Camping and Other Stories Camping and Other Stories
Camping was an euphemism for rock hunting. It was an annual event. More important, it was an all boys event...it was just dad and his boys.
It was up to Tim and I to plan each of the trips. We would pour through our well worn rock guides to plan our itinerary, especially the rock guides written by the high priestess of "rockdom" - June Culp Zeitner. Over the years Tim and I had planned our pilgrimage to Mission, South Dakota, to meet our queen, but our travels never took us close to Mission. We memorized every word she wrote about rock collecting in western Nebraska and South Dakota, as if we were committing to memory potential answers to questions our bishop would ask of us someday. In any event, each trip was meticulously engineered -
"On Sunday we'll go to Ogallala grasslands...on Tuesday it will be Teepee Canyon...and so on."
These were the kinds of plans we devised. We would strategize what kind of rocks we would seek each day, and hopefully we would find the holy grail of all gems - the Fairburn Agate. The Fairburn Agate derived its name from the small South Dakota village where the first Fairburn was found. This agate is a highly sought after prairie agate that comes in multiple sizes, colors and shapes. The Fairburn agate shown below is roughly 2 inches by 2 inches and while it was expensive in 1965, these stones have accelerated in value since then. The agate depicted below, for example, has a selling price of $800.
Dad found our first Fairburn agate. We were at a national Rock Hound convention in Wall, South Dakota; and on one of the days the organizers opened up a small area of the badlands for the conventioneers. After a few hours of searching the land, dad excitedly came over and showed us what he found. Sure enough...it was a Fairburn agate that was 4 inches in length, and he gleefully showed his prize to a number of collectors that afternoon. There were other Fairburns found that day, but nothing to match the one that dad had found.
The rock collecting bug started innocently enough. When we were 8 years old, Mom promised to show us grandpa and grandma's rock collection that were stored in a dusty attic next to her bedroom. The attic was one of those wondrous places that all grandparents have. Inside were old well-worn toys, old children's books that we'd page through for hours, hundreds of old baseball cards, an old sewing machine, and other rare and exciting items. And also hidden in this room was an old cigar box that was tucked under other similar sized boxes. Mom placed the box on the floor in her old bedroom, and when she opened it there appeared some of the grandest treasures we had ever seen - a quartz crystal that grandma Ryan obtained as a young woman in Arkansas, rare calcite sand crystals that grandpa Ryan obtained in Rattlesnake Butte in west river South Dakota, and other assorted agates and fossils. We immediately fell in love with those strange and beautiful rocks, and it was then that we became hooked.
Mom went down and asked grandpa about the rocks, and he responded, "Those rocks are to stay here." These stones represented an important part of his life, and he was unwilling to let them go.
He then went on to explain how he found the various stones, but it was the story around how he found the sand calcite crystals that intrigued us the most. Around 1905, grandpa homesteaded land in western South Dakota; and to help make ends meet, he also became a Ranger, a lawman of the west. On one of his trips, he came upon Rattlesnake Butte; and saw these strange stones. He picked up several and placed inside his saddle bag, and suddenly an old Indian approached him.
"What are you doing?" Asked the old man.
"I was just looking at these strange rocks," said grandpa, "and was going to put one in my saddle bag.
"That will cost you a quarter," said the old man.
Grandpa had already collected several other crystals, so he agreed to this payment. At that the old Indian scooped his hand into the sand and brought up another sand crystal. "Here", he said. Grandpa Ryan took the crystal and bid the old man farewell.
We were certain that the sand crystals, as well as the other rocks, would remain in grandpa and grandma's attic, however, Mom had different plans. After we left their house, the subject came up during the car ride home about the rocks inside the cigar box. All Mom said as, "I have a surprise for you." When we got back to the house in Eureka, she pulled out the old cigar box. I can't remember the level of excitement Tim and I exhibited, but most likely it was huge. I don't think that our grandparents were aware of how much those rocks meant to us, but they launched our lifelong fascination with fossils, rocks, agates and other assorted stones. As this interest accelerated, it evolved into summer camping trips that also included hours of rock collecting.
These trips have provided many memories for the Smith boys, but one trip was very memorable. We had already collected a large cache of Rocks from northern Nebraska and various parts of the Black Hills. We had carted so many rocks back to Eureka that it still surprises me that we didn't do more damage to the car's shock absorbers. On one of those days, Tim and I had charted our course for Teepee Canyon to find agates that bore the same name. It looked similar to the Fairburn agate except that its coloration was comprised of different hues of red. Once in the canyon, we split up to find this elusive gem, and somewhere along the line, dad decided that it was too hot...so off went his pants. Here we were...several young fully dressed boys accompanied by a father walking the ledges in his underwear. It was uneventful most of the afternoon with the exception of dad dashing down the mountain to avoid a rattlesnake. He probably would have gone on this way all day if it weren't for a young couple that also came to look for the Teepee Canyon agate.
As with all our camping rituals, it generally started out the same. Dad would come home from work - sometimes it was Saturday at noon and sometimes it was late Friday afternoon. He would change clothes, get something to eat, and we'd be on our way. Mom would fill the cooler with food she prepared like fried chicken. She would also pack another box that would be contained with snacks for the week. As dad had placed our clothes and camping gear inside the luggage carrier the night before, all we had to do was collect the few remaining items that would go inside the car, such as our rock books which we needed to re-read in the event we needed to change plans. Finally, the keys were placed into the ignition, the windows were rolled half way down, and the beige Chevy station wagon began to roll away from the house. We were on our way...
August was always a hot month, and in the days before air conditioning, leaving later in the day made a lot of sense. We drove west on Highway 10 until we reached 83. We turned left and proceeded through Mound City, Selby and other small towns until we reached Pierre. One of the things you realize living in South Dakota is that it doesn't get really dark until after 9:30 p.m. The late summer sun seems to be in your face forever, so by the time we reached Pierre there still was some extra daylight. "Do you guys want to stop?" dad asked. "No, we're not tired...lets see if we can go further."
Finally we came to Hayes, and the sun was beginning to rest on the horizon. It was time for us to find a place to camp, and in Smith style we needed to find a place that didn't cost any money. Well...we found that place along with a lot of other campers. It was near a mosquito infested swamp. Dad had borrowed a camper trailer for this trip, and setting up the sleeping area was very easy. If it weren't for losing our tent the previous year, we would have been viciously bitten by mosquitoes before we could get the aluminum poles erected and the stakes pounded into the ground.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. Tim and I were sitting in the backseat of the station wagon and as we were making our way to the Badlands, we could see things flying out of the car..."that looked like food items...is that a shirt?...where was all this stuff coming from?" A few miles later, more things started to appear. Finally a loud noise occurred outside the car, and I could see a box with metal poles rolling around in the ditch. Dad yelled back to us, "what was that?" "Well we saw a box with something metal in it," one of us said. "Did it come from the car?" Asked dad anxiously. "...I don't think so," I said. So we continued on our way. We finally stopped somewhere east of Rapid City, and when we got out the car, it became apparent where all this stuff we saw "flying around" came from. Rather than go back and find our camping poles and our losses, dad drove back to Rapid City to find the highway patrol office. He explained to us that we needed to report our loss, and that they could help us retrieve the items that we lost. As we drove up to the station, dad laid out another surprise for us. "Tim and Terry...you go inside and tell them what happened." "Why should we be the ones to do it," Tim asked. "Don't argue with me, "retorted dad, "go in and tell them to be on the lookout for our things." So in went all the boys. The patrolmen listened to our quiet pleas, but it didn't matter as we never saw those tent poles again.
I can still see us walking out the door, but this story is about camping in Hayes, South Dakota. The mosquitoes were all around us, and I am certain that I complained about them. I remember dad saying something like, "The tent is almost set up, and once inside they won't bother us anymore."
Soon we were inside the tent. Since it was a hot night, we proceeded to remove our shirts and pants. This wouldn't be so bad if it was just the boys, but it was embarrassing to see dad in his underwear, too. Not to say that we never saw him in his underwear at home. He was very comfortable roaming around in his skivvies. In later years, he brought more sophistication to his "fruit of the loom" collection by adding a red smoking jacket to his ensemble. I remember having a difficult time falling asleep that night, and at one point dad asked me, "can't sleep?" I mumbled something back to him, and eventually fatigue overcame the heat and I fell asleep.
Story by Terry Smith