August 25, 2017
BELLE FOURCHE, SOUTH DAKOTA: A Report On My Great Sturgis Motorcycle Rally Avoidance Plan
The eastward ride on Highway 34 was one of my favorite segments of this trip so far. The scenery was a nice combination of Black Hills and Great Plains. The traffic was fairly light. There were a lot of pine trees but they didn't block the view too much. I saw about a dozen deer all together on a hillside. I think that was the largest gathering of deer I had ever seen. Another nice feature was the two significant climbs to what I would call mountain passes. They weren't Rocky Mountain-type climbs, but they were enough to give the heart and lungs a workout.
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From that great viewpoint I began a long downhill into the town of Alva. At least it seemed to have some trashy evidence of being a town. I'll give Alva the benefit of the doubt since I did see a few houses.
The second climb was longer, twistier, and steeper. I didn't know how long the climb was going to be, so I was looking for the end of it around every one of those twisty bends. I kept looking and looking for about three miles. When I reached the top, I was excited to see the sign for a 7% descent coming up ahead.
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That last caption sounded a little bit like whining, didn't it. I take it back because the 7% grade provided about all of the thrills and speed I could comfortably handle. I didn't squeeze the brakes even once, but I assure you I had my hands on them constantly and I remained hyper-aware of the switchbacks and the surface of the road for the next three miles. Several times I thought about the bloody road rash I would have gotten had I not been able to negotiate one of the curves properly . . . or if a deer had run out in front of me.
The steepness of the road lessened as it brought me to the town of Alladin (population: 15) where I stopped at a general store that claimed to be 125 years old. I liked the creaky wooden floors and the vibe in that place. As I sat on the "Liar's Bench," drinking a Henry Weinhard's Orange Cream Soda, a woman came up to talk to me about my trip. She was wearing blue jeans and boots and a Sturgis Motorcycle Rally t-shirt. I assumed she was riding one of the many motorcycles parked on the side of the building.
After our conversation, she went down to the end of the porch and unlocked Alladin's U.S. Post Office. Damn . . . I think she was the Postmaster!
I thought the town was worth a couple of pictures.
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Beyond Alladin the downhill ride continued to within a couple miles of the South Dakota border. I mentioned the motorcycles parked on the side of the Alladin General Store, but I didn't mention that I had seen more motorcycles and motortrycicles than cars and trucks today. I was surprised at that because I had carefully planned my trip to avoid the huge Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. I've driven through the Black Hills during that early-August event and have seen how the motorcycling crowd completely takes over the area. It's amazing and frightening at the same time.
Yet, more than a full week later, and despite my smart planning, I am still seeing residual groups of motorbikers. I even got one of those exclusive two-fingered waves that motorcyclists give each other when they pass in opposite directions. (Thank you to famous cycle tourist Wayne Estes, who explained to me that it means "keep two wheels on the road." And, as Wayne said, why would anybody have to be told that?)
Usually motorcyclists ignore me, but today I got a lot of regular waves along with the two-fingered wave. I was feeling like they were in simpatico with me, so I'm really hesitant to relate a joke I remembered from from many years ago. But it's pretty funny, and it was told to me by a Harley rider--in the presence of another Harley rider--so it must be OK. I guess it's kind of like when lawyers tell "lawyer jokes." (What do you call 10,000 lawyers at the bottom of the sea? A good start.)
So, at the risk of being dealt great bodily harm on a lonely South Dakota road, here is the joke:
QUESTION: What's the difference between a Harley-Davidson Motorcycle and a Hoover Vacuum Cleaner?
ANSWER: The dirtbag rides on the INSIDE of a Hoover.
Just to show that I am equally able to poke fun at human-powered travelers--like me--I have another joke to tell. It comes from a pro-development, anti-environmentalist congressman who represented my district when I was in college. This was about 38-years ago, so I paraphrase.
"Backpackers, canoeists, and cyclists contribute nothing to our economy. They exchange a ten-dollar bill about as often as they change their underwear--which is never."
As a guy who has backpacked, canoed, and biked, I'm still able to see the humor in the joke. But I don't think Congressman Jacobetti was joking. He was dead serious. As a guy who only brought one pair of underwear on this tour, but has exchanged many $10.00 bills, well, I'm willing to admit he was half right.
I entered another state and ended my day in the city of Belle Fourche. Not much to report here except for two things: With a population of about 5,000 it is the largest town I've been in since Williston, and it has a monument for the official geographic center of the United States.
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Today's ride: 45 miles (72 km)
Total: 485 miles (781 km)
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