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Pilgrimage to Motorbike Paradise has Problems

Motorcycling has a classic pilgrimage. In North America, the path leads to Sturgis, South Dakota. My own pilgrimage to this well-known motorcycling Mecca had no shortage of misadventures.

A couple of years back, we visited the 64th annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, the granddaddy of them all (rallies that is). There are 892 vendors! Think of all the T-shirts! The rally itself is held the first full week of every August, however many people start arriving in the week leading up to and staying until after the actual event.

We decided that because of distance from southern Ontario to South Dakota, our trip would have to be two weeks. Because of accommodation costs and our (yeah, yeah) age, we would trailer the bikes. Wayne and I had sold the "Wonder Wagon" and I had designed a new very cool "toy box" in which to trailer bikes and camp out. We made reservations at the Mount Rushmore/ Hill City KOA.

After two days of driving convoy style, we arrived in Hill City with an elevation of 4974 feet. Just up the road we found the KOA, Mount Rushmore and 45 minutes further, Sturgis. The entire trip had been both spectacular and problem free.

We spent our first night in the overflow section of the park: a field. We had arrived a day earlier than we had anticipated so our sites were not available. Early the next morning, I awoke to what sounded like an army patrol: people shouting in the distance. "Move, let's go, hurry up" and other similar commands left me wondering what was up, but by the time I rolled out of bed, it was once again quiet. At 5:45 am, the sun was just starting to burn off the morning dew. I gazed out at the surrounding breathtaking mountains. Later, I decided, I would find out what that commotion was all about.

The park was entirely filled with bikers! "How cool is this!" I thought. Some had three hundred thousand dollar motor homes with matching bike trailers; some came in tents. It really didn't matter. We were all here for the same party. (The department of motor vehicles estimated that 500,00 people attended and logged 547,370 vehicles coming into Sturgis during the rally.) The town of Sturgis has a population of 6,500.

The camping provided a pancake breakfast for its guests and so after changing, grabbing some plates and cutlery, off we went to the breakfast tent. For two dollars we had a feast that would become a habit over the next fourteen days.

As you may know, I am a planner and had discovered a road "the Needles Highway" that I knew right away I would avoid. My limited experience told me that this route had "scary" written all over it. It combined pigtails, switchbacks and a stretch full of twisties. No, I would not ride this road! After discussion, I convinced the group to avoid it today.

Instead, we rode to Custer State Park and areas beyond. At the entrance, we paid our admittance and for the next two weeks, one fee allowed us in repeatedly. How great was this! A biker special!

Custer State Park is home to a herd of 1,500 free-roaming bison. Bison can weigh as much as 2,000 pounds. Historically, the bison played an essential role in the lives of the Lakota (Sioux) Indians. Today their role is to frighten the heck out of Kit the biker!

We drove up to a herd of begging donkeys. Very cute! Next, while riding across open grassland, I saw hundreds of little prairie dogs popping up and down out of their burrows. I had never witnessed such a funny sight! A short distance further we encountered a very large herd of bison on both sides as well as on the roadway. These animals were massive! I stopped the bike dead in the middle of the road. No I am not riding among buffalo! Everyone was awestruck with the spectacle. I was petrified and decided that my helmet would be my safety net. DO NOT remove the helmet I told myself. As if that would save me! Really, what was I thinking? After a few quick photos I convinced the group to move on but VERY slowly so as not to spook the herd. Harley's, be quiet! The year before a bison herd had trampled a biker to death.

We moved on and soon rode into a more wooded area where the road was becoming far more challenging. What was the name of this road? I yelled at Wayne and he assured me I would be fine. I wasn't feeling that way.

More wildlife. We came upon a small herd of antelope frolicking in an open gap among the trees. Again, we stopped for a Kodak moment. The roadway here was very narrow and it had become very twisty with 180-degree switchbacks and many changes in elevation. Not a good place to stop! Esther had dismounted their bike to take photos but I felt anxious to get moving.

Wayne was in the lead, Curt with Sharon behind him and then me with Howard and Esther pulling in the rear. Looking back in my mirror, I noticed that Howard was not in sight. Still, this was no time to get distracted with worry. The road had become very windy and I had to pay attention to my riding. Several minutes later, honking my horn I finally got Wayne's attention. Unfortunately, the road was so narrow and twisty, with no shoulder; we had to ride until we came upon an emergency pull-off area. We stopped and waited. Wayne decided to go back while we stayed put. It was too dangerous to be pulling u-turns on this road.

After what seemed to be a very long while, Wayne and Howard appeared rounding a corner. They pulled off the road and stopped their bikes. " I have some good news and some bad," Wayne chuckled, looking directly at me. Howard's bike had endured a flat tire. He had been able to pump air into it using "air in a can." However, to make it back to the campground, he would not be able to have Esther on the passenger seat. " Since I have a solo seat " Wayne said " I need you to take Esther on the back with you."

As Howard and Wayne took off, the air was already escaping the tire. I was stressed wondering if I could ride back safely with another person on the back on this treacherous road. Esther assured me she had great faith in my capabilities. We decided to drive at a leisurely speed. As I pulled away, Curt and Sharon should have been behind, but no, they weren't. I yelled at Esther to look back and see if she saw them. Again, I clamped down on the handlebars and drove until we came to the next pull-off. Ten minutes later, they appeared. Curt had problems starting his bike. This little drive in the country was turning into one calamity after another.

We had arrived at the summit at last. As we started down, more wildlife emerged onto the road. A hundred yards ahead, a very large wild turkey popped out of the woods. I screamed in horror and laid on the horn as a second and a third, a fourth and a fifth turkey waddled into my path. An entire family of turkeys directly in my way! Apparently, this was funnier from the perspective of the backseat and Esther convulsed in laughter as I begged, tooted and hollered for the turkeys to get out of my way!

They listened. I managed to avoid the entire family and continued our windy trip down to the bottom of the pass. Could this day get any worse for us? Only marginally. A couple of wrong turns later we were finally on track back to the campground.

We came upon Howard's' bike, with a flat tire, on the side of the road with him standing nearby in the ditch. Wayne had gone on to get the compressor and so left Howard in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, this happened to be in front of a beautiful lake and park, complete with an outhouse!

At a picnic table, I finally unwound, giggling about the turkey antics. As I smiled at the recent memory, I noticed some ominous-looking clouds lumbering across the sky toward us. Could this really be happening? The day was hot with a blue sky, but there they were, big thunderclouds. We ran into the outhouse as the rain started coming down. Yes, indeed, the day had gotten worse! Five in an outhouse! Cloudbursts happen often in this region. We just didn't realized they came up so quickly.

Minutes later, the storm had passed and a striking rainbow appeared. Wayne pulled up in the truck. The tire revival project began. Esther and I jumped into the truck. "I'm not riding anymore" I yelled at Wayne, "You can ride it back"

Not one mile further down the road it was obvious that the air would not stay in the tire. But our luck had turned; we came upon a restaurant just as the tire deflated completely. The guys started chatting up the owner and learned he was a motorcyclist in years past. He phoned a couple of "guys" and was able to arrange a tow truck to the Harley dealer in Rapid City the next day.

"Let's have beer and ice-cream," we girls decided, "we deserve it." The restaurant turned out to have a great porch and friendly proprietors.

The owner of the restaurant offered to lock Howard's bike in his shop till the next morning, a gesture proving once again that you meet the nicest people on motorcycles. After eating and drinking we made our way back to the KOA to rest. As I reflected on the day's events, I crossed my fingers, hoping that the coming days would have fewer misadventures and smoother riding.