The White River Overlook is one of those panoramic pull-offs on the Badlands Loop Road that wormholes you into a Ray Harryhausen scene sauntered by sabertooth tiger-like nimravids, lumbering brontotheres and tiny ancient camels. You say, "that's cool," and it's off to Wall Drug to buy a stuffed jackalope (make sure to check out the dining room's awesome Western art collection).
But what if you could be down there, in that otherworld, among the nimravids or the aura of their fossil remains? You can! There's no permit required for backcountry hiking or camping in the Badlands. You don't even have to hang glide off the Badlands Wall, though that would be pretty epic in a slightly 80's kind of way (and might require a permit). There are passes in the Wall where you can just walk right in.
Your SDPB Outdoors correspondent is dedicated to the kind of exploratory research that empowers you to make your own informed expedition into the 'Lands. One obstacle you will not contend with is the White River itself, about six miles south of the White River Overlook. (The only place that the White River actually runs through Badlands National Park is in a small corner of the South Unit, near the seasonally-opened White River Visitor Center).
A potential point of entry is from a gravel road that runs between Interior and the Loop Road. From here you can walk along the South Side of the Wall, among freestanding sedimentary temples, as the country flattens riverward. Your correspondent parked at a pull off at the Southern park boundary and walked Northeast across the prairie toward The Castles formation dominating the Northern horizon. Early Spring is auspicious for crossing this country, when the snow is melted and tender chutes of cool-season grass are just beginning to burst through the still-matted brown meadow. Each footstep is freer and snakes have less camo.
Drawing closer to The Castles — one of those appropriately Gothic formations with spindly spires like the Orava Castle in Nosferatu — you can hew close to the edge of the Wall, winding through burial mounds where nimravids slumber. Or you can choose a passage into the Wall. Some drainages trace a climbable path to the summit, others will narrow until impassable or dead end at a steep cliff face. Gully walking through claustrophobic canyons can get muddy though, most hikers will prefer to thread the periphery of the Wall and its outer islands.
There are little worlds in the labyrinth. A chorus frog croons from inside its tiny pond among straw and cracked alkali. How did it find this isolated place and how can it ever get out? Imagine hopping around on hot rocks in skin like a sausage casing, dodging owls and rattlers, searching for a brackish, lonely puddle.
We imagine the natural world as free but it can be as provincial as any single-Starbucks town. Take any jewel of a camping spot in the public lands system — say Sylvan Lake. There's a spider there posted on its web inside the vault toilet, oblivious to the outside. The only beauty it needs is the fecund effluvium that draws a fly to its web, and that first glimmer of fly blood against the web-reticulated brown background.
I don't want to share the chorus frog's or the spider's dilemma, if it is one, but attempting to understand their anchors might help me stay out and afloat.
The Badlands is a maze of textures with its own Gordian order, one that defies agricultural tiling while cultivating mass yields of zen-fuel. A better photographer could do well with a monograph on the intricate patterns incised in its surfaces.
Another approach to the White River Underlook is from Big Foot Pass. Park by that overlook and walk the road to the bottom, and you can skip the prairie prologue and slip between rainbow mounds right onto the fractal crust. At twilight, the white alkali flats glow like the sidewalk tiles beneath Michael Jackson's feet in the video for "Billie Jean."
Your correspondent threaded a path through the grottoes at Big Foot Pass and spotted a porcupine browsing beneath a purple sky, a short-eared owl wrapping up the evening hunt, and a deer sentry gracefully keeping watch from a hogback butte. This is the recommended route. From here, you can hike Southeast along the edge of the Wall, into the open — be a speck in that Oligocene Harryhausen scene. The Wall stretches Southward in a pincers movement from the White River Overlook, a horseshoe-bay you can trace as you circle back, contemplating Kabbalist geometry etched by sun and wind.