WELCOME to Between The Lines

This is my chronicle of my occasional travels about the country. I started it in 2010 for my trip on my 2005 Harley Road King Classic for Big Daddy's Gulf Coast Gypsy Tour to New Orleans...Read below to find out about it! NEW REQUEST FOR READERS! If you are following this blog, sign in as a follower! That way I get to know who my audience is, which makes it more fun. Thanks!

In 2011 its the same destination, and its another Big Daddy Gypsy Tour, but on a different bike (my new Road Glide Ultra) and via a different route. This year is going to be in preparation for a 'Travels with Charlie' trip sometime in the future --so its camping along the way, and reporting as I have energy and internet connections.

Periodic posts will appear below, latest first. The
"Pages" down at the bottom have some information of more general applicability or interest. Enjoy! HippieDave

Sunday, September 9, 2012

We traveled through Yellowstone today and I was not prepared for how the fire of a few years ago had devastated the landscape. It is pretty grim.  I want to go back to the big Horn Mountains.  I want to fish the Madison on the west side of the park.  I want to roam around northern Idaho, western Wyoming and southern Montana.  But I don't think I need to see Old Faithful again.  Its still as cool as ever--- well, hot actually--- but it lacks the personality that will bring me back to the rivers and mountains of the high plains.  The Madison at the west entrance is a spectacular trout steam!

We did get charged (sort of ) by a Buffalo.  It is not easy to turn a standing Harley around and run the other way on a standard width road, but I did. I was too busy to get a photo of it, but afterward the old guy sauntered off the road and took a dust bath:




I have to say these are awe inspiring creatures when they get some speed on down an asphalt road that you're at the other end of. [OK, you put the preposition in the right place!]  I was more or less caught in standing traffic looking at this guy who had wandered onto the road ahead of me, when a bicyclist came up the road and spooked him into running down towards us.  Its one thing to contemplate meeting one of these first hand from inside an RV, probably rented anyway, and quite another to contemplate it from the saddle of a motorcycle.  So I u-turned and hightailed it faster than you could say "thank got for electric starters and fuel injected engines."

The day was uneventful, but a bit tiring from handling the MC at low speeds all day.  We'll head on down the road tomorrow, more or less making a beeline for home on wednesday.  So this may be my last post until I get home and have an opportunity to contemplate how this trip went.  Right now, I know I want to revisit some places, preferably both in the winter and once again in the fall, but this time with a fly rod in hand and a nice campground to go back to in the evening.  Also, preferably, with companionable folk to tell fishing lies to around a campfire.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Made it into Codcy WY at about 8:30 this p.m.

What was to have been a leisurely 375 mile ride today proved long and frustrating, as a shorted out coil on the Indian sidelined us for 2 1/2 hours.  But after many frustrated attempts to kick start, push start and use pure willpower on it, the problem was ultimately diagnosed, and a new coil located at an auto parts store 15 minutes down the road. The bike started first try.

We then proceeded to travel through the Big Horn mountains and into Cody.  It was a hard ride, as the setting sun was in our faces the whole way...but what a stupendously gorgeous place. I'm coming back to ride it again.  I may move here.  Late in the afternoon, with the sun having dropped below the mountains, we had a huge pronghorn antelope buck galloping along side the road, seemingly racing us to the next stop.  Gassed up in Greybull WY and caught a hatch coming off the Bighorn River.  Cleaned off face shields.  Flat land and open sky as far as the eye can see, surrounded by mountains that never seem to get any closer no matter how long or fast you ride.

This is such a great country.  Too bad its so poorly managed. Its 10:30, and I'm beat.  Tomorrow is Yellowstone.   Will report fully.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Lowest Common Denominator

Is it just my imagination, or do we Americans reduce everything to the fastest nickel and the cheapest thrill?
Deadwood is an historic town that was front and center in the action surrounding the settlement of the west and the displacement of the Native Americans. It is a town rich in the lore of the West.  It was here that Wild Bill Hickok was shot in the back in a bar named the No. 10 saloon while holding two pair, aces and eights, now known as the dead mans hand.  He lies up on the hill overlooking Deadwood next to the grave of Calamity Jane, and just across the 'road' from the grave of the notorious Madam Dora DuFran and her parrot Fred. (Weirdly, Hickok was born on the same day I was (different year) and his grave is on 'David Street" in the cemetery.)  Deadwood is also in an area filled with the beauty of the Black Hills (which it is in, and not the Badlands), and the fine architecture of the late 19th century.  It should be a tremendous tourist destination.  But they have absolutely ruined it by bringing in gaming.

The lobby of the Bullock Hotel, where I have been these past four days, is typical.  Upon entering you find 15 foot ceilings with elaborate decoration, paneled walls, walnut staircases, deep pile carpets and all the trappings of a luxurious hotel of the period.  But what immediately assaults you is the row upon row of gaming machines that fill every room and blast the senses with neon flashing lights, bells and rock and roll music.  It is like walking into a cheap casino/gas station in Reno. And the Bullock is simply the worst travesty...the entire town is that way.  I found not a single store restaurant or hotel in town that wasn't primarily a casino.  I think I would come back to the Black Hills someday for the riding, but not to Deadwood.  It is Virginia City without the charm.

Today we found the real highlight of the trip though (aside from the scenery) at the Crazy Horse Memorial.  I had not realized that it was begun before I was born, and that it is predicted to be finished --at its current rate of progress-- several hundred years hence.  The reason for this being the financing problem.  Commissioned by the elders of the Oglala Sioux nation, the sculpture was the lifelong work of a polish immigrant sculptor, and is now carried on by his wife and seven of his children. (Don't ask me to spell his name...I don't think my keyboard has enough consonants.)  It will be their lifetime work as well.  But it receives --by intention--no government funds and depends totally on entrance fees and donations.  Here it is in its current state, with a white line overlay of its future shape:

and here is the scaled down sculpture from which the artist/stone workers are working:

It is truly an amazing project, and is accompanied by grandiose but wonderful plans for a university center and cultural museum.  An impressive facility and collection of Native Americana is already present and viewable.

Tomorrow we leave the Black Hills behind us and turn back westward.  Our target destination for tomorrow is Cody Wyoming and thence on, the following day, to Yellowstone Park.  More to come...
Couldn't post last night because the wi-fi here at the hotel was down.  Got my palm read by the desk clerk though while I was reporting the outtage.  She had to keep looking at her palm reading manual though, so it kind of spoiled the experience.

Had a long riding day yesterday.  It was productive, though, as it produced 4 U.S. Presidents (Mount Rushmore), a dozen pronged antelope, two herds of buffalo and a bunch of wild asses on the road.  Some donkeys too.

I am not sure what attracts people to buffalo, as they are essentially cattle with long hair.  In my personal experience, long hair never measurably added to my appeal to others, but it works for the buffalo, as people will consistently stop in the middle of the road to stare at them. The donkeys were very cute, as were the presidents.

I'm one of those folks, rare I guess, who just don't get Mount Rushmore.  These happen to be four presidents whom I admire greatly and who most definitely stand out in the roster of US presidents.  But I think Mount Rushmore would have been perfectly pleasant scenery without the defacement involved.  Admittedly, the sculpture was an impressive accomplishment, both artistically and logistically, but I question the tradeoffs involved.  Also, you gotta admit its sort of a weird grouping of presidents. Despite the obligatory stops to see tourist attractions, we are having fun.  It is something of a disparate group we have, between Big Dave from Jersey












and George from Ohio
we are a pretty good cross section of the MC world.  Mostly male riders, but most of the ladies present ride their own bikes, like Flossie from Missoura:
So far, we have pretty much avoided talking politics, one of our basic rules, so we get along just fine.
In any event, this gathering draws to a close today with a ride to the Crazy Horse memorial and other scenic places.  Will report as ever a.s.a.p., your faithful correspondent....

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

I Now Understand the "Why" of Sturgis

I have been remiss in posting.  My apologies. But I now begin to understand why half a million bikers gather here each year to ride the Black Hills and Badlands of South Dakota.  This is one of the most spectacular riding areas anywhere.  It's a combination of the terrain, the views, the roads and the road conditions.  These factors all combine to make for a spectacular mc ride.  Add to it the fact that --so far-- we have been blessed with idyllic weather, and it has been a good time.  Kickstands are up by 9:00 a.m. (which means usually that you (well I at least) have been up and getting gas, washing the bike at the local car wash etc for some time.  a typical day's ride has been 200 to 250 miles, and we are back by 5:30 or 6:00 andoff to grab something to eat and hit the sack.

Day 1 was the grand tour of the Badlands, and it was the hottest day we've had, hitting well into the high 90's/low 100's.  Here we are (at least some of us; others went a galavantin off elsewhere) :

and here is the scenery:


Day 2 (today) we rode out to the Devils Tower, where climbers were actively scampering up the side of the tower and prairie dogs were scampering all over their 'coterie' or family turf.  Here they are:

...and here's a scared baby running to Mom for a hug.

 more tomorrow.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Wyoming is sure horse country, and horseperson (cowperson?) country!

This is a little town we stopped in for gas, but all are very much the same.  Wyoming has a few larger cities, but is mostly a state of small towns.  These two friendly guys (grandpa and grandson) were just out for a ride on the town main street, and stopped to admire the bikes.  Grandpa doesn't ride motorcycles anymore 'cause he kept falling off.  I told him that's the way it was with me and horses.

The trip from Jackson Hole over to Casper WY was smooth sailing once we got the Indian started in the a.m.  It was about 6500 feet and about 41 degrees this morning, and the Indian didn't like either of those facts.  But Greg got his morning aerobic workout (for those who aren't aware of the fact, a 1947 Indian has to be kick started every time...no electric ignition!)   Jackson was also totally fogged in, and we never got to see the Gran Tetons even as we rode out.

The woman behind the desk at our Best Western tonight is a fourth generation Wyomingite and used to drive a cab in Deadwood.  Gotta be some great stories there, but the front desk is too busy for me to take up her time.  I just wish i could remember all my western history, but I guess I'l get a chance to brush up on it in Deadwood.  Most people don't associate the Dakotas with the great Indian conflicts of the 19th century, but the stretch along the northern Wyoming/southern Montana borders and into South Dakota and Nebraska was the heart of much of the Indian conflict, the principal tribes being the Sioux family of tribes.  Little Bighorn, where Custer bought the farm, is a bit west of Deadwood, out in southern Montana, but Wounded Knee is right here in South Dakota, just an arrow shot from the Nebraska border.  Much of the history of the European settlers moving into Indian lands took place right around this area. I am really looking forward to riding through these grassland prairies only a few generations removed from the drama that unfolded on them as part of the settlement of the American West.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Jim Bridger and the MOuntain Men were Right!

Jackson Hole is a gorgeous refuge from the harsh mountains and deserts around it.  Here is the Snake River as it runs along the highway into Jackson Hole.  Luckily, the river runs along side much of the highway journey in. You can see the top of the windshield there in the middle.

I have other cool photos for today, but will have to add them later.  The internet upload here at Motel 6 in Jackson is terribly slow.

Lucky we had a reservation.  Town is very crowded, and eight bikers were turned away as we rode in, as the motel is full up. It rained tonight while at dinner.  The wonderful raincover I got for Christmas, which has been on the bike every night so far, was in the saddlebag.  So my sheepskin seat cover is draped over the AC now trying to dry.

Am pretty tired tonight.  We started at 7 this a.m. with an oil top off for the Indian's primary chain case, got on the road about 8:30 and got into Jackson about 6:30 ....longish day.  Tomorrow is a short ride day though, so I should be able to update the blog thoroughly tomorrow. Night.