West to East across the USA [“Portland to Maryland”]: September 2015 (links to the pictures fixed)

[Jabus]

Day 5: Moses Lake to Walla Walla (continued)

The surprise of the day was Starbuck, a small town on Route 261. The population, as confirmed by the waitress at the Rawhide Bar n Grill, is a mere 123 people. The Rawhide Bar n Grill is in the center of town and has real character. Coffee is “self-service, pay by donations.”

The Rawhide burger…

One of the locals was terrorizing the two waitresses by pretending not to know what he wanted to eat and changing his order every time they finished writing it down. He had an impressive moustache and a very naughty smile. If memory serves me right, the waitress standing to the left said she has been working in the bar for 23 years!

At the Rawhide, you can get everything in the Bar… Anti-freeze, De-icer, Carb-cleaner, Diesel Fuel Supplement, Slime Tube sealant, Pepsi and Coke. All on the same shelf!
I had to smile at the poster on the notice board that read “Dayton Depression and Bi-Polar support group” every Sunday for 7:00 to 8:30pm in nearby Dayton…

And you can listen to a proper Jukebox. I made an investment in my sanity and chose “Keep on Loving you” by REO Speedwagon, (little did I know... see Day 13’s ride report), “Thunderstruck” AC/DC, “Hey Jude” Beatles…

Lewis and Clark route (12).

After passing through the beautiful little historic towns of Dayton and Waitsburg I arrive late in the afternoon in Walla Walla. Tonight I will link up with my friend Vaughn. We will ride together and meet his wife, Lea, in Minneapolis.
We meet in the lobby to plan our route for the next couple of days. Vaughn thought he would be able to rent a GPS at EagleRider. When they did not have a GPS he bought a Map Book. We both like maps and start to track possible routes with our fingers on the map. I tell him the story of my Garmin 276 GPS and how I purchased a 2Gb memory complete with the North American maps (excluding Canada and Mexico) from someone in Moscow. I paid via PayPal and 30days later it arrived in my mailbox! I therefore renamed my GPS to “Putin” for this trip

We make the gentleman’s agreement that I will do the route planning on the GPS while he will look for good food along the way. Riding with Vaughn implies that we will definitely not starve! One of the specialties in Walla Walla is Onion Rings. Vaughn quickly locates The Green Lantern Restaurant, the Onion Rings is superb and we wash it down with an “Icicle Dirty Face Amber”.

 

[Jabus]

Day6: Walla-Walla to Missoula

Route: Route 12 (see Pat’s description below)

A message from a friend, Pat:

“Rosie gave me your itinerary because she thought that I could give you some advice. Overall, it looks great but I think that you would like it better with some changes. I rode my bike across the US from Seattle to Washington, DC in the summer of 1998, which, BTW, was one of the hottest summers on record in the history of the earth.

Your first route to Walla Walla is OK. However, I would go through Missoula, MT instead of Boise since this is a much more scenic route on Route 12, which parallels the Indian road that our famous explorers, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, travelled back to the east from the Pacific Ocean in 1806 when no other white men lived in this area. Historical markers are present along the highway which describe what the explorer group did on a particular date. I remember the road as a gradual rise to 2185 feet at Alpowa Summit but with a spectacular downhill drop to Clarkston, WA across the Snake River from Lewiston, ID (see the Lewis and Clark names in the towns - stop in Lewiston’s downtown for a break). Route 12 then rises again after the town but you will be traveling along the Clearwater River, which is gorgeous with the mountains higher and closer to the river than further west. This area was one of the prettiest places in Idaho and travels through the Nez Perce National Historical Park and Indian Reservation. Stay on Route 12 to Missoula, Montana because you will be following the Lochsa River up through the Lolo Pass. On the day that I was on the road, a logging helicopter was carrying 12 to 18 inch diameter logs on a hook attached to a tether attached to the bottom of the copter. These are the Bitterroot Mountains which are wild and beautiful with the white water Lochsa River on your right. This is a definite selfie stop because the river in the spring is continuous white froth in many places. However, I cannot guarantee if you will see as much. Once you are down the pass it is an easy drop to Missoula which has a vibrant downtown. You can then ride on I-90 to Bozeman in about 3 hours but remember that this is Big Sky Country. The trip from Walla Walla to Missoula is about 318 miles and will take 6 hours, 5 minutes according to the map. This is a very long day on motorcycles in the Rocky Mountains even if you don’t stop!! Also, this is the northwest US with very unpredictable weather…the people say that if you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 minutes because it will change. When I crossed the MacDonald Pass from Missoula to Bozeman, it was snowing so be prepared for anything from heat and humidity to ice and snow in the space of 100 miles as it is 'hard country for hard men’.

I would recommend cutting down on your day in the Rocky Mountains because you will make it up when you are in eastern South Dakota where it is very boring and speeding is what you want to do on Nazi..

Have fun!

Pat”

Pat and Rosie provided some inspiration for undertaking this trip, (which I will explain later in the RR). Pat made a trip across America on a bicycle!

US 12 snakes along the river and the twist and turns through the forest take some concentration. The biggest danger would be an Elk or smaller deer cross the road in front of you.

Beautiful wooden bridges connect hiking trails on either side of the river…

Most of the rural communities have well maintained cemeteries. I think the way that societies respect and maintain the grave sites of previous generations says something about the psyche of a nation. I hate to think what the state of Klerksdorp’s Municipal cemetery says about us…

 

[Jabus]

Day6: Walla-Walla to Missoula (continued)

Vaughn introduced me to the small-town-café-culture and gave some good tips on how to spot a great location. Without exception, they provided great atmosphere and good value for money meals. Expect to be served by an experienced waitress who has a sort of “café-wisdom”. They can sum up a customer with a quick glance….

The Krystal Café had a great collection of fishing trophies…

Vaughn recommends a “Chicken fried steak” which is probably the American version of a Wiener Schnitzel. I order one and ask for it to be served without any starch. The waitress makes sure that the entire restaurant hears when she relays the order “Two Chicken Fried Steaks. One of them without starch” to the Chef. “No starch???!!!” replies the Chef. The waitress looks in our direction with a naughty smile and replies “NO STARCH!!!”…
When the plates are served our waitress repeats the “no starch”….. Vaughn looks at my plate and giggles, “You will notice that Corn is not considered a starch in this part of the world…”. (Never mind the apple pie and French toast that is served as a side dish)

Route 12 follows the river for the best part of 300km non-stop. Along the way people stop next to the road to do fly fishing.

Crossing from Idaho into Montana.

Montana is big sky country...

Almost 7hours on the road which required lots of concentration!

Vaughn doesn’t disappoint and quickly finds a good restaurant (The Depot) with a great atmosphere in downtown Missoula.

A 14oz prime rib at “The Depot” in Missoula.

Vaughn finishes his and I take a doggy bag which I would appreciate the next day in Yellowstone National Park.

 

[Jabus]

Day 7: Missoula to West Yellowstone

Route: I90 East to Cardwell, 359 to Harrison, 287 via Ennis to West Yellowstone via 191

Last night, we stayed over at the Howard Johnson in Missoula. (We are staying over at cheap motels that we book on short notice…go figure). As we strap our bags onto the bikes, Vaughn asks: “So how was the hotel?” Without looking up, I respond, ”I think the HoJo has lost its MoJo”. Then I continue: “You shouldn’t take this personally Vaughn, but I’m going to skip a couple of meals today…” He just laughs it off with, "No, I won’t, and in fact, lots of people have told me that exact thing before….”

The section of road from Missoula to Harrison was supposed to be an easy ride but it is cold and we have to stop to add another layer. Because the interstate is slightly elevated from the surroundings, we are exposed to cross-winds and, of course, the turbulence of the big trucks. The scenery does, however, give meaning to Montana being “Big Sky Country”. I love the mountainous yet open landscape!

In Cardwell we stopped to stretch our legs. I notice the wooden sign on the corrugated iron shack next to the road. It has a list of names and is from the Cardwell Community Church. While I stand a look at the sign, Vaughn asks from behind in a deep voice, “Is your name on the list brother?”

Open skies!

Ennis is a quaint little town and one where I will definitely spend more time when I ever have the chance. The atmosphere is, however, becoming more and more touristy as we edge closer to Yellowstone National Park. We cross the Madison River as we leave Ennis, next stop is West Yellowstone.

And Floyd even finds time to grab a cappuccino at a McDonald's along the way.

 

[Jabus]

Day 7: Missoula to West Yellowstone (continued)

Checking into the Hotel in West Yellowstone, I notice that the majority of the tourists are from China and Japan. I ask the young guy at reception how long it would take to drive East to West through the Park. He replies: “Normally it would take you about 5–6 hours, but it depends….” “Depends on what?” I ask. His colleague replies from behind his desk: “How many animals you see, and….. sometimes you might get stuck in a Bison blockade”. “Bison blockade, what is that….? ” I ask. The young man replies, “Sometimes when people see a lot of Bison, they stop to take pictures and they block the road”. Oh that shouldn’t be a big deal; we are on bikes after all, I think to myself…

Vaughn says that he is going to take a stroll through town and I decide to maximize my time in Yellowstone and take an afternoon drive through the Park. YR.no predicts late afternoon rain and clouds are building so I decide to head towards the Park’s major attraction, “Old Faithfull” before the rain sets in.

The entrance to Yellowstone National Park is a couple of minutes away from the hotel and for some reason, the entrance to the Park is free today. I look at the lady at reception and ask myself why do all “National Park Ladies” look the same? Grey(ish) hair, normally tied into a soft ponytail, soft but intelligently bright eyes… Jane Goodall replicas…
The scenery is breathtakingly beautiful. The first strange thing that I notice is how the tourists stop next to the road, get out of their cars and walk around. Photographers set up their tripods and cameras with massive lenses everywhere in the veld. The second is the Sulphur smell in the air that must be from the geysers, which is soon noticeable through puffs of smoke everywhere.

I see my first Elk….

And first Bison… They are big but not as imposing as an African Buffalo, impressive to see in real life nonetheless….

Arriving at “Old Faithfull” I must stand out in my biking gear….. And the tourists from the East confuse me for a Game Ranger. After the umpteenth one stops and asks me “Excuse-a-me-a-sir…. Where-is-da-old-a-fait-a-fool?” I just point in a general direction and get the “Hô” reply from them…

There is a general pavilion where you can sit and wait for the next eruption of the old lady…. The (real) game ranger walks past and announces, “15minutes, next eruption in 15 minutes...” He is followed by a stream of camera-carrying-facebook-profile-updating-tourists asking, “How-a-long –a-sir…” Without missing a beat, or looking left or right, he repeats, “15minutes, next eruption in 15 minutes...” The Chinese guy next to me touches me by the arm and asks “How-a-long –a-sir…?”. I look him straight in the eyes and repeat s-l-o-w-l-y…… P-i-p-t-e-e-n minutes. He smiles, moves his head up and down and conveys the message to his friends. Pipteen, they repeat one after another and give me the thumbs up.

Old faithful in a meditative state….

Almost on que Old Faithfull starts to perform….. Sy begin keelskoonmaak, grom-en-blaas amper soos ‘n hond wat gereed maak om te kots…..

Dan gee sy so klein kotsie…. Die Amerikaanse studente agter my sê “Right, that was it, Let’s go fellas….” En maak of hulle opstaan. Die Chinesie langs my se hele wêreld stort in duie…. hy kyk angstig na my, trek sy skouers op en vra “Finished….? “

Dan gee Old Faithfull ‘n laaaang burp en spoeg met geweld ‘n pluim water die lug in… Die Chinesies begin spontaan hande klap…. Volksvreemd dink ek by myself….

Old Faithfull’s show is impressive lasts about 15minutes. I take a stroll back to the parking area and sit flat on my bum next to the bike and eat the remaining 7 ounces of last night’s 14oz prime rib. I stroke the seat of the bike and rename her to “Old-a- Fait-a-full”. Before the trip I christened him “The Nazi” because I was convinced that he was going to torture me on this trip... But now he is turning into a she……

The Continental divide runs through the Park

Photographers paradise….

The foul Sulphur smell is apparent as you get close to the geysers.

The next morning I meet Vaughn at the bikes and he nonchalantly asks “So how was the hotel”…. I know what he is referring to….. Accommodation in West Yellowstone is very expensive, and I can’t remember when last I paid so much money for a bed and a shower. I respond with: “I now know that there is a fine line between consensual sex and rape….” Without missing a beat he responds “Yes….it all depends on the length of the pause between the words “Don’t” and “Stop”. “You are a sick man…” is all that I can get out.

 

[Jabus]

Day 7: Missoula to West Yellowstone (continued)

Yellowstone is an absolute paradise for photographers. It’s best to explore with a good SLR camera rather than a simple point-and-shoot “Kiekiekakker” if you really want to capture its beauty. But hey, no matter what camera you use, you can still get some amazing shots! Here are a few bonus pictures to give you a taste of what you can expect.

 

[Jabus]

As promised in the RR of Day 4, I am posting another "story" that I wrote to Elmarie about an incident that happened when I took the photo at Mt Rainier. It links to a scene that I saw 2 weeks later in Michaux State Park.

“Still Pretty”

Ek volg Paradise Road wat Stevens Canyon Road word en vat Roete 123 noord en swaai dan af op Hwy 410. (Ek sukkel nog om te vestaan wat nou eintlik die verskil tussen ‘n “Route”, ‘n “Highway”, ‘n “Turnpike” en ‘n gewone “Road” is). Op die GPS se skerm kronkel-vou die Chinnook Pas terug op homelf. Amper soos ‘n mens ‘n filo-deeg sal vou. (Nou nie dat ek al ooit iets in my lewe gebak het nie!).

Die roete neem my nou geleidelik verder van Mt Rainier. Ek kyk heeltyd terug na die berg, amper soos om ‘n geliefde by die lughawe af te gee. Ek probeer my laaste “mental pic” van Mt Rainier vasvat, daai laaste bietjie lekker onder uit die kondensmelkblik te probeer krap. Jy weet dit is verby, maar jy wil nog die laaste mooi herinnering op jou brein tatoeër…

Die berg se aansig verander om elke draai. Ek wonder waar die beste plek is om ‘n “poskaartfoto” van Mt Rainier te neem. Nou versper die hoë bome my uitsig, dan ‘n berghang. Ek sien ‘n kleinerige karretjie langs die pad staan. (‘n Klein karretjie in die VSA is opsigself ‘n rare gesig). ‘n Entjie verder sit ‘n jongman in swart geklee . Soos ek nader kom sien ek sy kamera is netjies op ‘n driepoot opgestel. Hy buk vooroor, maak ‘n verstelling aan die kamera en sit weer terug. In die verbygaan knik my kop na links. Hy glimlag en vat net aan sy pet. Uit die hoek van my oog sien ek die pragtige aansig wat die ruiter-in-swart in sy visier het. Die pad vernou weens padwerke en ek moet konsentreer. Soos die 3 susters van Drie Susters fluister ek vir myself “Jy moet fokus my kind”.

Ek is klaar spyt ek het nie gestop nie, en besluit om om te draai. “Photographer’s remorse”: dis mos wanneer jy daai beeld in jou gedagtes terugspeel en weet jy het die knoppie ‘n oomblik te vroeg, te laat of glad nie gedruk nie. Laasgenoemde is die ergste graad van hierdie “siekte”. Ek weet ek moet omdraai anders gaan hierdie prentjie vir altyd in my kop terugspeel.
Die pad is smal. Ek sal omdraaiplek moet kry maar die pad vernou verder. Dit is afdraand en die padwerke maak die pad ongelyk.

Ek draai om en ry stadig nader, amper soos mens in die wildtuin sal maak as jy uit respek ‘n stilstaande voertuig nader. “You’ve got a beautiful spot” sê ek vir die ruiter-in-swart wat sy kameratoerusting reeds opgepak het. Hy het ‘n melkbaard en het ‘n gebreide wolpet op sy kop. Hy het al die tekens van ‘n tipiese nagraadse ingenieurstudent. Bietjie meer volwasse as ‘n voorgraadse student. Effens “nerderig”, maar nie te erg nie. Effens oorgewig, maar nie te erg nie. Sy stap, tone in die 10 voor 2 posisie, buig sy knieë net effens, ook kenmerkend “nerderig”. Maar nie te erg nie. Ek draai my kop en kyk na die karakters in sy kiekie. Bome links. ‘n Helder meer in die voorgrond wat vroegoggend mooi weerkaatsings gooi. ‘n Berghang regs. Mt Rainier vertolk die hoofrol.

Ek gaan sit. Om hierdie poskaartfoto van Mt Rainier vas te vang het jy eintlik ‘n behoorlike wyehoeklens nodig. Ek pluk my kiekiekakker uit my sak en dink aan my vriend, Theo. Toe ek hom op ‘n dag gevra het hoe “wyd” sy nuwe wyehoeklens nou eintlik is het hy geantwoord “So wyd soos die Heer se genade”.

Ek draai terug na hom. Ons oë maak kontak. Hy glimlag en sê “Still pretty”. Niks meer nie. Hy sien duidelik die vraagtekens op my gesig, maar sê niks. Ek herrangskik die woorde in my kop
”Still pretty…
Pretty still…
Still pretty….
Hy staan doodstil, sê steeds niks. Glimlag net. Dit is nog ’n eienskap van ‘n “nerderige” ingenieurstudent; hulle gee net sulke kriptiese wenke, onderbreek deur stiltes. Amper asof hulle vir jou wil sê: “Lei hierdie vergelyking maar self uit eerste beginsels af…”
Pretty Still….
Still pretty……
Die woorde maal in my kop”

Meteens vang ek sy woordspeling op “still photography”. Ek glimlag. “Oh yeah, I get it”. “Still pretty, indeed”. Hy glimlag tevrede, trek aan sy pet, amper ‘n soort van nerd-saluut wat hy vir my gee en stap tevrede weg.

Dit was twee weke gelede. Vandag, skaars ‘n paar kilometer nadat ek die Michaux Staatsbos binne ry sien ek die pragtige waterpoel. Die herfskleure en die wolke vorm perfekte weerkaatsings op die water. Ek stop en sien ‘n ouerige omie gebukkend agter sy esel staan en skilder. Ek neem ‘n paar foto’s en stap nader. Die oom raak bewus van my en kom stadig orent. Ek kyk oor sy skouer na die wordende skildery . Die oom kyk vir my en glimlag. Ek groet deur te sê, “Still pretty”. Daar is ‘n vraagteken op sy gesig…. Maar ek antwoord nie...

“Yes, that is what I will call this painting” sê die Oom. “Still pretty….yes thank you, I will call it “Still Pretty.” Tevrede stap ek terug na die motorfiets. Verbeel ek my of stap ek effens “nerderig” vandag…?.

 

[Jabus]

Day 8: West Yellowstone to Cody and then Beartooth Pass and Chief Joseph Scenic Hwy

Route: West Yellowstone to the East Entrance via 191, 89, Norris Canyon Rd, Grand Loop Rd joining 14/16/20 to Cody via Wapiti.

I am still in pain about the cost of the previous night’s accommodation but accept that this is just normal economics of supply and demand. Tourists can clearly afford to pay the exorbitant prices. I clearly cannot afford this more than once in my entire life….

Today I must pay the Park entrance fee. “Jane Goodall” hands me the receipt plus a yellow pamphlet warning about bears. My plan is to exit the Park at the Northeast Gate because this will take us to Route 212 and on the way to Beartooth Pass.

Early morning smoke from the many geysers… (Deep Purple’s “Dang-dang-dang…. Dang-dang-dedang….. Smoke on the water…” comes to mind )

Just after turning north onto 191 I see the traffic building up. I notice a couple on a touring bike ahead of us and we start to slowly make our way through the traffic. A truck passing us from the front stops and asks about the bikes. I ask about the traffic build-up and he explains that there is a big herd of buffalo ahead and we should make our way to the front where we will get great pics. We get to the front, and I am amazed at the absolute stupidity of the tourists. They get out of their vehicles and walk between the Bison and try touching them. Some of them even try to take selfies with a Bison!

We (Vaughn, I and the couple on the touring bike) make good progress. The three bikes constantly change positions as gaps appear between the herd of Bison. Vaughn and the other bike are in front of me when I hear the siren coming from behind. In my mirror I can see the white Chev of the Park Ranger making his way through the traffic. He is honking his horn and the blue and red lights are flashing. With a well-rehearsed 3-point turn he blocks the right lane and cuts me off from Vaughn and the other biker.

As the Ranger gets out I immediately know I am in trouble. “Getting out” is way too short a description of what would happen next….. It is a well rehearsed process (almost a religious ritual!) of getting out of the Chev.
He first slides his feet out of the truck. Then he slides his backside off the seat. Then he s-l-o-w-l-y reaches for his hat inside the truck. S-l-o-w-l-y puts his hat on his shaved head which shines in the early morning sun. (I’m not not sure why he puts the leather strap to the back of his head and not under his chin, but anyhow….). He s—l—o—w—l--y reaches for the the microphone, lifts his left leg up and places his foot inside the truck…. (“Light, cameras, action……”)

Then he announces over the megaphone: “Folks we’ve got a big herd of buffalo moving through the valley……” (He gives a short break for the important announcement to sink in). Then he continues: “Folks, this is going to take a l-o-n-g time….. Folks you may consider turning around and take another route”. Another prolonged period of silence……. Nobody moves.

He tries again: “Folks, this may take hours…..hours.” Hours, you must be joking, I think to myself but start to move the bike to the side of the road. Just in case someone wants to make a U-turn. I look back, nobody moves. Fôkkôl. Niks.

Of all the pics I took on this trip, this is the only one that revokes bad memories….

The Honorable Member gets back into the truck. Turns on the siren. Honks the horn several times before he starts his hot pursuit of the herd of Bison which by now has moved almost a mile up the road. We follow. As we get closer, he stops, three point turns and blocks the right lane. He repeats the well-rehearsed, get out of the vehicle, put on the hat (leather strap to the back of the head), reaches for the microphone act. He repeats his story…. Then he adds, “Folks, please keep your distance…..”

I decide to allow one vehicle between me and Honorable Member’s vehicle. He has a gun after all…. He may just call for backup…..
Our progress is so slow that people get out of their vehicles and start walking next to the road. “The long walk to freedom….”

Traffic passes freely from the front, clearly able to make their way through the herd of buffalo. It is starting get really hot under my helmet. I’m not sure whether it is due to the morning sun or due to the stupidity of what I see in front of me.

Honorable Member moves left to right, honking his horn at the Bison. Then he moves up and down the herd, poking at their backsides with the bumper of his truck…... Almost like the spectators next to the field watching a high school rugby match…. Ek voel lus om te skree “Ref, telefoon…”

Every time the Bison wonders off into an open stretch of field next to the road he blocks them, and pushes them back onto the tar. When he runs out of ideas he turns around. Three-point-turns-blocks-the right-line-gets-out… and then he repeats the whole enchilada…. His parting words remain: “Now folks, please keep your distance……
Give us some space to work in…..”

Oh my word. This guy reminds me of the 2011 Rugby World Cup quarter final. Remember Bryce Lawrence …..? Ek begin ook verstaan hoe Pieter van Zyl moes gevoel het toe hy die ref daar op Kings Park ge-tackle het……. Ek verlang na ‘n groep Afrika Buffels. Hulle sal hierdie lawaaimaker lankal soos ‘n sosatie ingeryg het… veral as hy sy Chev se bumper so teen hulle gatte stamp en sy toeter druk…

3.5hrs later. THREE AND A HALF HOURS later Bryce makes another announcement. “Folks, this is going to take another 2-3hours. We have quite a number of vehicles backed up behind here. I’m just going to make may way to the back of the que and inform everyone about the situation. “

As soon as Bryce is out of sight I make my way through the herd. It takes 5 minutes of maneuvering through them. The traffic, still freely flowing from the front, is courteous and allows me through. I try to smile at them ….. Dit herinner my aan die Oom wat vir die Tannie gesê het terwyl hy aan die Ford-kar gewerk het: “Vrou, ek is nie kwatie, ek is befôk!!”

As I exit the herd I can see Vaughn waiting in front…..

I fully understand the meaning of a “Bison blockade”. And Bryce wasn’t lying when he said “Folks this may take hours…..”
Just to be clear: I fully respect and support the fact that Bison (all wild animals for that matter) have right way. My rant above was triggered by tourists acting stupid among wild animals. I now understand why some get mauled by lions, elephants and the like when they visit the dark continent. And Bryce…. Oh hell don’t get me started again….

I just want to get the hell out of here and only occasionally stop to take a pic of the breathtakingly beautiful scenery.

In my haste I took a wrong turn and did not notice that we are heading for the East Entrance/Exit and not the Northeast Entrance/Exit.

Oh, and just in case, like me, you did not know, the Yellowstone National Park is the oldest park in the US and get its name from the Yellowstone River that runs through the park.

Leaving the park at the East Entrance/Exit the rain clouds start to build. We pull over at the Pakaska Tepee Resort. Apparently, this was Buffalo Bill’s old hunting lodge in the early 1900s. The place has real character! It is only when I look at Putin’s screen to plan the rest of the day that I realize that we are at the wrong exit and not en route to Beartooth Pass. Vaughn scans through his e-mails while I plan the shorter route to Cody.

The menu in the Pahaska Tepee is printed in newspaper format and has various newspaper clips from the early 1900s. One article reads: “PAHASHA TEPEE- Located at foot of Sylvan Pass. One and a half miles from Yellowstone Park entrance near Government road, reached by Automobile. Rustic, restful and beautiful. Warm fire places and entertainment. Rates three dollars per day” $3/day!

Others highlight the no nonsense attitude of Buffalo Bill. Even And another piece of trivia: Cody was named after Col. William “Bill” Frederick Cody which was Buffalo Bill’s real name.

I enjoy the nachos as we sit for a long time eating and chatting. As we get ready to leave, the first cars that was in the Bison blockade que start to arrive…. They must have waited another hour to pass the blockade…

It starts to rain, and Vaughn and I put on our rain gear. The group on the Harleys has no protective gear or helmets. It must be great fun riding in the pelting rain without a helmet……

 

[Jabus]

I recently saw this picture in another thread here on the forum. I think it’s really relevant to my own experience of the idiotic behavior of some tourists in Yellowstone.

 

[Jabus]

(Day 8 Continued)

Route: Cody to Belfry via 120 and 72. From Belfry to Red Lodge on 308. Then from Red Lodge to Beartooth Pass (212) and then via 296 (a.k.a., Crandall Rd, Dead Indian Hill Road), also referred to as Chief Joseph Scenic Highway, back to Cody. (260km, 3hr45)

Entering Cody we pass a massive Rodeo park with a sign announcing Cody as the “Rodeo Capital of the World”. We checked into the Rodeway Inn which I still consider the best value-for-money accommodation on the entire trip. Vaughn must catch up on e-mails and I decide to fill up the bike and head out to Beartooth pass. The sky is still filled with rain clouds, and I keep my rain gear on because this will also help to keep warm going over the high mountains. I make the decision to push through to the start of the pass (Red Lodge), which should be about an hour’s ride and then decide on whether I will have enough time to drive the pass as well as Chief Joseph Scenic Hwy. The ride reports say that the pass is about 65miles long with plenty of twisties. It takes just over an hour to get to the base of the pass. I stop to take a quick picture, drink water, and eat a bite of cheese. As I look up, I see a deer jump over the fence and into the road. I make a mental note of their modus operandi: A jump from the dense bush, over the fence and into the road, then stand dead still for a while before they move on and cross the road. As I get onto the bike, a second deer follows. Okay, I will have to take it slow and stick as far as possible to the middle of the road.….

The pass doesn’t disappoint, and the vegetation becomes less dense as you climb through tight corners. A couple of Harleys pass from the front, scraping and struggling to get through the tight corners but clearly having fun as well.

A GPS screenshot of Beartooth Pass illustrates the “creepy crawly” nature of the route.

The barren landscape close to the top of the pass….

Spectacular 360° views on top of the pass.

10,974ft above sea level, it is cold, and I am thankful for the heated grips… I now must make a decision on whether to push on and ride the Chief Joseph Scenic Hwy back to Cody, or whether to turn around. I do not want to ride after dark and it will be tight either way. I “ask” Putin’s opinion. Over the years I have learned to trust him. If he says it will take nine hours to drive 80kms in the Kaokoland, then he was always right. It is going to be tight, but I decide to take the minimum number of photos and push on….

Descending into the valley the denseness of the vegetation increases again.

I took only a few photos on Chief Joseph Scenic Hwy (also known as 296, Crandall Rd and Dead Indian Hill Rd) but in my opinion this road is every bit as beautiful as Beartooth pass. And in terms of bike riding, I would actually prefer the latter.

I do the last 30miles as the sun starts to set and arrive back at the hotel at around 18:30. What a day!

 

[Jabus]

Day 9: Cody to Gillette

Route: East on 14 and joining Interstate 90 at Ranchester and on to Gillette via Sheridan.

There is just no way that today’s route will rival yesterday’s riding experience. The beauty of Yellowstone Park combined with the curves of Beartooth and Chief Joseph Scenic Hwy is hard to beat. In terms of biking experience, the only day that came close was the Walla Walla to Missoula ride.

Between Cody and Greybull, we see lots of roadkill. Deer, raccoon, and a variety of other smaller animals, which I do not recognize, line the road. I think the modern-day fur trapper can just commute up and down 14 and collect his stash. I always wanted a Davy Crockett hat…

First stop is the Uptown Café in Greybull.

As per usual, the Café provides great value for money. I am tempted by the selection of homemade pies advertised on the wall: Apple Pie, Blueberry Pie, Lemon Meringue…. Wyk satan!

Greybull is an interesting small town with a “Cowboy” atmosphere.

While we await our breakfast to be served, we talk about politics and the possibility of Trump making it all the way as the Republican presidential candidate. At the time, everyone thought that he will fall out of the race as soon as the real politics starts. We discuss the interesting possibility of Trump running a campaign against Hillary. Vaughn pulls out one of his quips, “Trump will beat her up like a red headed stepchild……”. I’m not sure where he store all this nonsense…..

Our iron horses parked next to the plastic horse…

An old Pepsi sticker is on the door of the Uptown Café.

We head out over the plains with huge cattle ranches on both sides of the road, towards Shell, which lies at the base of the Big Horn Mountains. On the map the Big Horn Mountains looked like an isolated mountain range in the middle of Wyoming. We pass “Dirty Annie’s Country Store”. I have no desire to meet Annie and push up the canyon leading into the Big Horn Mountains. The sheer walls of the canyon are impressive (my guess is that they tower about 300m on both sides of the road). The old geologic formations are clearly marked with signs specifying their type and age. The aptly named Granite Pass is a great ride through the Big Horn Mountains and levels out at 2750 m (9000 ft)

The high prairie provides 360° views, and the scenery reminds me of “Little House on a Prairie”. I asked Vaughn if it was filmed in this area. He pulls out the iPhone, starts the search and says, "No, that was further east in Minnesota”, but then he starts to laugh…… “It may, however, remind you of another movie that plays off in this region……”. “Which one?” “The Cowboys of Brokeback Mountain roamed these mountains……..” “Okay let’s go….”

The descent provides great curves and viewpoints; the Wyoming roads are in great condition. The great plains and “powder river basin” lie ahead. We pass through Dayton and stop in front of the Hans Kleiber Museum, where Hans’s printing press, etc. are on display.

 

[Jabus]

Day 9: Cody to Gillette (continued)

At our next stop at a gas station in Ranchester Vaughn buys us some Fried Pork Skins (or “Pork Rinds”). This is a great snack and (without much success), I try to teach Vaughn the Afrikaans name for this, i.e., “kaiïngs”.

A great source of fat and there are offerings in different flavours…. I’ve never seen this commercially in SA even though I saw them sold under the Lays brand in the US.

We are belted by very strong cross winds on I90 as we head into Gillette. Coal (and gas) lies at the heart of Gillette’s economy. 30-40% of the US’s coal originates from the open pit coal mines in the powder river basin surrounding Gillette. Massive 200ton trucks transport the coal to the trains which convey it to all corners of the US where it is used for energy generation.

The quality of the road surface deteriorates as we approach Gillette. These roads clearly carry a lot of heavy trucks that take its toll on the road surface.

Vaughn locates a good place to eat…

I order a “small” salad for dinner….

 

[Jabus]

Day 10: Gillette to Deadwood

Route: East on Interstate 90 to Moorcroft, 14 north to 24 and 34 north on 85 to Belle Fourche, Interstate 90 to Sturgis via Spearfish.

We make the decision to skip the conventional “donuts and coffee” breakfast at the hotel and head towards Moorcroft for breakfast.

Donna’s Diner in Moorcroft is packed with locals by the time we arrive. Vaughn and I discuss the “Diner culture” of the US. I explain that when I was a young boy I can remember that we also had cafes where you can sit down and eat. But when fast food chains such as Wimpy and Golden Egg arrived on the scene the cafes soon disappeared from medium to large towns. Smaller rural towns still have them, and my theory is that you should always have a dish that carries the name of the town. There will always be pride in the “Citrusdal Hamburger” or the “Sannieshof Hamburger”. A big difference for me is that older people in the US frequent not only the diners but also McDonald’s or similar chains. My perception is that fast food outlets are more popular amongst young families in SA. Older folks would rather make a flask of coffee and have some boiled eggs and “frikkadelle” under a tree in the Karoo. But I may be wrong about this…. But then again, I can’t imagine my dad paying R20 for a cup of coffee. I will get the “My kind dit is ‘n plaas se prys…..” speech again

Another cultural difference is the habit of wearing hats. I look around and mention to Vaughn that it would be considered rude or bad manners in SA to eat with your hat on while inside a building.
Vaughn smiles and says, "Well, actually, it is frowned upon in the US as well.”. He continues, “In the golf club in my hometown, there is actually a sign that reads: You can take off your hat, you are inside now.”.

The breakfast did not disappoint.

Vaughn points out the sign on the wall that specifies the cost of the buffet according to age…

Just outside the town we turn north onto 14 and ride through the open grasslands. Today will have several surprises. The first is Devil’s tower. At 360m it absolutely dominates the landscape and can be seen from a distance. To me it resembles the Voortrekker Monument. It is popular among tourists and has some spiritual significance among Native Americans. It is also a popular spot for rock climbing.

 

[Jabus]

Day 10 (continued…)

We cross the Wyoming state boundary into South Dakota and Route 24 which all of a sudden changes into Route 34.
Belle Fourche is the second surprise of the day. The geographical center of the US is in town and an antique McCormick Deering tractor marks the entrance to the “Centre of the Nation Visitors Center,” also known as the Tri-State Museum.

At the information kiosk, I ask the volunteer where the actual center is. She points to outside… “So that is it?”, I ask her. "Yes,” and then, as an afterthought, mentions that the real center is 15 miles out of town. She is surprised when I ask directions to get to the real McCoy and ask, “Why do you want to go there?” “Well, because that is where the real center is…..”

We take the 85 north but the last 7.8miles on Old Hwy 85 is dirt road and the RT wouldn’t enjoy that. We decide that is close enough and take a picture.

Close but no cigar….

I select the timer function, line up the camera and take my first picture. I have my bright yellow rain suit on. Vaughn looks at the picture and says, “I think you should take another one because if you stand too close to me people may think that I brought my blow-up doll along…….”. I take another one. We shake hands, and we now have a picture at the center of the US to add to our picture at the southernmost tip of Africa….

When we stopped at the visitor’s center half an hour ago, the rain clouds were building overhead. Vaughn gets off the bike and walks toward me…. “Well Jabus, as my Phillipino clients would say….. I have a suggestment……” I reply: “And what would your suggestment be?” “My suggestment is that we skip Mt Rushmore today. The clouds are building and even if it do clear up, the sun will be behind the mountain, which would not be ideal for taking photos”. “No problem, let’s head out to Sturgis instead and stay close to Mt Rushmore tonight so that we can reach it early tomorrow morning.

As we enter Sturgis we stop at the McDonalds to get a coffee. Before I can say “WiFi”, Vaughn locates a place to eat. “I think I found us a great place to eat”. “Yes, I am VERY hungry, I pull his leg.”
Within a couple of minutes, we stop in front of the Knuckle Saloon. Even from outside, I can see that this place has great character.

The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally attracts hundreds of thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts every year. This year, 2015, was the 75th anniversary of the weeklong get together. According to the polls, nearly 750,000 bikers attended. Keep in mind that the normal population is just about 6,900 people.

According to the sign in front of the bar, Johannesburg is 9,471 miles away. Sydney is a distant second at 8,498 miles.

The waitress has seen it all and giggles when I order “sparkling water”. Before I can explain that I would really love a beer, but being on the bike and on the wrong side of the road…., Vaughn intervenes and says “with gas”.
Vaughn studies the menu as if he were reviewing a PhD thesis….“And what would your suggestment be for lunch”, I ask. “Oh, I think you should try this,” and then he proceeds with the description. “It is a meat patty, with onions and a cheese of sorts. Traditionally, they use…… And it is served between slices of Rye and Sourdough bread.” “Sounds good, I’ll try that….”

When the waitress arrives with the food, Vaughn explains that this will be my first Patty Melt. She looks up and announces to everyone in the bar, “My oh my, we are about to have an EXPERIENCE!”

I can confirm that the Patty Melt was a real experience! When she collects the empty plates, I thank her and say, "This is probably the best Patty melt I ever had…. “

The bar is massive and has real character …

… I can just imagine the atmosphere when it is filled to the brim with hairy bikers…

I’m sure Hillary will remove this sign

As we leave the bar, I say, “Great suggestment, thanks, Vaughn. Never mind the center of the nation; I think we have just been at the center of the motorcycle universe!”

We’ve had three surprises under the belt today: Devil’s Tower, The Geographical Centre of the US and the Knuckle Saloon in Sturgis. The biggest surprise was yet to come..…

 

[Jabus]

(Day 10: Continued: Sturgis to Deadwood)


In one of our discussions with a fellow biker along the way we confuse the towns of “Spearfish” and “Deadwood” and say that we plan to stay over in “Deadfish”. He laughs at us and corrects us. “Great place nonetheless”, he adds.

As we ride into Deadwood I can see that the town has real character and lots of tourists. We check into the Super 8 and Vaughn announces that he is going to his room to relax and do the “American thing”. “And what would that be?” I ask. “Well, I’m going to take a shower and then lie on the bed in my underwear with a beer in hand and watch a ball game….”. The receptionist can’t get herself to stop laughing.

I unpack my bags and take a quick shower. The unexpected surprises of the day have left me energized and I decided to have a look at things to do in “Deadfish”. The WiFi connection is excellent and I Google” “Things to do in Deadwood”. The first hit is “REO Speedwagon Concert in Deadwood”. This can’t be! It is a Tuesday evening in Deadwood, surely REO Speedwagon can’t be in town! I check the dates. Sure enough, it is true. I quickly check availability of tickets and see that there are still a couple of seats available. I’m not sure if Vaughn also knows their music but I sent him a quick text message, hoping not to disturb his “All American Experience”.

Within a flash, he replies….

We arrive early at the Holiday Inn and Casino and celebrate an entertaining day with a Leinenkugel Oktoberfest. We both know all the songs from REO’s hit album, Hi-Infidelity, and expect that they will play most of them tonight. And Vaughn managed to get us “VIP” seats right in front!

Dave Amato is the lead guitarist and changes his guitar for every song. Sometimes he even changes halfway through the song. This man can play!

Kevin Cronin’s voice is still as crisp as I remember it from my old Hi-Infidelity cassette. Kevin gives a moving tribute to one of REOs iconic members, Gary Richrath, that passed away just 2 weeks ago (13 September 2015). Bruce Hall is on bass guitar with his long blond hair and Swedish looks.

Bryan Hitt is the legendary drummer and Neal Daughty on keyboards. Neal is one of the founding members of the band (in 1967!!!). Kevin narrates the story behind the lyrics of “In your letter”. Neal wrote this song after his wife ran off with the local drug dealer. Neal’s comment at the time was “I’m really gonna miss that guy….” It is a real pleasure watching these guys perform, they are passionate and professional.

“Take it on the run”, “Don’t let him go”, “Keep on loving you”……

REO Speedwagon played their last song and Dave Amato looks in my direction. He nonchalantly flicks his guitar pick towards me. I don’t think he will ever understand the value I put on that pick. (Maybe I will explain later).

It really is my lucky day!

We sit at the bar and eat a small snack while a young local band (Zeona Road) sets up on a small stage in the background. They took 45minutes to tune their instruments and do the usual “one-two-check-check....one-two-check”. I know this ritual all too well and my theory is that there is an inverse relationship between the quality of the band and the length of time they take to tune their guitars…”. QED

We sit down and talk about the show and the audience. I ask Vaughn about the two overweight girls that were dancing next to him. Every now and then, they lifted their arms and waved both hands high in the air. It was almost as if they were attending an evangelical gathering…. “Yes” says Vaughn, “When I was at varsity, my job in the student res was to clean the griller.” I wonder where is heading with this story, but he continues, “I will never forget the smell of that griller”. “Especially when I had to clean it the morning after we had a huge party….”. I give him a puzzled look. Then he delivers the punchline, “That was the exact same smell I got every time those two ladies lifted their arms into the air!”.

We both laugh and then he says: “Did you see the young guy to our left….?” “Yes, I did” I reply, “The one that took off his artificial leg hallway through the show and swung it rhythmically through the air?”. Priceless!

With this amount of luck, I might just win the jackpot tonight… The concert ticket included a $10 casino voucher and, on the way, out, I saw the magic Zuma gambling machine. You won’t believe me but the jackpot that evening was a very big number… It was… “Seven-hundred-and-sixty-nine-eight-hundred-and, seven-hundred…….. Listen properly…Seven-hundred-and-sixty-nine-thousand-eight-hundred…and twenty ….and seventy….”

Needless to say, I did not win anything, the machine just laughed (”Hehehe”) when I deposited the $10 voucher… Maybe it is because my surname is not Gupta….

I lay in bed that night, thinking back to the jukebox in the Rawhide Grill n Bar in Starbuck….

 

[Jabus]

Day11: Deadwood to Pierre

Route: 385 to 16 (Keystone), 244 to Mt Rushmore.

Today I will experience the last of the places on my “To See” list, Mt Rushmore. I’m not sure when exactly my fascination with Mt Rushmore started. I’m sure it featured in one of the trailers that I used to see in the “Drive-In”-theatres. Was it a Paul Revere ad? Or a Lexington ad? If I remember correctly there were Cowboys, Girls and a Helicopter involved…. (Maybe some of the Dogs can remember….)

We leave early in the morning and pass through Lead (which I will encounter again in Chicago). The road through the Black Hills is in excellent condition and makes for great riding. We only stop once to stretch legs and rave about the wonderful day we had yesterday. REO Speedwagon in “Deadfish"—who"would have thought….!

My first view of Mt Rushmore! I get that feeling of meeting a “pen pal” (remember those?) for the first time.

“Da-Olda-faith-a-fool” gets tagged at the entrance to Mt Rushmore.

Mt Rushmore is well designed and has a great tourist vibe. All the visitors are excited and there is an overall sense of “pride of being American” which in itself is great for me to experience.

Vaughn’s “suggestment” of visiting Mt Rushmore early in the morning was indeed excellent. No clouds and with the sun behind it, it makes for perfect photos. While standing at the viewpoint, he says, “I always wonder how many people died in creating this….”

We head back to Keystone and settle for breakfast at Peggy’s Place.

I have now ticked off the last item on my “To See” list. I ask Vaughn about the meaning of “Badlands”. He tries to explain but then just says, “Well, you’ll see why it is called the Badlands…”

We discuss the route to Pierre. The plan is to get to Rapid City and get onto Interstate 90. We can make good time and we’ll be in Pierre in no time. Well, that is what we thought, but the wind gods had different ideas….

This is the first day where it is too hot for riding and as we saddle up outside Peggy’s Place it really gets uncomfortable.

We by-pass Rapid City. This area is clearly a popular holiday destination with lots of RV’s on the road and campsites with entertainment for children along the way. We get onto I-90 and immediately feel the strong crosswinds coming from the north. We will just have to open the throttle a bit more. And a wee bit more. And more… It doesn’t get any better. Approaching and passing the big, long-haul trucks creates a lot of turbulence and takes a lot of concentration. I found that gearing down to 5th and turning on the cruise control worked best for me. I also realized that the concrete bridge on the Interstate creates the most havoc… That short interruption of the crosswind causes a quick jolt on the handlebars on the exit.

We stop at one of the flyovers and stare at each other in disbelief. “This was supposed to be an easy ride!” we almost say simultaneously.

I saw lots of advertisements for “Wall Drug”. All sorts of things are advertised, from “Free Ice Water in Wall Drug” to ”5c Coffee in Wall Drug”, and everything in between. And I mean everything! “What is this about”, I ask Vaughn. “Well, it is…..” Then he tries again. And again…. But simply cannot find the appropriate words. Eventually he gives up and says, ”It is a crazy place, you’ll see….”

Wall has a couple of Grain Silos (I suspect Maize and Oil Seeds) in the main street. There are rows and rows of shops taking up the remaining space.

The best description I can think of is that it is a combination of “Oom Samie se winkel” in Stellenbosch, the Easter Show, Green Market Square and your local Flea Market…. All this is mixed together and scaled up 1000 times. You will find a gift for your best friend and your worst enemy… all under one roof. As Vaughn rightfully said, it is a crazy place…

On the I-90, it must have been the violent head shakes that rattled a couple of brain cells, I somehow remember reading in Jon Krakauer’s book (Into the Wild) that Christopher McCandless worked at a grain elevator in this area. I'm not sure why that entered my mind, but anyway, I enjoy Krakauer’s books…..

At Vivian we leave the I-90 and head north on 83. The wind is right in my face, but it makes the riding a lot more comfortable. I see a little girl and her dad standing next to the road with a balloon between them. Tonight, I will write Elmarie a story about this. (This will be in the next post). We cross the Missouri River and enter Pierre, the capital of South Dakota. We are tired! We couldn’t get accommodation at the same motel and we headed out in different directions…..

 

[Jabus]

“Baai-baai Bokkie”

Elke aand het ek ‘n vaste ritueel. Enige toer het ‘n ritueel. Indien jy nie ‘n vaste ritueel het nie veroorsaak dit net frustrasie. Of miskien pla dit jou nie. Vir my pla dit wel. My ritueel begin deur seker te maak die fiets se tenk is vol petrol voordat ek by my slaapplek stop. Dan laai ek my GPS, selfoon, iPad en kamera. Soek op Google maps na moontlike roetes vir die volgende dag en kyk op YR.no na die algemene weervoorspelling vir die volgende dag of twee. Weer terug na Google maps en skryf ‘n paar dorpies se name, roete nommers en bakens op klein stukkie papier neer. Hierdie papiertjies sit ek met magnete op die handvatsels vas.

Ek maak my bril, kamera en helmet se lense skoon. Maak seker al die “zips” op my baadjie en broek is toe vir die vroegoggend koue. Dan doen ek ‘n paar strekoefeninge om my nek en skouers los te kry. Was my sokkies, my hemp en onderbroek met die hand uit en doen die ou koshuistruuk van rol dit in die handdoek op, wen die handdoek op soos ‘n rekkie om die ergste water uit die klere te druk. Op hierdie manier is alles more-oggend weer droog. Ek maak ‘n kopie van die fotos wat ek die dag geneem het. Ek maak ‘n paar notas, kyk deur die fotos en maak nog notas.

Sekere gebeurtenisse kan mens met ‘n kamera vasvang. Ander weer “kliek” jy net so in die ry. Met die knip van jou oë. Vandag se gedagtefoto was net nadat ons van die Interstate afgedraai het. Die wind het ons verniel deur die Badlands. Nou en dan het die warrelwinde my nek ‘n pluk gegee. Amper soos ‘n derderangse chiropraktisyn. Ek is dankbaar dat ons nou die wind eerder reg van voor kry…

Daar staan ‘n motor langs die pad geparkeer. Soos ek aangery kom sien ek ‘n klein dogtertjie en haar pa in die veld langs die pad.: Pa sit op sy linkerknie, dogtertjie op haar hurke. ‘n Ballon wapper omtrent op pa se kophoogte tussen hulle twee. Pa staan regop en gee ‘n tree terug. Die dogtertjie wikkel op haar hurke nader aan haar Pa en sit haar arm om sy kuit. Hulle kyk in die rigting van die ballon…

Die foelie ballon, in die vorm van ‘n hartjie, is iewers vasgemaak en wapper in die sterk wind. Ek wonder wat is die ballon se ankerpunt….

Die pa vat die blonde dogtertjie aan die hand en begin in die rigting van hulle Chrystler loop. Haar blonde krulhare en pienk rokkie waai in die wind. Sy stop elke paar tree en kyk terug. So amper asof sy iets vergeet het. Dan stop sy heeltemal. Sy draai haar hele lyfie terug en kyk na die ballon. Sy waai met haar handjie uitgestrek in die lug. Dan laat sak sy haar hand en vat-vat aan haar gesig. Met haar handpalm na bo blaas sy ‘n soentjie in die rigting van die ballon. Pa tel haar op en sit haar op sy heup, gee haar ‘n soen op die wang en vee met sy hand oor haar gesig. Deur die agtervenster van die Chrystler sit ‘n Laborador tong-uit-die-mond en kyk hoe hulle aangestap kom.

Met die verbygaan sien ek die ballon is mooi netjies met ‘n strikkie aan die agterpoot van ‘n bokkie wat iemand doodgery het, vasgemaak. Ek kry ‘n knop in die keel en dink “Die Badlands is tog nie so bad nie…”

 

[Chrisl]

he says, “I always wonder how many people died in creating this….”

Over the fourteen year period of the carving, 1927 to 1941, almost 400 workers, men and women, labored at the memorial. The work was hard, the hours long, the pay low, and periods of employment uncertain. Despite harsh and dangerous conditions, there were no fatalities during the carving work.

 

[Jabus]

Wow, thanks for digging into the history, Chris!

 

[Jabus]

Day12: Pierre to Marshall


Route: 14E to Florence the 23 to Lynd and Marshall.

We will leave South Dakota and enter Minnesota today and looking at the map, we can expect lots of twisties today. Well, no twisties but plenty of cross winds.

It is cold and we stop to fill up. This is clearly a farming community: Ford, Chevyand Dodge RAM trucks everywhere…

Schumacher Custom Boots and Saddles in Wolsey SD, if only I had more space….

Vaughn locates Bucky’s Restaurant and Lounge in Huron. I ask him what the specialty is, and he replies, “There was only one review and it just said, “OMG”.

While we wait for our food, Vaughn assists in tracking my FedEx parcel, which is (supposedly) on the way to Maryland. I’m curious about the soundbite that is used as an introduction to REO Speedwagon’s “Tough Guys” and will ask him about it. The actual sound bite goes like this:

-Alfalfa, will you swing me before we have lunch?

-Sure, Darla.

-Say, Romeo. What about your promise to the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club?

I'm sorry, Spanky. I've got to live my own life.

Now I must confess. Where I grew up, English was only used for self-defense. (And when we played rugby against the English-speaking schools in our areas, the main aim was not to learn the language; the aim was to inflict as much pain as possible.) So, when my sister bought the REO Speedwagon tape in the 80s, this is what I heard when I listened to Tough Guys for the first time (and let's not hold back on the confession…., what I kept on hearing for the next 30 years. Until Vaughn corrected me in Huron).

Aunt Alva, would you swing me before we have lunch?

Sure darling.
Say Romeo. What about your promise to the human-woman haters club?

Human-woman??? Okay, so that is embarrassing, let’s move on….

Vaughn explains that this is an actual sound bite from the 1930s TV series, Little Rascals. He rattles off the names of the characters, Darla, Alfalfa, Buckwheat, Chu …” I interrupt him: “Buckwheat??!!!” Yeah, that was the name of the little black boy in the show…..” he stops, thinks for a while and then continues “Yeah, now that I think about it, it probably would not be politically correct these days, wouldn’t it?”. “Sure as hell, it wouldn’t !“. “Buckwheat!!”

We stop in Brookings for a coffee at McDonalds. A neatly dressed old guy walks past and says:
“I used to ride those bikes when I was younger, but I don’t ride anymore”.

“Really….?”

“Yes, the correct pronunciation is actually Bee-Em-Vee” (he gives a perfect German pronunciation) and not Beeemdubbleyoo as they pronounce it over here”.

“Yes, but I don’t ride any more. I am too old now.” he says and swiftly walks into the restaurant. End of conversation.

We get ready to get on the bikes when I see a young lad and his mom exiting the restaurant. The youngster points towards the bikes and drags his mom in our direction. With his mom’s permission, I lift him onto the bike, take a picture, and then Vaughn lifts him onto the RT. He is clearly comfortable sitting on a bike.

I can see that he recognizes the Oldsmobile van that pulls up next to us. “It’s Grandpa!" the young one shouts and points in the direction of the van.

An old guy in a red jacket and cap opens the back door and lifts the blue “Walker” from the trunk. The right front door opens, and his wife starts to slide out of the van.

But the bikes distract him, and he totally forgets about his wife, who is clearly waiting for her walking aid.

We start to talk about bikes. Well, he starts telling me about all the bikes he had. He says that he has two now: a Honda Gold Wing and a Kawasaki. He fiddles in his pocket, pulls out his wallet and shows me pictures. He talks uninterrupted and with great enthusiasm. Then he looks at the boxer engine and says that one of his friends had one of those. One day, he called me and said I must come over and have a look…. When I arrived, he took me into the garage, where he had opened the engine. I had a look at the thing and said, jeez that can’t be…. No, that can’t work…. Those pistons are moving in the wrong direction.

Vaughn is suited up and ready to go, the old man’s wife is still waiting for her walker, but we talk bikes….

He says that he doesn’t ride that often anymore. I ask him how old he is. He looks at me for a while, as if I were asking him a trick question.

Then he asks: “What is the date?”

“It is October 1”, I reply.

He thinks for a while and then he responds: “October 1?”.

"Yes, sir, the first of October 2015.”

“Oh yes, then it is my birthday today; I am 80 years old today”.

His daughter (with the grandson standing next to her) smiles at us and replies:

“Yes, dad, that is why we are here today……, to celebrate your birthday”.

I look at his wife, by now, she is literally hanging from the doorpost of the van, waiting for her walker…. But she just looks at him sincerely and smiles. Now that is real love, man!

On this trip I have met lots of guys wanting to talk bikes: Thinking back, I can classify them into different categories:

--Those who know nothing about bikes but want to talk about bikes…. (Actually, they want to talk about themselves but just use the bike as a segway into the conversation…).

--Those who know nothing about bikes, never owned a bike, but are thinking about getting one. One day. Before they die… Maybe…. If the wife or girlfriend says it is okay, of course…

--Those who has a bike and want to tell you about THEIR bike… Horsepower, torque, top speed, etc etc

--Those who want to know why you are on bike and travelling on your own (just to check if you are not a serial killer passing through town). “You know, you can’t really trust a biker”, attitude. There must be some Freudian character flaw somewhere deep down….

--And then you get the real bike lovers, like the guys mentioned above. These moments are priceless….

I had two similar experiences later in the trip which I will post later.

We head out and the cross winds are hammering us. I notice the wind turbines ahead and can confirm that it is now the ugliest site (apart from sand and mud) that you can see on a bike in this part of the world. It is living proof that there will be cross winds. Always! Guaranteed!!

Entering Marshall I see an innovative way of warning tourists about wild animals crossings. It looks to me as if there are motion sensors that pick up any movement next to the road. When they notice any movement attempting to enter the road, these solar-powered devices will turn on the warning signals.

Strong cross winds that were blowing in various directions toward our hotels once more battered us. I can once again conveniently park in front of my room.

Tomorrow would be our last ride together and Vaughn says we must go to a certain restaurant in Minneapolis where Lea would join us for dinner. Listening to his description of the menu, I immediately started a 24-hour fast to prepare my body for the gastronomic overload that was to come.

I take an early evening stroll through the neighborhood, and everything looks neat and well maintained.

An old Cadillac….

… an unwanted bicycle..



I’m not going to say, what I found behind the green door.