Lucky am I to have a national monument in my backyard. About an hour away from home, in the foothills of the Black Hills, Devil's Tower has stunning vistas of local farms -- complete with red barns -- and the scent of pine trees. So peaceful is the echoey sound of the wind blowing through them.
There are a handful of hiking trails at Devil's Tower. The fastest and easiest is paved and two miles around the circumference.
It's 10 bucks to per vehicle for a day pass. For 20 bucks, the folks at the National Park Service will give you a yearly pass. On Labor Day weekend, with my gorgeous mom in town, I bought the yearly pass. It has paid for itself already.
Sadly, no dogs are allowed. Chloe would love it.
In 1977, Steven Spielberg directed "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," an alien film which centers around Devil's Tower. I haven't seen it and don't plan to -- despite my dad's promises that it's heart-warming and not scary -- because I'm afraid it will taint my associations with the place. The KOA adjacent to the monument plays the movie outdoors all summer long.
The tower itself looks bizarre. Me? I visit because I like the trees.
In the summertime, people climb the tower with the assistance of National Park-sanctioned guides. In the winter, Gillette residents can join the Campbell County Recreation Center, a $55 million facility that includes a miniature Devil's Tower with athletic trainers who can help you condition for summer climbing.
For Native Americans, the monument is sacred. While hiking, you can see prayer flags tied to trees. It adds to the spirituality of the experience, I think.
The Park Service allows the climbing to "balance" the competing desires of the Whitey who wants to show off his athletic skills and sweet new gear from REI, dude, with Natives who have been visiting the monument for centuries. My mom was horrified and likened it to permitting someone to climb spirals of a cathedral.
Interesting what a tree-hugger I've become. When I lived in Utah, I avoided the mountains and resented "granolas" because they seemed to talk about hiking, climbing, biking, skiing or swinging through the trees like the Tarzans they claimed to be more than actually doing said activities. Yet since I've arrived in Wyo., I've been craving outdoor recreation. Must be the inner rebel that always wants to go against the majority, which in these parts includes motocross and competitive, honest-to-God BMX bike racing.
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