In which Moominmama visits the Badlands and learns how diverse a desert can be....

Moominmama has traded "Beware of Alligators" signs for "Beware of Rattlesnakes" here in South Dakota. I expected the state to be mostly flat, but it's flat in the way a newly made bed is after kids jump on it -- rumpled.

That is until you come to the Badlands with their strange striped peaks and crumbly rock. Moominmama arrived in South Dakota several hours east of the Badlands but got up early Wednesday morning to make the trek, leaving the Moominhouse behind at the campground and loading the car for an overnight.

The drive included a change to Mountain Time, so I arrived before 7 a.m. and got to enjoy my first forays in the National Park with only handful of other early risers. 

The Notch trail had me climbing a wood-and-cable ladder to gain some altitude for the view. But my favorite trail was the Door trail which took me out onto this strange dusty landscape that could have been the Moon given how different it looks from any place I've ever been.

I also hiked the Cliff Ledge trail (these are all pretty short trails) which brought me to a rare area where water can collect, thus there are a collection of juniper trees and other hardy greenery. And finally, I did a portion of the Castle trail, which takes you over the prairie, alongside some of the eroded spires.

It turns out the prairie is just a step away from the desert. The extremely hardy grasses native to the prairie can reach for miles underground with their roots and root hairs. This allows the grasses to lock in soil and trap any organic matter. They can be cut right to the ground and still recover. 

Remove the grasses, however, and the land will turn to desert. You can see how close these two ecosystems are given the small cactuses that spring up near the packed-down trail.

You also get to see how the erosion works to create the Badlands. Starting with the now-dry river that half a million years ago exposed the layered rock and sediment to the elements, water still undermines areas of the prairie, creating sinkholes that expand over time. Between rain and wind, the Badlands continue to erode at a rate of 1 inch per year, a fact that keeps road crews busy with drainage projects to save the main road through the park.

This is also why this land turned out to be so unforgiving to settlers. In the early 1900s, hopeful families could acquire 160-acre claims on this prairie, but their efforts to farm often failed due to lack of water and the unsuitability of traditional crops. These claims became known as "starvation claims," and most were abandoned.

The land was suitable for cattle grazing, but 160 acres was not enough to sustain a herd. Settlers couldn't just switch gears, but larger landowners did succeed with cattle and continue to do so to this day. 

Not in the National Park, though, where the grasslands, moonscape and rocky peaks are protected.

But diverse native wildlife continue to be a part of this landscape. Grazing animals like bison and bighorn sheep take from and contribute to the health of the ecosystem. And they aren't much bothered by humans taking pictures.

Other creatures have adapted to human incursion as well, like these baby birds who are calling the eaves of a small shelter their home.

By 11:30 a.m., I decided to call it quits as the temperature climbed toward 90 degrees. The sun was taking its toll on me, and shade was increasingly hard to find. I toured the visitors center, now crowded, and drove to the Badlands Grocery in the town of Interior to get fixin's for lunch and dinner.

Then I drove the long way round (remember what I said about road work?) to Sage Creek Campground, my first try at first-come, first-served, free camping. 

There I arranged the back of my Toyota for a night's sleep and used the hybrid engine to power some air conditioning for the hottest part of the day (no shade here either).

Much to my delight I was sharing the campground with a village of prairie dogs, including many youngsters. They chased each other, jumped up to catch grasshoppers and scurried for their burrows just about every time I pointed a camera at them. This picture was the best I could do from around a picnic table.

But what fun! Overnight, a thunderstorm struck and after it passed, I stepped outside to see a bowl of stars overhead -- interrupted by the bright flashes of lightning at the edge of the horizon. Magical.

The brief rain, however, turned the dusty earth into clay, and come morning, my sandals collected enough mud to become platform shoes. After tedious scraping, I drove out the washboarded dirt road heading for the Loop Road to see the many overlook views and to hike the Fossil trail and Saddle Pass. By noon, I was headed back to the Moominhouse, well satisfied with my excursion!

I'm back on the trail of Lewis and Clark, camping on the Missouri River near where they had their first formal meeting with Lakota leaders. I hope to learn more and report back on that next week!