The Lights Are Off

Wayne Porter’s Sculpture Garden is a Harvest Host location, a Times Top 50 Roadside Attraction, and, without question, a true wonder to behold. When I was planning our overnight stop as we entered South Dakota, I had choices—farms, another winery, or… a sculpture garden. How could we not choose something so unique and artsy? Isn’t that one of the perks—maybe even the requirements—of an epic road trip?

So, what is art? At Pictured Rocks, nature reminded me that true art can be wild, organic, and eternal. Nature’s masterpieces are not crafted—they evolve. But man-made art? It’s subjective. As the famous Supreme Court Justice once said in an obscenity ruling, “I know it when I see it.” That’s how I feel about art, too. It doesn’t need to be understood in the traditional sense—it just needs to be seen, to be felt. Art is about presence, expression, and connection. Whether it thrills you or unsettles you, it’s speaking… and you’re listening.

Wayne Porter’s roadside sculpture garden is impossible to ignore. Towering 50-foot horses, bulls, fairies, and fish rise from the prairie like dreams made of rust and steel. Some pieces are whimsical, some bizarre, others haunting or majestic—but they all demand to be seen. You don’t drive past Wayne’s work without saying, “Okay, yes. I’ll see.”

Wayne isn’t just an artist—he’s a poet and philosopher. Many of his pieces are accompanied by handwritten verses: some that offer insight, some that invite mystery. Others stand alone, nestled among wildflowers and prairie dog holes. (Yes, we saw two little guys pop up and watch us while our dogs growled and tugged at their leashes.)

If you’re ever traveling I-90 near Montrose, South Dakota, just west of Sioux Falls, do yourself a favor—pull off, pay the $10 admission, and take an hour to let your soul roam. Wayne’s metal art and his quiet, heartfelt wisdom are worth far more than the cost of entry.

Beyond the artwork, it turned out to be a memorable place to spend the night. We parked beside a giant metal goldfish—easily the size of a dinner table—and just ahead of another RV traveler named Marita and her mom, Mary Paul. Marita, a 25-year-old independent spirit, was taking a break from routine life to travel west on her own terms. Her mom had joined for a few weeks of the ride—a bond I totally understood and could see myself doing with Cameron or Carter someday if they hit the road.

We swapped stories and drinks, exchanged phone numbers, and relished another of the unexpected gifts of staying at Harvest Host locations: meaningful, personal encounters that make the journey all the richer.

The next morning, before we continued west to Rapid City, we took the dogs for one last walk past the giant fish, the rearing horse, and a steel ballerina. We paused, quietly, in that surreal space between art and prairie, and contemplated our place in this ever-expanding new world of ours—the open road—and felt deeply, gratefully inspired to keep moving forward.