Thunder Over The Lamar Valley
Poems and Thoughts from our American Odyssey
Thunder over the Lamar Valley ‘They say he was a thunder dreamer.’ From The Journey of Crazy Horse - Joseph M Marshall III The strange throaty growls of the Bison filled the mid afternoon air as the herd grazed easily along the Lamar valley. One side of the sky, to the North, bright with blue sunlight on distant peaks, the south side heavy with the weight of rainy portents, slowly darkening. A lightening shaft splits the two halves of the horizon, followed by the inevitable voice of the thunders, amplifying the buffalo grunts into a rolling crescendo. We felt in that moment the faculty of earth and sky to dwarf us and yet at the same time were sentient to the powers that made the buffalo, that made us, that made all of this. These powers find their echo in the valleys of our sleeping and if we pay attention we may become thunder- dreamers and know a life not of gain, but of giving, giving to the herd.
Part Three
After our day in the Badlands and then our striking visit to Wounded Knee we decided to try and pack in a whole lot of sightseeing, like good tourists. The first on the list was Bear Country USA. This was a kind of insurance policy against potentially shy wildlife in the Yellowstone. This place is what we in the UK call a Safari Park, a drive-through approach to the wild. It boasted a whole host of American animals that can be viewed from the safety of your vehicle. Though somewhat sad to see these magnificent animals in fenced spaces, we were comforted to know they were rescued and unable to live in the wild. We saw wolves, black bears, bison, coyotes, and elk to name a few highlights.
From there we headed for the Crazy Horse Memorial. This is a monument being carved out of Thunderhead Mountain in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It is 17 miles from Mount Rushmore where the US Presidents - Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt are immortalised. The memorial was commissioned by Henry Standing Bear, a Lakota elder, to be sculpted by Korczak Ziolkowski. It is executed and operated by the Crazy Horse Memorial Foundation, a nonprofit organisation. We saw it way before we reached the toll gate to the property.
As you can see it is both impressive and unfinished. It was begun in 1948 and the project accepts no federal or state money. Apparently the initial sculptor Ziolkowski worked on Mount Rushmore under Gutzon Borglum, its chief architect. Luther Standing Bear, Henry’s older brother campaigned for Crazy Horse to be one of the faces alongside the presidents but his wishes fell on deaf ears and so the project you see in the photo began.
We were deeply affected, both by the carving (that will possibly become the second largest statue in the world) and by the visitor centre that helps to fund the work. There is a myriad of art and information on offer in the beautiful buildings below the mountain. We learned that his name in Lakota is Tȟašúŋke Witkó, properly translated it means ‘His Crazy Horse’. We had continued to listen to Joseph M Marshall’s book - The Journey of Crazy Horse, so we were suffused with his spirit as we wandered the museum and shop. Outside again, we saw the maquette of how the finished work will look. He is pointing in answer to the question where are your lands? Underneath the maquette is recorded his answer - “My lands are where my dead lie buried.”
With the story and image of Tȟašúŋke Witkó in our minds we left for Mount Rushmore. It seemed silly not to go and see the images of the presidents as we were so close. It was a very different experience. The car park and the whole visitor experience reminded me of visiting a National Trust monument in the UK. It was all very slick and well run and had that almost faux sense of reverence.
We found ourselves walking up an avenue which sported plaques and flags honouring the 50 States, telling us what year they joined the union in what order this occurred. Such as New Mexico being the 47th sate to be added in 1912 ; a place we have visited many times. At the end are the huge images of the four presidents Washington, Jefferson, T. Roosevelt and Lincoln, chosen to represent the nation's birth, growth, development and preservation respectively.
None of these memorials are without controversy, as one might guess. Some American Indians are not so keen on the Crazy Horse Memorial feeling the mountains are sacred to the people and shouldn’t be tampered with.1 Equally, and for some of the same reasons there are strong objections to the presidents. The Lakota call that area Tȟuŋkášila Šákpe meaning The Six Grandfathers an area that the Arapaho, Cheyenne, and Lakota resorted to as sacred places to pray and bury their dead. It became known as Mount Rushmore because the Harney Peak Tin Company hired New York attorney Charles E. Rushmore to confirm the company's land claims over the Black Hills, contrary to the treaties. His name became associated with the area and is the white name.
With all these conflicting thoughts we left the presidents to their silent contemplation of history and embodying of American leadership along with the partial figure of Tȟašúŋke Witkó.
In the next two or three days we made our way to the Yellowstone National Park where we were due to stay for three nights. We re-entered Wyoming and stopped along the way in Sheridan and Cody. Sheridan, named for General Philip Sheridan, active in the civil war and the so-called Indian wars, also instrumental in the setting up of Yellowstone. As we returned to the hotel in Sheridan after our evening meal we were treated to a spectacular sunset over the Black Hills, or Shining Mountains as the Lakota name them. The sunset was followed by an equally spectacular moonrise.
Waking up, Tom who had been nervous of driving an automatic on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the vehicle, said he would have a go. What we didn’t realise was that our route to Cody would be over those same Shining Mountains. This journey was like driving the Snake Pass between Sheffield and Manchester, but on steroids! Tom did masterfully and began to really enjoy it. We arrived for a night in Cody named after Buffalo Bill Cody for his part in its founding in 1896. We wandered up the enticing main street after breakfast and then as we left to enter the park we called in at the Buffalo Centre of the West. This is a Smithsonian sponsored set of five museums celebrating the West, natural history, cultural history and art, the history of firearms, Buffalo Bills Shows and a renowned research centre. This piece of art seems to sum up so much of our journey so far across the Plains.
Entering the park we noticed the drop in temperature. We had ascended to 8000 feet as we moved into the park and that cooled the air. Our cabin had no air-con but we did not need it. Cool mornings and sunny days are what greeted us on our three nights in Lake Lodge by Yellowstone Lake.
On our first full day we opted to drive up the Lamar Valley, rumour had it that this was where you were most likely to see the park’s myriad wildlife. The sensible and low speed limits on the park’s roads mean that journeys take more time but also that you are able to take in the astonishing vistas that you are constantly presented with. I will say more about Yellowstone in the next post, it is important to note here that it is the first national park (possibly in the world) and it sits on the Yellowstone Caldera, the largest super volcano on the continent. More in the next post.
We went to the general store in Fishing Bridge, near our accommodation, and then with breakfast patty consumed and picnic sourced we headed off. The drive was amazing - past rapids, falls, canyons, mud volcanoes, and into the wide open plains of the Lamar Valley. We happened upon a horse riding tour and this is where I took the photo below which, to Tom and I, seemed quintessentially American.
We then stopped to photograph a lone Bison with great excitement only to find a huge herd of them further on. This is where we decided to stop and eat our lunch. We had again been listening to The Journey of Crazy Horse. As we ate the sky changed and a distant thunderstorm came closer to us. This passage came to back to us.
“A Thunder Dreamer had powers because the Wakinyan, the Thunder Beings came to him or her in a dream or during a vision quest. Such a person literally had a vision that was a connection to the most powerful natural element on the Plains and spiritually becomes a heyoka, a wise fool, or a sacred clown, if you will.
A beyoka is a walking contradiction. His or her behaviour at times may seem crazy or against his or her own character, but in behaving contrary to good sense or one's basic character or habits, the heyoka is actually performing a spiritual ceremony. A heyoka sacrifices his or her ego and reputation for the sake of the people. I believe that Crazy Horse was a Thunder Dreamer. That was his journey because the Wakinyan came to him in a vision, and that vision showed the way he was expected to live his life.
The vision likely didn't provide specifics, only that he was to walk the path of giving as opposed to gaining. That would seem to explain why Crazy Horse always wore plain clothing and never donned a feather bonnet, which he was certainly entitled to as an accomplished warrior. That would seem to explain why he didn't participate in the waktoglakapi, the telling of one's victories. He did, in fact, sacrifice his own ego and reputation for the sake of his people. And in doing so he was honouring his journey.”
The Journey of Crazy Horse - Joseph M Marshall III
Our view that afternoon and the way the landscape, the animal life, and the weather interacted made a powerful impression on us and that night in our cabin I wrote the poem at the head of this post.
Adrian,
Wonderful reflection, history and photo-journalism. Thank you.
I appreciate your mention of the largest super volcano on the continent Mr. Scott, the Yellowstone Caldera, there is 520 miles between myself and the Super Volcano.
I can say, I feel it’s presence, and the presence of the ancient ancestors and I carry on conversations, and sing and dance with all the dynamic energies, that radiate out, touching me, coming up through the soles of my bare feet and the mighty winds dancing through my hair.
In my secret garden, a wild patch where I chant a sweet earthy lullaby, and burn the sage and cedar, in hopes of placating the great volcanic energies to remain dormant and sleep, a volcano whisper of sorts, giggle giggle.
I feel comforted and of service, and I will keep earthing, chanting and dancing, leveling the green ground of the wild and secret garden patch I dwell in.
Peace and vitality, Geraldine