Down Out of the Black Hills and into Wyoming

I have been riding in beautiful country the last few days; and if you have never driven across the United States, I recommend that once in your life you do so.  It's the only way to truly appreciate the diverse beauty and grandeur of this great country.

And I'd advise including the Black Hills of South Dakota on your itinerary.

The Badlands of South Dakota.

Mount Rushmore, in the Black Hills.

Traffic in South Dakota is, shall we say, "light?"

It's a little different story on a bicycle:  so keep in mind, it's a steep climb up from Rapid City to see Mount Rushmore.  But I always like to see the mountain carvings.  I admire those four presidents greatly, and I like the idea that an immigrant, who appreciated what this country means, did the carving.  It did surprise me a little, however, to visit the gift shop.  I saw a nice carved stone egg...maybe a piece of South Dakota...and picked it up, to discover it was made in Pakistan.  How about that alabaster buffalo?  Made in Peru!  That cofee mug with all the American flags?

Oh, come on!  China???  The key chain?  The glasses?  The next ten items I looked at:  ALL CHINA.

Finally, I headed for the t-shirt counter.  There are stacks of Sturgis related gear, since this is the big week of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, which brings half a million riders to the Black Hills area.  And those t-shirts:  all made in HONDURAS.

Oh well, the four presidents were made in America.

If you haven't heard of the Sturgis rally, it has been going on for 71 years, or so.  It was small at first, 3,000 bikers in 1952, according to one man I talked to.  And it could get pretty wild and rowdy, with fights and drinking, and in the 60s drugs.  Some of the big gangs attended and from what I was told, still do, but today most of the riders are typical Americans, who like to ride, many of them I think trying to recapture their youth.  A lot of these guys are bald and fat and I don't think they could get off their bikes fast enough any more to start a good brawl, even if they wanted to.  Younger people, generally, aren't turned on by the idea of riding a motorcycle, so the average age of the attendees is probably 50+. 

Still, it has to be an interesting time.  One man I talked to at breakfast said Sturgis was tamer now, but still like "Halloween on steroids."  Everyplace you go in the Black Hills this week you see bikers.  So I did a little people watching on the sly.  In a random sampling I noted that 2/3rd's of the riders don't wear helmets.  Not macho, I guess.  I saw one biker chic who was anoerexic.  Didn't expect that.  At Mount Rushmore I noticed a biker with a leather jacket and an oxygen tube up his nose.

Really didn't expect that.

Generally, the riders struck me as a conservative (but friendly) lot.  One rider wore a t-shirt that said:  END THE FED on the back and carried the DON'T TREAD ON ME flag on the front.  African-American riders were as rare as African-American hockey players; and I saw one trailer with this slogan painted on the rear:

OBAMA KISS MY WHITE AMERICAN ASS. 

YOU STUPID F*CK.

I was wondering:  did the driver of the trailer want to be discreet, putting that star there where the letter was missing?

If anything, the real dilemma in the Black Hills is deciding what to see and what you reluctantly have to skip.  If you go south you can enter Custer State Park and see the herd of 1,500 free-roaming buffalo (I skipped that).  You can ride the 1880 train from Keystone to Hill City (I pedaled up over the mountains instead).  You can swim in beautiful Horsetail Lake (which I did) and you can use the Mickelson Trail if you're on a bicycle.  So I did.

The Mickelson Trail is named after a South Dakota governor who died in a plane crash; an old railway turned to modern, two-wheeled use, it allows for a gorgeous ride through the mountains, amid peaks rising to six or seven thousand feet.  I was on it most of one day (it runs more than 100 miles), riding beside cold, rushing mountain steams, through beautiful meadows, with vast walls of stone lining the way in places and several old tunnels to pass through.

At one point I came across two young cross-country riders, taking a snack break.  Forest Almasi, 23, and Nic Brodine, 22, are recent graduates from Western Washington State, and started pedaling in Seattle headed for New York.  Forest is a philosophy major, but might like to build bicycles for a living when he settles down, or write, or possibly teach.

Nic was carrying a guitar, and says he can play the bass, drums and piano and also sing.  He might like to make a career in music; but he also expressed an interest in teaching.  I told them both it was a great job, if you really wanted to work hard.  "If you want to loaf, though, don't become a teacher because you won't be any good."

I think from their demeanor, and after talking to them both about their trip, they'd probably be good if they gave it a shot.

I'm still camping pretty much wherever I can find secluded spots; and I'm having a good time.  I camped just one mile from Rushmore and saw the mountain the next day, sneaking back an old forest road and bedding down amid tall pine trees.  A doe watched me set up camp that evening and four fawn watched me rise again the next day.  (I "showered" in the cold mountain waters of Horsetail Lake a few hours later.)  I spent another night in a field of high grass along the Mickelson Trail; and when I started off again in the morning, I came zooming around a bend and surprised a coyote or large fox that had just brought down and killed a fawn.  I've seen wild turkeys and eagles and during one snack break had a staredown with a chipmunk, who finally ran away.  At another point a red squirrel kept pace as I pedaled along the trail, racing along the top rail of a fence that bordered the old right of way.

Eventually, I passed a local man, out picking wild strawberries and he shared a few.  Even better, he advised me to get off the trail around Cheyenne Crossing and be sure to head down Spearfish Canyon.  I took his advice, and stopped for breakfast at Cheyenne Crossing.  With thousands of bikers flooding the area, all the restaurants were full.  So at breakfast the hostest asked everyone, "Do you mind sharing tables with someone you don't know?"  I said I'd be fine with that and ended up with two older gentleman, one a Vietnam vet.  I asked him about his experiences, but he laughed and said all he did in 1966-67 was drive a truck.  "They issued me 100 rounds of ammunition when I got there," he explained, "and when I left a year later I turned in the same 100 rounds."

I wish I could offer you pictures of Spearfish Canyon, but my Droid was out of battery power and you'll just have to see it someday for yourself.  A beautiful creek runs down the middle, cold, rushing water even this late in the year (someone says South Dakota had twice as much snow as normal this winter) and I "showered" again in Spearfish Creek.  Luckily, I was heading down the canyon, which meant coasting for more than twenty miles, and I could look around and appreciate the towering rock walls and thick green forests.

So, trust me:  it's a beautiful ride.

Right now, I'm waiting out a passing storm in the library at Moorcroft, Wyoming.  It's a cool day, outside, and I'm heading for Gillette next, 28 miles further west.

I'll add a few pictures as soon as I can.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE!

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page. There, click again on "donate to this event." Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

Death-Defying Ohio Ride Ends Happily

Well, I’m back home for a few days of R & R and all my appendages are still attached, which is always an excellent result. After 1,200 miles, I’ve even lost a few pounds, but not enough yet to try out for modeling jobs.

Any long-distance bicycler can tell you that you have a lot of time to think when you’re riding solo, in my case, across the United States.  

Here is some of what I’ve been thinking:

1) Ohio is the WORST for bicycling. The Ohio Department of Transportation believes that if you paint a white line on the edge of the pavement and leave six inches of overlap on the side, bicyclers and cars can share the same roadway. It doesn’t matter if in places that tiny shoulder is broken into jagged bits. It doesn’t matter if there’s a two-foot drop off into a ditch. It wouldn’t matter if you had to try to ride along the edge of the road with cars whizzing by on your left and the Grand Canyon on your right; ODOT would refuse to add an extra foot of pavement or a guard rail.

So you ride across the Buckeye State at your peril.

2) Other than frayed nerves, I got home in good shape and met plenty of nice people along the way. One night, I stopped for dinner at an Applebee’s in Hudson, Ohio. Manager Bob Grady, or “Grady” as everyone calls him, came over to talk after Ema Loucek, my waitress, told him I was riding to raise money for JDRF. Grady has one son, who has multiple scholarship offers for college, so he’s justifiably proud. He asked me to fill out an on-line survey, saying Ema did a great job (she did) and then paid my bill. If I’d known that was coming, I would have ordered dessert.

My rule on “free meals” is this: The savings count as another donation to JDRF. I set the money I would have spent aside and that’s $15 more for the cause.

3) “Stealth camping” is a cheap way to see America. On a bike, if you don’t want to pay for a real camping spot, it’s easy to sneak into the woods or set up your tent on the edge of some farmer’s field. Stealth camping etiquette requires that you a) never leave trash behind; b) never squash crops; c) keep a can of Mace handy in case there are axe-murdering farmers around.

4) Stealth camping bicycle riders can and will become malodorous.

5) It is NOT fun to bicycle across America during monsoon season. I was rained on for all or parts of nine days.

Stealth camping bicycle riders smell better after a good wash from Mother Nature.



This is what I saw for about half my trip.

6) People are nice, part two. At breakfast in Medina, Ohio one day, at the kind of cafe you only find in small towns nowadays, I struck up a conversation with Corey Kujian and his wife Shannon Conley. Corey has hiked parts of the Appalachian Trail. So he has the adventurous spirit I respect. Shannon is a history teacher at Medina High, clearly a dedicated one, and enthusiastic in her work, and they have two charming young children (whose names I failed to ask). Corey wondered if they could donate to the cause (the answer is always “yes”) and handed over a crisp $20 bill.

So that keeps me going strong.

7) There are a lot of random baseball hats and shoes lying along the roads. But beer cans and bottles predominate. I have, however, seen only one bra. You wonder if there aren’t a lot of hatless, shoeless people wandering around the country, and maybe some drunk chick going topless now. I never see any martini glasses littering the highways, though, just beer containers. I think this has something to do with the fact that martini drinkers are more sophisticated.

8) You should not leave your phone sitting on your sleeping bag on the back of your bike and try to pedal across America – unless you want to take your chances on some kind gentleman finding it, calling your wife, and telling her he’ll send it back in the mail.

I lost my phone that way...and Kevin promised Anne that he’d send it soon. So, for now, I’ve got no new pictures to post from my trip.

If you do happen to pass a bicycle rider in Ohio someday, give him or her plenty of room. If it’s me, and you don’t, I’ll be screaming like a baby.

I Brake for Moose.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page. There, click again on “donate to this event.”  Then click “Biking and Painting for Diabetes.”

Seated...in One Spot

Right now, I'm sitting on a different kind of seat:  wider, comfortable, stationary unless I decide to tilt back and admire my prose. I'm in the library in Warren, Ohio.

I've been picking up the pace the last few days because my daughter, Abby, will be in Cincinnati over the Fourth of July weekend. Originally, I didn't think I had much chance to make it back in time to see her; but my legs are working well and I've done 436 miles in the last five days.

That doesn't include the 1 (one!!) I've logged so far today.

The riding has vastly improved since rain stopped two days ago, although when I came out of the last big hills in New York and started down the shore of Lake Erie, expecting easy, flat pedaling, I caught a ferocious head wind that slowed me up all afternoon and into the evening.  It was a beautiful ride, though, on Highway 5, right along the lake shore, and just about dark I ran into a trio of riders who were also going cross country, like me. They were already stopped at a motel and I toyed with stopping there, too, but wanted to find a campground...and they were breaking off their ride the following day in any case (planning to do the ride across America in four yearly 3-week installments). So we shared a few stories from the road and then I had to get going before the sun set entirely and I ended up bicycling in the dark.

Once again, I failed to remember their names (a theme so far on this trip): mom, dad, and Beth, their daughter, about 28, and a teacher of inner-city kids down in Jacksonville, Florida, in the K-2 grades. I asked how she liked teaching and she replied, "I love it."

I could have said the same myself.

Donations continue to come in from all kinds of people, including a lot of former students, and I am much gratified by the kind support. I'm going to be pedaling through the Bath/Richfield area, where I grew up, once I get motivated today. On July 1, I should be going through Columbus and on the 2nd I'll be cruising home for a short break.

Yesterday, I rode from State Line, New York (literally, 100 yards from the Pennsylvania border), through Erie, Pennsylvania and then south 60 miles on a bicycle trail from Ashtabula, Ohio to the Warren, Ohio area.

The roads in five states: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York and Pennsylvania had excellent wide shoulders and I felt very safe. Then, no joke, I hit the sign that said, "Welcome to Ohio." And right there the wide shoulders vanished as suddenly and completely as Jimmy Hoffa.

Still, I had an interesting thought the other day, when the headwind was killing me and making me wish I'd remained seated on the couch at home. Most of the type-1 diabetics I've talked to, young kids mostly, are despite their youth more philosophical than me. They ride against the wind every day, so to speak. They deal with hills and headwinds, insulin and pumps and shots, and keep plowing straight ahead, usually with very little complaint.

So, I decided to stop cursing the wind and keep going on my way. I made 106 miles yesterday. I hope that gets us 106 miles closer to a cure.

Well, it's almost noon and I've only got that 1 mile in for the day. This typing is making me hungry. I need to go find a place for lunch.

Hi, oh, Silver, and away!  Time to get riding, folks.

I added this picture here in 2022, long after my ride.
My daughter, who still battles type-1 diabetes had twins in 2021.
I hope Prosper, left, and Story, right, never need insulin shots.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure for type-1 diabetes please click HERE! 

(This single click takes you to my fund-raising page.  There, click again on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."

Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cluster Training Regimen

Yeah, I'm getting ready to start my ride across the country.  I will be leaving from Acadia National Park on June 16.  Right now, I am riding pretty well, and I'm a little thinner than when I started my cross-country ride in 2007.

I'd be doing better if I didn't come back from my rides and dig into the jar of Chocolate Macadamia Nut Clusters.  Maybe I can get a candy company to sponsor my trip or donate to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation.

If they won't, you can.

If you would like to donate to help find a cure please click HERE! 

(This will take you to my fund-raising page.  Click on "donate to this event."  Then click "Biking and Painting for Diabetes."