The Road Trip

• Ten •

Dammit. I didn't count on Luke thinking this would be a mistake. But he had the beauty of knowing how to relax. He would let it go and act like nothing had happened. I knew him well enough to know that.

I followed behind him, staring at the back of his head in silence. We walked along the ledge and up into the canyon. We passed the same two guys coming back down before we reached the notch at the end, opening up into a magnificent view of the Badlands. Luke sat on the edge, letting his feet dangle.

I sat beside him and looked out. "This place is incredible."

"I know," Luke said. He didn't look at me, but his large hand moved over my thigh, almost covering it completely. His fingertips pressed into my skin. A gesture to say we were good; that I could relax. "It's better than the pictures. I feel like I'm on the Oregon Trail."

"It didn't go through South Dakota," I laughed. "And to think you went to Harvard."

"And to think you aren't hard to please."

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut. I finally looked at Luke. He didn't look at me, but he smiled like he'd won, so I kicked his shin playfully.

We sat on the ledge together looking over the vast land stretched in every direction. I could make out the visitor's center and a campground past the tree line. I watched the human specks moving below. I felt like I was on top of the world looking down in a weird bird's eye view where I felt disassociated from life—like it was just me and no one else. No one was looking for me or thinking about me. I was alone; isolated. That was how I had always liked it.

Sometimes I actually wished I was more isolated. That's kind of depressing, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to live on an island among nature with no technology, no burden of world problems or political unrest, no bi-weekly paycheck or daily grind. I wanted to function independently and voluntarily, unbothered by the fast-paced and materialistic society we'd become. I liked being alone, and I could take it to the extreme. I thought of it as something beautiful, when in reality it would probably be terrifying, but it was nice to daydream about a life on a deserted island.

Luke and I had formed our own little island. We made contact with the outside world occasionally, but we were secluded and relying on each other as we experienced new things together across the country. And in the end, when we were back to the outside world—letting our real lives back in—it would be poisoned.

I just wanted to continue living in my bubble.

I tilted my head and rested my temple against Luke's shoulder. "I read that the Lakota people called this mako sica, which translates to bad lands, because it was difficult to travel through."

"Mako sica," Luke repeated.

We sat for another five minutes looking out at the horizon before either of us spoke again.

"Did you google how to say good lands?" Luke asked me.

I smiled. "No, but now I wish I would have."

"You ready?"

I nodded and took one last look out before rising to my feet. Luke led our trek back down. We went back the same way we'd come in: dangerously close to the cliff, down the ladder, which Luke seemed to fly down, and slowly out the rocks that spread apart like it was spitting us out.

We took two more short hikes which started in the same parking lot as the Notch Trail. We did the Door Trail first which started as a boardwalk before getting up close to the rocks and fossil beds and ending with a wide view of the tops of the never ending chalky rock hills. We circled back and took the Window Trail next which ended with a view below of a deep rock canyon.