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Josh Zielinski Photography, Columbus, OH (2026)

09/09/2026

I'm back home, and I would say the trip was an astounding success! It was a pleasure photographing so many new places and meeting lots of people along the way. There's so much kindness everywhere. While I am days, in fact weeks, behind on the blog-style posts I had been putting out, I intend to create those as I process through all the photos, videos, and notes I recorded in the last month. For now, here's a photo from sunrise at the St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church in Smuts, Saskatchewan last week. The present church was constructed ca. 1925 after the original church burned down. It was moved to its current spot in 1954.

A few trip-ending statistics:
- 7,539 miles driven across 18 states/provinces
- 12,485 photos, which is 1.66 photos per mile
- 17 days camping; 14 in hotels/motels
- Earliest Tim Hortons run; 4:12am (quite a novel experience for me. I never go to Tim Hortons, but when in Rome and restless as could be...)
- Far more caffeine than I care to admit

09/02/2026

Day 12, August 19th, I drove from Craters of the Moon National Monument to Ontario, Oregon.

Being my only morning in Craters of the Moon, there was simply no other choice than to begin day 12 early with a proper hike of the monument. The sage-covered foothills of the Bitterroot Mountains were already cast in a dim, purple light when I set down the trail half an hour before sunrise. As I made my way up North Crater, the distant buttes that puncture the impossibly flat Snake River Plain could be seen in the east, each deeply silhouetted by the dawn sky. The simplicity of the landscape was stunning!

Craters of the Moon encompasses a region of Idaho shaped by several episodes of volcanism occurring 15,000 to 2,000 years ago. Sitting within the older Snake River Plain, which itself is the result of numerous cataclysmic eruptions beginning 16 million years ago, Craters of the Moon represents the youngest, and final, expression of volcanic activity in the region. From the Great Rift, a ~50 mile fissure scarring the earth, and surrounding minor rifts, lava flows spewed out for thousands of years. The more volatile ones formed the cinder cones and other rugged aspects of the landscape, while the calmer flows left smooth beds of basalt in their wake. More could be said of the landscape’s history, but I’ll save that for the interpretive center to explain. Needless to say, this place has long fascinated me ever since I became interested in geology years ago. It was exciting at last to stand at the monument’s highest hills and survey its entirety.

Out of North Crater, I approached the crest of the Big Craters, whereupon the sun finally rose above their peaks and began to spill into the dark, basaltic depths below me. The limber pine lining the craters’ margins were backlit brilliantly by the light. Minutes later, the dwarf buckwheat growing against the rocky ground, too, received the sunshine. Another harsh day of unwavering UV rays had begun.
One should not mistake this landscape for being solemn or lifeless, though visibly barren it might seem. I encountered many squirrels, chipmunks, and Clark’s nutcrackers in just the three miles back to the campground, and an even greater diversity of fauna than them call these lava fields home.

It was fun perusing the informational signs for geologic vocabulary, both familiar and new. I love how enduring native Hawaiian terminology is in describing volcanic landscapes. You have jagged ʻaʻā and ropy pahoehoe flows, as well as kīpukas that stand as islands of vegetation within vast, black lava fields. And to the Italians’ credit, we also have Strombolian, Vesuvian, and Vulcanian eruptive styles. Geology is truly a multilingual discipline!

I finally departed the campground late morning and set my course westward. I detoured for a brief visit to the Silver Creek Preserve (a splendid Nature Conservancy property) and then commuted across the high plains of the Camas Prairie. The towns of Fairfield and Corral both had fantastic arrangements of grain elevators, which distracted me for some time. Once back onto the Snake River Plain, I hopped onto the interstate and stopped not once for photos. Owing to the business of the day prior, I aimed straight for the hotel in Ontario so I would have plenty of time sit at a proper desk and be productive for a while. Boise tempted me as I passed its exists, but I reckoned a visit would best be held for another day. Anyway, I intended for tomorrow to be packed with towns, barns, dusty roads, and all of the wide-ranging scenery there is to enjoy on the drive from Ontario to Cottonwood Canyon State Park.

08/31/2026

Day 11, August 18th, I drove from Grand Teton National Park to Craters of the Moon National Monument in the bottom center of Idaho. As if the other days weren’t, this was one full day!

Up before daylight, I headed for Mormon Row, a collection of historic homesteads dating to the turn of the 19th century preserved within Grand Teton National Park. This area has become among the most popular places within the park in recent years, and understandably so. Photographers come en masse to capture the historic T.A. Moulton Barn backed by the Teton’s imposing Cathedral Group. I drove by the site the day before to get an idea of its condition and any other factors that might affect my morning here. Having seen that the famed Moulton Barn was an active construction zone and wanting to avoid the crowds anyway, I instead set my sights on the barn of a less popular homestead in the same complex.

Perhaps not as sprawling as the Moulton Barn and not of the same appealing log construction, this humble gambrel barn, built ca. 1908, suited the bill no less. It looked incredible underneath the looming profile of the Front Range, and the weather accompanying the sunrise could not have been more sensational. An approaching thunderstorm turned this sleepy sunrise into anything but!

I watched the radar anxiously as the storm dumped rain on Jackson and slowly moved northeast towards my position. The horizon west of Blacktail Butte only seemed to grow darker as the rest of the sky lightened. A few minutes after sunrise, a beam of light was cast upon the Tetons. I photographed in a furry to make use of the fleeting conditions. Then, minutes later still, the sun finally arched over the west hill and spilled into the Snake River Valley. It was exhilarating! One of those monuments that puts you into a mood of pure elation.

A rainbow appeared over Blacktail Butte followed by the downpour. I passed a large gathering of photographers capturing the John Moulton Barn before making it back to my truck, whereupon the storm dropped hail briefly. Damp and a bit chilly, it was no matter. What an unforgettable sunrise!

From Mormon Row, I embarked on a morning driving tour of the park. I stopped often to photograph historic structures along the way, including the Chapel of Transfiguration, Menors Ferry, and Chapel of the Sacred Heart, to name a few. The Bar BC Dude Ranch was particularly exciting and unexpected. A long cobblestone road leads you from the main park route to the Snake River. Along the river’s floodplain lies the extensive Bar BC Dude Ranch, established in 1912 by Struthers Burt and Dr. Horace Carncross. Much of the historic property is in disrepair today, but it’s evident where the National Park Service and the Western Center for Historic Preservation have attempted to stabilize structures. As I wandered about this vast campus, it was fascinating to imagine how swiftly white settlers left their mark on the landscape here. The homesteads and ranches within the park were inhabited for only a few decades before the park was established, remaining for most of their existence more so as beloved museum pieces than working properties.

I could certainly have spent much longer in Grant Teton National Park. There is an abundance of places to explore, and I hiked not one mile of trail. However, given the popularity of the park, I had no intentions of being around for long. Quieter fields surely awaited me ~200 miles away at Craters of the Moon in Idaho, and so I hit the road with plenty of detours in mind.

From Teton Pass, I dropped into the Teton Valley of Idaho, and then an ascent of Pine Creek Pass deposited me into Swan Valley. Here, the valley floor became exceptionally hilly and devoid of trees. Whether covered in prairie grasses or wheat, it’s a landscape I find most photogenic.

I had my eye set keenly on barns, of which I encountered plenty. Near Ririe, Idaho, I spotted a barn much unlike all the others. Its ground floor walls were comprised entirely of quarried volcanic tuff, and it was topped by a simple gable roof (an atypical feature in this land seemingly dominated by gambrel roofs). I pulled down the driveway and met the owners there, Kym and Lois, to inquire about photographing their barn. They were immediately receptive to the idea (I wasn’t the first one to ask), and after photographing it and learning from Kym their family’s history on the farm, I was invited to dinner! One of my goals throughout this trip has been to socialize more and make stronger connections as I travel from place to place, and I should like to think a dinner invitation accomplishes that goal well.

I reported back to the Ferguson house at 6:00pm after a brief visit to their daughter’s farm and to Ririe. We indulged in a splendid meal of pork ribs and sweet corn (grown on the farm). Our conversation covered topics ranging from moose encounters to life in Ohio, and to wildfires, high water, and the way things change. I thanked Kym and Lois for the hospitality and bid farewell promptly following dinner. Though now approaching sunset and still with nearly two hours of driving ahead of me, the pleasure of enjoying a homecooked meal among good company left me feeling fulfilled and content.

Pivot irrigation has a certain romance to it at sunset. Driving along the flat Snake River Plain, one can’t go without observing the many different arrangements and appearances of these vast watering systems. The low sun occasionally cast tiny but vibrant rainbows through the mist spewed out by these massive rolling machines. All of this suddenly vanishes west of Idaho Falls as you enter the heart of Idaho’s lava fields. The row crops disappear and are instead replaced by the native, hardy sagebrush. This shrub extends for miles off into the distance, blanketing even the buttes that pe*****te the far horizon.

The landscape felt so alien, and it was truly remarkable commuting through it at dusk. The ground, sky, and mountains turned purple and blue before finally yielding to the night. I was relieved to find a campsite easily enough upon my arrival to Craters of the Moon. I organized content for a bit and enjoyed photographing the night sky with both the Milky Way and a crescent moon shining bright. Sixteen hours ago, I departed Grand Teton NP. How wildly different the landscape had become!

08/27/2026

Day 10, August 17th, I drove from Broyson State Park to Grand Teton National Park in the northwest corner of Wyoming. Another sunrise, another long drive, another day of touring this great state!

The alarm rang at 3:55am and I crawled out of my truck, heavy eyes weighing me down a bit, but I perked up quickly when I saw the stars. Clear skies, just as I hoped! To make up for my lack of gusto two nights prior in Bighorn National Forest, I decided to rise early for another photography session with the moonless night sky. Though nestled at the head of the narrow Wind Canyon, my campsite offered a tremendous view of the Milky Way framed by two hills of limestone and sandstone. Watching the galaxy’s center pop up on brightly on my camera’s LCD was, as it always is, quite exciting!

Still over an hour before daybreak, I packed up and hit the road south. I stopped briefly to photograph Shoshoni’s forlorn downtown, of which little remains. This community was established in 1905 near the oh-so-romantically named Poison Creek. Also of interest is Shoshoni’s problematic speed ticketing practices, as well as the construction of a water-intensive mushroom processing plant in 2004, an operation that has been cause for a whole array of controversies. I found its list of troubles to be surprisingly long for such a small community. I wish the town and its local council all the best.

Dawn arrived at Riverton, where I spent the remainder of the early morning. It was a bit of a risk choosing to spend such a crucial time of the day (sunrise!) in a town that I had done little research on beforehand. Riverton did not disappoint, however! I was particularly enthralled by the historic Acme theater with its vintage marquee, as well as the old Riverton Post Office, built in 1941. The interior was well-preserved and historically pristine, light fixtures and all. I can only imagine what the one local thought when he entered the post office and found me photographing a stairwell at 6:08 in the morning, sunrise still 11 minutes away. I offered a “Goodmorning” and it was returned. No questions asked.

This was an interesting portion of Wyoming to traverse through in the daytime. Several valleys braid their way across the lowlands between the Wind River Range and the Owl Mountains, the bottoms of each populated by farms. Between these valleys are dry hills and plateaus of sage and other desert plants. For the most part, my route followed this different valleys as they snake across the plains.

I photographed a historic Catholic church at the St. Stephen’s Mission before continuing to Lander, a wonderful town at the foot of the Wind River Range. Its downtown was historic and lively, and I enjoyed walking both sides of it before sitting at one of the town’s coffee shops to work for a few hours.

Restless from sitting, I departed around noon and turned northeast for the Teton Mountains that awaited me ~130 miles away. En route, I passed through Fort Washakie (home to Sacajawea’s grave and St. David’s Episcopal Mission) and Dubois (a charming mountain town with art galleries, cafes, and such).

Storms arrived as I neared the Continental Divide at Togwotee Pass, and it truly gave me quite a high feeling. Perhaps it was the elevation, or maybe it was the curtain of rain that cleared and revealed the magnificent Teton Range! I felt pity for the few cycles I passed as I barreled onward towards the Snake River, my truck receiving a much-needed rain bath. I hoped the cycles, too, could enjoy the glory despite their damp discomfort. I spent some time at the Togwotee Overlook before making the final descent into the valley. How many Lakota and other indigenous individuals gazed at this most inspiring view? Or the white trappers and settlers who arrived more recently?

As anticipated, the Front Range was reminiscent of an amusement park. Hundreds of cars and hundreds more people scrambled around the place in pursuit of the same view of these majestic mountains. I typically avoid such places (these very popular national parks), for I find their “over enjoyment” by the public is a detriment to the experience and to the place being preserved. I was, of course, a visitor much the same, though. I stopped at the overlooks and appreciated the unique view each one offered. These mountains are just unbelievable! This evening and tomorrow morning would be my whirlwind tour of the park. On account of its popularity, I did not intend to stay long.

It was a relaxing night that evening at the park’s Gros Ventre Campground. I was lucky to secure a site with easy access to the river a few months prior. I processed photos for a while before following one of the many desire paths to the Gros Ventre River. Knapweed grew amongst the rounded pebbles of the gravel bar on which I stood, and looking either upstream or downstream revealed mountain peaks draped in the sun’s golden light. It was quiet back here. Tomorrow, I would enter its well-trafficked heart before continuing west.

08/27/2026

Day 9, August 16th, I drove from Bighorn National Forest to Broyson State Park in the center of Wyoming, but not before a proper, 13-mile farewell to the Bighorns.
A light fog clung to West Tensleep Lake at sunrise and above the sky was crystal clear. To watch the day’s first light kiss Cloud Peak was tempting, but I couldn’t bring myself to wait around. Among the many things I was looking forward to experiencing on my visit to the Bighorns was to see a cirque, which is an amphitheater-like depression carved into high mountains by alpine glaciers. As a bit of a glacial landform connoisseur myself, the prospect made me eager to hit the trail.

From the trailhead, I ascended and descended the slopes along Middle Tensleep Lake, passing through pleasant meadows and piney woods, and at one point traversing a narrow bottleneck that the creek tumbles through. The scenery was pristine. Boulder-strewn fields and groves of buckwheat were all prompts for pause. It’s fair to say upward progress was gradual but how does one hike through a country this wonderful without a good many stops!

At last, the cirque came into view. Its highest walls rose above the final, evergreen-covered hill. I summited this, too, and there the full profile of the massive valley revealed itself. The faces of its walls were so sheer! And the lake below still enough that one could admire the view not once, but twice. Sunlight danced up and down the cliffs in response to the intermittent clouds commuting over the peaks. I was left in awe just imagining the great glacier that once sat here in this throne of gneiss, bestowing upon the rivers below a seemingly endless supply of water and sediment. I gazed for a while at the first of the two Lost Twin Lakes before turning back downhill.

Onward towards camp I trudged. I relegated the return trip to photographing wildlife, but I encountered few birds and fewer mammals, except one. A bull moose offered a compelling subject and more than made up for the slim showing. Its glare was intimidating even as I stood at a distance from it, dense brush between us.
Back at camp, I rested momentarily, prepared a brief lunch, and then swiftly packed. The afternoon was a’wasting away! Two hours lie between me and Broyson State Park. Not a long drive, no, but I wasn’t about to travel through new-to-me territory without plenty of sightseeing.

Around 2:00pm, I departed down the dusty road leading to the highway. In its western descent of the Bighorns, U.S. 16 follows a curving, dramatic path through Tensleep Canyon, the rocks comprising its walls becoming younger with every foot. I left the ancient Precambrian heart of the mountains behind, and so too the coolness. It felt hot down here in the lowlands!

Past Tensleep, I then crossed a section of badlands before entering the verdant valley of the Bighorn River at Worland, which once (in the 1920s) hosted the world’s largest sugar beet processing facility. Though an arid land, the Bighorn Valley is dominated by row crops thanks to irrigation leached from the Bighorn River and the aquifers deep below. The skies grew cloudy as I neared Thermopolis, but it never did rain. The ceaseless sun won out just past Lucerne, the sky again turning an intense blue and providing a stark backdrop to the red hills of sandstone and shale abutting the green valley bottom.

Just before entering the Wind River Canyon, U.S. 20 rounds a wide bend and Rainbow Terrace comes into view; a marker of your arrival into Thermopalis. This thick sheet of white travertine fans out from a flat, green parkland, above which Big Spring outlets mineral-laden waters into numerous ponds. These ponds consequently flow through several cascades into the Bighorn River. The terrace sure makes a statement, gleaming such the way it does! Thermopolis was officially established in 1897, its hot springs made widely accessible to white settlers and tourists by a treaty signed with the Shoshani and Arapahoe who held jurisdiction over the area. The town developed with tourism in mind, and today the springs are accessible for free (per the 1896 treaty) as part of Hot Springs State Park. Given the late hour of my visit, I did not venture into the park, but I did walk briefly around downtown to photograph its appealing commercial architecture.

I finally approached Wind River Canyon right at sunset. The drive was winding and wonderful and absolutely exhilarating! I passed the Wedding of the Waters, a special place particularly for the region’s native inhabitants. Here, the Wind River ceremonially ends and becomes the Bighorn River. There is no confluence or fork, but instead a simple marker where the river changes from one landscape to another.

I ended the day at my campsite along the Wind River near the beginning of the likewise-named canyon, Boyson Dam looming just upstream. The cottonwood leaves rustling through the canyon breeze were peaceful to listen to and photograph. I had in mind sitting outside for longer to soak in the scenery, but soon after dark the moths appeared. There seemed to be hundreds of them! Bats, perhaps roosting in the cottonwoods or in the canyon walls, emerged to hunt the little insects. They darted back and forth and to and fro and overhead and all around. With so many bats above me, I decided to take cover in my bed to avoid becoming the incidental target of bat guano. And anyway, tomorrow would be an early one.

08/24/2026

Day 8, August 15th, was my one full day in Bighorn National Forest. One wonderful, hardy day!

Cloud Peak and its lesser summits were silhouetted by the dawn sky on the morning of day 8. I shivered in the last of the night’s cold and awaited eagerly the warmth of the rising sun. High clouds above the mountains were painted pink briefly, but the color faded in a blink and I headed back towards camp to warm up and prepare for the day’s big adventure.

Under a mostly cloudy sky, I embarked into the Cloud Peak Wilderness to get to know this landscape a bit more. About 7.5 miles lie between my campsite and Mistymoon Lake, in between being a patchwork of meadows and woodlands, as well as a few other notable lakes. Aster, buckwheat, Indian paintbrush, and sunflowers, as well as the sinuous streams, folded metamorphic rocks, and mountain peaks all begged for my attention. I stopped a great many times to photograph, and it was really quite necessary. Though the hike did not seem terribly imposing on the map, the thin air added a degree of challenge for my lowlander self!

Finally at Mistymoon Lake, I admired the rockface across the lake, which stood like a sentinel guarding the shore, before finding a boulder to sit against. The stubborn clouds soon cleared and sunlight fell upon the landscape. Having cooled down from the heat of the ascent, I much enjoyed the warmth!

My stillness a disguise, the birds and chipmunks came quite close as I leaned against the granite boulder. I photographed them a bit from this low perch before beginning the trek home. It’s funny how an out-and-back hike so often feels quicker on the return trip. Perhaps it was the fact of going downhill, or maybe the sunshine, or possibly the excitement from all of the birds that offered a good pose before launching away. It wasn’t long before I arrived at the first meadow where a female moose and its offspring now stood feeding on the grasses. The watchful mother kept its eye on me and another hiker as we bypassed it a good distance away.

Back at camp, I unwound beneath my canopy much of the remainder of the afternoon and evening. I tried my hand briefly at photographing the ducks wading in West Tensleep Lake, but the effort proved fruitless. The sunset that night, however, was most sublime with clouds blocking the sun until just before it set. A vibrant beacon was cast upon Cloud Peak in the most dramatic fashion, clouds all around receiving shades of orange and red from it.
A few hours after the sun set, the moon followed, sinking below the horizon and bequeathing the sky at last to the stars. I went out to the road for a clear view. The Mily Way, as anticipated, was mesmerizing! The stars were so bright and the galaxy’s center unbelievably clear! I photographed it from the road and wanted so badly to trek across the lake to photograph the sky’s reflection on its still waters. However, my wanderlust hit a wall at the woods. The gravel rode shone a dim grey, but beyond it was pure black. My headlamp certainly could have guided the way, but it seemed unwise to venture into this unfamiliar forest at such a dark hour. I took one step into the woods, said “nope”, and retreated to my truck to dream instead of the next day.

08/22/2026

Day 7, August 14th, I drove from Hot Springs, SD, to Bighorn National Forest in Wyoming. I originally had ambitions to photograph downtown Hot Springs one last time at dawn, but I decided instead to save my time so I could savor the drive a bit more. Under foggy skies I departed northwest out of town for an hour-or-so detour of gravel roads. I passed through a mix of piney woods and ranchlands, stopping several times for photogenic trees and barns showing off in their respective habitats. Being now solidly in cow country, the rumble of cattle guards has again become a familiar sensation.

A small, two-track forest service road offered an intimate route through Black Hills National Forest. I considered the amount of time this would add to the day’s drive, but it was simply too tempting to deny! I muted my music and enjoyed the scenery as I drove along at a crawl, the route abutted by cliffs of limestone. It was neat to see another perspective of the Black Hills' many canyons. My truck received a thorough mud bath, which I admit to being more proud of than I probably should. It does look good muddy, though. I shall wear it like a badge for at least a few days, or maybe a week.

With no cave tour reservations and a strong desire to finally lay down some miles, I flew past Jewel Cave National Monument and descended the Black Hills towards Newcastle. This community was founded in 1889 and grew significance as a mining and railroad town. The Weston County Courthouse, built in 1910 of the Beaux-Arts style, makes quite a statement on Main Street and is reflective of the wealth once found here. Along with the courthouse and the town’s historic commercial buildings, Newcastle had quite a few well-preserved Victorian homes, fancy ornaments and all. I love how Western towns of any historical significance so often have the most wonderful wood-frame Victorian homes.

Past Newcastle, the prairie was dappled by sunlight cast through the intermittent clouds. I was struck by how beautiful the landscape was. The Great Plains and its big skies never get old! U.S. 16 carried me to I-90, onto which I headed due west into the Powder River country. I’ve heard the Powder River referenced numerous times before in songs and books to which I’ve listened and read, so I decided to detour towards a minor river cross that would allow me to get out and gaze for a minute. It was nice to finally put a face to the name!

I followed a washboard gravel road up and out of the valley and back to the interstate. The Bighorn Mountains soon came into view, their mighty peaks obscured by low clouds. Before the mountains lay the town of Buffalo, established in 1879, the final town one passes through if traversing east-to-west along U.S. 16 through the Bighorn Mountains. Buffalo’s lively historic downtown was hard to pass up, but, being a Friday, I wanted to make sure I could secure a campsite before it was too late, and so I continued without a single photo.

Up and up and up I drove! I lost connection not long into the ascent, and it wouldn’t be until Sunday that I would gain service once more. The plains yielded to groves of aspen and evergreens, and soon only ponderosa pines came in abundance. I located a dispersed campsite near the West Tensleep Trailhead, from which I planned to hike the next few days. The sunset over Western Tensleep Lake that evening was spectacular and left me feeling elated! It doesn’t take long for the Bighorns to impress.

Photo 1: Sunset over West Tensleep Lake.
Photo 2: Ponderosa pines and fog in the Black Hills.
Photo 3: A lone cottonwood tree in the Black Hills.
Photo 4: Old barn in Pleasant Valley in the Black Hills.
Photo 5: Campsite in Bighorn National Forest.
Photo 6: View of Cloud Peak from West Tensleep Lake.
Photo 7: Sunset over West Tensleep Lake.
Photo 8: Sunset over West Tensleep Lake.
Photo 9: Woodland scenery near West Tensleep Lake.

08/20/2026

I am excited to announce that I have an exhibit opening soon at the Bowen House in Logan! Entitled Of Plow & Of Prairie, the exhibit will feature a selection of my images from Ohio and the greater west. Subjects include landscapes, historic churches, barns, and other defining aspects of the American countryside.

The opening will take place at the Bowen House (192 N Market Street, Logan, OH) on September 19th from 3:30pm to 5:00pm. The exhibit will be on display until October 10th. I hope to see you there!

08/20/2026

Days 5 and 6, August 12th and 13th, were my two full days in the Black Hills.
Early the morning of day 5, I set off for an 11-mile hike of the park. The diffuse light of dawn reflected off the limestone walls of Beaver Creek Canyon, while the sky above slowly turned a hazy red, wildfire smoke still very much floating around the atmosphere. Hardly a mile into the trail, I encountered my first bison of the trip. It was solitary, sauntering up the canyon much as I. I detoured in a wide arc off trail to provide it plenty of space to maneuver unbothered.

As I climbed out of the canyon, the sun finally rose above the horizon. The humidity up here was strong and the sunlight a dusty red. I stopped to photograph the woodland and fields and prairie dog towns as I rounded the loop back to the parking lot. The grasslands here are significant for being mixed tall- and short-grass. The variegated ground cover offered a mosaic-like appearance with many dull, late-summer shades of green and brown blanketing the smooth hillsides.

After the hike, I headed for the visitor center to partake in a guided tour of Wind Cave, one of the longest and most complex caves in the world. It’s been a good two years or so since I had last entered a true cave, so it was fascinating to be down in one again. Furthermore, for the fact that Wind Cave uniquely has an abundance of boxwork, a cave feature (or speleothem) formed by resistant crevasses of calcite remaining after the limestone surrounding it has eroded away. It’s worth also noting the significance of this cave to the Plains Indians, many of whom see it as central to their creation stories. In essence, humans, from the perspective of their traditional faith, first emerged from this cave, which ironically now sees around 600,000 visitors every year seeking to reenter it.

I planned to end the day at a motel in Hot Springs (four days with no shower! It was time for a proper room). Being only twenty minutes away, I took the “scenic route” and through a little more of Wind Cave National Park, as well as through Buffalo Gap. It was this gap from which humans and bison are said to have first emerged onto the plains according to the Plains Indians’ creation story.

The remainder of the day was fairly uneventful. I organized photos, wrote a bit, and planned for the next few days ahead. I also made use of the TV. Quite a luxury! Tomorrow would be my only day in Hot Springs, and I intended to do a whole lot of walking.

Day 6, I awoke around sunrise and made a proper breakfast before embarking on a walk of downtown Hot Springs. I drove right through the center of this town two days prior en route to Wind Cave and I found its Romanesque architecture so stunning I knew I needed to stay here! The town grew prominence through the 1880s and 1890s, many of its historic downtown dating to that period or the few decades afterwards. Especially in the age of tuberculosis and rapidly evolving sanitation theories, the warm mineral waters and clean, country air were marketed as healthy and beneficial to most any ailment. Tourists came in droves, the wealthiest of whom constructed fine residences that still dot the town. Perhaps most monumental of all these developments was the Battle Mountain Sanitarium, completed in 1907 for the National Home for Disabled Volunteer Soldiers. This vast structure, which looks part-resort and part-military barracks, is perched high over the town and now serves as a VA hospital.

Much of the afternoon and evening I sat and worked on my laptop. I did take another walk around town before the shops closed and met a swell fellow named Jay at the Art House. I hope I might run into him again someday.

Photo 1: Cottontail rabbit in Wind Cave National Park
Photo 2: Sunrise in Beaver Creek Canyon
Photo 3: Goldenrod and other wildflowers along Beaver Creek
Photo 4: Ponderosa pines along Beaver Creek
Photo 5: A prairie dog in Wind Cave National Park
Photo 6: A boxwork-filled room in Wind Cave
Photo 7: Shallow creek along Highland Ridge Road.
Photo 8: The Transfer, Feed, & Fuel Building in Hot Springs. Built in 1909
Photo 9: Hot Springs National Cemetery.
Photo 10: An old greenhouse on the grounds of the Battle Mountain Sanitorium
Photo 11: A sandstone maintenance building on the grounds of the Battle Mountain Sanitorium.
Photo 12: Historic industrial building in Hot Springs.
Photo 13: The Fall River County Courthouse. Built in 1891
Photo 14: Entrance to the Evans, a landmark Hot Springs hotel built in 1892
Photo 15: A gothic barn on the grounds of the State Veterans Home in Hot Springs.

Josh Zielinski Photography

09/09/2026

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