will there ever be future Unknowns. That should bring some small comfort to mothers of soldiers everywhere.
The Space Program: Arlington Cemetery houses the graves of the three astronauts who lost their lives on Apollo I; and of two who lost their lives on the space shuttle Challenger.
War On Terror: a plaque erected in honor of the Beirut Marines sits in Arlington, as well as a memorial to those who died in the ill-fated Iranian Hostage rescue attempt in 1979. Soldiers from the first Gulf War are buried there, as well as victims from the Pentagon 9/11 attacks. A plaque stands in memory of the Lockerbie crash, and, of course, soldiers are still being buried, killed in the current conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Over 300,000 people are buried there. It’s quite a lot to take in, actually. All of them served this nation during times of war: soldiers, sailors, chaplains, nurses, buglers, generals, admirals. Congressmen, Senators, Supreme Court Justices and, of course, Presidents. Arlington holds the grave and eternal flame of John F. Kennedy, a man whose idealism extended beyond his own life, a man still admired over four decades since his death.

But the most popular spot in all of Arlington is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier itself. I happened to be in Arlington for Veteran’s Day during President Clinton’s term, and heard him speak at the Tomb of the Unknowns. To be totally frank, I can’t remember anything the man said. I was overcome by the eerie silence during the wreathlaying ceremony, and the sights I had seen earlier that day.

Speeches by political windbags come and go, seemingly on a daily basis. But the memories of the men and women who served and died in this nation’s many conflicts remain forever. Arlington is meant to remind us of the sacrifice of those brave souls. To hell with the political windbags …

Tomb of the Unknowns — public domain photo courtesy of Arlington National Cemetery

 

I didn’t own a digital camera when I visited Arlington. All pictures are public domain photos from Wikiepedia, or Arlington National Cemetery’s website, or the National Park Service.

Links:

Arlington House National Memorial

Arlington National Cemetery Official Website

Google map to Arlington National Cemetery

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The Greatest Moment in American History

When one asks the question, “what was the greatest moment in American history?”, there are a lot of potential answers.

Some could say July 4th, 1776, the birth date of the United States. Well, yeah, declaring independence from Great Britain was a great moment, but it did miss the mark. It started the country down the right path, but the Founders still couldn’t resolve the slavery issue. The inability to do that would lead to decades of strife. So a good moment, but not great.

Flag on Distant Path — © 2008 America In ContextOthers look at the D-Day invasion of Nazi-held Europe to be America’s shining moment. Undoubtedly, it was an incredible feat of will and bravery on the parts of thousands of American soldiers and the men who led them, but I view D-Day as a great moment in world history, not American history. We were part of something much bigger than America itself, which is, of course, tremendous, but it’s not uniquely an American moment.

Some will also say America’s great moments revolve around technical or scientific achievements, like the moon landings or Jonas Salk’s discovery of the polio vaccine. I’m not at all belittling the great successes of those scientists and engineers. In the case of Salk, his work aided the entire world, not just our own egos. But there is something fundamentally true about science: eventually, someone will figure it all out, it’s inevitable (unless the Kansas Board of Education takes control of the planet or something…). I’m looking for moments of human greatness, not of scientific achievement.

No, I say that the meeting between Gens. Grant and Lee at Appomattox is America’s greatest moment.

Now I know what you’re thinking: being from Massachusetts, I’m clearly a Union sympathizer and take great pride on the Union ass-whupping of the Confederacy. All I can say is “nope”. The victory isn’t what’s important about Appomattox. Victory was guaranteed: the Blues not only outnumbered the Greys, but they also had a stronger industry and greater resources. Victory was certain. Besides, there have been many other American victories throughout the decades, and none of them come close to being the “greatest moment,” either. It’s not victory in battle that makes a great moment.

I can sum up the reason why I feel the events at Appomattox are America’s Greatest Moment in one sentence: the American Civil War ended.

Hay Bales — © 2008 America In ContextPeople don’t understand how rare it is for a civil war to actually end outright. History shows how these things usually end: in guerilla warfare, or terrorism, or oppression, or genocide, or economic collapse, or a plethora of other horrible ways. So very, very rarely do the two sides simply reconcile, reunite, and get on with their lives. Yet this is exactly what happened to the United States in 1865. It ended this way because of the dignity and grace of the two great opposing figures: Confederate General Robert E. Lee, and Union General Ulysses S. Grant.

The scene was the Virginia hamlet of Appomattox. Lee’s Confederate Army had been chased out of Richmond and found itself surrounded by Grant’s superior – and better fed – force. Lee had no choice: he surrendered his armies to Grant, in a dignified manner befitting the son of Southern aristocrats. Grant, in a manner seemingly not befitting his prior reputation, accepted in an equally dignified manner.

For months prior to this momentous day, the North’s newspapers and politicians had mapped out a horrid path. They demanded financial reparations, extracted from the very hides of the Southern elitists who marched their states to secession. They also advocated public executions for Lee, Confederate President Jefferson Davis, and others. “Treason must be made odious; traitors must be punished and impoverished!” Of the Confederate capitol, Richmond, Northern newspapers cried “Let Her Burn!”, regardless of who happened to be living there at the time. A graceful end was not what the North had in mind.

Last of the Fallen — © 2008 America In Context

The South had also been thinking of this day for months. Some in the command structure urged a continuation of war in the form of guerrilla warfare tactics, designed to disrupt and hamper the conquerors. Hit-and-run raids, sabotage, assassination, all run from the Appalachians and the dense swamps of the South. This is usually the parting shot by the conquered: a continuation of war from the shadows, perhaps (and often so) even devolving into direct acts of terrorism.

So there we were, after nearly four years of horrible, bloody conflict, at a point of immense decision. How would the Civil War end? Would the North seek revenge against the secessionists? Would the South crawl into the shadows and fight on?

Fortunately for us, these two men, Lee and Grant, were the finest two men we could possibly expect a war-torn nation to deliver. Grant was magnanimous: the beaten army must simply lay down their arms, and go home. Lee was reciprocally honorable: he had his men do exactly that.

Clover Hill Tavern & Guesthouse — © 2008 America In ContextSo there we were. On a fine April day in 1865, two armies met, shook hands, and went their own separate ways. Yes, the Union clearly won, and would clearly take charge. But there would be no guerrilla movement; no reciprocity; no retribution; no terrorism; no genocide. This is such an amazingly rare occurrence in world history, it’s absolutely remarkable.

Yes, I’m simplifying. There were a few more battles after that, but one by one, the remaining Confederate armies in North Carolina, Alabama, Oklahoma, and elsewhere would surrender, all amicably under the “Spirit of Appomattox”. Jefferson Davis was imprisoned for two years, but his bail was paid by wealthy friends north and south, and he became a free man (even writing a book about his experiences). There were a lot of controversies and entanglements around Reconstruction, and the freed slaves would still have decades of hardship ahead. To this day, we still have conflicts over the Confederate flag, so the wounds haven’t fully healed almost 150 years later. But it could have been a lot worse. Look at Algeria, or Cambodia, or Lebanon, or Bolshevik Russia, or the Congo. Long-lasting (or even never-ending) bloodbaths, all of them.

The U.S. Civil War was a terrible conflagration that killed over 600,000 men and laid waste to entire swaths of the countryside. But in the end, even with all that trauma, America emerged from the Civil War a far better country than it was when it entered. That’s largely thanks to the decency of two honorable men, meeting in a small Virginia hamlet. Therefore, I decree the Meeting at Appomattox to be the Greatest Event in American History.

The Surrender by Rocco — public domain photo courtesy of the National Park Service

My other original photos from Appomattox can be found here.

Links:

Appomattox Court House National Historical Park

Google map to Appomattox

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