Ahhhh, Rapid City, South Dakota. You may be in the middle of nowhere … but you do manage to pull in the tourists, 3 million+ every year. Who knew you’d blossom in to such a must-see travel destination? Between the Badlands, the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore, you’re practically Mecca for anyone who needs a good, hearty dose of Americana. If it weren’t for tourism, you would be a flyover state … not unlike your partner-in-crime North Dakota (which is the least visited state in the United States.)
With travel and tourism being the second largest industry in South Dakota, it’s no wonder that shopkeepers and hoteliers have hit the mother lode. There’s no real sense of hospitality to speak of from what I can tell. Servers and front desk clerks only show a modicum of pleasantness — knowing full well they will never see you again. (Ain’t that the truth … doubt I ever visit the Dakotas again. I’ve seen everything … and then some.)
Mt. Rushmore is, of course, the pièce de résistance. But you’d be surprised at the number of people who merely drive by it on the Needles Highway. And they attempt to take pictures while their car is still in motion. I call them “lookie-loos” … ungrateful or impatient people who can’t be bothered to actually visit the monument itself.
Whoever runs that memorial area deserves a medal. The park is maintained within an inch of its life, reminiscent of Walt Disney World. Park rangers walk around with a cocky swagger, like they’ve reached the zenith of their careers. They are the all-knowing, all-seeing gurus of the park. Adults and children flock to them like followers to a religious zealot. They are, after all, the beige-wearing Bhagwans of Mt. Rushmore.
The ranger we encountered must have been more free-spirited than the rest. He wasn’t shy to point out that the sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, was quite the rabble-rouser back in his day, and a member of the KKK. (Random fact, yes?) He also wanted to inform us that no one died during Mt. Rushmore’s construction. His commentary, while insightful, was filled with nonsensical non-sequiturs. “Pine beetles are taking over. You’ve been warned,” he mentioned. I kept looking around like pestilence would soon be swarming in the sky.
There’s a “presidential walkway” that takes you right under the noses of the four faces. But be warned … there are several signs saying “strenuous hike”, which are to ward off the ever-present obese American. The “hike” requires you to walk down several stretched out flights of stairs … and then up a slight incline to get back to the visitor’s center. A paraplegic could probably handle it … but yet there’s the daunting sign. No wonder America has an epidemic of overweight people.
The gift shop is filled with obligatory kitsch. I folded like a cheap card table and bought a fleece sweatshirt for $38 because it was FAR colder than I anticipated on the mountain, which has an altitude of about 6,000 feet. And don’t even get me started on the wind … which toppled many a beehive hairdo’ that day.
Mt. Rushmore cost nearly a cool million to complete in the ‘30’s, but it singlehandedly put South Dakota on the map. Heck, we built our entire road trip around seeing the monument. Thank God we went on Memorial Day too … seems the day before was one of the single busiest Sundays the park has ever seen.
And that’s not even counting all the losers who just “drove by”.