04-19-14 Out In the Middle of Somewhere

When you stand in the vast, open landscapes of western South Dakota, you are never in the “middle of nowhere. . . . “

By Scott Shephard

I live in South Dakota and now that I am mostly retired and my wife is soon to be mostly retired, people often ask if we plan to move away. To me, the question is really, “Now that you aren’t forced to live in South Dakota, why aren’t you moving somewhere better?”

I’m not puzzled by the question given that many times this winter, facing more cold and snow than I like, I wondered, too, about why we live here.

Today, the answer lies in the landscape you see here, which is somewhere well west of the Missouri River and somewhere slightly west of the Cheyenne River. It was a blustery, gray day when I stopped my truck along the side of the road to take this photo.

I am a long way from a city of any size. I am down a gravel road that curves ocassionally but then goes straight as an arrow for miles. I have not seen another human for close to two hours. There is no sound of traffic, or of farm machinery or even of cattle. I hear only the sound of my breathing, the soft click of my camera shutter and the rush of the wind along the grassy hills.

And I am not in the middle of nowhere. 

Canon 5DII 1/800s f/10.0 ISO400 70mm

03-17-14 Relic

Scattered throughout parts of western South Dakota nuclear missiles waited quietly for their launch instructions.

I apologize for the history lesson today (but I am a former history teacher.)

South Dakota’s Cold War With the USSR

At the height of the Cold War, South Dakota was one of the ten most dangerous places to live in the event of a nuclear war. This wasn’t because South Dakotans were particularly threatening to the Soviet Union. Instead, it was because western South Dakota and Ellsworth Air Force Base were home to a branch of the Strategic Air Command. The B52 and the B1B* bombers that were operated by SAC were capable of carrying nuclear bombs to virtually any target in the world.

Western South Dakota was also home to around 200 Minuteman Missile silos. Each one of these missiles had a range of around 6000 miles and carried a 1.2 megaton bomb – that’s a weapon that was 60 times more powerful than the bomb that destroyed Hiroshima. The targets would have had 30 minutes from launch to strike to prepare.

A Lightning Rod Can Be A Dangerous Thing

The missiles were housed in underground silos that were scattered in “missile fields” over large tracts of sparsely populated farm and ranch land. The missile silos were easy to miss but there were road signs. But the signs were in a sort of code and they were intended for the missile flight maintenance crews, not citizens like me. Of course, the Russians knew where the missiles were located and each one might have been a likely target for a missile strike from the USSR. Some experts have referred to the silos as “lightning rods.” The paradox of the lighting rod is that in order to protect a building from lightning, you make it more attractive to a strike. (If missiles had fallen on western South Dakota, the people, cattle and crops would have been deemed “acceptable losses.”)

Most of the road side markers for missile silos have disappeared over the years. They were taken,  I’m guessing, by souvenir hunters. So it was with surprise that I discovered the relic pictured in today’s post.

What the Sign Means

I’ll translate the sign post: Turn left and you will find two missile silos somewhere down that road; turn right (which I did) and you will find two more. These four missiles would have been capable of wreaking havoc on Russian cities the size of Los Angeles, Denver, Chicago and New York.

With one exception, the missiles were removed and decommissioned in the 1990s. The missile silos were imploded and handed back to the farmers and ranchers. In some cases the fencing has disappeared, but in the case of H6, even the corresponding signage still exists.

The Person in the Brown Uniform Will Show You A Nuclear Missile

The one nuclear missile silo and maintenance facility* that has been preserved in South Dakota is called Delta-09 (D9) and it is now maintained by the National Park Service. I’ve never been there but it’s on my list of South Dakota landmarks to visit.

So ends the history lesson. . . .

Canon 5DIII 1/8000s f/2.8 ISO200 200mm

*The B1B bombers are still at Ellsworth. I can’t tell you if there would carry nuclear bombs. Maybe a read could?

**Not all of the 200 silos had a maintenance facility like D9. The missiles were grouped in 16 clusters, each with a remote launch facility like D9.

03-14-14 Beyond Wasta, SD

What do you find when you turn north off of the interstate at Wasta, SD?

By Scott Shephard

2014 03-14 Beyond Wasta by Watertown, South Dakota, photographer Scott Shephard

Wasta, SD, is a a very small town along I-90 in the western part of our state. Perhaps it is best known for the rest stops that are near the town. And on a busy summer day, I would guess that the population of the interstate rest stops is greater than that of Wasta.

Besides the rest areas, Wasta has caught my attention for two other reasons. The first is the Cheyenne River, which flows under the interstate, near the rest stops and by the city. The Cheyenne was once a great river that carved a fairly broad valley as it made its way to the Missouri River, which divides our state into what we call “West River” and “East River.” These days, the river is often just a brown stream. And the paradox of a relative trickle flowing through and expansive valley fascinates me.

The other thing about Wasta is that if you look north as you pass by interstate exit, there is a road that rises above the town in an intriguing curve and then disappears. Two days ago, I had driven a few miles east of Wasta when I thought, “Why not?” I found a turn-around, exited at Wasta and headed up the hill and a journey that took me places I had never been before.

Today’s photo is the first one I took on my backroads travels. Some might find this scene a little too colorless, but to me, that’s where the beauty lies. I’ll be posting more of my travels this past week over the next few days.

(In case you’re curious, here’s the route I took home from the cabin. The normal, fastest route to the cabin is about 320 miles. This path home covered 470 miles. So I only went out of my way by 150 miles. It was worth it.)

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