The Little Missouri National Grassland encompasses over one million acres and has hundreds of miles of gravel and dirt trails. There are, however, few if any road signs, so map, compass, and GPS use are essential, as is patience; many dirt roads fade into cattle trails or abruptly end at the edge of an eroded gully. The roads-trails, really-are used by the ranchers to check on their cattle so generally are not technically difficult. Nonetheless, we encountered deep mudholes where cattle had milled about, as well as trees that blocked the trail. Our Ramsey winch and Pull Pal made quick work of these obstacles. For nearly a week, we explored hundreds of square miles never seeing another person. Cattle, deer, antelope, and the nightly coyote chorus kept us company.
Although at first the landscape looks similar throughout the Grassland, a closer, and slower, look reveals marked differences. There are grass-covered rounded hills, lush riverine forests, tree-lined ponds, sheer rock cliffs, and barren loose-rock, hummocky hills. It was while driving in the latter landscapes that we enjoyed some fine four-wheeling. The trail would innocently enough begin climbing one of these short hills, a 50-foot climb, when suddenly the dirt trail would give way to loose shale, and if we were not careful we would find ourselves going not forward but sideways or just spinning our wheels. Because these mounds were small, it was very easy to find that the truck had become dangerously angled across the slope as a result of a little rear-wheel skid. Because the "summits" of these hills were not even one car-length wide, and because we were never sure what was on the far side of the summit-a smooth downhill or an eroded sheer gully-we could not use momentum to climb the hill (we couldn't risk not being able to stop on the postage stamp-sized hilltop). Delicate throttle control proved the key to a successful climb. On a number of occasions, we had to reverse down a hill because there was no way down the far side. Back down in the mini-valleys, we would invariably discover a faint trail that led around the hill, bypassing the newly formed gully. We later learned that the Grassland produces a significant amount of oil and gas and that many of the trails we had explored, and presumably all the ones in the barren hills, were either pipeline service or exploration trails.
One day we were exploring an area of large plateaus and steep ravines when we spotted a bighorn sheep herd above us near the edge of the plateau. We quickly coasted to a stop. After a few minutes of intense scrutiny, the sheep must have concluded we were no threat, for they went back to browsing. The herd had a number of juvenile sheep, which in the fashion of most juveniles, regardless of species, soon began to cavort and roughhouse. It was amazing to see them jump, run, and mock charge each other on what was a nearly vertical cliff. Although Audubon bighorn sheep were a common species in the badlands of North Dakota when Lewis and Clark explored the area, indiscriminate hunting in the late 1800s decimated the herds, and the last Audubon bighorn was killed in 1905. In 1956, eighteen California bighorn sheep were introduced to the badlands. Today over 200 of them live on the steep breaks along the Little Missouri River.
We left the bighorn and headed down a dirt road towards Initial Rock. On May 28, 1876, General Custer and a detachment of troopers from the 7th Cavalry camped on the banks of a small creek, where two troopers carved their names on a large sandstone boulder, Initial Rock. Inside of a month, on June 26, Custer and his men would perish in the battle of the Little Big Horn. The only member of Custer's 7th to survive the battle, although severely wounded, was Comanche, a 15-hand bay gelding, part mustang and part Morgan, that had been ridden into battle by Captain Keogh. Comanche recovered from his wounds and was retired. He was named "Second Commanding Officer of the 7th Cavalry" and, by military order, was never ridden again.
Our time in North Dakota was coming to an end. But this amazing state had one more surprise for us. As we made our way towards the Interstate we glanced up, and underneath a slab of protruding rock on the cliff we saw a large nest. We pulled to the side of the gravel road and took out our binoculars. Not only was it a large nest, but it had chicks. Soon we saw a large bird effortlessly glide into the nest-it was a golden eagle! We watched enthralled as the parent fed the eaglets.
As we drove the interstate out of North Dakota, we knew we would be back. We had been held hostage by treacherous clay trails, amused by prairie dogs, challenged by stream and river crossings, awed by countless buffalo encounters, invigorated by cool nights and sunny days, and amazed by bighorn sheep. Oh yes, we would be back ... How would it all look under a blanket of snow?