STURGIS, THE CALL OF THE WILD

For 85 years motorcycle riders from all around the world have migrated to a tiny town in rural South Dakota, often hitting numbers over half a million, why? Sturgis truly can be all things for all people.

Many go for the wild parties, the insane concerts, all night events. Bands like ZZ Top, Steppenwolf, and Kid Rock have made it a rock and roll heaven. The official estimate is that over three million gallons of beer is consumed each year, Some go for the organized rides, many for charity. Some, like me, go for extraordinary rides through unique and wonderful places. I love the energy of thousands of bikes, meeting new friends, and exploring such a historic area.

The Black Hills of South Dakota have long been a sacred place, coveted by the resident tribes, the explorers and today hundreds of thousands of motorcycle riders. One can see the infamous Mt Rushmore and the heart throbbing Crazy Horse Monuments, traversing history.

And history abounds, I love riding into the old west town of Deadwood, going into the very saloon where Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back holding the “dead man’s hand, Aces and eights” .

The primary question of where to stay offers so many options. Hotel rooms fill up fast, often a year in advance. Many locals rent out rooms or their entire houses for the rally. There are a range of abundant campground options for RVs and lowly tent dwellers like me. One can go, party-on at the Buffalo Chip, home of great concerts, or settle in a range of less rambunctious camp options.  I like to sleep! So, I go to the Katmandu Campground. This place caters to the mellower Sturgis crowd; all is quiet at 9pm. They offer an array of camp spots from full-service RV spots to tenting. The food truck dishes out excellent burgers and breakfasts; some live entertainment is found in the small bar.

So back to the question, why? Well it starts on the way there, those of us coming from Western USA are blessed with some of the most amazing rides and scenery. My path took me over North Cascades Highway, Lolo Pass, and Big Horn National Park, all of which rank in the top ten rides on earth.

As one approaches Sturgis the energy mounts, the thundering sound of motorcycles builds and builds to a climax entering the sight. A sobering billboard listing this year’s fatalities brings one down to earth fast. Googlina, the voice of my nav system warns often on the approach, “ Police reported ahead”. With speed limits often at 80mph I don’t worry about exceeding the limit much haha.

By 20 miles out you are surrounded by bikes, all kinds and with all manner of gear and all heading to the Rally. There are bikes with seating for dogs, custom bikes, loud bikes, trikes for the older set and every style known. There are zipping sport bikes, industrial almost military style expedition bikes, classic choppers and antiques. Harley Dividson is still the predominant force albeit challenged by Indian and others. This year the HD dealership there sold 718 bikes during the rally, a new record.

The friendly rub between the trailer set and the “I rode mine” set goes on. I proudly had my 3^rd “I rode mine” patch put on my jacket, albeit leaning hard toward the comfort of an RV and trailer.   

The energy is exhilarating. One curious note, I love to wave at passing bikes, but the custom wains as you get close, seems the waving stops about 100 miles out. Closer and one’s arm would wear out.  Upon leaving I noticed the same things, once 100 miles away the traditional 2 finger biker wave resumed.

I spent 3 nights there, got the mandatory rides in, saw the buffalo, bought the T-shirts and some of the most spectacular people watching on earth! 4^th day I rode south taking in another of the great rides, then hopped on I90 for some 85mph mile eating, jumped off to take the scenic route up and over yet another dynamic mountain pass, (there are over 250 named mountain passes in Wyoming) and down to revisit a favorite place, the bustling town of Thermopolis.  These tired bones needed a hot spring. Resting and soaking I spent two nights at the hot spring’s hotel. The dining room boasts one of the largest collections of game trophies and stuffed creatures I have ever seen. The back story of some are on the menu, many were replicas of actual big game the owner shot with a tranquilizer arrow working with the game preserve veterinarians.

The adjacent state park has a resident buffalo heard. I went hiking in the park and found myself cut off from the trail by the big bull and some others.  I awaited their clearing my path, the old song “you can’t roller skate in a Buffalo heard” came to mind. Upon leaving the heard I climbed the mountain in the park, I placed a rock on the pyramid built by other hikers.

All soaked up, fed great meals and a bit of long overdue exercise, I embark on yet another trail. Riding up to Cody Wyoming, a delight in itself, I then cut on to the famed Chief Joseph Trail. This bit of history has always fascinated me. How a starving rag tag tribe, moving elderly, children and wounded, out maneuvered, out fought and outran the power of the US Army, nearly making it to freedom in Canada.

I have crossed dozens of breathtaking passes on this and other adventures. One has illuded me, and today I ride it; Bear Tooth Pass, 10,970 ft of twists turns and barren peaks so eyepopping the cold is barely noticed. Cascading down the backside into Montana once again, find a hotel and then head west.

The last hot spring on this year’s list, one I almost passed on, is Elkhorn Hot Springs.  I take the long barren ride thru Montana prairie but do a side trip to find an honest full sized ghost town, Bannock. Once a thriving gold mining town, once the first state capital where the first brick building in Montana still stands. A few dozen buildings are still intact enough to enter, it is a true portal to history.

I meet 2 gals from the UK bicycling around the area, an incredulous feat for sure, long hot rides, big hills and not much in between. I tell them how Priam and I always say, when he is cold riding up a pass and we see bicyclists panting up with us, “it could be worse, your Dad could have had the bright idea of riding bicycles on this trip”.  The tradition is abbreviated to a simple “it could be worse”.

Elkhorn HS is up in the hills above the prairie just enough for the sage brush to give way to lofty pine trees. I check into my $50 room in the lodge and hit the pools. When It comes to hot springs, it is pretty hard to find something I have not seen but this place did it. There are two large outdoor pools and inside the “wet sauna” which had me curious.  The cement one-meter pools have extremely hot water, 108 F, which creates steam in the windowless, wooden room. The entire experience is simply wonderful.

I shift to “get home mode” ride 2 hard days back to Yakima. A couple of days preparing the bike for storage, giving her a good cleaning and wax and packing up our gear.  As I put her in the storage unit, i think about all the grand times, miles of glorious riding and the joy of sharing so much of it with my family, I am truly blessed, but it was time to go home!