Off to take on the world
In 2015 I loaded my Nissan Xterra with all my belongings in my parent’s driveway and drove to Portland, OR, because I was about to start working there. Along the way I drove through South Dakota, where I ended up doing another bike ride at Buzzards Roost. Before that, I stopped at six major landmarks off the main drag, I-90.
First was Sioux Falls, the largest city. I’ve driven through three times, and all I can say is the countryside was brown and grassy. Now, I’m sure there are fascinating sights in the city, but I am not the one to ask. The next landmark was the Corn Palace in Mitchell. It’s an arena decorated with artwork made from corn, and it hosts corn related events. After the Corn Palace came Chamberlain and the crossing of the Missouri River.
The first time I crossed the Lewis and Clark Memorial Bridge, I had a pseudo spiritual moment. I was a kid with my family and we were driving to the Black Hills in a Ford Windstar. When we crossed the bridge and headed into the hills, I remember being in a state of complete and joyful awe. There was something about the wide blue river, the rolling, golden, treeless, hills, and the big, clear sky. I connected with the divine. Perhaps, however, it was the just the combination of Dr. Pepper, sunlight, and no school. I’ll ask God about it when I die.
Across the Missouri
The next two landmarks were near each other on the west side of the Missouri River; Wall Drug and the Badlands. One is commercial, overrated, overhyped, and crowded. The other is natural, beautiful, and solitary. Saying that, both are worth the visit, and both are true to South Dakota’s nature. Ruggedness and awe mixed in with cheapness and convenience.
Wall Drug is famous for its free ice water and road signs; “1 mile to Wall Drug”, “100 miles to Wall Drug”, “10000 miles to Wall Drug”, and so on. Alternatively, the Badlands is famous for its unusual rock formations, fossils, and wild animals. In my mind the Badlands marks the end of the Midwest and the beginning of “The West”. This is precisely the reason why it is such a popular tourist destination for those of us born in Wisconsin and Minnesota. Wait, you guys have wild Bison and huge desert rocks? I’ve got to check that out.
Where the buzzards roost
The final landmark, and the location of my anticipated ride, is the Black Hills. I will give a shout out to one rare gem located in Rapid City – Reptile Gardens. Go there and you can see a person wrestle an alligator.
The Black Hills is considered a sacred religious site to the Lakota, a gambling and gold digging hotspot to early European settlers, and now an outdoor playground to American recreationists like myself. Fortunately, I had my mountain bike in tow and did some quick research on places to bike. Buzzards Roost won.
The trails weren’t flowy or incredibly technical, but they had a rugged appeal. The occasional hiker crossed my path, but otherwise it was just me, zooming through the dry pine forest. I followed the “blue” level trails that twisted around the perimeter of the area. Eventually I found a beautiful overlook. It was a rocky outcropping and you could see the dark forested hills, deep canyons, and Rapid Creek. All by myself I took the opportunity to do a little hooping and hollering. I listened for my echo, which did eventually come. After the long car ride the day prior it felt good to just let it all out atop Buzzards Roost.
As kids we visited the Black Hills and my mother and sister Valerie did a bike ride of their own, the Mickelson Trail. I regret being too immature to tag along. It’s over a hundred miles through the hills and ponderosa forests. There are railroad bridges, rock tunnels, and ghost towns. One such is Mystic, originally explored by the infamous General Custer. It was a hotbed for gold mining and home to the Mystic Reduction Mill, which used a technologically advanced (for its time) electro-cyanide process to extract gold from ore.
The Wyoming Curse
Now, a short aside; not all of my grand biking adventure plans fall into place. Sometimes I fail, as in the case of Wyoming. After the Black Hills I stopped near Sundance. There was supposed to be a trail but it looked instead to be some dirt roads on private land (the barbed wire fences and “keep out” signs were disconcerting). I figured it was a signal to continue and find a ride in the Bighorn Mountains.
Driving on I-90 I got a majestic view of the snow capped peaks rising out of the red, dry countryside. I stopped at a trail system in the mountains and unloaded my Trek Wahoo. After biking 100 feet I encountered my doom; Snow. It was March, and the trails were covered. I tried riding on it for a bit but it was fruitless. Thwarted again, I abandoned my plans for Wyoming. Interestingly, when I was a kid we visited Grand Teton National Park on a vacation, also in Wyoming. One afternoon we decided to go to the Teton Wilderness and rent mountain bikes. Alas, we were turned away by the crusty shop attendant because the trails were too muddy. Call it my Wyoming Curse.
