As dawn broke over the Black Hills on a recent morning, hundreds of cars began arriving at the Crazy Horse Memorial complex near Custer, South Dakota. The first thousand-plus hikers, eager to begin their journey, passed beneath a welcoming banner as the sun painted the sky.
The path wound its way up Thunderhead Mountain. Along the ascent, hikers frequently paused, their eyes drawn upward to the monumental face carved into the granite, soaring over six thousand feet high.
From the same imposing rock emerged a massive left hand, its index finger, an impressive 29 and a half feet long, directed across the sweeping mountains toward the Pine Ridge Native American Reservation, ancestral lands of the Oglala Lakota tribe.
This carved face and hand are integral parts of a truly immense sculpture, a project now in its 77th year of ongoing creation. Once finished, it will portray the Oglala Lakota chief Crazy Horse valiantly riding a fast-galloping horse. Reaching an astounding 563 feet in height and spanning 642 feet in length, it is set to become the planet’s largest sculpture, dwarfing the Great Sphinx of Giza by nearly ten times in height and three times in length.
“You can truly see the progress they’re making,” observed Jeff Tuschen, a 63-year-old retired farmer from Salem, South Dakota, who was on his twelfth visit to the site.
Normally, the summit remains off-limits, but twice a year, the Crazy Horse Memorial opens its trails, inviting visitors to hike either a 3-mile or 6-mile loop for an intimate look at the evolving sculpture. The latest hike, held on September 28, attracted an impressive 5,170 participants.
Josh Buczynski, a 50-year-old produce manager, traveled from Billings, Montana, with his wife and son. Reflecting on his many visits, he remarked, “I’ve been to Crazy Horse maybe ten times over thirty years, and I’ve certainly noticed a significant improvement in the hand.”
Chief Crazy Horse, born around 1840, grew up in a time when the surrounding plains were teeming with millions of buffalo. He earned the name Tasunke Witko (meaning Crazy Horse or His Horse Is Wild) by distinguishing himself in battle. His legend grew among the broader American public in 1876, when he played a crucial role in the defeat of General George Custer and the Seventh Cavalry at the Battle of Little Bighorn. Tragically, Crazy Horse was killed just four months later.
This monument, dedicated to Crazy Horse, was conceived as a counterpart to the famous Mount Rushmore, located approximately 17 miles away. While Mount Rushmore, opened in 1941, took 14 years to carve, the Crazy Horse project aims for an even grander scale.
Observing the large gathering, Darrah Goggles, a 38-year-old Blackfeet tribal member on her inaugural hike, expressed a touch of sadness. “It pains me slightly not to see more tribal members here,” she commented, adding, “It feels quite tourist-oriented.”
Her husband, Carlino Goggles, 45, offered a hopeful perspective: “At least those who visit might gain significant knowledge about the Lakota people.”
The memorial’s inception dates back to 1939 when Henry Standing Bear, a Lakota elder, reached out to Korczak Ziolkowski, a sculptor from Boston. Standing Bear proposed a monument that would honor “the red man’s great heroes,” a vision Ziolkowski embraced.
Ziolkowski accepted the challenge and made South Dakota his permanent residence. He dedicated half of his life to this monumental endeavor, overseeing the removal of millions of tons of rock. After his passing in 1982, his legacy was continued by his second wife, his ten children, and numerous grandchildren. The 88-foot-high face of Crazy Horse itself wasn’t unveiled until June 3, 1998.
Gene Tierney and Laurel Spence, both 70 and retired, shared that they had listened to an audiobook, “The Journey of Crazy Horse: A Lakota History,” during their drive from Minnesota. “For me, the significance of this place resonates on many levels,” commented Mr. Tierney, making his tenth visit. “It’s a powerful reminder that the narrative here does not center on the white man as the hero, which is a valuable lesson.”
Derek Thunder Hawk, an Oglala Lakota tribal member, was undertaking his sixth Crazy Horse hike. He often runs to the summit to perform a sage burning ceremony and offer prayers. “Many believe our people are gone,” he stated. “But seeing a monument like this, or encountering someone like me, serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring presence of this land’s original inhabitants – that we are not forgotten.”
“I’m aware that opinions on this vary widely,” Mr. Thunder Hawk, 37, continued, gesturing towards the massive carving. “However, for us, it represents one of the few things we truly have.”
Mr. Thunder Hawk was alluding to the long-standing controversies surrounding the monument. Critics argue it’s a desecration because it involves blasting and altering a peak in the Black Hills, a region deeply sacred to the Lakota people. Furthermore, concerns have been raised that the privately funded Crazy Horse Memorial, which relies on donations and admission fees, has diverted millions of dollars that could have benefited those living on reservations.
Beyond the ethical debates, there’s also the practical challenge of accurately portraying Crazy Horse. As he was never photographed, the carved face is based on an informed interpretation rather than a precise likeness.
Joseph Cross, a retired military veteran and an Oglala Lakota like Crazy Horse, strolled through a stand of birches with his wife, Doris Cross. The question arose: What would Crazy Horse himself make of this massive memorial in his honor?
“I believe he would approve of this,” stated Mrs. Cross, 63. “My hope is for more Lakota and other people to visit and witness it.”
Mr. Cross, 65, expressed a more reserved view. “There are many unhoused Native people,” he pointed out. “I believe Crazy Horse would advocate for channeling all the effort and resources dedicated to this monument directly towards supporting the people.”
Just days before the hike, the situation of the Lakota people gained national attention due to a controversial announcement from Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. In a public video, Hegseth declared that the Medals of Honor awarded to soldiers involved in the 1890 massacre of over 300 Native Americans, including defenseless women and children, near Wounded Knee Creek on the Pine Ridge Reservation, would not be rescinded.
In 2019, Democratic legislators had proposed legislation to strip these medals from 20 U.S. Army soldiers, a move that prompted a review by a panel of retired military officers. This effort aligned with a formal apology extended by Congress in 1990 to the descendants of those killed at Wounded Knee. However, in his September 25 video, Hegseth asserted that the soldiers would retain their medals, claiming they “deserved those medals.”
“As a military man myself,” Mr. Cross stated during the hike, “I completely disagree with everything Hegseth said. That was unequivocally a massacre, a crime against humanity, the brutal slaughter of my people. True recognition should go to the courageous Great Sioux men who defended those women and children at Wounded Knee with medals.”
Near the immense hand, some hikers gathered, captivated by a shimmering piece of mica. Delia Valdez, 68, and her husband, Andy Valdez, 71, from Houston, found a moment to rest on a large boulder.
“I hadn’t quite realized how much of a hike this would be,” Mrs. Valdez commented, taking sips of water. “When I visited in ’82, it was barely more than a small excavation in the mountain.”
After capturing some photos, Mr. Valdez lowered his camera and stated, “Witnessing this makes you truly proud to be an American.”
Wendy Farmer, a retired Army veteran from Tennessee now living in South Dakota for four years, shared a similar sentiment. She makes it a point to take visiting friends to both major monuments in her new home state.
“I always suggest Mount Rushmore first, since everyone knows it,” Ms. Farmer, 65, explained. “Then I insist we come here. Many people aren’t familiar with Crazy Horse until they arrive, and then they realize this is truly what they came to see. I always tell them, ‘You absolutely must see both, because they are both symbols of the United States of America.’”
Interestingly, only one friend Ms. Farmer brought to the Crazy Horse Memorial remained unmoved. “She’s a white woman from Florida, a friend of twenty years, and she just wasn’t impressed,” Farmer recounted. “I think she enjoyed the winery more.”
A palpable sense of joy filled the summit as hikers celebrated their accomplishment. The imposing face of Crazy Horse, with eyes seemingly larger than SUVs, made the assembled crowd feel tiny in comparison. Among the throng were Caleb and Vaughn, two of Mr. Ziolkowski’s grandchildren, who continue the sculptor’s ambitious work.
“My grandfather passed before I was born, but I truly hope he would approve of our work,” said Caleb, 41, who returned to South Dakota after completing his Ph.D. and considering an academic career. “This is a work of art that, once complete, will endure for millennia. Who wouldn’t want to contribute to something so lasting?”
For the brothers, these biannual hikes offer the public a unique opportunity to connect intimately with the project. Caleb recalled, “My grandmother understood the importance of completing the face first, as the vision becomes much clearer when it begins to look back at you.”
Tiffany Taylor, a cosmetologist, and a friend had journeyed from Minnesota. Upon reaching the mountain’s peak, they shared an embrace. “My father is Lakota,” Ms. Taylor, 53, shared. “This has been a bucket list item for me, and it’s actually my very first hike.”
Close by, Mr. Cross, the Lakota military veteran, reverently touched the face of Crazy Horse, then closed his eyes. “I pray for my people,” he uttered. “I pray for this country. I’m praying for a better future for everyone.”