BLACK HILLS NATIONAL FOREST (SHERIDAN LAKE): The Church of the Great Outdoors is an Equal-Opportunity Cult

August 29, 2017

First off, The Church of the Great Outdoors is NOT a cult. The subtitle above was just a slip of the keyboard, a typographical error that I decided not to correct. Let me explain.

I happen to be a pretty big fan of nature, so much so that, as a few of you know, I invented my own outdoors-based religion a few years ago. WAIT! Don't go away now! (Legally you CAN'T go away since you have entered into a contract to read every word of this journal.) I'm not here to brainwash anybody. I don't want your kids. I don't want to indoctrinate my beliefs into yours.

Rather, The Church of the Great Outdoors has no dogma at all other than the belief that the natural world is super-cool and it deserves to be appreciated and preserved. And, to keep things as accessible as possible, my religion only has one officially recognized ritual: Using the great outdoor restroom (discreetly, of course) while totally focused on a living thing. It doesn't matter if that living thing is a blade of grass, a flower, a tree, an insect, a bird, a mammal or a reptile . . . but please don't focus on a fish because one should always use earth's restroom at least 100 feet from any lake or river. Use good judgement with amphibians as well. When in doubt, don't focus on a frog because a water source may be nearby. And ALWAYS dig a hole for #2 and cover it up.

It's perfectly natural! Can every wild animal on earth be wrong?

So far, my membership drive has been mostly unsuccessful. I remain the only registered human congregant, though I know there are many people who unofficially observe the ritual. I am also the pope and G-2 is the assistant pope.

Anyway, I only brought up this subject because I had one of those incredible Church of the Great Outdoors peeing experiences today. I looked straight up from the middle of a grove of pine trees and focused on a red squirrel that was nimbly climbing and hopping from branch to branch.

Some of the branches were so thin it seemed inconceivable that the squirrel would jump onto them, but it did. I wish I could do that.

Some of these pine cones fell from the trees while I was going.

After all that religious stuff, I suppose I should get back to serious business and describe my day. As you'll see at the bottom of the page, it only involved 16-miles of cycling, and so far I only have two bathroom break pictures to document it. I will now take you back to 8:45 a.m.

Before pulling out of my kampground this morning, I said goodbye to C.J. and Dennis of Grand Rapids, Michigan who were my neighbors at the kampsite next to mine. I talked to them for a few minutes last night.

"That's quite a rig you got there," said Dennis, nodding toward Nicycle.

"Yeah," I agreed, "it gets me where I want to go."

"I bet you get some pretty good gas mileage." (Hadn't heard that one before. Ha.)

"I haven't had to fill up yet," I humored him, "but I do burn a few calories." Then I said what I say to everybody who asks me about my style of travel. "It's a great way to see the country."

"Did you know they make those things with motors?" Dennis asked while pointing to his and C.J.'s Harleys.

"WHAT?" I shouted with mock surprise. "Is that some kind of new invention?"

Ah yes, we all got a good chuckle out of that. Then he went on to tell me about the 1.9 liter engine on his motorcycle and how a few days ago he covered 900 miles in ten hours while pulling his trailer full of camping gear.

"I guess that's a great way to see a LOT of the country." I said in reply, perhaps a little too proud of my amazing wit.

**************

I had every intention of doubling that measly 16 miles today. My goal was Pactola Lake, but Highway 385 north of the U.S. 16 turn-off had minimal-to-zero inches of shoulder and plenty of traffic. That traffic includes logging trucks. So when I came upon the Lake Sheridan Campground, which wasn't on my map, I owed it to myself to check it out and consider an early end to my biking for the day.

"Good move, Mr. Nice Guy," I said to myself when I found a most excellent campsite right above the lake. It was only 12:30. Had I not spent more than an hour updating my journal at the Hill City Library, I would have been to Lake Sheridan in the A.M. I didn't care. I was glad to be here. I LOVE camping by a body of water. It soothes me.

I spent the next couple of hours alternating between hiking, writing in my notebook, and gazing out into the lake. Best of all, it was nice to be in a campground that begins with a "c." It's a forest service campground which means rustic sites, no gift shops, no ice-cream shops, no playgrounds, no swimming pools, no horseback rides, not even showers or electricity. The focus is on nature.

Lake Sheridan from my kampsite, I mean my campsite.

Lying on my picnic table with Cheetoes fingers, while grooving on "A Whiter Shade of Pale" coming from my trusty transistor radio.

Peace and solitude at the end of the day.

There's not much more to report. Simply know that I was in my element. Good night. See you tomorrow.

Heart

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Today's ride: 16 miles (26 km)
Total: 598 miles (962 km)

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