Never A Dull Moment

Welcome back to the last installment of my solo road trip to Sturgis, South Dakota. Are you ready for day 5 and 6? I hope you are because it was an awesome ride.

Remember this trip was in June 2023 and the weather was warm. Now, as we are turning colder, all that sweating under my protective riding gear seems more appealing than it did at the time.

The endless grasslands

Leaving Casper, Wyoming on day five it was more amazing endless horizons of green grass with nothing to break up the view except some horses, cattle and the narrow grey strip of asphalt beckoning me to follow.

A funny thing happened on remote Highway 387. I saw a gas station and figured it would be a good time to top off the tank and stretch my legs. This place was not in a town, there was nothing around it and most likely didn’t even have a name. Just as I was putting the gas cap back on, three Hangmen came roaring into the gas station, disturbing the quiet country atmosphere.

What’s more, they were Arizona guys, brothers I knew well. I was actually a little disappointed having been discovered on my solo ride. I did not want to fall in with them and ride in a pack at ninety miles per hour.

I asked what route they were taking, and George said they were going to pick up Highway 50 north to Interstate 90 and planned to be in Sturgis that evening. That was my out. I had already planned to spend the night in Newcastle, WY. Online, I’d found a quaint little motel in a rural wooded area outside of downtown and wanted to give it a try. So, I wished my brothers a safe ride and struck off on my own again.

About to leave Wyoming for South Dakota

It was never a dull moment as I continued to ride through some of the best countryside ever, constantly amazed at how empty it is.

Newcastle is a lovely little old town on the west side of the Black Hills National Forest. Founded in 1890 with a population of a little over three thousand, it was one of those quiet places I thought I could settle down in if I was so inclined. But that’s just a fantasy I carry with me when I travel. It will probably never happen.

There were no big box stores, and the markets are locally owned. The only fast-food chains I saw were Subway and Pizza Hut. If this had been Texas, a Dairy Queen would have been mandatory.

The Pine Country Inn, in Newcastle, Wyoming

For me there is something special about riding into a new town and searching out a place to eat and a room for the night. I’m not sure why, it just seems to have its own little sense of adventure.

Stopping into Isabella’s American Restaurant, it was late afternoon, and I was the only customer there. Sitting at the bar I ordered a beer and a cheeseburger. Chatting with the pretty bartender, who was less than half my age, I found she had lived there all her life and she said she loved it. That’s got to say a lot for a town.

Back on the bike, moseying through the old town, I located the Pine Country Inn and was happy to find they weren’t full. The room was small but comfortable and nicely decorated. It was a pleasure to be able to relax in a smalltown woodland setting instead of a chain hotel just off a noisy interstate.

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The next morning after coffee and instant oatmeal in the room, then an hour repacking the bike, I was off for my last leg to Sturgis. It was only an hour and a half away, but I was still intent on taking my time. I didn’t want this trip to end.

Red Butte, Wyoming on the CanAm Highway

Heading out of town, northbound on Highway 85, it wasn’t long before I encountered what looked like a mini-Devils Tower, so I had to pull over and get some pictures. Just another glimpse of the scenic paradise that our country has to offer. Not long after that I crossed the border into South Dakota and entered the Black Hills National Forest.

I spent the next hour marveling at the steep hills with lush forest and smooth curvy roads as once again I told myself, “This is some of the most beautiful I’ve ever ridden through.” But then, I’d told myself the same thing a lot over the last week.

I didn’t stop to take pictures in the Black Hills, I was having too much fun braking, leaning and accelerating out of the curves while keeping a sharp eye out for deer. I did get a lot of great GoPro videos though, some of which I have posted on my YouTube channel.

When I got to the town of Deadwood, I was almost disappointed and considered turning around so I could ride through it all again. But I pressed on to Sturgis. Finding Interstate 90 I took it south to the No Name City Resort that we had reserved for the next five days.

The other chapters of Hangmen from around the country were already there and the party was getting underway. My son Chris has ridden out with the Oklahoma boys and as always it was great to get to hang out with him again.

After the run, our plan was to ride to Oklahoma together, relax for a couple of days, then I would point my front forks westward, back to Arizona, staying off the interstate as much as possible. We were looking forward to a fun time.

One day a bunch of us went into Deadwood to do the usual tourist thing.  We took lots of pictures, found a saloon and had hamburgers and beer. Some of the guys rode to Mount Rushmore and another group rode to Devil’s Tower.

We slept in small barracks with bunk beds. The restrooms and showers were about a five-minute walk, at least from my cabin. The resort had a bar and grill where we could order food and drink, but we also had a crew of our guys running our own outdoor kitchen, whipping up breakfasts and dinners for everyone.

But my fun time was not to last.

With my son Chris in Deadwood, South Dakota

Unfortunately, I was experiencing a lot of back pain, exacerbated by a week of traveling. Sometimes causing my right leg to want to give out. That caught up to me one night on a rain slick porch as I lost my balance and fell of it face first into the mud. Having had a few drinks, I’m sure had nothing to do with it.

Putting out my hands to break the fall only served to injure my shoulder joints which I’ve injured in the past. I should have landed on my head, it’s a lot harder.

Now along with my back pain, my shoulders hurt so badly, I was afraid I may not be able to ride the bike safely. Harleys are pretty heavy after all.

Tray, one of our Arizona brothers, had his pickup truck there and rather than me try to ride to Oklahoma or even back to Arizona he offered to take me and the bike home. It sure wasn’t the way I’d planned to end this trip, but I felt I should take him up on his offer rather than going through a lot more pain and possibly having an accident. I never want to get the bike hurt. My philosophy is that if the bike is okay, I’ll be okay.

This time it didn’t quite work out that way, but at least the bike was still unhurt. Since I started riding in 1966 and with the club in 1968, I had never trucked or trailered a motorcycle to or from a run. So, I felt like a failure, not completing the planned trip, and the possibility of turning it into another book.

On any motorcycle ride we have to be ready for mishaps of one kind or another, it goes with the territory. This was one I had not expected.

I am already looking forward to next summer and more riding in the vast emptiness of America, and I hope you will all come along with me again.

See you next month,

Dale

Like many old west towns Deadwood is partly famous for gunfights and murder