It was shortly after the 4th of July holiday that I had begun a summer road trip. My aim was to see as many of our western National Parks as could be squeezed into a two month leave of absence from work. My travel vehicle of choice would be a new Ford Transit. Having purchased a little silver one, these odd boxy vans looked quite a bit like your typical neighborhood postal delivery truck, but I imagined it to be more like my NASA silver bullet capsule for a solo journey deep into the American west! From Wisconsin, my first "landing" was the moon-like landscape of Badlands National Park located in southwest South Dakota. After an incredible day of hiking through miles of the unusual sandstone formations, and with the sun setting over the big skies of the surrounding prairie, I had discovered a free camping area in the adjoining National Grasslands. Located at the far end of The Badlands main drive, and navigating a dusty gravel road to the somewhat remote camp area, I found myself being held-up by a large male bison that seemed most comfortable standing right in the middle of the road. Nearly as big as my little van and with horns far more impressive than the honk of the Transit, I granted the bull his time and space.Once at the rough camp area, and while I had slept in the van the night before at a South Dakota wayside, on this night, I'd decided to pitch my small tent and crawled into my sleeping bag. At least a dozen or more colorful tents had dotted the central grass area with some horse trailers and corralled horses spending the night off to the side of the main loop. With an old-west mix of sage and horse in the cool evening air, I was feeling a bit like a real cowboy and soon slipped off into Dakota dreamland. Sometime, in the early morning hours, I was suddenly awoken by the heavy thumping on the ground accompanied by some bizarre grunt-like sounds. Unzipping the tent door flap to investigate, it was as if my mind couldn't believe what I was seeing! A large black eye was looking directly back at me from only a few feet away! Surrounding the big black eye were tufts of dark brown hair and then the whole head and horns of another huge bull bison. His head passed by my tent door as his lumbering steps were punctuated by labored grunts as if complaining about the exertion required to move such a mammoth body. The trimmer size of his backend passed by me with his tail swathing back and forth nearly slapped me in the chops! No sooner had he passed when to my disbelief, I saw an entire herd of bison big and small making their way through the fragile nylon tents. Some of the bison were so close that I could hear them sucking and then expelling air from their saliva dripping black mouths and nostrils. It was incredible! This was the real American West that I had never dreamt could still exist- and here I was right in the middle of it -cowpies and all! After the last of the herd had passed through the camp area, I hurried behind to see them all disappear over the hillside and then down into a deeper ravine. Spotting a park ranger perched on a horse coral fence, I made my way over to ask him if any of the tents had gotten trampled. Obviously well-experienced and cool-headed, this older ranger just smiled and rather passively said, "none far as I can see." I then asked him how often such an event had happened. "'Bout every morning," he replied taking a sip of steaming coffee from his beat-up Thermos. In disbelief I asked if the bison had ever trampled any tents or campers and he replied, "Not so far... They just winna git to the creek for their morning' water." He tossed away some undrunk coffee from the Thermos cup and then stepped down from his observation point on the fence. As we walked toward his park service pick-up, he further explained that after spending the night up in the "grassy stuff," the herd would seasonally pass through the camp area on their way to the water. As he talked it was crossing my mind how this guy could easily give Hollywood's Sam Elliott a run for his money!Later that day, after hiking a few more trails in The Badlands, I moved on to explore the Black Hills of Custer State Park. Wildlife was abundant as I drove leisurely through the park loops of dark rock, fragrant pines and picturesque green pastures. My drive culminated with a pass through several short and narrow rock tunnels in an area known as "The Needles". The name was given to this higher mountainous area because of its many tall rock spires