At the foot of the Bear's Tooth

Day 14: Greenough Lake Campground, near Red Lodge, Montana

Distance traveled: 355.7 km

Cumulative Distance: 5,314

Maximum speed: 129 kph

Moving average: 80 kph

Temperature range: 20.2 - 34.0 C

Due to road construction at the edge of Sheridan, we, i.e. Garmin, got a little confused as we tried to find our way out of town. Some old roads no longer exist and new ones were being created, so that the GPS thought we were driving “off road”. This makes it very challenging to find a route since it is always searching for the nearest road to get us to our destination, assuming it is not an Interstate or gravel road. We did follow the directions though, and ended up on a small adventure as it has us on what appeared to us to be a private road belonging to a coal operation; there was a gate on the road but it was swinging open and the road was paved, sort of, or at least, had been at one time. We went through the gate and what remnants of pavement there were soon gave way to gravel, though it was small and on a hard packed surface, so was easy for the bike.  As we made our way along, getting closer to the coal operation, we were running alongside another road, this one paved and I thought if we could get on that, even if it meant going through the grass, it would be better but alas, there was a fence defending that road. As it turned out, there was another gate blocking our exit from the coal operation. Nan jumped off the bike to see if the lock was just “dummy locked” but it was indeed shackled and closed, so we ended up having to turn back the way we came.

This resulted in our having to take about ten kilometres of Interstate; not the end of the world – it was not busy, few trucks, 75 mph speed limit and no guard rail to block our view.

In short order, we were climbing switchbacks into the Big Horn National Forest, only at the north end as opposed to last week on our way to the Black Hills. Even though we had passed through a few towns on the way, we had resisted the temptation to stop for a bite having had a couple of coffees in the hotel room early and wanting to make some miles before taking a break, especially as we had had our little side trip. High, high up in the Big Horn, we came across the Arrowhead Lodge, not quite at Burgess Junction where Highway 14 heads south and 14a continues west.

The Arrowhead was a pleasant surprise to us because we were getting quite hungry, having been on the road for an hour and a half, and there was no reference to it in the Garmin. Actually, there was nothing listed for Burgess Junction, even though there were at least three lodges up there, gas and restaurants.

It was pretty quiet up there and we wondered if it was open but with school started in many parts of the country, it was full-on shoulder season at the lodge. As per usual, we had just missed the breakfast hour, which finished at 11:00 a.m. The building which houses the restaurant was built in the late 30s and had a ton of character and the usual charm of an out-of-the-way fishing and hunting lodge. Additions to the original building were more practical, and there were cabins and a larger complex associated with the main dining area. The whole place actually looked quite large and I would think it probably had 40 rooms, so would be a pretty busy place in the summer.

What was really great was that the food was really authentic, home made and outstanding. Nan had a burger but the patty was hand made and grilled. I had brisket that had been rubbed and smoked by the cook as well as house made cole slaw and beef soup. It was all quite exceptional and for anybody heading this way to the Black Hills, I urge you to stop here and eat.

It was a seemingly long ride across the basin from the Big Horn National Forest to the Bear’s Tooth National Forest – hot and boring – but when we got across, things immediately picked up. We went through a few little towns, passed by the tragic Smith Coal Mine, where 72 coal miners had lost their lives in a 1943 mine explosion and into Red Lodge, a picturesque, touristy ski town not far from where we were camping for the night.

We were surprised as soon as we rode into town as all the buildings on the main street had flags hanging form them and the street lamps had beautiful hanging baskets of colourful flowers. The town is old and many buildings were brick or stone from the mining days and it all looked very inviting. Nan identified several stgores from the bike that she thought she might like to visit, however, that rarely happens on these trips. One place we did see though, was Bone Daddy’s Custom Cycle; earlier in the day, we had met a couple of motorcyclers and the gal was wearing a cool shirt from Bone Daddy’s. We decided that we would go in and check out what else they had.

It is not a cycle shop but a clothing shop. There were two outrageous gals in there looking totally bored and disinterested. It wasn’t even clear if they were working there or just hanging out; neither of them even got out of their seats from behind the counter when we walked into the place. However, we liked the clothing and we each picked something out for ourselves. Nan bought a gift for a friend and then decided she would keep it for herself.

We grabbed our usual deli dinner from the IGA and treated ourselves to a nice bottle of wine, later congratulating ourselves for eating relatively healthy, all things considered. On the way to the campground, we see signs that say “food storage required” and a picture of a bear. The local high school football team is The Grizzlies. We are heading over the Bear’s Tooth Pass tomorrow. Who do you think was getting anxious about bears? The camp host told me that there had been no bears around for the entire summer and despite the fact that our campground reservation had snagged us the premier tent site, right next to the river, it did not have a bear-proof food storage bin as did most of the other campsites, so we ended up moving. 

Ed note: having lunch at the edge of Yellowstone. Internet too slow for pictures. Later.

Custer's Last Stand

Day 13: Sheridan, Wyoming
Distance traveled: 299.3 km
Cumulative distance: 4,958 km
Maximum speed: 135 kph
Moving average: 89 kph
Temperature range: 22.0 - 36.0 C

We rode up to Crow Agency not on the Interstate, to the area of Custer's Last Stand. It is really quite an amazing memorial and as soon as we arrived, we listened to a brief description of the battle that ensued June 25, 1876. The presentation was impressively balanced with no judgments being made for or against either side.

Lt. Col. Custer had been charged with the task of transplanting Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne to the Cheyenne Reservation in Dakota territory, though for some reason, the Indians did not want to be moved. In their minds, they were standing up for their way of life and if they ended up being put on a reservation, the life they knew would be lost, so there would be no reason to live. As such, they fought to protect their way of life or die trying.

The 7th Cavalry was there to enforce Custer's orders but were vastly outnumbered, as five tribes had banded together to join the fight. Estimates that the Indian encampments along the Little Big Horn River below was 6,000 to 8,000 people, of which 1,500 to 2,000 were warriors. In those days, the Native Americans had firearms from trading or capture, though they still used bows and arrows. The 7th Cavalry numbered about 600 however, Custer had split them into three battalions, ordering one to scout the bluffs to the south, the other to cross the river and attack the upper end of the encampment.

In all, 262 men from the army and civilians died on that day. It is not known how many Native Indians perished. In addition, many horses died, including dozens of Cavalry horses that were shot by Custer's men as they made their last stand on the hill; they were desperate for cover and the horses bodies were all they had.

Marble markers had been erected at the place where soldiers were believed to have fallen or killed, though it was recognized that it may be impractical to do this with any certainty. The last 28 troops on the hill fighting with Custer, after Custer had been killed, attempted to flee down the hill to a ravine and were killed there; markers were placed descending the hill but it cannot be determined with certainty whether they were killed as they ran down the hill or in the ravine. In addition, their remains have not been discovered.

The hill where Custer and his men made their last stand.

The trail to the basin, where towards the end of the battle on Last Stand Hill, a group of soldiers attempted to either flee to safety or attack.

Marble markers indicating where soldiers' remains were found and initially buried.

Where Custer's body was found.

Red granite markers indicating where known Indian warriors fell.

Lt. Sturgis, the son of General Sturgis.  There is a famous motorcycle town where a large rally is held named Sturgis.

From the ride between Sheridan and Crow Agency.

On the way back to Sheridan, we thought we would stop for something cool to drink, maybe a snack, at a tavern we spotted on the way up to Crow Agency. As we approached the place, it looked more closed than open; there were no cars, no lights, nothing to indicate there was anyone inside, and we sped right by. However, I thought we should at least pull on the door handle, so we turned around and Nan jumped off the bike. Sure enough, the place was open, and I was privy to one side of the conversation (Nan wearing her helmet with the communicator on) she had with the bartender.

Of course, no cars, no people; just the bartender. She was there all alone. The place was filled with various types of gaming machines, which the bartender, Veronica, explained to us was legal in Montana but illegal in Wyoming, so a big part of their business was for residents of Sheridan about 30 km away.

That's Veronica, preparing our snack.

We weren't drinking of course, but she was happy serving us soft drinks. Nan asked for ice tea, which turned out to be sun tea, but the last of it. Since we hadn't eaten, we thought we would order a snack and Veronica gave us a menu. We ordered Nacho Supreme, and I use that term lightly. Notwithstanding we didn't see any other employees, I just assumed there would be a kitchen with somebody in the back to make us something to eat. Wrong. Everything was behind the bar for the bartender to make anything a customer ordered to eat. This included a completely enclosed deep fryer in which she opened a small chute, dropped in her fries, and they came out the bottom about three minutes later.

For the nachos, she did everything on the bar right in front of us. She pulled out a package of tortilla chips and spread them out on a large Chinette plate a plastic container with beef chili, another plastic container with "cheese" sauce (what Americans call "American cheese", which isn't really cheese at all, though it does have an infinite shelf life), small pre-prepared containers of jalapeno peppers and sour cream, and opened up a can of black olives. I actually had to help her with this because she couldn't work the can opener. Everything was heated in the microwave.

Veronica was a former EMT but after ten years, felt she needed to get a away from it. She was chatty and asked lots of questions about Canada, the Canadian health system, the political system (three party vs two party) and had her own observations about the state of U.S. politics and Native Indian affairs (again, in the U.S. the term Indian is not considered disparaging; these were her words). I thought it was interesting that she had been to Mexico twice but never to Canada, even though she was only a couple of hours away from the border. She said she had friends that lived close to the border but had never been across; this is surprisingly common, I have found.

The Kirby Saloon, form outside.

When we got back to Sheridan, I was tasked with my husbandly duties, which was to tend to the laundry. Later, after getting all cleaned up, we went out for what I expect will be our last night out to a "nice" restaurant, since it is camping till Saturday. There is a chop house about three blocks away, so a pleasant walk, especially as the temperature had fallen to about 28. When we presented ourselves at the door, the manager asked us if we were celebrating anything and we both answered simultaneously, though, as always, Nan said "no" and I said "yes". My stock response is that we are celebrating our love for each other but in fact, our 29th wedding anniversary is on Sunday, so that is what I told her.  They made a big deal of it, comped one of our glasses of wine, and came by and took our picture and printed it at the restaurant for us to take as a souvenir.

The Devil is in the Details

Day 12: Sheridan, Wyoming
Distance traveled: 417.3 km
Cumulative distance: 4,659.3 km
Maximum speed: 139 kph
Moving average: still messed up from yesterday
Temperature range: 17.4 - 35.6 C. It was really hot. I think our hottest riding weather ever!

Hanna Campground

We left Hanna Campground around 9:30 this morning. The camp host, Gerry, had been by a number of times the evening before with his therapy dog "Crisis". He seemed very concerned about our well being and mentioned a couple of times that he had come out at 4:00 a.m. to find campers in their cars with the motor running and the heat going full blast. His concern is that at our elevation, over 6,000 feet, the temperature will drop down close to freezing. I wondered what he was doing wandering around the campground at 4:00 a.m. Going for coffee, apparently. He stopped by in the morning to make sure we survived the night.

The morning ride started out fun as long as we were in the Black Hills National Forest, but that ended soon enough, and so did the squiggles. By 10:30 a.m., the temperature was up to 30 and we were out of the park, riding out on the open plains. We knew it would be a hot one. We stopped in the little town of Hulett for lunch, just before our main attraction for the day and Nan bought some jewelry in the cafe. Beer tab earrings. "Locally made", I might add.

So, the main attraction was Devil's Tower. If you have never seen it but have seen the movie "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", you have seen Devil's Tower. Thanks to my cuzzin Iron Butt Bruce, long distance rider extraordinaire, who just happened to be riding in the same area as us at the same time but not quite exactly the same time, put on HIS post that this year there is a 40th anniversary special edition DVD/Blu-ray release of the iconic movie. "Special edition" is a euphemism for "more money than ever before" and if you bought it on the first release (i.e. VHS) here is your opportunity to pay us AGAIN. This is the movie equivalent of The Eagles for This-is-our-final-tour-and-this-time-we-mean-it! tour.

But for us, it is a visit to the first National Monument in the U.S.A., (1906). We pay our $10 (as opposed to just driving by) and go up to the parking area. A nice motorcycler shares his parking spot with us, which is great, because it is right at the trail head, as opposed to halfway down the mountain where most of the parking is located. This is a great relief because it is so hot. However, walking on the well-constructed foot path, in the shade of the trees that did not burn in the last forest fire, it is actually quite pleasant, especially as we have stripped off all our riding gear and abandoned it on the bike, praying that somebody will steal it so that we don't have to wear it for the rest of the trip.

Oh. That's helpful information. 

Devil's Tower is a remarkable place. After we had had lunch, we were riding towards it and came over a rise and saw it towering above the landscape. But we were fifteen or twenty kilometres , so it was very impressive. From each angle, it takes on a different texture and all are worth exploring. It is a lava formation where the magma pushed its way up through the crust and formed a butte, probably due to the erosion of surrounding soil; it is much smaller than estimates for its original height as pieces are continually falling away from its sides. We hiked around it for an hour, which was plenty, as it turned out. It would be fun to come for a night visit some time, in a future life.

Staying with the program, we avoided the interstate to Sheridan and took Highway 14/16, which basically paralleled the interstate the entire way. However, staying off the Interstate has its own rewards and today, we got to stop at the bar in Spotted Horse. We were in urgent need of some time off the bike but we needed shade to do it and when we say a mileage sign that said "Spotted Horse 10 (miles)" we were determined that this would be our place. It turns out Spotted Horse really is a place and not an animal on the side of the road. However, there isn't much there. The bar and that is the only building we can see, though there looks like another building, a farm house or something, about a half mile away. I suspect there used to be a gas pump outside the bar but it has been moved inside and no longer spews gas to passing motorists.  And there are a lot of other things in the bar - old time decorations and one dollar bills with hand-written messages of encouragement or services offered are plastered all over the walls.

Spotted Horse

There is a picture on the wall of an American Paint (a type of spotted horse, apparently)

Bessy, in Witness Protection, with Nan.

The bar-keep is Bessy. We are so intrigued with the room we want to take pictures and she says sure, as long as she isn't in them. Witness protection, she explains. Nan snaps a bunch then I snap a few. Meanwhile, Nan has taken her Powerade outside to the veranda and while I am snapping away, Bessy moves outside as well and occupies the swing with Nan. She is getting a little friendlier now that she knows we are motorcyclers and not bikers; I suspect the latter are a big part of the clientele. When there is one. I come out and she offers to take pictures of Nan and me, which is nice since we are so rarely in pictures together, especially when traveling. I snap some pictures of her with Nan, then I hand her my camera and point out the shutter and she exclaims "I KNOW HOW TO WORK A PHONE!". O.K., then, don't let me get in the way.

Next stop is Sheridan. All we want is a cool drink and something to eat. Sadly, we were enticed by the multiple discounts offered up by the hotel to eat in their own establishment. We would have been better off paying full price somewhere else.

A long line of train engines at the coal mine

Grain elevator at Clearmont

Why bother?

Pigtails are so cute! Or Squiggle Hell

Day 11: Hanna Campground, Cheyenne Junction, South Dakota
Distance today: 26,564.0 km
Cumulative distance: ?
Maximum speed: 118 kph
Moving average: unknown
Temperature range: 21.4 - 31.9 C

OK, I am reasonably sure we didn't go that far today. However, it seems the squiggles of the Black
Hills were too much for my poor Garmin GPS unit. The GPS unit measures distance, velocity, altitude and direction based on data from satellites. The calculation is not particularly complex, can be done with three satellites but for reasonable accuracy, four is better and often, it uses seven or eight and it gets down to about three metres accuracy. However, today, not only were we riding squiggles but we were also riding pigtails. On numerous occasions, we would be riding one direction and we could see the face of the road sign from the opposite direction! Plus, the pigtails. Pigtails are where the road is making a 90 degree turn but requires 270 degrees to do it. In other words, we would be veering right but we would have to go under an over pass, sharp left, steep uphill and then over the overpass to complete the turn. There were three of these today but hundreds of switchbacks. For us, it was squiggle Heaven. For the Garmin, it was squiggle Hell. I think I will send screen shots of today's ride and distance traveled to get Garmin's comments. But by my estimation, we went 277 km.

The Rushmore loop.

Pigtails

When we arrived in Custer this morning, our first order of business was to get gas. We met a guy from Alaska at the gas station; he had been doing like us, riding around, doing squiggles but had stayed on an extra day to repeat several rides, one in particular, the aforementioned pigtails. He said it was like riding The Tail of the Dragon, a very famous squiggle-fest in North Carolina. My buddy Daryl from Toronto rides down there every year. To get his jollies and scrape his pegs. What The Tail of the Dragon does have that I did not see here is a collection of motorcycle parts from bikes (and riders) who didn't make a turn. However, I see in the local paper that every year, riders are killed or seriously injured in the Black Hills during the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, usually in head-on collisions.

While having breakfast, I tried to program our route into the Garmin so that we would hit every high density squiggle road in the Black Hills however, the Garmin just couldn't do it. I might be able to do it with the Garmin software on my computer at home but at the breakfast table, it couldn't take it. I should have known right then and there is was going to be squiggle Hell. I ended up having to resort to the old fashioned method: I made a list of turning instructions and placed them in the window of my map case on my tank bag. For the uninitiated, the tank bag is the motorcycler's "purse" which, in some fashion, is strapped to the gas tank just behind the handle bars. The tank bag is where I keep my computer, phone, about two dozen cables, plug-ins, converters, camera tripod, flashlight, ball cap, pens, note pad, Nan's iPad, passports, lip balm, almonds, unread newspapers, lighter, battery charger, FM radio, spare batteries for the Spot tracker, twist-ties for the cables, and several pairs of ear plugs. In the good old days, we used to actually stick a map in the map case - a clear window in the top of the tank bag - and that was how we followed a planned route. Hard to believe, I know.

Custer, our temporary home, is a bike haven. All the advertising is oriented to motorcyclers and primarily, Harley riders. Though there are four wheeled vehicles, the predominance seems to be motorcycles, even though motorcycle season is rapidly coming to a close. With the Sturgis Rally over, traffic slows down and kitschy merchandise is starting to be offered at blow-out prices that can't be beat. Still, Custer does have some good stuff to see. There are several buffalo sculptures around town, and a few are quite interesting.

Not buffalo, kitschy merchandise.

I am not sure this was meant for us.

A REAL buffalo. He looks almost domesticated. We could have pet him as he walked by the bike.

 It is hard to describe just how twisted the roads are in the Black Hills. We discussed at length today whether there was any practical reason for these roads or if they were created purely for the riding/driving pleasure of being on them. Clearly, there was the odd driver that did not know that they were supposed to be fun roads to drive based on how slow they were going but most people were out there having way too much fun. Certainly we were, or at least, I was.  Some roads seemed to lead somewhere while others just seemed to complete some circular route; we loved being on them but I can't imagine anybody taking them to actually get to a destination. One road had a sign that said "no trucks". This is the first time in our motorcycle career where Nan wondered if I was taking the corners a little on the fast side.

Cathedral spires

THAT'S a sharp corner!

More tunnel travel

Looks like a contradiction. It's not. The same curve, from different perspectives!

This is a 270 degree turn. (Ignore that little road off to the left)

Looking back to the way we had just come.

Approaching the turn

C,C, Gideon Tunnel

As we went through the tunnel...

We could see there was something more on the other side!

I don't think it is a coincidence that the trees "just grew" this way!

And, as a continuation from yesterday's discussion, this place is for all motorcyclers but it is mainly Harleys here. 90% of the bikes are Harley's and if they are not motorcycles, they are the three-wheeled variety, called "trikes", of which there were a surprising number. Plus, there is a substantial number of people who appear to be much older than us riding motorcycles, judging by the number of times we thought we saw Santa, Kenny Rogers and Rip van Winkle. Lots of people riding two-up like us, single up, and women riders. But there is an unmistakable culture here, and it is all Harley-related.

Stars from Comanche Park

Mount Rushmore

One of several tunnels on the day's ride

The following pictures are from Deadwood, which is quite a picturesque old town. The town was the centre of gold mining activity in the late 1800's with famous residents like Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok, who was killed in a poker game while holding a pair of aces and eights, thereafter known as the "deadman's hand".

The town was also a centre of prostitution until 1980

Nan doing the chores, at Hanna campsite