Practically Perfect In Every Way
The summer staffers at Storm get two days off each week. They're always random (unless specifically requested) -- so the two days change each week -- and if you don't get the heck out of camp, you run the risk of getting drafted for this task or this chore. With that in mind, it's usually easy to tell who has the day off because they are not to be found.
I am no exception.
My first day off last week, Shorty and I hit the lake for the afternoon. My second day off was right after (two in a row!) and went like this.
(7:15 AM)
I'm awake and surprised. Last night was a late one, but apparently the boating adventure wore me out because I slept like a rock. All the same, I'm happy to not oversleep -- seems like a good day to get an early start.
(8:30 AM)
Dressed in summer-type layers, I aim for Rapid City. Maybe I'm overthinking things, but gym clothes didn't seem appropriate for my breakfast stop -- Black Hills Bagels, one of my new favorite places in town. A hilarious sign, fresh bagels, Dark Canyon coffee, free wi-fi ... and with that magic green card I have for the summer, I pay half-price. Gotta love it. Plus they don't think twice about a girl in a skirt with a kayak on her car and a laptop in hand.
(8:50 AM)
The joint's doing a brisk business this morning and the crowd is indicative of the weekend ahead. There's a group of men that stopped by for coffee on their way to the lake, a family of four decked out for a day of sightseeing and eating breakfast sandwiches, and a group of Japanese girls slurping down cappuccinos and inspecting a map of area attractions. There's the usual group of older guys talking local news and drinking black coffee ... because every neighborhood bakery, whether they specialize in bagels or donuts, has a batch of regulars. And then there's me.
(9:30 AM)
I'm done with their wi-fi and packing up. Time for the next step for the day...
(10:25 AM)
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It was quick moving to get the kayak off my car this morning, which must mean I'm getting better at the awkward loading/unloading process. It's about two miles of paddling from my parking spot to Dakota Point and I'm in no hurry.
The lake is still uncrowded; it's not yet the weekend and for that matter, it's still early in the day. It's supposed to be a hot one, but it's not going to be too bad for a few more hours. At the moment, it's easy to avoid the motorboats and fishermen as I take my meandering route across the lake.
For me, paddling versus being on a motorboat is a lot like being on a motorcycle instead of in a car. From a motorcycle, you feel more like you're part of the road instead of dashing over it -- you're in the scenery instead of just watching it go by. A kayak puts you in the lake instead of on it; birds don't scatter just because you get close, and the occasional (slightly stupid) fish will swim right up to your boat.
And just like being on a motorcycle, you have to keep a close eye on those bigger crafts because you never know when they might just not see you.
All in all, it's a great morning to be out. The sun is shining and those of us already on the water are in great moods. Fishermen greet me as I pass, the kids jumping off Dakota Point yell for me to rate their dives. I pause in the shade for a bit to read the book I carefully packed away in a plastic bag
While leaving the lake, I get held up at a stop sign by a beautiful sight: about twenty Corvettes from the rally in Spearfish passed by and I turned out into the middle of the pack. My return route gets altered slightly, but as I leave again I have to admit -- it's totally worth it.
(12:30 PM)
My arms are a little sore and apparently I wasn't generous enough with the sunscreen, but I feel good. Back at the camp, I scarf down some food, shower, and get dressed for the rest of the day.
(1:45 PM)
I finally park somewhere at the south end of Keystone. The town is hopping -- tourists, bikers, and 'Vettes are enjoying the weather, wandering Keystone's boardwalk and cramming into air conditioned shops. I'm officially "that girl" talking on her phone while she wanders. In my defense, the phone call is with my mother and yes, I know where I'm walking. The town's not that big.
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I am no exception.
My first day off last week, Shorty and I hit the lake for the afternoon. My second day off was right after (two in a row!) and went like this.
(7:15 AM)
I'm awake and surprised. Last night was a late one, but apparently the boating adventure wore me out because I slept like a rock. All the same, I'm happy to not oversleep -- seems like a good day to get an early start.
(8:30 AM)
Dressed in summer-type layers, I aim for Rapid City. Maybe I'm overthinking things, but gym clothes didn't seem appropriate for my breakfast stop -- Black Hills Bagels, one of my new favorite places in town. A hilarious sign, fresh bagels, Dark Canyon coffee, free wi-fi ... and with that magic green card I have for the summer, I pay half-price. Gotta love it. Plus they don't think twice about a girl in a skirt with a kayak on her car and a laptop in hand.
(8:50 AM)
The joint's doing a brisk business this morning and the crowd is indicative of the weekend ahead. There's a group of men that stopped by for coffee on their way to the lake, a family of four decked out for a day of sightseeing and eating breakfast sandwiches, and a group of Japanese girls slurping down cappuccinos and inspecting a map of area attractions. There's the usual group of older guys talking local news and drinking black coffee ... because every neighborhood bakery, whether they specialize in bagels or donuts, has a batch of regulars. And then there's me.
(9:30 AM)
I'm done with their wi-fi and packing up. Time for the next step for the day...
(10:25 AM)
The lake is still uncrowded; it's not yet the weekend and for that matter, it's still early in the day. It's supposed to be a hot one, but it's not going to be too bad for a few more hours. At the moment, it's easy to avoid the motorboats and fishermen as I take my meandering route across the lake.
For me, paddling versus being on a motorboat is a lot like being on a motorcycle instead of in a car. From a motorcycle, you feel more like you're part of the road instead of dashing over it -- you're in the scenery instead of just watching it go by. A kayak puts you in the lake instead of on it; birds don't scatter just because you get close, and the occasional (slightly stupid) fish will swim right up to your boat.
And just like being on a motorcycle, you have to keep a close eye on those bigger crafts because you never know when they might just not see you.
All in all, it's a great morning to be out. The sun is shining and those of us already on the water are in great moods. Fishermen greet me as I pass, the kids jumping off Dakota Point yell for me to rate their dives. I pause in the shade for a bit to read the book I carefully packed away in a plastic bag
While leaving the lake, I get held up at a stop sign by a beautiful sight: about twenty Corvettes from the rally in Spearfish passed by and I turned out into the middle of the pack. My return route gets altered slightly, but as I leave again I have to admit -- it's totally worth it.
(12:30 PM)
My arms are a little sore and apparently I wasn't generous enough with the sunscreen, but I feel good. Back at the camp, I scarf down some food, shower, and get dressed for the rest of the day.
(1:45 PM)
I finally park somewhere at the south end of Keystone. The town is hopping -- tourists, bikers, and 'Vettes are enjoying the weather, wandering Keystone's boardwalk and cramming into air conditioned shops. I'm officially "that girl" talking on her phone while she wanders. In my defense, the phone call is with my mother and yes, I know where I'm walking. The town's not that big.
Dani, my best friend from high school, and her husband are in the Hills for their annual camping/fishing trip with her family. Since my day off happens to overlap with their trip, we're meeting up for ice cream. As it happens, it's also their fifth anniversary. Their wedding was one of the more fun ones I've gotten to take part in -- they were married at Canaries Stadium in Sioux Falls, right on the pitcher's mound. Good fun.
After ice cream, some wandering and a cold beverage, we say our goodbyes and they head back to the campground. I pause to consider my options.
(4:30 PM)
To fill my spare hour, I drive to Hill City -- past the Faces, down a couple winding roads, and then out to Prairie Berry Winery.
I've visited about 75% of them, but PB remains my favorite Black Hills winery. Some of it is the atmosphere -- elegant but not overly snobby, the kind of place I've visited in both a dress and in my pineapple T-shirt and flip-flops. Some of it is the wine, which surprises me most of the time. (They've been around long enough to work out the kinks in a lot of their blends.)
Some of it is the fact that I can see Harney Peak from the parking lot.
Today, it's the people. The guy serving my wine samples is fun, and the couple next to me are Corvette rally-goers from Michigan. We talk about sightseeing in Wisconsin and they ask for insight on things to see in the Hills. I'm happy to share what I know, of course, and the wine ... serving ... guy ... whatever and I bicker a bit over what's worth the time and what's not.
(5:30 PM)
I'm in Custer by now, heading for a nearby campground. This time, it's because I have relatives to visit -- my grandparents, two of my dad's siblings and their spouses, and three of my cousins are camping for the weekend and I'm mooching dinner.
As with any family gathering, within fifteen minutes I find myself sucked into a card game. The first round is cancellation hearts -- something I've never played before ... and something in which my beginner's luck is clearly in high gear. We kids follow that with a couple rounds of cribbage before the fajitas are done.
It's been occurring to me gradually over the last couple of family gatherings that my little cousins ... just aren't anymore. These kids that are forever ten in my memory are now old enough for us to crack jokes and tell stories together, or to talk about college experiences and travel plans. When I wasn't looking, they suddenly got ... cool.
That fact hits me with a new force today and I cannot seem to reconcile with it. It's going to take a bit longer and that's all there is to it.
(10:30 PM)
As I drive back to the camp, I catch a glimpse of the laser light show at Crazy Horse and stare at the stars overhead. Fifteen hours and about 150 miles after the adventure began, I end where I started. I take my time returning to the staff cabin, enjoying the last few minutes of silence.
It's been a practically perfect day.
(5:30 PM)
I'm in Custer by now, heading for a nearby campground. This time, it's because I have relatives to visit -- my grandparents, two of my dad's siblings and their spouses, and three of my cousins are camping for the weekend and I'm mooching dinner.
As with any family gathering, within fifteen minutes I find myself sucked into a card game. The first round is cancellation hearts -- something I've never played before ... and something in which my beginner's luck is clearly in high gear. We kids follow that with a couple rounds of cribbage before the fajitas are done.
It's been occurring to me gradually over the last couple of family gatherings that my little cousins ... just aren't anymore. These kids that are forever ten in my memory are now old enough for us to crack jokes and tell stories together, or to talk about college experiences and travel plans. When I wasn't looking, they suddenly got ... cool.
That fact hits me with a new force today and I cannot seem to reconcile with it. It's going to take a bit longer and that's all there is to it.
(10:30 PM)
As I drive back to the camp, I catch a glimpse of the laser light show at Crazy Horse and stare at the stars overhead. Fifteen hours and about 150 miles after the adventure began, I end where I started. I take my time returning to the staff cabin, enjoying the last few minutes of silence.
It's been a practically perfect day.
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