The Black Hills and National Treasures

Monday - our first day the posse shrank to 4 - Jeff, Buford, Cheryl, and I - as Frank and Bill are staying in Rapid City about 50 miles east of Sturgis (and Deadwood where we are is 15 miles west). After our late night with Alice, we were slow getting started but finally left the hotel about 11:00 a.m. for a day riding through the Black Hills and seeing the sites.

As hot as it was the day before, it was equally cool and overcast, threatening rain as we left. Naively I asked before coming if I'd need my full leather jacket and today proved why.

On leaving Deadwood, we all needed gas and pulled into a station on the outskirts of town. As I pulled to the pump, a typical biker fellow had the pump in his hand and was waving me forward, so I pulled up to see what he wanted. He said he was the "Rabbi", a masters-prepared theology graduate who was part of a Christian biker ministry and that the fuel was on them! Hard to believe, but all he wanted was a brief chat and wouldn't accept ANY donations. I'm sure he pumped hundreds of dollars in his stint there, but one little sign of the goodness of people was a great way to start the day.


Riding south on the Blue Star Memorial Highway (Route 385), we passed into the Black Hills National Forest as we headed toward Custer State Park. The cool overcast day finally began to spit rain at us so we pulled off to don our rainsuits. Cheryl was riding on my bike with me to shoot pictures while moving, and had left her rainsuit back at the hotel. So, being the gallant guy I am, I surrendered mine to her. She and Jeff put their suits on while Danny and I stayed in our clothes and, sure enough, the rain quit about 3 minutes after we got started again.

Fortuitously, we were going a route that Danny didn't usually take and it took us directly past the Crazy Horse monument. We stopped and took a brief visit to the Visitor Center where I ("Museum Boy") could've stayed for several hours, but hey we had roads to ride and miles to cover. Cheryl always kids me about wanting to take the kids to "Monkey World" when they were little, so I try to be sensitive to others whose buttons aren't pushed by museums.

One item there particularly struck me . . . .a sculpt entitled "Death Song" which told the story of the warriors of a small tribe. Two were selected before battle and then had their sash staked to the ground and stood with their weapons to face the oncoming attackers. It was a great honor to be selected for what was surely their death, and the thought of that kind of courage was overwhelming.

I asked the attendant there if there was any projected finish to the monument where you can currently see Crazy Horse's head very clearly while work begins on the head of his horse . . he responded that there was NO end date forecast. It looks to me like it'll go on for decades and perhaps a century or more . . . .a long overdue monument to the Native Americans. One last note about the monument and its size - the four heads on Mount Rushmore could fit on the head of Crazy Horse.

Amazing.

From here, we went on into Custer State Park and about a 25 mile "Wildlife Loop" where we saw some of the most gorgeous scenery as we went up and down hills and small mountains. And, of course, we saw the wildlife - Buffalo, a hundred thousand donkeys, deer, etc. Sometimes it seemed as if the other bikers had never seen an animal because they'd be pulled off the road snapping photos of donkeys and trying to pet them. We emerged from the Loop and had a welcome lunch of pickles, sloppy joes and coney dogs at Elk Haven, one of Buford's favorite spots.

Next stop was the highlight for the day - Mount Rushmore. You can see it from miles away and the roads and tunnels as you approach it seem designed to frame it in the most picturesque manner. Cheryl and I had "studied up" on the monument before coming and knew a lot about its history, etc., but there is NOTHING like seeing one of our nation's greatest treasures up close and personal.

The vision, ingenuity, and hard work by tough men to build this are simply staggering. I'm guessing that there may have been some kindred spirits to me there - I don't always like what this country is doing, but I surely like this country.

Keystone is a small town just below Mount Rushmore so that became our last stop for refueling our bikes and ourselves. As Cheryl noted, this is just one small town in this area and there were a jillion motorcycles there.

You can see how this event - officially known as the "Black Hills Rally" really can bring 500,000 bikers (and their money) to this beautiful area.


And, Cheryl was glad to contribute some of her money to the local economy as she bought herself some chaps, and yes, she looks great in them.


As it started to darken, time to hit the road back to Deadwood. It was a lovely evening ride "home" to the hotel until the last traffic light. In pulling up beside Jeff and behind Buford and coming to a stop, I have no idea why I did this (as I've been riding motorcycles literally for 40 years), but I turned the wheel slightly to the right and pulled my front brake. Well, that's a recipe for disaster and, sure enough, we tipped over right in front of everyone at the traffic light. Mind you, we weren't moving, we just tipped over Artie Johnson used to tip over on his tricycle on Laugh In.


Before I knew it, some good fellow ran out and helped us right the bike and, just as quickly, police lights with an officer telling me to pull it off to the side. I knew he thought I was drunk and I explained I hadn't been drinking (at least not since lunch several hours ago!), but he seemed unconvinced and leaned in to smell me. . . he saw I was telling the truth and allowed us to move on. How embarrassing, but there's a saying about bikes . . . .a motorcycle that hasn't been down WILL be down sometime sooner or later. Glad I got that one out of the way so painlessly.


Tomorrow is Harley day as we ride to Rapid City and the mega HD events.