Wind Cave: Part 1

 

Yes, it's been a mild winter in western South Dakota this year - but not that mild.  This blog will cover a half-day ride at the end of October of 2024, months before the Oregon trip I chronicled last.  I know, it's been a long time since then.  Guess these photos got stuffed into the wrong drawer.  Consider this a proverbial blast from the literal past.

I began by heading south on Highway 79, toward the Nebraska border.  Before I got that far, I turned west onto a gravel road and aimed for the Black Hills.  As you can see, the weather was mostly cloudy, but temperatures were not too cool.

"Is dumping debris in the roadway really a problem here?" I wondered, as I read the sign.  I'd purposely taken the most remote route to Wind Cave National Park that I could find.  Perhaps I'd strayed too far.  The rocked surface was very nice, though.

I took this hairpin junction to follow Red Valley Road up the hill.  Traffic was quite light.  Obviously, the landscape is predominantly grasslands with scattered stands of pine.  In the summer, there's a lot more color, but it can also get uncomfortably hot.  October is fine by me!

It should also be plain to see that I'd washed Ryker since my return from the Arctic Ocean, a few months prior.  This was actually our first little adventure since then, and it felt great to be in the "wilds" again.

A stone pillar and a diminutive sign met me at the Wind Cave boundary.  I'd been into the 34,000-acre park before but not through this back entrance.  And this time, I planned to traverse most of its unpaved routes before exiting at the north edge.

The tourist shop T-shirt version of this sign reads, "Don't pet the fluffy cows."  It's good advice, but fairly frequently there are still wildlife encounters here and in neighboring Custer State Park that do not end well.  That is, they don't end well for the tourist.

Gaining elevation, I approached a grove of ponderosa.  The park roads were not as wide and well-maintained as the county roads below, but they were well within Ryker's wheelhouse.  We were both enjoying ourselves immensely.

This hilltop parking area provided long distance views in every direction!  Here, I'm looking east toward the Dakota plains.

This is more north to northwest, I believe.  And there is a cave underneath somewhere, as the park's name would suggest.  Kim and I have driven to the entrance and visitor center, but there were other things to do that day - and every day since.  Maybe when it opens for the season this year.

I think we've already had this view - but not so close in on Ryker's dashingly handsome face.

And here's one for Mother.  Most may find it hard to recognize me in my helmet and over-sized glasses - but she still can.  

If four photos from the same location is enough for the rest of you, we'll move on.

Before I'd descended the hill, I encountered my first of two buffalo herds that day.  I count eight.  I believe the rest are trees.  I remained on the trike, and they were content to keep their distance too.

A sturdy little bridge awaited me at the base of the ridge.  Good thing that center section was there.  Lining up all three wheels on one of the longitudinally planked wings would have been challenging.

At this point, I shouldn't have been too far from the pavement.  It was still early in the day, however.  I'd have to find a longer way home.

Ryker Goes to Tillamook: Final Leg

 

For my break at the resumption of the pavement after Skalkaho Pass, I scrambled down to the creek you see here.  It's a nice spot.  I also walked around the trike a couple of times, kicking the tires and other things to determine if anything seemed amiss after the preceding rough road.

Everything was still in place and solid.  Ryker is a tough little beast.

On the road again, the surface was really just tar-sealed gravel - but it followed the mountain stream beautifully.

Once it left the water, though, the route widened and reverted to loose rock.  Unlike the conditions over the pass, however, the last unpaved section was well-graded, fast, and fun!

I made it to the intersection with Montana HWY 1, having ridden 55 miles on HWY 38 from Hamilton.  It was the same spot where I had turned around five days ago in highly questionable weather, opting to leave Skalkaho Pass for my return trip.  Wise choice.

Heading southeast, I soon was flanking Georgetown Lake again - the peaks of the Anaconda Pintlar Wilderness standing sentinel.

Fifteen minutes later, I gassed up in Anaconda - an interesting town that needs a longer visit someday.  Then it was back to the I-90 superslab.  Butte, Bozeman, and Livingston passed in relative bliss.  But, as usual, Billings was where things really started heating up.

By the time I made it to Ashland, on HWY 212, it was unbearably hot!  I pulled over at a convenience store with an adjacent park.  After making a selection of fine drink and snacks, I ambled over to a covered picnic table and settled in under the shade of the pavilion.  There was just enough breeze to make it a tolerable place to update some friends and family via text.  I was only 200 miles from home!

Finishing up my meat and cheese sticks, I finally noticed the brand name on the wrapper - Werner.  You can see the outline of the state of Oregon in the bottom right corner, but you probably cannot make out the tiny white print on the lines above the "Best By" date.  I'll read it for you, "Werner Gourmet Meat Snacks, Inc. Tillamook, Oregon 97141."  How appropriate is that?

After a 30-minute break, I made it another 100 miles (half the remaining distance) to the community of Alzada, near the Wyoming border.  There's a spreading shade tree by the post office there that has become my traditional last stop before home.  It did not disappoint!

It was after 6:00 by then, but temps had not dropped much.  On the plus side, the area's frequently strong winds had not yet materialized.  And the lower angle of the sun was really beginning to light up the lush grass and trees.  This final leg of my Oregon trip was going to be a largely enjoyable one.

Wyoming only lasts for 30 miles on 212 (the far northeast corner) before you hit the South Dakota border.  The Mount Rushmore State has been my home for over three years now - hard to believe it's already been that long since our move from Oregon.  It doesn't look like much from here, though I've come to appreciate the plains.  But as you approach Rapid City and the Black Hills, you'll start to think you've warped back somehow to the edge of the Rockies.  I recommend you plan a visit!

I rode up my driveway at 8:00.  Kim had been following my GPS breadcrumb trail and was standing on the front porch when I arrived.  Within minutes, I was eating homemade chicken pot pie and fruit and berry crisp!  No, good food is not the only thing I miss about home - but it's up there in the rankings.

We talked until 10:00, when I finally fell into bed.  It had been a roughly 700-mile day - 14+ hours on the road.  Guess I still got it!  Barely.