Hi Gram,
I woke up before my alarm, did my stretches and exercises, and headed to the park. On my drive in, I saw wild horses and sunlit buttes. I looked for a nice easy path to hike, but found that the South Unit has a lot of very short paved walkways, it didn’t have trails like the North Unit. After a false start on one trail that crosses a river without a bridge – and it was a wider river than I’d be willing to wade across even if I was brave enough to actually get my feet wet – I headed to another trail head.

This one followed a creek for about a mile before trying to cross the creek, also with no bridge. I enjoyed the view along the mostly flat trail and was grateful to have it all to myself. Again, I played a podcast in my ear to keep me company as I traveled through the switch grasses and gravel, sometimes muddy, path. A little over a mile in, I came to the creek crossing and contemplated it. This creek was mostly dry this time of year, but still a muddy mess that I didn’t feel like navigating. I turned around and headed back to the car, and decided to just travel on and check out the next park. I stopped for some pictures of horses on my way out and stopped at the visitor center for a little history and information in the museum, just pleased with the rich history of the area and of President Roosevelt.

Looking at the map to the Winds Cave National Park, I realized that the 83rd annual Sturgis motorcycle rally was going on this week and it was right along my route. I headed down there, podcasts playing and gorgeous scenery all around me. I haven’t ridden a motorcycle in a lot of years, and wasn’t an avid rider even when I did. Pulling into Sturgis with so many bikers in black clothes and leather was honestly a little intimidating. I know that I was worried about cars not seeing me when I was riding, so I took things slow and erred on the side of too much distance and telegraphed my moves. Pulling into town, the rumble of all the engines was accented by a band playing in every other bar along the road. It was unreal seeing thousands of bikes swarming all around me as I found a spot to park so I could walk and see all the bars and shops up close. I parked at the far end of the main road, then walked my way back the way I drove. It was tempting to stop and get a shirt or sticker, but knowing that I’m leaving in a few weeks and have to pack light kept me from giving in.

I made my way down to the Iron Horse Saloon, on the recommendation of my friend Bill, and had some lunch. I sat at the bar and chatted with a couple other guys and the bartender while I ate a sandwich bigger than the space in my belly. After lunch, I walked down a little further then cut over to the next block where it was lined with even more stores and bars. Bikes were parked on both sides of the road plus two rows down the middle. From a rough count, there were probably 500 bikes per block. I read that motorcycles average $10k each (there were some that were really tricked out, but also plenty that had seen a lot of miles and years), that means there were over $5mil worth of bikes PER BLOCK. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few hundred million dollars worth of rides just in town, not counting the overflow in other towns and bars in the surrounding area.

I had a great time just people-watching as I strolled down the road, but decided that it wasn’t my scene when I’m just here alone. I headed back to the car and decided to go see Mt. Rushmore since I was in the area. I felt like it was more of an item to check off my list of things I’ve done than a real interest in seeing it in person. I’ve seen pictures and seeing it in person didn’t really add any more to the experience. Also, knowing some of the history of how the Native American people were pushed around and screwed over made it less appealing. I’m proud to be an American – proud of where I live, the opportunities I’ve had, the people I’ve interacted with – but just like many others, loving my country doesn’t mean blindly approving of everything the government has done.

I watched the movie about how Rushmore was carved and the meaning behind the four presidents that were chosen, and was fascinated by the methods they were using in the 1920’s to create such sculptures. It is possible to hold in one mind a dislike for the treatment of the native people and scarring of the land and also admire the engineering and techniques used to bring it to fruition.

I left there after buying a sticker for my water bottle, then headed down to get a hotel in Hot Springs, SD. I’m hoping to tour the caves at Winds Cave National Park tomorrow, although the website currently says the cave tours are cancelled for the time because of elevator maintenance. We’ll see what we find out tomorrow.