Breakfast on the Standing Rock

It's 10:30. The miles from yesterday have left a slightly unpleasant reminder, but surprisingly, I'm not as sore as I thought I'd be. As the tent's coming down, my native host greets me with a huge smile, and his son Mason pulls up on his bike to meet the white guy who'd been sleeping in his yard. Tokub invites me to come in and have breakfast with the family.

Inside the house, I'm introduced to Mah^a Ska, Tokub's father and elder in the tribe. It's a privillage to be there and hear him speak about his people. Breakfast is laid out, and I kid you not, it's a meal fit for royalty. I mean, there's oatmeal, there's eggs and toast, sausages and grapefruit.

So I have the honor of eating with three generations of Lakota while learning first hand a bit about the culture. What I glean from the experience is, they are a highly spiritual people whose past suffering has made them a strong and extremely resilient tribe.

Walking away, I feel lucky to have been included in their day, and I hope I've added the Lakota to my ever growing list of friends.

Upon entering South Dakota, we get stopped by a woman named Jackie who's wondering what we're doing. When I tell her, she's quick to welcome us in the state with a big bag of sunflower seeds. Although there wasn't a sign, I think it's about the neatest way I've ever crossed a state border.