Man’s Road

Slow to wake this morning, being nice and cuddly warm in my bag, and the air outside was about 40 degrees.  However, I did mention the Dyson vacuum, so I just wasn’t going to be able to sleep.  I had a slow morning, fixed hot tea, showered, read a little, and then packed up camp.  Slalomed through Deadwood tourists, dead to the world, at a snails pace with the rest of the morning traffic.  The road to Sturgis was the best I was going to see all day, best by motorcycle standards.  I fueled in Sturgis, that overly commercial ghost town, save for a couple of weeks in the beginning of August.  I can’t imagine owning one of those huge monstrosities they call bars and depend on a motorcycle rally every summer to pay the bills.  Although, only having to survive the chaos for a couple of weeks, and then enjoying 11 1/2 months off has some appeal.

Highway 34 out of town was a twisting, turning motorcycle Olympic event.  I had to maneuver through, wait for it…nine turns in about 175 miles!  Although the first few miles (a relative term on these prairie straightaways) I dreaded the boredom of the transit, but something else came to mind.  It wasn’t the challenge of the road, it was the sweeping plains.  The distance between Sturgis and Pierre could be divided in half, and that’s just what I’m going to do.  First was vast cattle operations, with rolled bales of grass/hay being collected for winter, even the patch between the fence and the road was harvested.  Large bales were scattered everywhere there wasn’t access for the cattle.  The traffic—I get more detailed later, stay tuned—mostly farm trucks, entered and exited causing no concern for me.  I had a commanding view to the horizon.  It reminded me of the sea, except that the sea moved and now I was doing the moving.  It really isn’t flat, but an expanse of subtle rolling landscape, occasional coulees, furrows, river watercourses, ruts, and intermittent trees.  No feed lots out here, but good old fashion beef raised the original way.  The second half was a million acres if there was one, of sunflower.  Unfortunately, they had their heads bowed, apparently I am not the sun in their lives.  As far as I could see, sunflowers.  The rugged people that must live out here, stacking their claim on life by producing something so necessary by everyone is a testament of their characters.  They really make me proud of America and demonstrate that our country is the greatest in the world.

A few observations on todays journey.  John Deere is the preferred tractor.  I saw an excess of old cars, mostly muscle cars from the 60’s, you know the ones usually nameI after living things: Barracudas, Cougars, Goats, Mustangs, etc.  All in excellent condition.  First I thought, cool someone’s got a cool car, and then I’d see another one and think these people out here take pride in their cars, but by the 100th one I surmised there was a car show somewhere west, while I was eastbound.  internet must suck out here, where homes are miles apart.  It is much less fatiguing to ride at 60 mph rather than 85 that I suffered through on those Montana & Wyoming roads.  Defiantly a man’s road. With no trees or facilities, I simply parked roadside, gauged the wind, and then let loose.

I took a break from the cross wind to eat lunch behind a hay bale.  Here’s a little occurrence that Rachelle will love; while defining the highway a man’s road, a horse in the distance cantered up to the fence.  This was a distance of about a 1000 yards he had to cover, and then called out to me (see caption 54b).   I reached Pierre, SD, the state capital, early (about 1400/2:00pm), crossing the Missouri into what has to be the smallest of all the state capitals.  I set up my tent on the Missouri River, at Griffen Park downtown.  I went to the pay at the kiosk, and guess what tents are free!  I’ll tell you in the morning if there is a reason that tents are free.  Does the Missouri flood this time of year?  After pitching the tent, I rode into town for some chow, and internet.  This may be the last you hear from me, I was just reading that there is a vicious South Dakota indian river monster that eats tourists camping on the river bank.