STAGE FIVE (2 Days) Mt. Rushmore, The Badlands and a grind.
I awoke to drizzle on the sixth day, but a forecast that offered hope. 5 miles south of Deadwood, on US-385, the rains stopped and the road began to dry. By the time I arrived at the Pactola Reservoir everything, including me, was dried out.
The next stop would be Mt. Rushmore. I had a snack sitting by myself in the bleachers contemplating the significance of this incredible sight. I thought about the people who worked on the project and the vision it took to bring this to fruition. I also reflected on the Lakota people, the original owners of the land. It was taken from them in the 1870s. In 1980 the US Supreme Court ruled that the land was stolen and offered the Sioux Nation $102 million. The offer was declined; the people want the land not the money. Conflict continues to this day.
Just outside of Mt. Rushmore is the entry to
US - 16A. This road was on the list from day one.
Pigtailed bridges, small tunnels, narrow one-way sections and terrific views.
Here's a good video of 16a. *not my video. Wild and domestic animals are also a part of 16A. Ride (or drive) smart here. There aren’t as many pullouts so I have fewer pics from this area than I’d like.
From Keystone, SD. I would head to Rapid City, SD. and visit
@MadeByMiller. I spent about thirty minutes there, meeting his family and touring his shop. Austin is an amazing artist and a very skillful welder; he has built a very capable, albeit small, shop. It has some of the highest storage density of any small shop I've seen, in person or online. From there it was back on the interstate, I-90, for a short run east to Wall, South Dakota.
At the Badlands Saloon & Grille (across the street from Wall Drugs, an adventure in its own right) I took a break and had a delicious bison burger with coleslaw and ice-cold sweet tea for lunch before moving just a few miles south to the
Badlands. Here I would see a real live buffalo in the wild. He was probably 100 yards from the road, several people had stopped to observe. Fortunately, none of them were the idiots you see online, getting close to take a selfie with the local wildlife.
It’s a surreal place, like another planet. You catch glimpses of it as you approach the park, but largely it is below grade and like the Grand Canyon, you can’t really appreciate it until you’re standing at the edge.
I think the temps climbed 25 degrees between the Black Hills and the Badlands.
Next, I would begin the grind part of the journey. Heading east across South Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin. Two days of mostly highspeed slab. In South Dakota the speed limit is 80 MPH on I-90. Trucks seem to keep or beat that pace. Passing a truck on the highway is a process when riding a motorcycle. You start in ‘clean’ air, meaning no turbulence. As you approach the truck, you start to feel some buffeting and then you enter ‘dirty’ air. If you’re in the same lane, you can enter a draft area just behind the truck. No wind and a vacuum, just like NASCAR. While a great tactic for racing, on a public road, behind several tons of Mack, Peterbilt or Freightliner, it is irresponsible at best. More accurately, it is stupid and dangerous; you have no visibility or time to react to a situation. Still, some idiots do it. In the passing lane, as you approach and pass the back of the truck the turbulence settles into a steady pressure drawing you slightly sideways towards the truck while you’re riding next to it. As you pass the cab is where the fun starts. You reach a point where the transition from dirty air back to clean air happens and the inward pressure is replaced by outward pressure. This can be quite strong, and abrupt, depending on speed differential between the two vehicles. To compensate you lean the bike towards the truck without turning in your lane. This is a reaction; you don’t really think about it; the bike does X and your body does Y to compensate. You can feel this in a 3,500 Lb. car. You feel it considerably more so on a ~464 Lb. motorcycle. In my experience the length of the truck is not as critical as the height. They run some tall trucks out west…
It was also here that I smacked the biggest bug of the trip. At first impact I thought I'd taken a rock based on the noise, a very sharp, loud crack.
The miniature explosion of guts and goo made this a 'pull over as soon as possible and clean it up' situation. Some bugs just know how to land right in the line of sight.
The sun disappeared somewhere near Murdo and some light, patchy rain returned which slowed me down even more than the seemingly endless one lane of construction. My general rule of thumb is to ride at no more than 70% in the rain as compared to dry conditions. Obviously adjusting even slower in more challenging conditions (like back in south-eastern Wyoming). 308 miles later, I found myself in Chamberlain, SD.
June 23rd would be my 7th straight day of riding. I was saddle sore, but not hurting. However, my right hand was beginning to fatigue. My bike does not have cruise control; something I will add before the next ‘big’ road trip. When riding, the left hand gets breaks all the time, the right, never. Today was about meeting another Garage Journaler in Minneapolis,
@4 FN 27 , to tour his business and home shop which is the nicest, most complete shop I’ve ever been too. The fact that he’s earned and acquired just about every tool and piece of machinery a full-blown race and fabrication shop needs, pales in comparison to the knowledge he’s amassed to be able to actually use all of the equipment, and to do so with a high degree of skill. I was late to our meeting and made it only after experiencing Friday afternoon rush hour and thunderstorms alternating with sun and high heat, while traversing the MSP area from the south-west to the north-east. Pat was a most gracious host, sharing details (and time) that I, as a self professed gearhead familiar with manufacturing plants, really appreciated. A couple of hours later I was back in the saddle and headed towards Menomonie, WI. I was feeling good after a longer than usual break, so I pushed on, to Eau Clair, Wisconsin, bringing my total for the day to 479 miles.
The hotel was a bit isolated and I had no interest in saddle time or even an uber/lyft for dinner, so I ordered a pizza from a local joint. It was terrible. And cut into 1.5” squares. To which the cheese slid off and left me a greasy mess of piles of dough and piles of runny cheese chunked up with my toppings of choice. Perhaps I am just a pizza snob. Seriously, one point five inch squares.
To be continued...
). I don't have much to show off but if you ever make it out this way again, I'd be happy to meet up or at least direct you to some proper pizza. 
!
