Girl Meets World on FZ-07 Motorcycle, Chapter 2, Part 15

27 states down means I’ve seen over half of the country! Been hitting a lot more states a lot faster now trying to get east before it starts snowing, so let’s recap!

So after spending some time farming in Nebraska, and seeing some friends, we headed up through Wyoming again, first stopping at Lake Glendo, where the encroaching winter successfully scared everyone away, leaving the entire campground to ourselves. It’s rare to have that kind of peace and quiet even when you’re roughing it given how popular camping is these days. Not that I don’t love people, but this was a nice change. Then it was up further to Devil’s Tower in the North. Everyone kept telling me that the tower had an amazing energy, but I just thought it was a pretty cool looking rock. We then made our way down a dirt road in the Black Hills National Forest to stop for the night. Autumn was in full effect here, and there were cows and their calves wandering about freely along the mountain roads. Is it weird that despite all million pastures I’ve passed by now, I actually thought the silky looking black cows were pretty beautiful?

As we made our way East again (first stopping in Sturgis both for the novelty’s sake, even though it was long past bike week, and for a quick parking lot chain swap on Hollywood’s bike. Thanks to Sturgis Motorsports for cutting the chain links. This stuff is tough on the road), we rolled down to Mount Rushmore figuring it was obligatory for any road trip. But when it turned out that my National Park pass didn’t cover national memorials for some reason, I determined it wasn’t worth $11 a person to park. You could see the monument from the road anyways (I acknowledge that I’m a cheapskate), so we got our fill of the view and headed off to Badlands National Park to find a place to camp.

Now, having been to numerous national parks now, I’m used to parks being pretty well developed- in many cases maybe a little too developed to still feel like it was being preserved. Badlands did not have this problem. The road in and out of the park was around 10-15 miles of soft sand like gravel, that tended to either pile up and make for a full blown rodeo as my tires skated over the road trying to find traction, or it was stripped to deep rough wash boards that rattled the bike like riding a jackhammer in an avalanche. I was 99% certain I was going to crash probably at least 3 or 4 times getting in and out of the park as my front and rear slid in opposite directions, but somehow I managed to keep it steady and upright. That’s probably the most challenging dirt road I’ve done so far, despite being mostly straight and fairly flat. I’m starting to feel like my trip to Alaska was training just to make it through South Dakota!

The Sage campground within the park was pretty cool in its simplicity, so it was worth the effort. It was free to stay there (How many National Parks do you know of that let you camp for free?!), the camp spots all had cute little awnings over the tables that looked like chuck wagons, and herds of Bison grazed nonchalantly in the surrounding grass, existing peacefully around the campers. Which is good, because those things were definitely bigger than my bike (although I suppose worst case, if they trampled my FZ, I could switch to riding a bison cross country).

Honestly, these kind of things are why I travel. There’s something special about seeing wildlife in their natural habitat instead of trapped in zoos and tiny pens. We met some other motorcycle campers on their way across the country, one of which was riding a bike he had bought from one of my racer buddies back in California. Small world!

The next day, we headed up to North Dakota. I didn’t have any particular stops in mind for North Dakota, but Hollywood saw a spot called Cannon Ball on the map, so we determined the name was cool enough to merit a stop. We rode up through desolate hills that the autumn weather had painted into muted rainbows of color, on roads lined with millions of sunflowers, until we got up to Cannon Ball. Apparently the town was named for the spherical rocks that were formed by the meeting of the Missouri and Cannon Ball Rivers. We camped for the night outside the Reservation lands at a large encampment we stumbled upon at the side of the road, and we sat in on a native pow wow where we learned a bit about the culture and land.

After an interesting night among the natives, we were determined to make it to Minnesota. We made it up through Bismark, passing through an oddly placed military checkpoint where the soldiers waved us through with a motorcyclist’s wave (I guess we were not the droids they were looking for), then headed due East towards Minneapolis. The cross winds were beyond fierce, and the whole ride was a battle. Passing semis was a hell of a dance of being pulled around by the winds they created, then fighting the opposite direction as soon as you were exposed to the crosswinds again. The road was straight and untechnical, but this felt more brutal than your average rainstorm. I think I would take rain over wind any day.

Fortunately, at the other side of those 400 miles was my good friend Adam, who had just gotten back from a few months of real road racing in Europe at Cadwell Park and the Ulster GP (Which I maintain is far more insane than circuit racing). After a weekend of nonstop bonfires (the dude had just finished chopping down three trees… because Minnesota), stories, and a new tire (and showers and laundry. YAY FOR SHOWERS), we said our goodbyes, and made our way up to the home base of Dennis Kirk for some parts. After trying to not feel like too much like a kid in a candy store surrounded by motorcycle things, we crossed into Wisconsin to camp along the St. Croix river and called it an early day.

Fall was just starting to blossom around the area, making Wisconsin feel particularly charming on first impression. I can’t wait to see the trees once the season is in full effect! Next stop, Iowa, Illinois, then back North and East! Let’s see what the Midwest really has to offer!