With fall approaching and pangs of homesickness poking through for us all, we continue to head east. Some days eight weeks has flown by in a snap and other days it feels as though it’s been forever. We’ve certainly seen a great deal of this complex country and have appreciated the privilege of traveling during this time.
We are nearly home now, but I still have a bit to catch you up on! At times I haven’t posted due to lack of cell service or weak WiFi, but other times it’s been intentional. Partially to enjoy the moments with my parents and in new places and partially for safety. I love sharing and teaching, making it available to all who want to follow along, but also want to make sure I’m protecting myself by not revealing my exact location at the moment. I hope you have patience with me and my delayed postings.
So now, let me tell you about southeast South Dakota! After our last view of The Badlands, we hit the road, heading towards I-70. As we drove, the land turned flat and wide open, filled with grasslands and fields once again. This time however, the corn had been harvested and the stalks were a golden brown swaying in the distance. The grasses were no longer vibrant shades of green but browns, yellows, and even some deep reds. Soy fields were burnt oranges and dark browns, showing early signs of fall.
Soon we came upon Okaton, SD, a ghost town our Google searches brought to our attention. Right off the highway, a small town with a current population of about 36 people lay up the hillside. A few homes are surrounded by the remains of an old railroad town that was once home to the railway workers. You can see the schoolhouse, now someone’s newly renovated home, the grain elevator, and a few dilapidated houses. Most of the former inhabitants moved on due to harsh South Dakota winters and by the 1980s the town was nearly empty because I-90 put the railroad out of commission. In fact, the railroad ties are still there but barely visible under the grasses and cacti.
This prairie ghost town isn’t a tourist destination, it truly is a ghost town. At one point a couple did try to make it into an attraction, and you can see the remains of the faux ghost town buildings they created, but the success didn’t last. I wonder how many people stop by to wander through this town. And I wonder how many others like it exist out West. Perhaps a future trip?
Soon we were rolling down the highway again to the South Dakota/Iowa border. The highways are wide and level, sometimes with a slowly inclining hill, and straight. A few hundred miles later and it was time for another break. Our second find of the day was Porter Sculpture Park, just a few miles from our state park campground.
A large sign at the corner of a cornfield and dirt road welcomed us to the park. Spread across a sloping hill on the side of the highway is the metal artwork by Wayne Porter. A largely self-taught metal worker, he grew up on a farm and learned some welding skills from his father who owned a blacksmith shop. Wayne tried many jobs and eventually devoted his time to his artwork. When he had more work than could fit on his farm, he opened the sculpture park for all to enjoy.
The park is a colorful collection of small and large pieces, some as tall as 60 feet. A giant bull head is the centerpiece of the park. According to his bio, Wayne built the structure in two parts without any measurements or blueprints. When the engineer put the two pieces together for the final product, they fit perfectly. Intelligence comes in so many forms.
As you wander the park, you can read Wayne’s poetry, some political, some comical, others seemingly random. Many connect to the art displayed.
I’ll let the sculptures speak for themselves through the pictures. This man is talented and I’m so glad he decided to share it with the world. My mom and I enjoyed interacting with the sculptures as the sun set over the horizon. For me, this was a good reminder of the unique and memorial experiences you can stumble across when you live spontaneously. Still working on that. 😉
Tonelli's Travels 