At the time of this photo I was only three. This was a trip of firsts for me. It was my first time to South Dakota, my first road trip stuffed in a caravan with all five of my siblings, and my first time in a National Park. Most of the memories that came back to me were combinations of recounted tales and faintly remembered sensory observations. I can remember the heat, the way my newborn sister’s high pitched scream filled every picturesque scene, and I remember how at the end of the trip I was presented with a rubber snake from the gift shop. Only one memory in its entirety remains from this trip. It is a memory that has helped shape me into becoming the person I am today and it begins with me sitting atop of my father’s shoulders. The trails in the National Forest were long and filled with steep climbs. In total there is around 450 miles of hiking trails, and if you would have asked me, my family was bound and determined to hike them all. To my relief my father recognized how exhausted I was and in one swoop of his arms I was off the ground and sitting on his shoulders. With my newly obtained aerial perspective I gained a burst of excitement and soon became overwhelmed with all the fantastic views that filled the Black Hills National Forest. The terrain and all of the sights and sounds were so much different than that of my urban Iowa community. I began to focus on the layers of Pegmatite surrounding the trails. The glint off of the mica that was speckled throughout the surface of the Pegmatite looked like precious gems.
The mood quickly shifted however, as my dad started straying from the beaten path. I began to look for a reason as to why we were straying, when suddenly my eyes became fixated on a deep chasm directly in our path. No longer was my mind day-dreaming about the jeweled Pegmatite, only the realization of how jagged and rough the texture appeared. My hands quickly tightened and my body grew as stiff as the rocks surrounding us. I could tell from his pace that he had no intentions of stopping.Suddenly, a gust of wind washed over my face. My eyes shot down, locking onto the dark jagged gorge, it was then when I realized that we were airborne! We hung in the air, for what seemed like minutes. Questioning whether we would make it I clung to my father’s shoulders tighter. When we touched down on the other side, we resumed onward at our original pace, and made our way back to the designated path. I was amazed at the confidence my father was able to have when approaching that obstacle. As if it he hadn’t realized the amazing feat he just performed, my father didn’t say a word. I quickly spun my head around to catch a final fading glimpse of the treacherous chasm, with one thing on my mind. My dad is a superhero. Eighteen years later when I tell my father about this memory and how deeply it impacted me, he is overtaken with laughter! Intermittent the fit of amusement he exclaims “I bet you that, ‘gorge’ wasn’t more than a foot wide crack!”
