My family and I take our Summer trip early in the season, on Memorial Day weekend. We started doing it this way for various reasons, but the main two are that it works best with my husband's work schedule and the weather is always mild at the end of May.
We like the mild weather because, simply put, it sucks to hike in the middle of the July heat. Hiking, and exploring wooded areas have always brought me joy. It is a way to connect with nature and escape my daily routine. Fortunately, my family has embraced this love, too.
So in 2023, we hiked and camped in The Badlands and a bit of the Black Hills National Forest. We decided in 2024 that we wanted to experience more of the Black Hills and rented a cabin in Custer State Park for a few days.
Before I continue, I should share something important about my family. We are the type of family that will never have a perfect trip. A blown air conditioning line, a cup of ice water spilled on the passenger, forgotten ear buds… nothing will go off without a hitch. No one is safe from a mishap and we’ve all accepted our combined fate.
The first hike I wanted to do was the Sunday Gulch Trail. The trail features of bit of rock scrambling, waterfalls, and amazing views. It isn’t a long one, about a 4-mile loop. We’ve hiked ten as a family before so we weren’t concerned. We should have been, but we assumed we had already experienced the “something that goes wrong” on the trip.
We started the trail in high spirits. Our three older kids (7, 14, & 16) were spotting one another on the rocks and were excited to explore the vast, holy forest. The baby (okay toddler, she is almost 2) was happy in the back carrier, clutching her favorite stuffy. I had a moment while I was watching them helping one another, seeing their smiles, seeing them being proud of what they were overcoming physically, and I had to pause.
Watching my kids help one another and conquer the trail, I felt pride and gratitude. Tears welled up, and I silently thanked the universe for these precious moments. I hate that it was soured.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting eerie shadows, I became a little worried. Sparse trail markers and encroaching darkness heightened my anxiety. Once total darkness hit, we were about four hours into this “four-mile loop”. We found the road, needles highway, phone service, and dialed emergency services.
I felt embarrassed. Here I am, a supposed seasoned explorer of the forest, lover of the trees, and well-known to be prepared for most situations, putting my family in such a risky position. Seriously, a mountain lion could have been stocking us. We could have run into a bear.
So many situations ran through my head as we finally made our way back to the town of Custer, South Dakota. We were all tired and hungry so we stopped at the closest fast-food chain, Subway. Even though it was about 5 minutes to close at 9:55, the workers let us in.
While they were crafting our subs, I let them know we really appreciated them serving us so close to closing. I explained the situation we were just in. The man shared something that is still bothering me almost a month later.
A few residents or 'locals' in Custer don’t like tourists. They oppose tourists so much that they move or even destroy trail markers so the “tourists” become lost on popular hikes.
Learning that locals tampered with trail markers out of a deep dislike for visitors or “outsiders” struck a chord with me.
The Sunday Gulch trail is one of the most popular and connects to a much longer hiking trail according to the nice sandwich artist at Subway. He guessed that someone recently moved around the markers and we ended up on a longer, interconnected trail because of the switch.
According to the 2022 census, Custer holds a population of 1,900. Tourists, the same people shunned by Custer locals, keep the small town thriving. It is not a secret that small towns across the country are fighting to stay relevant. This is especially true for independently owned businesses, like the ones tourists favor. Why would locals purposely seek to destroy tourists' experiences when the same tourists keep their town on the map?
I try to understand why people act the way they do. Custer locals could feel threatened by the tourists, who do not share their values, history, or status. The locals could consider visitors as outsiders in their secret club. The community is willing to protect their secret club, maybe on a subconscious level, even at the cost of themselves. Many small towns, regardless of whether they are tourist destinations or not, could assume this behavior, too. I know I’ve run into similar behavior in my professional life.
As someone with Canadian Aboriginal roots, I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of Custer locals fiercely 'protecting' land near Wind Cave, a sacred site for the Lakota people. Some of the Lakotas believe life originated from Wind Cave.
Custer residents’ livelihood is based on tourism from land that was wrongly secured in 1868 by the United States government. In 1980, the same government admitted to their past wrongdoing. The Supreme Court agreed to set aside $102 million as compensation to the tribes in the Blackhills. Today, the trust is still growing, surpassing $1 billion, as the natives persist in refusing the money. The Black Hills aren’t for sale, they state.
So…who is really the outsider in this situation? In an area saturated with rich history and deep-seated conflicts, the true outsiders might not be who we think.
Amanda Rink is the Editor of The Wright County Monitor. When she isn’t caring for her family, writing for the newspaper, or avoiding laundry, she can be found hiding in the woods with a cup of coffee and a romance novel.
