After making it through the night I ate a quick breakfast and decided to check in with the world.  I packed up my gear, discovered that the storm had bent both of my main poles to the tent, and headed up to the top of a large hill.  I assumed that would be the best place to turn my phone on a search for service.  I was right.  I got two bars of 3G on the top of the hill.  I sent a quick “I’m alive” text and checked the weather.  More severe storms were predicted for the afternoon and evening.  So I had a choice: Continue on, deeper into the “Wilderness” area of The Badlands or head back to my car.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the storm had rattled me a little.  My poles were bent and another severe storm could easily destroy my tent at this point.  So I chose the safe route.  I decided to head north towards my car.  I was disappointed during the entire hike, so to make it a little more interesting I headed towards the large butte that had been my landmark during the hike into the area the day before.  Getting up it was easier than I expected.  One side looked very steep, but the other was gentle enough to let me up it.  The view was amazing so I sat up there for a bit before heading off.  The area on top of the butte had very little grass, I’m assuming because of common high winds.  I snapped a few photos, then headed back to my car.  In total it was probably a 18-20 mile hike with the detour so it took me the majority of the morning and into the afternoon to make it back.

Once there I plugged the phone in to recharge the battery and drove further down the dirt road to an established campsite.  It was isolated enough that few people were there when I arrived.  There was no running water here and only a few picnic tables and two “bathrooms.”  Really they were just holes in the ground with structures build over them.

I set my tent up and then hiked around the area for awhile.  One of the surprising things to me was I didn’t see a lot of wildlife on my previous hikes.  I saw some bison while driving and there were a lot of bird, but nothing up close other than my friendly snake. (side note: sorry Park Rangers for violating the 100 feet rule with wildlife, but that snake is as much as fault as I am)

On this hike though I came across a field of prairie dogs just yapping their little hearts out.  They kind of sound like chipmunks. They’d pop out of their holes, look at me, then scramble to another hole.  I watched them for awhile (from 100 feet of course) and then kept going.  In total, I hiked around 10 miles that afternoon.  There was a creek which boxed in the campsite and you could only cross it at a few places, so the hiking options were limited.  I came back to my tent and car for dinner only to find that instead of two other tents, there were six others.  The area really filled up so I made friends with a few neighbors while waiting for dark.

I couldn’t help but overhear one group (a small family of 3) setting up their tent.  The dad, who is probably in the running for worst father of the year, was angrily telling his daughter telling her not to put stakes in her tent.  I couldn’t help but laugh because if they had set up the night before (and if the storms that they predicted materialized), they’d quickly find this was the dumbest thing you could do here.  I did my best to ignore them, but every time the father spoke to his child it sound like he was going to end the sentence by hitting her.  (he never touched her just FYI)  It made for a depressing campsite.  Luckily some new neighbors showed up in between us so I didn’t have to listen to them any more.

These three were college aged and they set up their tent then sat in their car.  I watched as the wind picked up again. In my head I was thinking here we go again, but luckily it was not as violent as the night before.  This group’s tent didn’t do so well.  It was an older tent and right away it looked as though it was having problems.  The group left their car to see what was happening and after watching them stare at their tent for a few minutes I decided to go see what was happening.  Two of their three poles broke.

I asked if they needed any help, and they said no.  But when I asked them if they had anything to fix their tent with – such as duck tape – they looked at each other, then back at me with a resounding no.  When you’re camping, things are going to go wrong, or break, and how you react to those things is the difference between a fun/good trip and a bad/miserable trip.  I gave them some duck tape and a knife (since they apparently couldn’t tare it?), then stepped back and watched.  They tried to just tape the poles together which didn’t work. I suggested they tape a splint onto the broken area (which one of them followed with “like a broken leg?” Yes, just like that).  It held their tent up, but if there was any wind it wasn’t going to survive.  They asked me if I knew of a store that sold tent poles and I thought they were kidding, but they weren’t.  Keep in mind that we’re about 15 miles down a dirt road, which then has another 30 miles down a road to the next building (the Visitor’s Center).  Even if they found a store that sold an individual pole, the likelihood that pole would exactly match their tent has to be a million to one – at least.  So I responded by saying, “you know, I don’t think so.”

These three became my entertainment for the night.  Another neighbor offered me a beer, which I gladly accepted, and we chatted while watching the group of three struggle with their tent.  I met people from Wisconsin, New York (Upper New York they emphasized), Tennessee, Florida, and California. One couple were in the same field as me, experiential education, and they were returning from a two month camping, backpacking, and climbing trip.  I was incredibly jealous.

The night ended on a bad note.  The group of three with the broken tent had an injury.  One of them cut his hand open with my knife.  I felt bad at this point so I offered to clean the wound for him.  As he sat down at a picnic table he passed out.  He regained consciousnesses quickly, but now his friends were in panic mode.  I helped him stay sitting and started asking him a lot of questions.  Eventually it was pretty obvious that he was dehydrated.  His cut made his hand very bloody, but it wasn’t a bad wound.  His friends quickly came to the conclusion that he’d lost too much blood – which wasn’t possible unless he was bleeding from somewhere else.  I told them to keep working on the tent and I’d take care of their friend.  I cleaned his wound, wrapped it, and gave him specific instructions on what to do when they left in the morning.  But as it turned out, they couldn’t fix their tent and they left the campsite in their car, but only after they gave me $5 for “fixing their friend.”

It was an interesting night, but there were no major storms.  My decision – based off a weather forecast – to camp at this campsite turned out to be unnecessary.  In the morning, I packed up my things and started the long drive home.

One side note: That night they campsite was very quiet which I appreciated.  All except for one cricket who was violating the unwritten rule of having at least 30 feet between tents.  This little guy or girl, made his bed practically under my tent and only shut up with I would hit the edge of the tent.  Some people have no respect.