‘A thorn in the side of anyone in the business of selfies, ‘Black Elk Depth’ is more an interesting situation than a place. The physical opposite of a hill, the ‘Depth’ is more hole than canyon, winding down to a point at which a single trim human can stand: the opposite of a summit. Here, one can sense the wide open space above them and see the dim light cast upon the stone ceiling of ‘Deep Dakota’ from nearby cities. One can hear, with maddening clarity, the breathing of those travelers walking behind them and those trudging back up toward the rim. Conversations between hikers are frowned upon. The din at the summit becomes maddening over the volume of a whisper. It’s said a man stubbed his toe halfway down ‘The Depth’ once and burst the ear drums of a woman at the bottom. These are just stories, though.’
I have donned closed-toed shoes and have no one with whom to whisper as I begin the four-hour descent into the ‘Black Elk Depth,’ still wary of those flesh-eating mice, though rumor assures me they rarely leave ‘The Dark Prairie.’ There are a few other cars parked at the rim, only one of which sports the peculiar matte-black license plate of ‘Deep Dakota.’ The numbers reflect in my flashlight- only five, all said. The population of ‘Deep Dakota’ is less than half that of both surface states combined, but it’s been stable for decades. People rarely move below the surface. Deep Dakotans rarely leave.
My descent is slowed by a herd of white goats that have chosen today to chew on the low shrubs that sprout inexplicably, and only occasionally, from the rocky pass into ‘The Depth.’ They aren’t known to be hostile and are, actually, the opposite at times. Feeding a white goat makes the herd friendly and tends to make slow progress slower. I pick my way around them, careful to hug the wall despite the railing that separates me from a very quick descent indeed. They hardly stop what they’re doing to notice my passing. One bleats a goodbye and I wonder if anybody at the summit was harmed. I packed ear plugs, just in case. My hearing is about the only sense that I haven’t blasted into numbness so far.
Thick quartz veins begin to appear in the stone beside me in the third hour of hiking. My knees are tired already and I have the whole ascent to look forward to as well. It’s said that ‘Deep Dakota’ is rich with gold deposits that the local government refuses to mine. The state always has money for infrastructure, however, and it rarely takes federal aid.
The walls and floor are entirely quartz by the time I reach the summit. The crystal is slippery underfoot and I grip the railing. A fall from here wouldn’t kill me- not right away. I try to see if I can spot someone at the summit in the periphery of my light but can’t tell. Other lights from travelers above and across cast long shadows and muddle my vision. It would be easy to get turned around, here, despite there being only the one path. My ears pop.
If there was somebody at the summit before, they’re gone when I reach it. The Guide described the summit as being fit for a trim human, which I am. It didn’t mention that it is also a whole, six feet deep and tight to the shoulders. I lower myself in carefully, afraid of bashing my teeth on the quartz. Once I’m settled, I realize I forgot to put in my ear plugs.
A goat bleats somewhere a mile above and I black out.
-traveler
