At the tower
20/06/16 02:31
It is a source of amazement to me how infrequently we visit some places that are truly incredible and close to home. We sometimes take for granted things that are close at hand. The first national monument recognized by the government of the United States is around 100 miles from our home. Located in the northeastern part of the black hills, in a section known as the bear lodge mountains, Devils Tower is a huge igneous rock that stands out from its surroundings and can be seen for miles around. It is easy to see how the feature has been a gathering place for people for as long as there have been people on the plains.
First of all, you have to understand my biases. I grew up in Montana, between the Crazy Mountains and the Absarokas. If you head south from my home town into the mountains you go directly into the Beartooth-Absaroka Wilderness Area that is north of Yellowstone National Park. Montana’s highest peak is in that cluster of mountains. I love the black hills, but compared to the main spine of the Rocky Mountains, these are hills, and I am quick to call them just that. But my bias, like all biases, is not fair. The highest point in the Black Hills, though thousands of feet lower than the peaks of Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, is still higher than any point in the continental US to the east of it. That means that entire ranges such as the Appalachian Mountains, are lower than the Black Hills.
Nonetheless, the hills are a bit of an island in the prairie. From any peak in the hills you can see the flat land that surrounds us. So our features stand out. This is particularly true of Devils Tower. Rising above the top of a hill, it is higher than anything around it for many miles.
The name Devils Tower is a bit of a misnomer, based on a lack of understanding of indigenous spirituality. Europeans who first explored the west and encountered the native tribes of the plains made some assumptions about their spiritual practices that were not accurate. Because tribal traditional practices were different from Christianity, it was assumed that the tribes worshiped devils. The concept of a devil, or an evil spirit, however had nothing to do with their beliefs, however. The Lakota name for the feature is Mato Tipi, which means “home of the bear.” There are traditional stories that link the tower with Paha Mato, the butte we call Bear Butte, which is off to the east near Sturgis, South Dakota.
Whatever you call it, it is impressive. Last night I had time to simply watch as the sun set and the light faded. It is the night of a full moon and the moon was rising behind me as I watched the play of light and colors on the tower. The eagles were flying around the tower as I watched and took a few photographs. Despite the modern campground behind me it was easy to imagine how it had been a couple of centuries ago when this was the gathering place for people from across the plains.
It is easy to designate such a prominent feature as the place to meet.
And, if you spend any time here, which was common in the days of imprecise measurement of the passage of time, you can’t escape the sense of power and specialness that the place has. It feels religious to see such an incredible display of nature. It became a place of seeking vision and of special ceremony and of telling stories that were passed down for generations.
Susan and I are here for a short time just to take a day off from work. Going camping, even in the days of constant cell phone connectivity, is a meaningful break from our work. Tomorrow, before it gets too hot, we will hike around the base of the tower and look at it from several different angles.
I’ve never been much of a technical climber. I know that the tower is a magnet for those who love to climb rocks. It is one of the most sought-after climbing places for those who use the natural cracks in rocks to ascend. I am, however, happy to stay at the bottom and look up. I have no need to stand on top of the tower. There are those, among traditional Lakota thinkers, who wish that no one would climb the tower. Their sense of spirituality demands a different kind of respect. It reminds me of our visit to Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock in Central Australia. Although the indigenous land owners ask visitors not to climb the rock, there is a steady stream of climbers who ascend to the top. The practices of modern visitors reflects the differences and tension between indigenous and newcomer people. A similar phenomena can be observed here at the tower. For the most part the two practices, climbing and observing traditional native ceremony, can take place without conflict. The space is big and there is room for many different people to use it in different ways.
We choose to walk around the base and absorb the quiet and wonder of the place.
Here at the campground they have a strange tradition that is not rooted in indigenous practices. Back in 1977, movie director Steven Spielberg filmed the science fiction movie “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” in the area. The movie company set up camp on the eastern side of the tower right where we are camped. They've set up a small outdoor theatre facing the tower here in the campground and every evening from May through September they show that same movie. I’m pretty sure that the employees of the campground have it nearly memorized after a summer. We didn’t watch the movie last night. I’m not sure I have any desire to watch it again. Once was enough for me. It must seem like a bit of a strange ritual to outsiders, however.
Like generations of others, I find it sufficient to simply look at the tower and marvel at the handiwork of God and the power and diversity of creation. It restores my spirit and makes me grateful to live where I do.