2010 Sturgis to Four Corners

We did a trip back to Sturgis, then to Laramie, and down through western Colorado to Four Corners. You can look at the pictures here (opens in a new window), if you are impatient.

Open a map of the trip (opens in a new Google Maps window), so you can follow along.

Quick Index:

Back to Sturgis

Four of us were leaving Columbus for Sturgis, and everyone had lots of experience at long bike trips, so it allowed us to ride harder than I would have been able to do otherwise. The sky was overcast, and it was a cool morning. This made for comfortable riding, and since we didn’t need to rehydrate as much, the gas stops were brief. As we approached Indianapolis, there was rain ahead of us. The city has an odd highway system, where there are only partial interchanges at several places around the city. Apparently, they never planned for anyone to want to head across I-65 heading northwest, and want to exit south in the outerbelt and head west on I-74. Instead, the most efficient option for us is to go past the outerbelt, then turn around at the first exit. Just as we pass the outerbelt the first time, the sky opened up. It was a heavy rain, but didn’t require us to pull off. As soon as we got back to the outerbelt, the rain stopped. It was almost like a GPS in the clouds, trying to scold us for missing a turn.

After we left Indy, it was dry for about an hour. Just as we were stopping for lunch, we had more rain. The temperatures were starting to warm up, so it wasn’t uncomfortable, and we were barely wet. Not bad riding. After lunch, the clouds were gone, and we had sun the rest of the day. Our goal was 500 miles, to Davenport, Iowa, but it was early and we were all doing well, so we continued on. We stopped at the world’s largest truck stop, on I-80, only long enough to get a photo or two. Our stopping point for the night was Waterloo, Iowa. This was our longest first-day for the Sturgis trip, at over 620 miles. It’s not a huge day by some people’s standards, but we weren’t trying to ride until we dropped, either. We found a nice little bar nearby, and had a good meal. Everyone slept very well.

We started fairly early the next day, for us, and headed up to I-90 in Minnesota. For the first time in a few years, we didn’t stop at the SPAM Museum, which saved us another hour (you can read about it on other trips to Sturgis, and it’s a fun stop if you are in the area). Once we got into South Dakota, the plan was to jump on to more local highway, to avoid the heavy construction that was across the state on I-90, and because it’s just a good change of scenery. The backroads across South Dakota are straight and empty and 70MPH, so we can make decent time and have occassional small towns to see along the way.

We stop for gas, and a break from the heat, in Fort Thompson, an Indian Reservation along the Missouri River. Several casinos are on the reservation, as well. A few of the locals started chatting with us. One of their friends approached, and I correctly guessed that he was going to ask for money. He did, but he only needed a nickle. Wow, I think I can manage that…

Just our of town is a thunderstorm. The road turns through the small hills, and we barely miss the wall of water falling from the sky. As we watch, the clouds turn quickly from grey to black, and we realize that we barely avoided a bad situation. Phew! We ride north, along the Missouri River, towards Pierre, the state capitol. It is a very scenic drive, with the huge river below on our left, and hills rising to our right.

At one point, there’s a car upside-down on top a retaining wall far off the roadway. How the heck did that get there? A few miles down the road, a pair of pheasants run across the road in front of me. I manage to miss one, but the other runs directly in front of me. Thump. Woops. Oh well. That seems to happen to me often on the back roads across this state.

We make it to Pierre, and look for a motel for the night. One has a ‘Welcome Bikers’ sign, and the most reasonable rate. As we register, the clerk points out the ‘bike wash’ outside, and tells us to grab a beer from the cooler nearby. They offer secured parking for the bikes, but we’re not too worried about it. I give the place lots of credit for trying to accommodate all types of riders. We settle into our rooms, and walk down the street to a Chinese buffet with decent food. The motel has tables and chairs out front, and we enjoy our drinks while watching the ‘excitement’ on one of Pierre’s main streets. We notice that this side of the motel sign has ‘Welcome Varmint Hunters Association’ on it. Of course, we get a few pictures. The state of South Dakota allows businesses to run small-stakes gambling (larger bets can be made on the reservations). Almost every gas station, general store, and restaurant in the state has room for the slot machines. The Subway restaurant, next door, shares a sign with a casino. Across the street is a sign ‘Car Wash & Casino’.

It’s only about three hours from Pierre to Sturgis. It’s just that there is nowhere to stop for the night between them (heck, there are only two gas stations in that stretch). We have a very easy morning, and have an enjoyable ride through the rolling grasslands across western South Dakota.

Bubba broke Mark!

We get to Sturgis around 11am, and, after a mandatory stop at the liquor store, we head to our campground. Many of our group had arrived days earlier. One of our group happens to be at the office when we register. He tells us that just the day before, Mark, the organizer, was leaving the campsite to start a group ride, when his bike hit a hole, and he dropped the bike, breaking his ankle. Knowing that this would now be his only chance to ride with his friends this week, he led the group on a two hour ride through some of our favorite roads in the Black Hills. Then they took him to the emergency room, for his cast and crutches.

After registering, we ride to the campsite and are quickly greeted by our friends. Mark comes hobbling over, and I say “Yeah, we heard. We were told that Bubba pushed him into a hole!” “No, I—” “Nope, it was Bubba!” Bubba is one of our great friends, and he’s always up to mischief, and he’s also fun to tease. So, everyone jokingly ‘agrees’ that Bubba pushed Mark into the hole. It was our running gag for the rest of the week… “Bubba broke Mark!” HA!

The next morning is sunny, and there is hardly a cloud in the sky. The group is going for a big ride (Mark will be following in the chase vehicle), but after the rush across the country, a few of us want a lazy day, with maybe a short ride into Deadwood for lunch and crowd watching (one of my favorite traditions). Our friend Chris want’s to do a bit longer ride, but not an all-day trip, so he heads out early, and we agree to meet for lunch.

As a gag, Bubba brought a blow-up doll from a porn shop, and had it hanging outside. Somehow it got a hole in it (kinda worries me). In his boredom, Wagz attempts to repair it with trusty duct-tape. We laugh and take pictures, but his efforts were unsuccessful.

What the Hail?

We hear that there’s a chance of rain (a very typical thing in the Black Hills, especially this time of year). It’s hard to believe, since it is actually getting quite warm at our campsite. We feel a breeze kick in, and see the storm approaching quickly. One of our friends, Beard, is staying in one of the cabins, and invites us in, but we head to our tents. I want to be there in case there’s a leak, and, anyway, this will make for good napping weather.

Just after we reach the tents, the wind picks up drastically, and the rain starts. A few seconds later, HAIL! I’ve been in hail storms before. In Ohio they were rare, but they were also brief. When I was at Sturgis in 2009, with Lang, we went through a town, not far away, where every car and truck looked like a golf ball. So, when this started at our campground, I was thinking, “Great, I saw the hundreds of dings in those trucks last year, and here I am, sitting in a nylon tent. This won’t last very long.” For ‘Plan B’, I find my helmet and put on my leather jacket. By this point, the tent is getting pelted hard, and the wind keeps blowing the tent down on top of me. I try to brace the wall with my leather-covered arm, but it’s painful. I find my spare boots, and hold those up against the wall of the tent. Lighting strikes. “A thousand one-” BOOM! Close by, too.

Wagz is in his tent, to my left, and Karl to my right. The noise from the hail is deafening. A few minutes after it started, the hail stopped. But only for a few seconds. Then larger hail starts, and has more force. About five minutes later, and it subsides again, and starts up with more fury. The grass outside is slowly turning white. The temperature drops quickly, and I am glad I am already wearing my jacket. I can hear Wagz yelling something, but even though he’s ten feet away, I make out what he might be shouting.

The hail lasts for almost thirty minutes, before turning to just rain. There is a thick fog everywhere. When the three of us emerge from our tents, we are all wearing our helmets and jackets. The rain-fly on Wagz’ tent is shredded, but otherwise we’re all fine. Even with that, he managed to capture video of the hail storm out the window of his tent:

There are tents blown down throughout our campsite, and all but one of the six canopies have been knocked down by the wind and hail. A newly formed stream starts running through the middle of the campsite, and we manage to get firewood under the kickstands of two bikes caught in the middle. With ice everywhere, I certainly don’t want to try to move someone’s bike. The new stream runs up the side of one tent, but there’s not much we can do about it at this point. We get the hail off the knocked over tents, and most of them spring back to their normal shape. It’s hard to tell in the rain and fog, but most of the bikes appear to be intact. A few have broken mirrors, and turn signals. The quick change from hot to cold cause several of the vinyl seats to turn brittle, so the hail was able to shred them. One bike, a Ducati, I believe, had plastic turn signal mounts, and each of those snapped off. It is the next day before it’s apparent that my front fender and gas tank have chips out of the paint.

A truck comes down the logging road behind our camp, with a snow plow on the front, pushing the hail and debris off the road. The ground is covered with an inch or more of hail, making it look like winter evening. But it’s only August 3rd, and it’s around 1pm in the afternoon. We top off everyone’s coolers with free ice (grass clippings included at no extra charge).

Eventually, we head up to the camp office. I ask them not to deliver more ice. The owner laughs and tells us that’s he’s lived there his entire life, and has never seen a storm hit this area as hard as this one. Just our luck!

Since we can get cell service here, we call Chris. He’s in Deadwood, and safe. He tells us that Deadwood had flooding in some of the busineses. They didn’t get the hail, but their storm drains couldn’t handle the vast amounts of water. I found this incredible video someone took from the front of a hotel and restaurant. There’s a bar in the basement, that also serves pizzas. The water came up to the top of the pool table!

We eat lunch and watch the traffic drive by. A car coming from our left, stops to take pictures of the hail. It looks like a winter scene, not August! A few minutes later, a car coming from our right, also stops to take pictures. Holy crap! This must be ground zero! WOW!

There are very few bikes. Hopefully, Mark, and the rest of the group were able to avoid the hail. There’s no way you could ride through the pelting. Your hands alone, would be beaten or broken as you hang on to steer.

We build several campfires so people can dry their belongings, and for warmth. It is very cold and damp, still. The hail doesn’t melt. In Ohio, a hailstorm lasts five minutes and it’s melted minutes later. Not this storm. Hours later, the group arrives from their ride, shouting “What the hell happened here?” as they look over the winter campground. Most riders parked off the dirt road, which was simply mud, but not ice on top of grass and mud. Luckily, the group didn’t have hail, just a heavy rain. That’s great news. Everyone made it safely!

It wasn’t until 5pm when the sun came out. The extra heat was welcome, and finally the tents started to dry. Many people were drying their sleeping bags near the campfires, and surveying the damage. Everyone pitched in to help, or to provide dry accomodations for those who needed it.

We celebrate our survival around the fire.

The Full Throttle Saloon

Wednesday, and our group is going to ride to Sturgis, to the Full Throttle Saloon. Over the winter, our friend Beard was at a fund raiser, and met the owner of the bar. We were invited to show up at the bar, and they would show us some hospitality. Rather than the direct route, through Deadwood, we cut south and take backroads instead. This is a good road, with many straightaways as well as a good number of curves. And it drops us right into Sturgis. Sweet.

The Full Throttle is the home of the largest biker bar in South Dakota. The place covers acres, and has several bar areas, a stage, and much more. They are the subject of a reality TV show, as the bar makes all of its profit for the year during the two weeks around Sturgis. There are several other stages in Sturgis that compete fiercely for bands. As we walk in the bar, the bar manager comes out to greet us. The camera crew is following him as he chats with us and welcomes us to the bar. Many of us had to sign release forms, but I guess we didn’t rate, and ended up on the cutting room floor. Darn… missed my chance at fame. Ha!

The group splits up after the lunch provided by the bar. A few of us have to replace broken mirrors and taillights, and others just want to look for tshirts.

The ride to Iron Mountain Road

Two days after the hail, and we were itching to go for a good ride. I have been to the Black Hills many times, and have travelled almost all of the roads in the region. Since we had only planned on being there for a few days, we decided to focus on just one place: Iron Mountain Road. To get there, we need to pass through Hill City, SD. There are several trains on display, and I wanted to get a closer look. Seven of us went on the ride, and since I had ‘the plan’, I got to lead. Wagz did what Wagz does best: he’s the shepherd in the back of the pack. He mounted his new camera to the front of his bike, and records almost the entire trip. More about that later…

The 1880’s Train Museum features the Black Hills Scenic Railroad. They do daily trips from Hill City to Keystone, and back. The Gold Rush started in the Black Hills in the 1870’s, and trains quickly became an important part of getting the gold to the cities. Many railways were constructed by the various mining companies, and small routes would simply feed into the large major routes. There are several steam engines on display, as well as a more modern diesel engine. Of course, the steam locomotives are used for the scenic railroad.

We hear that the railroad follows the old road, and crosses it a dozen or more times. As the passengers board, we ride ahead. so we can get pictures. It is a narrow road, with several sharp turns, but it is a fun ride. We pull over, near a bend in the tracks. It should be a great place to get some photos and video. One of the guys places a penny on the railroad tracks, as we wait. As the train comes around the bend, they blow the whistle. The passengers wave at the bikers, and take pictures of us, as we are taking pictures of them. We must have look like modern day train robbers! After the train passes, the penny is retrieved from near the tracks. It is paper thin, and larger than a quarter. Fun.

We continue down the road, and see the train in some beautiful settings, but can’t figure out a good place to stop. We cross over the tracks many times, and arrive in the town of Keystone. Now the real fun begins!

The most wonderful ride in the Black Hills has to be Iron Mountain Road. I’ve written about it on these pages many times (look for some of the other Sturgis trip stories). The short description is that road starts about a mile from Mount Rushmore, and works its way down to Custer State Park. There are three ‘pigtail’ bridges, that corkscrew up out of the valley. There are also three tunnels cut into the granite, as you look through the tunnel, Mount Rushmore is perfectly framed out the other side. There are several sections where the oncoming lane splits off as your trail meanders through the forest. It’s actually sad when you meet up with the other lane again, but this is an experience I have not found anywhere else. You can watch the video of the ride below, although this segment doesn’t show Rushmore from the tunnel, the other features described are included…

From Custer State Park, we head southwest to the town of Custer. Like everywhere in the region, this time of year, they are catering to the bikers. We find a small bar and grill, and order lunch. We take the more direct road back to camp, but stop for a break along the way. There’s a bar that Lang and I stopped at last year, that was full of bikes. Today, the bar has a new name, and it’s just us and several other patrons. Oh well. We head back to camp.

Deadwood Day

It’s Friday, and we were planning on starting our trip to Colorado. Other than having to be back to work in just over a week, we don’t have any other schedule, so we decide to stay an extra day, and spend it crowd-watching in Deadwood.

Usually, we just walk around, or stand somewhere. This year, we found an outdoor bar with a table next to the sidewalk. Our table had shade, and a prompt waitress, so we were happy. She warns us that the kitchen is behind, so any food orders will take at least 30 minutes. We were going to stay for a few hours, anyway, now we just had a good excuse! It was an excellent place to sit, and all sorts of bikes head through town.

This is probably the last day before the majority of bikers arrive and are taking scenic rides through the area, so the tourists still don’t quite know how to handle it. Every year, this is a fun transition to watch, as Family Vaction meets The Wild Ones. Not quite. The bikers are not rough, and not very likely to kidnap their daughter. Dad’s having fun, but Mom’s pretty nervous. After a few days, the families calm down, and they start having fun talking to the bikers. By the end of the week, I’ve had many tourists walk up to tell us how they’re going to plan next year’s vaction to come back during Sturgis week! (Oh, great… more cars…)

Directly across the street from the bar is the Deadwood Supper Club, which has bison t-bone on the menu. I’ve ordered it before, and have been looking forward to another chance at it. It’s a good, fun, meal, and everyone leaves happy.

Leaving Sturgis

It’s been a fun time seeing our friends, but it’s time to get on the road. Wagz took an extra week off from work, so we could ride through backroads in Colorado. Beard is heading back to Phoenix, and we will get him as close to home as we have time.

A former coworker now lives in Laramie, Wyoming, a little more than half a days ride from our campground. We pack up our tents, load up the bikes, say our goodbyes, and we’re on the road. We stay off the interstate for most of the day, and it the constant stream of bikes heading to Sturgis is amazing.

We arrive in Laramie, and Jim has arranged a motel room for us, not too far from their house. We shower and find clean clothes. Jim’s wife and son greet us as we pull in front of their house, and they quickly make Wagz and Beard feel welcome and comfortable. They feed us a great meal, as we laugh and tell stories into the night.

The next morning, we take Jim’s suggestion for a scenic ride to Medicine Bow. The snow-topped mountain is dwarfed by the Rockies in the distance. It’s getting cold, so we stop at the visitor center to get our jackets. We get a laugh that the map of the area shows TWO “You are Here” designations, one at each end of the route. Hmm….

We stop at the top of the range, and take pictures, and descend back into the plains. In the town of Encampment, we see two young boys walking their pet goat down the street. That fits into the ‘…see something new every day’ category.

We head towards north central Colorado, and the first sizable town we find is Walden. We stop for lunch, and there are several other bikers at the same restaurant. They live in the Denver area, and are up here on a scenic ride through the Rockies. After lunch, we head south and west through the mountains. It’s a fun ride, with incredible scenery and many turns. We reach I-70 near the town of Bond, then head west to Glenwood Springs, where we stay for the night.

We had fun at the motel in Glenwood Springs. It is run by an Austrian woman and her son, and is next door to a little Bavarian restaurant (open only for breakfast). We had a room on the second floor, and we spent most of the evening just sitting outside our room, watching the traffic and the sunset, with our buddies Jack and Coke. The owner’s relatives were visiting, so she was busy entertaining them and didn’t really worry about us in the least.

When we turned down the bedspread, we found a leopard-print blanket. It was so corny it was funny. Before we checked the other bed, we were taking bets as to the pattern: giraffe, maybe? Oh well, just another leopard pattern.

In the morning, Wagz and I headed to the Bavarian restaurant for breakfast. We were hungry, and this was close and quick, but the prices were crazy! They wanted $11.95 for one Bavarian waffle. Really?? Or just two eggs and bacon for $9.95. Holy crap! The prices didn’t include the $2.50 coffee, of course. The waffle was just ok. Next time, I will find a Waffle House.

To the southwest corner of Colorado

We take I-70 west to Grand Junction, then head south on local highways to Ouray. From there we head up onto mountain roads. These are fun, and there is little or no berm in many place. Luckily, on the bike that leaves lots of room. The deep green valleys are beautiful from above. We curve down the mountain to the town of Silverton.

In Silverton, there’s a scenic railroad that runs from Durango, and it is just boarding as we reach town. We barely have a chance to get gas before it leaves. This old mining town consists of just a few streets. There are plenty of small motels, shops, and restaurants on the main drag. We park, and find lunch at a local brewery.

There are plenty more curves and scenic mountain vistas. It is a great ride, and descend into Durango and take a break. Beard has some lung issues, which caused him to move from humid Ohio to dry Phoenix. The moist, thin, mountain air has been bothering him a bit. We see an air hose at a gas station, and joke that he can fill up for free!

Our destination for the day is Cortez, the southwestern most town in Colorado. We scout town for a motel, and decide on the Econo Lodge at the edge of town. There are several other bikes parked in front of the office. We get a room along the edge of the property. There are lawn chairs and tables set up, for our use.

This is our last night traveling with Beard, so we celebrate with our usual beverage of choice. The sunset is colorful, and we take a number of photos. There are no other motel guests at our end of the motel, so we’re not bothering anyone. As it gets late, we get hungry. One of our buddies brought some SPAM to our campsite, and we grill it over the campfire. Tonight, we have more SPAM, but no source for fire. Wagz disappears for awhile. When we find him, he’s holding a tray up underneath the bathroom’s heat lamps. Ha! Leave it to him to find yet another way to cook. We take turns holding the tray, and finally declare it ‘done’. Obviously, we were hungry…

Four Corners

The next morning, we pack up and head southwest to Four Corners, near the common borders of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. It is an amazing change in landscape, after weeks in the mountains and greenery, to enter the brown, empty, desert. In just a few miles from Cortez, it changes very quickly.

We arrive at Four Corners. Rather than paying to enter to be at the ‘official’ intersection of the four states (which is really somewhere nearby, on private property), we just get our pictures at the entrance and call it good. We say our goodbye’s. Beard’s wife will be in Columbus when we return home, and we’ll see her before he does. That gives us a chance to tell her all sorts of stories… (insert evil laugh)!

Mesa Verde

Wagz and I head back to Cortez, and head to nearby Mesa Verde. This is the site of the ancient Indian cave dwellings, and it is on a plateau (flat top) high above the valley. The road has lots of turns, and can be fun, but today much of it is under construction. There are several stops, where they let traffic pass in one direction for awhile, then the other direction gets a turn, and so forth. Sometimes they close both directions for awhile, so work crews can manuever equipment. We shut the bikes off, since they are air cooled and will overheat otherwise. It takes us quite awhile to get to the top of the mesa.

It’s quite a warm day, as we ride to the various scenic spots. There are many steep cliffs, and the tribes built brick buildings into shallow caves. They used rope ladders to scale the walls to reach the surface, and they must have been in great physical condition. The Indian tribes first inhabited the area near 500AD, and lived here until around 1400AD. They lived primarily on the surface, and it was only the last two hundred years they were there before they started building in the cliff walls. Scientists don’t know exactly why they left the mesa, but it was widely believed that a severe drought forced them off the top of the mountain to the valley below.

There’s only one road up to Mesa Verde, and that is the one road down. So, we have to wait on more construction. After they open our direction, I find that my battery is dead. We pull to the side of the road, and a park ranger pulls behind us. He’s got a system that will jumpstart a car, but that is far too powerful for a small motorcycle battery. We check the battery connections, and the bike starts. Yay! Of course, by now, the road is closed in our direction again, so we get to wait.

The ranger told us that this is the first time since in many years that this road is getting fully repaved. They kept putting it off, since they knew it would cause problems, but finally had to bite the bullet. This is his first season at Mesa Verde, and he really enjoys it. This duty is much better than working border patrol in Arizona, his prior job, where he was shot at on several occassions.

The ‘going home blues’

We laugh over the fact that it is my bike that has the ‘going home blues’, once again. Years ago, this happened to Wagz’ bike as we left to head home from Yellowstone. For several years, his bike would have some kind of issue the day we started home. A few years ago, when I was in San Francisco, my bike caught this, requiring a new oil pump and an extra week in California (oh darn). This year, it is obviously my turn again.

We leave Mesa Verde, and make it to the main road, and I find a mechanic at the nearby gas station. We put the bike on a charger, until the shop closes. It seems to be better, so we continue on our way. It’s two hours to reach our destination, Monte Vista, Colorado. There are some more mountains to cross, so we hope that the bike battery simply needed to charge, which it would do as we rode.

As we get about ten miles from Monte Vista, the console light on the bike goes out. The headlight is very dim as we pull into the motel, and the engine is sputtering, which are all signs of a spent battery. Wagz keeps my engine going as I register and get our room key. I know that as I stop in front of the room, there is no chance it will start again.

Movie Manor

We’re at the Movie Manor, the world’s only motel built around the back of a drive-in movie theater. The drive-in was started in the 50’s, and by the late 60’s, the owner got the idea to make money through the winter by having a motel. By combining them both, he could provide a unique setting for his guests.

We unpack and get everything to the motel room. The movie is just starting, out the picture window. The feature tonight is ‘Despicable Me’, an animated story of an evil scientist turned good. We order a pizza, and mix our Jack and Coke’s, and watch the film. Very cool place to stay!

The next morning, attention turns to the bike. Wagz talks to the maintenance man, who brings their battery charger over to us. The gauge on the front doesn’t register, and he insists that it works, so we have to assume the battery is bad. Regardless, we keep it on the charger, just in case, while Wagz rides into town to find a new battery. He finds an outdoors shop, and they have a mostly charged battery. We put it in the bike, and the motel’s charger still registers zip. We determine that the charger has a bad meter, not a dead battery after all. Still, it will be good to have a spare battery, since we also know that the charging system on the bike is bad.

We stop in town at Walmart, and pick up a battery charger that we can fit on the bike. This is the second road trip where we’ve bought a charger (and decided not to bring the spare when we left Ohio).

We’re out of the mountains now, and the scenery changes. Eastern Colorado looks much like its neighbor, Kansas: flat and open. I had loaded my GPS with information on unusual landmarks, and finally figure out how to narrow it down to attractions near our route. It directs us to the Petrified Building, in Lamar, Colorado. This structure was created from petrified wood, and was once a gas station. Now, a tire store next door, still owns the building.

The first town we reach inside Kansas, I can tell that the battery is running low. It’s very hot outside, 104F at 6:15pm, according to the sign across the street. We needed a break anyway. I unload my bike, so we can remove the seat to access the battery. At least my camping chair still comes in handy as we sit in the shade and wait. After about 30 minutes, we decide to get on our way, as we need to get somewhere for the night.

At dusk, we make it to Garden City, Kansas. The bike dies as we pull into the motel. I was very happy they had a room, since I wasn’t going to be able to leave! We run the battery charger from the room to the bike. It will be charged before we go to bed.

Soon after we arrive, another bike pulls in next door to us. He’s from Kansas City, returning from Sturgis. Eight bikes pull in a few doors down: A group of Mexicans, all on Harley touring bikes. We talk to them for awhile, and one of them translates for the rest. When we tell them that we’re from Ohio, his father asks us “This isn’t on our way from Sturgis. Why are you here?” I reply, “Why not?” Everyone laughs. The brotherhood of motorcyclists understand this.

Dodge City

The next morning brings us to Dodge City, Kansas. This town became famous because it was a major intersection of railroads in the 1880’s. This was the only way to get cattle from Texas, Kansas, and Colorado, to the customers in the eastern cities. There were no other options, as railroads did not yet reach to Texas.

We’re looking for the twin sundials (that’s what it says on the GPS), but we don’t see anything likely. We walk around the historic district for a bit, and finally get directions to the sundials. They are next to the railroad tracks, outside the train station. That actually makes sense. Wow!

Until the 1880’s, time, worldwide, was measured by sundials in each town. As a result, high noon in one place, was perhaps 11am elsewhere. For years, trains tried to set their schedules to the local time at each stop, but this became complicated very quickly. In the 1880’s, railroads around the world petitioned for a more consistent system. This is when time zones were created. The 100th parallel runs right through the middle of Dodge City, and it was designated as the dividing line between Central time and Mountain time. To help the railroad customers adjust, they built side-by-side sundials. Since the 1960’s, the time line was slowly moved westward, and is currently at the Colorado Border. This makes it easier for the people of Kansas to share a single time.

We head towards Kansas City, our destination for the night, and friends Doug and Wayne. I’ve visited them on trips frequently, and it is always great to visit with them.

As we reach I-70, my bike begins to sputter. Before we get on the freeway, we decide to charge up. While we have an extra battery, we’re going to be very close to draining it by the time we reach Kansas City. We decide to charge one, and keep a spare, so that I can ensure I have good headlights as we head into the city. The temperature is 106F today, so the break is a good chance to rehydrate.

We get to the Kansas Turnpike, and shortly after we get our toll ticket, we find road construction. Traffic is at a standstill, as there is bridge construction ahead. The bike and I have to endure the heat, as I’m afraid to wear the battery down. Eventually, the traffic clears and we’re on our way. When the Turnpike ends, I reluctantly pay the toll. It certainly would have been nice of them to let us know the road was under construction before we got on it, but alas.

We stop for a break, and trade batteries in the bike. We make it to Kansas City in good shape. Doug and Wayne prepare an excellent meal (our second home-cooked meal of the trip) and we share stories late into the night.

It was our plan to get an early start in the morning, to beat the heat. It’s a long ride to Ohio, and we’ve already agreed to break it into two days. Our minimum goal is to reach St. Louis, which is only four hours away. As it turned out, we got a late start (amazing how that happens after a late night, eh?) and start the ride in the heat of the day.

We have to take frequent breaks today, as it’s 106F yet again. We take the outerbelt around St. Louis, and try to find a motel at one of the highway exits. We’re out of the suburbs and into farm country, so there aren’t many options. The GPS points us to Highland, Illinois, and we find the Choice Motel.

It’s Wagz’ turn to pay for the room, so he goes inside to register. The counter separates a living room area from the rest of the house. Behind the counter is the kitchen, and small children are eating their dinner while trying to get a look at us. The room rate was almost half what we’ve been used to paying, and there are less than a dozen rooms, so we’re a little suspicious. However, the room was the largest, if not the nicest, room of our journey. We even took pictures…

The home stretch

We say goodbye to the Choice Motel, and get an early start. We really want to get home today, since it will give us one day to rest before returning to work. We’re taking I-70 from here to Columbus, so we should be able to make good time.

As we get to the east side of Indianapolis, a group of 30-40 bikes enters from a ramp. Some of the pack sees bikes in the left lane (us), so they pull into our lane, basically blocking us in. Almost immediately, the traffic comes to a screeching halt for road construction. We sit for about twenty minutes in the heat. The group is a club, ‘one percenters’ as they like to be called. They have patches from Iowa, Illinois, and Indiana, so it only adds to our suspicions that they don’t all ride together on a frequent basis. We migrate to the back of the pack, also mindful to try to keep their chase vehicle close behind us. With the construction, we’re safer in a pack of bikes, but based on the riding we’ve seen, it’s a fine line. The traffic gets beyond the construction, and we get past the group.

As we get to the Ohio state line, the sky opens, and we can barely see. I do my best to keep up with the taillights in front of me. I’ve been in this situation before and there are no good alternatives. You have to either pull off of the road (remember, the cars behind you probably can’t see you either, and might follow you off the road) or keep up so you can see the lights in front of you (which means you’re pretty darned close if they should have to brake quickly, and you’re in the rain).

The rain eases up, but we see lightning ahead. That’s not good when you’re are not in a metal shell. We find a truck stop and pull off. We’re just over an hour from Columbus, and we really don’t want to have to spend another night in a motel. We find the Weather Channel on a TV, and see that the storm is to the north and south of I-70, but we should be fine on the freeway.

Back on the freeway, we know that there will be rain ahead of us. We do our best to keep our distance from traffic ahead of us, in case we hit another cloudburst.

Just as it starts to rain again, we catch up to the biker group. The rain lets loose, and the back half of their group dives for an exit. Brake lights everywhere. The front half of the group sees our bikes in their mirrors, and keeps going. What a cluster. The rain slows to drizzle, and eventually, we get past them, once again. They realize that much of their group isn’t behind them anymore.

Have I said that I like riding with Wagz? Huh? It is situations like this, where road experience matters. Riding in groups can be easy, or it can be frustrating. It depends on the people. The larger the group, the harder it is to keep together.

We arrive home safely. After two weeks on the road, and much sun, and many stories, it’s good to be home.