Elm Springs: A New Direction

 

This is either Elk Creek or Alkali Creek, and I'm not even sure if I'm looking upstream or down.  It's kind of hard to tell when it's all frozen!  Either way, I do know that it's straight north of Rapid City on the unpaved section of Elk Vale Road.  And it was the first of December.

If the last picture was upstream, then this one is down - and vise versa.  You get the idea.  But judging from the shadows, I'd say this is up.

I'd waited until nearly noon for this half-day trip - until temperatures reached 40, if memory serves.  I knew the Black Hills were snowed in by this time, but I thought I might be able to squeeze in one more outing before the new year.  The area northeast of the city features several gravel roads - and was still unexplored territory for me.  I didn't need any other reason to set out.

If you can read the sign, I guess there was one other reason.  The "unincorporated community" of Elm Springs is 60 to 70 miles away, depending on which way you go.  My plan, of course, was to go one way - and come back another.

By the time I reached this junction in the valley, I'd traversed some higher elevation hills than I'd anticipated.  The flatlands of the Dakotas are not all as flat as you'd think.  Not much for trees, though.  The wind had also kicked up, and I'd quickly become quite chilled.  The battery in the Ural is getting old, and I couldn't run the heated handgrips on high without the low battery warning light coming on.  That didn't help matters.

But the county roads were well-graded and quite fun.  Besides the occasional pickup truck, I had them all to myself that day.  Now that hill's almost a mountain - by South Dakota standards!

Belle Fourche River?  I'm a bit more confident about this one, but let's face it.  They all look the same.

Here's what I'd come for.  The first structure I encountered was the Elm Springs Community Hall.  "Est. 1927," it says above the door.  Located approximately midway between I-90 to the south and Highway 34 to the north, there isn't much in Elm Springs.  But I'd try to see whatever there was to be seen.

Guess I wasn't quite downtown yet.

There is a school.  Wasn't too busy though for a Thursday.  Christmas break already?

On my way out of town to the south, I passed the church and cemetery.  Looked like someone was keeping it up, which is nice to see.

I also passed a farm house or two.  As far as I could tell, that was it.  The Internet actually says the population was zero in 2020.  Never seen that before.  But I was there in 2022, so maybe the place is growing!

I was on gravel for about fifteen more miles, then turned onto a paved back road, which lead to the Interstate at the New Underwood exit.  From there, it was around half an hour home.  It was well below 40 degrees by then, so I was more than satisfied to call it a day.  And not a bad one at that!

2022 Season Closer

 

I wasn't even planning to take pictures on this outing back in early November.  But when I got up onto Besant Park Road, near South Dakota's western border, I ran into conditions that warranted digging out the flip phone camera!

What appears to be slushy snow had hardened into solid ice.  I engaged the drive for the sidecar's wheel and had a blast sliding around - while remaining in the ruts formed by four-wheeled vehicles, back when everything was more - fluffy.

There were several patches of this, before I lost some elevation and crossed Highway 85 - about 30 minutes southwest of Deadwood.  I'd never been on this road before and enjoyed how it went in and out of some rather expansive, high-elevation meadows.  I'll have to go back in the summer and explore some of the side roads.

The high point had been nearly 7,000 feet.  I'm somewhat below that here - and on more of a southern exposure.  I crossed into Wyoming on dry gravel, but as soon as I dipped into the more thickly forested canyons, the snow returned.

That snow was still mushy, and I found that even though the third wheel keeps you from falling over, and the two-wheel-drive does a great job of maintaining forward momentum - it does next to nothing for keeping you on the road!  I came around one downhill corner too fast and about slid off the embankment and into the trees.  Lesson learned.

OK, a lot of road passed under my wheels between this photo and the last one.  As you may have noticed, I'd entered the "Cowboy State" on Forest Road 875.  The original plan had been to follow Road 807 through Lost Canyon.  How could you pass up an opportunity to travel through Lost Canyon, right?  Well, I did - though not on purpose.  To me, it remains lost.  

Route 875 turned out to be quite enjoyable, however.  It meandered through innumerable draws, somewhere above the floor of the canyon.  It did eventually join 807, only a mile south of the junction with 863, Sand Creek Road - aka the Grand Canyon of the Black Hills.  That was the other primary destination of the trip.  And that one, I didn't miss!

The gravel road along Sand Creek took me all the way down to the small town of Beulah on Interstate 90 - a dozen miles west of Spearfish.  I stopped there for gas, then went right back into The Hills on a different gravel road that loosely followed the state border, heading south.

That route began just as well-maintained as the last one, then quickly deteriorated to Jeep trail status.  The mud holes were the largest and deepest I've ever negotiated with the Ural, requiring quite a bit of finesse with the clutch and liberal application of throttle to climb out of.  Fortunately, the holes were largely dry, so I didn't need my snorkel.

I met a truck coming down and asked if they'd come through from the better road on top.  "No, we were going up, too, but gave up and turned around.  It's real bad," they concluded.  I figured it couldn't be much farther, so I pressed on.  Finally I came across the barn you see above - with heavy equipment and an RV out front.  I knew they hadn't brought all that up the way I'd come!

And sure enough, just past the barn, the trail became a road again.  I'd made it through!  The farther east I went on 222, the better and wider the road became, until I passed Roughlock Falls and hit the pavement again at Savoy in Spearfish Canyon.  Talk about more adventure than I bargained for!  Was good to know the Ural (and I!) could do it though.  The Ural's tough.  I'm just stubborn.

From Savoy, it was on up to Cheyenne Crossing on 14A, then north a ways on Highway 85 to my last gravel of the day, Forest Road 227.  That was a very nicely groomed seven miles, which spit me out onto the paved 404.  I took that twelve miles to the quaint town of Nemo - famous, in part, for it's one and only store.  

Now only thirty minutes from home, I still couldn't resist going in for a cold Dr Pepper and a candy bar.  In the process, I discovered I'd arrived on one of their last business days of the season.  I told the proprietor it was likely one of my last riding days of the season as well.  And it was.  Not a bad closer though.  Not bad at all!

Badlands Ural: Owanka and Home

Once I merged onto I90, it was about ten miles to Wall - famous for the Wall Drug store.  Now, I don't know if Wall Drug has any drugs for sale, but if you've ever crossed the northern plains, you know from the hundreds of billboards that it has everything else!  

I did stop on this trip, but only patronized the gas station.  Though come to think of it, the Ural would look pretty cool parked in front of the Old West styled facade.  Somewhere in this blog's archives, there is a photo of my first KTM there.  That would be around ten years ago.

After my brief visit to Wall, I rode 20 more miles west and exited here - the road to Owanka.  As previously explained, the Ural is most certainly not a freeway vehicle.  But 30 miles is doable, especially if traffic is light - and it was.

The road in to Owanka (whose name is derived from the Sioux language) is paved from the north.  And what you see here is about all that's left.  Wikipedia says its population is 2.  You read that right.  There are literally a couple of people still living in this settlement, dating from 1888.  I didn't see either of them that day.

Must have been a railroad stop at one time - probably not anymore.  No trains to the west...

No trains to the east.  Looks safe to cross.

This was the only block of structures that hinted I might be "downtown."

After the bridge across Boxelder Creek, the road turned to gravel.

Winding up the plateau to the south, some nice views opened up behind me.  And the road was quite enjoyable!

Around ten miles of that and I was back at a paved road, less than half that many to the north of Highway 44.  

I'd be back in 30 minutes.  A single day trip couldn't get much better!  I'd even left some roads to look forward to next time.

And each time I pull into the garage, our new place in Rapid City feels a little more like home.

Badlands Ural: Big Foot

 

I entered the park for the second time that day on Canata Basin Road.  There was a picnic area just before the junction with the main Badlands Loop, but otherwise not much of note.

Turning generally east towards the majority of the visitor services, I soon encountered a group of about half a dozen bighorn sheep!  For some reason, they all turned their backsides to me.  Probably didn't want to squint into the low-hanging sun.

No, I didn't risk getting off the bike there (wildlife is so unpredictable), but found another more scenic spot for a photo shoot.

The lighting wasn't nearly as good this way, but why not?

Less than ten miles from Canata Basin, you come to Big Foot Pass.  But just before that is Big Foot Road.  Now Sasquatch is also known as Bigfoot (one word).  So I assume that Big Foot (two words) is referring to something else entirely - but I have no idea what (or who).

By this time it was late in the afternoon.  There were quite a few clouds, but the good weather was holding.  There is still a large portion of the park to the east, but this was another road that I'd passed several times in the car and had wanted to check out.

It should be another unpaved route out of The Badlands, this time to the north.

And as expected, I crossed the boundary after less than a mile of well-maintained gravel.

There are at least a couple more unpaved roads into the park, but they'd have to wait for my next visit.  I have an annual pass (and it's only an hour away) - so there's really no reason not to take multiple trips.  Each season here has its own unique qualities to experience.

It was still five miles farther to Interstate 90, but soon I spotted an overpass at the top of a gentle rise.  

Motoring up the on-ramp, I prepared myself for an adventure of a vastly different sort - riding the Ural on the freeway!