Devils Tower

I feel deeply the change in the air the further I go into the Bear Lodge Mountains. The window is down so that the air rushes over me like a cascading waterfall. The leaves are bright orange and red this October day. The buffalo grazing the last of the green grass, and prairie dogs eagerly pop out from their underground homes to look at the newest arrival.
The ominous tower appears before me over a ridge, and my heartbeat undeniably quickens.
A sacred site of the Plains Indians and many other surrounding tribes of the Black Hills, I respectfully and silently approach the massive formation. Many a wonder I’ve been lucky enough to behold, but I can honestly say that none have had such influence and spiritual power over me like Devils Tower.
I start to trek around the entire circumference, taking in each crack of stone, the bend of the trees as they seem to bow and worship to a force of Nature that is found here.
Clouds whip and caress around the mighty monolith. My senses become heightened as time loses its bearings. I am transported to another dimension.
The electricity in the air heals my tired and aching muscles as I continue to make my way around. The closer I get to the tower the more intense the feeling. I fall to my knees next to a old Indian woman, close my eyes and listen to her prayer chant in her native tongue. She leaves a colorful garment tied to a tree.
No sound in the forest except for the wind, as though all the animals know to show respect in the Tower’s presence.
The sunlight is a glowing comfort as its rays slowly glide down through the thick branches to the forest floor.
The hike around the Tower feels akin to a long and laborious birth, and when you finally reach the end and come out at the base of the Tower, you look around and let loose the discovery found inside yourself.
Perhaps this does not make any sense to you, but as with any spiritual journey, it only matters to the individual making the trek.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?