SD Wednesday July 13 Afternoon

Next was the Crazy Horse Memorial, a colossal project that will not be completed in my lifetime. The $10 admission goes to a nonprofit organization, and the remaining plans will need tons of money. Our first step was watching the orientation video and learning about the dream forged by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski and Lakota Chiefs. Family members continue to make slow progress; his wife and six of their ten children currently work on the monument and project. The museum has already gathered a massive collection of collections. Huge buildings and decks make up the complex and include studios, tools, home, crafters workshop, etc. Of course, we took one of the granite chunks offered from previous mountain blastings, and it now rests in the MN backyard landscaping.

Somewhere along the way we passed Harney Peak and finally reached Mount Rushmore close to 7:00pm, much later than we thought. Although the memorial is free, parking costs $11 for cars. A blinding sun about to set behind the carved images, Washington specifically, made photography iffy, so we watched the video in the amphitheater and learned more about sculptor Gutzon Borglum. By its end, the lighting was better outside and I took a few photos. I must say that after the immense Crazy Horse Mountain, the Presidents looked smaller by comparison. Crazy Horse is also idealized, a vision of imagination since no photo or drawing of him existed for reference. The four Presidents looked like, well, themselves. Tons of people were taking seats for the light show scheduled for 9:00, even though it was more than an hour away. We made a tough decision and left to have dinner in Hill City, but first a Corona from our cooler.

Our goal in Hill City was to have dinner at the Alpine Inn, and we were definitely hungry for the highly recommended German food.  That place was so crowded, people spilling into the bar and out on the porch waiting for a table.  After waiting for forty-five minutes with our name on the list, we got a lovely table next to a window.  Since we had spent part of our wait in the bar studying the menu, we let our waitress know that we were ready to order right away.  She said great and asked whether we would have the eight ounce or the six ounce.  We said, “What?” She repeated the question about ounces.  Again, we said, “What?” She said, “Filet. Six ounce or eight ounce.  Alpine Inn has a set menu we have been serving for dinner for twenty-seven years: six or eight ounce filet, baked potato, Texas toast, and iceberg lettuce wedge with homemade ranch dressing.” We asked about the menu we saw in the bar.  She said that menu was only for lunch, but they did have a dessert menu to use after dinner.  We looked at each other and burst into laughter, big laughter.  She looked confused and repeated the set menu for us again as if we hadn’t heard her the first time.  We gave up (uncle, calf rope, etc.), ordered, enjoyed a great meal done right, and skipped dessert, although I think we were the only people in the restaurant who did.  Leaving tomorrow morning meant doing some packing tonight.