Day Eight - Black Hills

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Today was planned as a short day. It was a day to see the Black Hills of South Dakota and then rest up for the crossing of the plains. Knowing I would not be on the road for very long, I didn’t leave until close to 8:00 am. I really don’t like leaving the mountains behind and, as always, the morning of my departure placed me on a route that laid the plains out before me and the mountains in my mirrors. This morning I rode south on I-90 for about 40 miles with a spectacular view of the Big Horn Mountains to west and the rolling plains to the east. I stopped at a small scenic pull-out to photograph the mountains and see what I missed when I drove in last night under the cover of darkness. Golden plains leading to lush green foothills which gave way to blue and purple mountains. The highest peak was hidden in the clouds but beneath it, the range spread as far north as I could see and about fifty or sixty miles to the south. I stood, taking it in for a few minutes and had to tear myself away. I didn’t want to leave, I wanted to turn my motorcycle back west and explore more mountain roads, I wanted to see more of Wyoming and Montana but I knew that the waking nest of the sun was the direction in which I had to point the front wheel and show my back to the mountains that have their tendrils wrapped around my heart. No worry, mountains, if it is in the cards, I will surely be back.
Melodramatic, yes, but, if you have not experienced the mountains with all the beauty, challenges and surprises they yield, then you just don’t know.

The south end of the Big Horn Mountains as seen from I-90 just south of Sheridan, Wyoming.

The middle portion of the Big Horn Mountains.

The northern portion of the Big Horn Mountains.

The eastern foothills of the Big Horn Mountains.

A final shot of the mountains. What a trip it has been and what wonder to look forward to as I begin planning for the next trip.

I rode east, glancing back to the mountains every few minutes as they faded into the horizon and in a couple of hours I was in Gillette, Wyoming where I stopped to get breakfast and fill up the bike. From there I headed south on route 58 with the intention of riding through the Thunder Basin National Grassland on my ride into the Black Hills of South Dakota.

Along route 58, before I reached route 450 which would take me to the Black Hills I spotted some bison on a ranch but I was not able to stop. It was cool to see them having traveled hundreds of miles through Montana and Wyoming without setting eyes on even one!
Along route 450 I passed by a huge open faced coal mine which boasted of being the largest surface mine in North America. Given the length of trains on sidings and the couple that were leaving in addition to the gigantic dump trucks I would have no reason not to believe the claim.

I do like my coloful rocks! This is a formation along route 450 on the way to the Black Hills.

This formation was across the road from the one above and it too caught my eye.

Fifty miles later I crossed the border into South Dakota. The road wound through the western foothills of the Black Hills and when I was about ten miles from Mount Rushmore a small herd of bison caught my eye. They were about a hundred yards back from the paved road and grazing OUTSIDE the fence of some fenced property. I did a quick U-turn and drove down the dirt road until I was probably thirty yards from them. I turned took a couple of shots and then turned the motor cycle to face the road. Leaving it running, I started walking towards the small heard with the hope of getting a closer shot but leaving a decent escape. Not knowing if bison charge and how fast they can run I did not want to venture too close. I know about domestic cattle and know that I can outrun your average bull should they become aggressively excited but I don’t know bison!!

As I approached them, the largest one took notice of me and moved his head in a U pattern while snorting and taking a step towards me. I stopped and contemplated the next move. He could be faking me out which would mean it was safe to move in for a closer shot or he could be nervous and preparing to charge at a potential threat.

I looked at the motorcycle and considered what it would take to jump on, secure the camera, pull up the kick stand, put it in gear and tear out of there without stalling the engine in fear. Seconds piled up. I then considered how long it would take the bull bison to cover that distance and figured that I was close enough with a reasonable margin of safety.
I took my photos and then watched as a small group of horses inside the adjoining field came running across to see what was going on. I told them that the big bison was afraid that little old me was interested in his heard but that he had no worries, I had no interest and he could keep all his heifers to himself.

What appeared to be a small herd of wild bison in South Dakota. I am guessing they are wild because they are outside the fence in an area that was not identified as "Free Range".

I got back on the bike and headed to Mount Rushmore. For those of you who have not been, this monument is deep in the Black Hills!! When you arrive, though, you are greeted with a multi-lane admission ticket area and then a multi-storey concrete parking garage! There is an impressive granite-paved walk way up to the monument, passing though a corridor of square granite columns with a flag of each state of the union on each face of the columns. The layout is in order of each state’s admission to the union. This promenade is a visual channel to the monument. As you arrive at the end of the corridor you find yourself above the amphitheater with the busts of the founding fathers towering above. It is impressive!

The walkway leading up to Rushmore.

The Flag and State corridor.

The amphitheater at Mt. Rushmore right beneath the busts.

A close-up shot of the busts.
A little longer shot of the busts.



Leaving the Black Hills the western sky looked ominous and a few sprinkles were falling. After my ride in the rain last night I was in no mood to ride in the rain today so I made a beeline for Rapid City with the hope of checking in and unloading the bike before the rain hit. I made it with about ten minutes to spare!

I ate at a close by Indian restaurant and then headed back to the hotel to get the bike ready for the trip tomorrow. The oil level was good and I went around the corner to fill the tank. I was fed, as was the bike and I went inside to get the rest I would need for the thousand-mile trip across the plains to Indiana the next day. The forecast calls for rain at various points along the route and if it does come, I hope it hold none of the drama I experienced with last night’s weather!