Taking the time to stop and put on all your rain-gear including the waterproof socks will for certain ensure an externally dry ride in the sunshine. That said, under all that gear you will enjoy a moisture that is likely not quite as refreshing as the rain would have been had you just continued to ride in your fair weather garb.

Ride safe this weekend peeps and stay dry.

There is little to be found on the far side of Little Manitou Lake save some pasture and a bike that has been put out to pasture. Traversing off-pavement anywhere in Saskatchewan this year is probably best accomplished in one of those air driven boats found in the Everglades.

So are some people born with better spidey senses than others or are some just plain smarter?

The spider senses tingled a wee bit as we approached a 50 to 75 yard section of low-lying dirt road almost completely shaded by the tree overhang. We had spent most of the last 50 kms kickin it along gravel and dirt roads at sensible speeds and making good decisions about where to go and where not to. Said senses triggered a slight roll off the throttle as experience has taught me that these shaded areas not only hold moisture but also that when they dry out, they can be some of the roughest road around due to the ruts created by the traffic through the slow drying mudded areas.

At some point when approaching an area like this a decision needs to be reached. Either ride it or turn around a go a long ways back (about a whole half mile). Real men don't turn back so the split second decision was made... Go for it! Stand up, get the weight low on the bike, and work it through at a pace fast enough that the mud does not plug up your tire lugs and slow enough to have some traction and not make like a goose landing on shear ice.

Apparently there is a fine line between enough throttle to get you through the hazard and so much that you just shoot your ass off in a direction you did not particularly want to go. I was probably a little too heavy on the throttle and about five feet to early with it. Unfortunately I was not in a position to sit back and watch the ensuing mud ballet but my older brother did. He must have been a little scared for me as he too thought it all went off in slow-motion. Wrecks always happen in slow motion for those involved. Not sure why other than perhaps it has something to do with spider-senses.

Single-ply toilet paper. What the hell is up with that?

The way in...


and the way out

Just so you can visualize my trajectory, the track on the left was the rear wheel and that on the right was the front. A photo of the bike lying there may well have been the thing to do but the second thing to hit me, after the ground, was the smell of fuel and the longer the bike laid on the ground the better the chances several hours would be spent drying spark plugs of gasoline.

The resulting muddiness. No real harm done thanks to the engine guards.

The mud and the yellow so do compliment the blue. Not a horrible place to dump other than the mosquitoes the size of tractor trailer units.

This place served up a fine mozza and bacon burger.

It's really not an adventure ride until you come across someone driving their house.

It is to be expected that some of you have concerns with my relationship skills perhaps wondering if I would ever find another soul willing to put up with all my shortcomings. Well this is Alice, she is 43 and spends most of her time sun bathing in front of the campsite of some people who were next to us at the Manitou Springs campground. Apparently she is quite famous on facebook and at some point found her way onto my bike. Her camping friends told me she heard I was a photographer so she wanted her photo taken with me.

The real pleasure on a motorcycle comes when you find that happy place on a road or not on a road without any place to be and no particular time to you need to be there. No cars riding your ass and no one in front of you to dictate your speed. Fly if you like, crawl if you want to. Your senses assaulted with sights, sounds and smells not availed to you when toodlin along in your four wheeled chariot.

Now all that said, having someone else on two wheels riding along with you whether or not they are 10 miles in front or behind is not only comforting, knowing that someone may miss you if you disappear, but also to have someone with which to share your experiences. Only someone else on a bike gets it.

The someone that is with me this week just pulled up so I better go and take a pic of him on his new dual-sport steed and grab lunch.

Main Street in Watrous, SK just outside the Tourist Information Office.

Camped at Manitou Regional Park for the next couple days. "Why?" you may ask. Well it's kind of half way between his hometown and mine. Near certain we won't find much for rides that will keep you glued to the screen but we will be riding rather than working. :o)

Oh yeah, I will eventually post the remainder of the maps from the trip to Sturgis and home. If you were to subscribe to the "feed" you would just be made aware of when all these things happen.

Comments can be sent to blog@sportsshooter.ca

Bye again.

Right off the top here is a quick comment on the photos that have been posted here of late. You must forgive the colour as apparently this funky little netbook I have been using is fairly flat so I have been over-saturating the crap out of everything and did not know it until I glanced at them on my MAC at home (there Randy, I used MAC in a sentence in my blog). All I ever shoot with while on my bike these days is the little G10 as long ago I gave up having camera equipment on the back of my bike, the value of which was three times that of the actual motorcycle.

If you ever plan on spending time in a bar in Williston, you should given consideration to hiring a translator as there is a language spoken here that no one other than someone who dropped out of school in grade six and forgot everything other than the "f" word can understand. Honest to corn-dogs, never have I heard that word used in so many different ways in one sentence. It would be in the town of Williston's best interest if they were to designate certain establishments for riggers only or risk having those who walk upright and have vocabulary's beyond 5 words never coming back.

So that's enough negative. Let's move on to more positive observations made during this two week tour. The whole "Putting America to Work" thing has done wonders for small town USA and Obama and the current administration need to be commended for it. Such programs should be considered for north of the border prior to us hitting rock bottom. As a matter of fact all the farmers who are not only going to get crap loads of money for "seeding air" via their insurance programs this year but are also after some huge "rescue me" dollars from the feds and provinces should be put to work here rather than having them spend all their time and our cash with their asses planted in some other country.

We stopped in some small town in North or South Dakota and had lunch at a Dairy Queen as it was conveniently located next to the service station at which we got some petrol. Not something I do at home as I've always found their burgers to be of similar consistency and taste to sawdust. What a pleasant surprise when a juicy 1/2 pound burger showed up on my tray that not only tasted amazing but was all dressed up with vegetables that were the right colour. Now it is not known if this experience was specific to this particular location, area of the country, or if the DQ has a completely different set of standards than those of the Canadian franchise. Alternatively it crossed my mind that perhaps the DQ in general has changed the quality of the food they are serving and I should re-evaluate what is served at home.... I did, and let's just say nothing here has changed. This week I popped into a local DQ and ordered up the same burger I had so fell in love with in the states and to keep the story short, it SUCKED! Dry as a 90 mile an hour desert wind and with as much taste as a handful of sand. I'm off to a different area of the states soon and at that time will sample another burger meal from DQ and report back as to whether or not this was an anomaly or if DQ burgers in the states are just plain edible.

This entire trip of near 5,000 kms cost only about $200.00 for fuel. Camping could be had for as low as $15.00 a site and high would be about $35.00. Most places allowed two small tents on one site. The KOA's other than the cat pee incident are a relatively safe bet providing u don't mind sleeping to the charming and romantic sounds created by 18-wheelers and redneck half-tons with no exhaust. Fuel and lodgings are pretty inexpensive down south right now so this whole motorcycle thing is a great way to tread around the continent. We had next to no rain and very little wind save the places through which the wind blows constantly and you can't find any people living. Colorado is, in a word, gorgeous. People who ride motorcycles without helmets are, in a word, stupid.

It was noted that people in these areas of the United States are really quite friendly and especially willing to start up conversations with people who are riding tall sport bikes loaded with gear and sporting nobbie tires. It was also noted that Tom Cruise had some crazy high hair in the Color of Money.

Well, other than a couple of images from the final day on the road I got nothin. Obvious the next blog update will come the next time I get on my Strom for any significant among of time or destine for someplace of significance.

Ciao.

Although the terrain becomes a little less interesting as we neared home we were blessed with one of those mornings where the sun would poke through the clouds and light up only portions of the hillsides. Given my truck and all of the camera gear that is usually in it these light shafts would have been chased all morning. There is something however to be said for just enjoying a scene and not constantly trying to create the perfect photo of it which I think is why we ride... because we can.

The rain that never caught up with us.

and one more of my trusty horse.

Bye for Now.

The Deadwood / Sturgis area are very interesting to say the least. If you've ever seen the HBO series Deadwood a number of the tourist traps will stand out for you and if old-west style saloons and casinos are your idea of cool then a few days in Deadwood will fill your boots. We basically toured the strip in Japanese Garden fashion (from both directions) and moved on as it was not likely a place that a couple of hours was going to cut it.

One could hardly fathom where this little town of Sturgis would put 450,000 bikers for a week as it is set up to house well under 10,000. Most of the retail structures were still empty and up for rent to potential vendors hoping to cash in on the big bike rally that takes place in August. Apparently Sturgis is now host to about four rallies per year. On the "big deal" list given some time to explore this town would be the Motorcycle Museum, Knuckle Saloon, the Loud American Roadhouse Bar and Side-Hacks Saloon.

Sturgis is basically about riding, drinking, tattoos, more riding, music, and more drinking, that and way too many places to buy rally memorabilia. One thing about this town that stood out to me as a little disturbing was the huge number of memorials paid apparently to those who have lost their lives while riding. There were a number of sections of sidewalks that have been converted to bricks of the 4" X 8" variety inscribed with the names and or nicknames of bikers as well as a year representing that during which said rider lost his life. My gut instinct was that this is really one more way for someone in Sturgis to make a buck off bikers but whatever it was, to me it was just a little creepy.

We pitched our tent in Sturgis at a decent little campground which cost us all of $8 a night. Clean facilities, wireless internet and cute little western style cabins offering a fridge, microwave and air conditioning for a big $39 for those looking to spoil themselves. Entertainment was unknowingly provided by a guy who started drinking and spitting well in advance of noon, a man who seemed well known given the number of other campers who stopped by throughout the day and evening. Most just popped in to say "hi" or let their dog visit his dog. It appeared as though his hound started drinkin at about the same time the old man did as I have never seen a dog move in that way before. It was like everything in his world was moving in slow motion and watching this dog play with the others was hilarious. That said, I truly hope my hunch about the booze was incorrect and the dog had some other problem as feeding one's dog beer before noon would not be cool.

Jack's stage at the Loud American Roadhouse.

If a five inch pine cone falls on your tent, does anybody hear you scream?

The next morning we packep up our stuff and moved into Custer State Park for something that finally resembled real camping at Centre Lake. From there we spent the better part of two days exploring area roads. There are some quality twisties to be found around these parts and finding one's way from here to Sturgis can only be described as fun. Wide eyes are a necessity as wildlife is everywhere. Herds of wild bison, whitetail, mule deer, antelope, fox, elk, racoons, and ground hogs built like the Hulk. Nope, racoons, fox and ghogs don't travel in herds but you get the picture.

The view from my tent at Centre Lake.

Making the run up The Needles Highway early in the morning is well worth it as the crawling 86 year old two-lane-hogging tourists are still asleep in their condominiums on wheels.

If you overcook it into a corner with non-skidding ABS breaking system, does anybody ever find your sorry ass?

There are a number of nifty little tunnels throughout these passes, a couple of which escort your eye to Mt. Rushmore. No pictures of that as you have to see it yourself.

This area would get a 9.8 on the sweet places to saddle up scale only topped on this trip south by the Rocky Moutain National Park trip over the Range.

Another relatively long day gets us through the rest of CO and into the Black Hills of South Dakota. We got in without much energy to find a place to call home-base so we opted for another KOA just outside of Hot Springs, SD. There was a little concern for our safety and the potential for wild parties in the neighborhood given our tent's cloes proximity to those of about two dozen nuns.

Aparently this was a stretch of highway of not much interest as below you see no photos. Sorry! 

Who are those people to whom riding a motorcycle without a helmet makes sense? One would assume these are the same people who refuse to wear seat-belts as they mess with their freshly pressed lumberjack shirts, who continue to smoke cigarettes even though their sister-mom breathes through a hole in her neck and all 16 older brothers have died from lung cancer, and who will never cease to take advantage of indoor plumbing. Are these the same people who if you told them swallowing a string of 5/8"staples would aid in the digestion of their medium rare road kill entrée'? Why yes Willbur, they are one in the same.

I took it upon myself after a few beers one evening to start asking the occasional monkey if they would ever so slightly bump their melons into a brick wall to determine if it would register on them at all, and if so, would they consider taking a run at it. None of them would even do the little bump thing. Here is hoping at least one impression was made... likely not.

Departing from Montrose toward Cimarron east on US50/CO92 will wind and twist you along the Gunnison River. US 285 North will take you through Fairplay and up to Breckenridge, CO. A ski and bike playground for the rich and famous. It is the only town I've ever been through that makes Banff, British Columbia look rather poor. North we went to Frisco, through Kremmling, East to Hot Sulphur Springs and then on through the park.

This was a pretty long day in the Saddle taking in two very high and very slow-going mountain passes. Monarch Pass which was just over 11,000 ft and then through the Rocky Mountain National Park where we stopped at near 12,000 ft. The Alpine Visitor Centre must be the highest retail tourist trap in North America but a must-see. The trek through the park somewhat painful as it was Sunday and the whole ride was pretty much bumper-to-bumper with strange mix of motor-homes and Porsche roadsters. Every once in a while a person would have to just back way off the throttle and coast for a while so you could conjure up a few seconds of adrenaline.

A rather nasty looking cloud formation chased us from the mountain top into Estes Park, CO. Another typical beautiful Colorado playground this one resembling Cranbrook or Jasper.

 

 

On top of a mountain pass with sheer cliffs and no railings is not a place I was interested in being with this bearing down on me.

Excuses, excuses, excuses, you hear them everyday for a variety of things. My excuse for today and for this entire trip is for what you may have come to believe as my inability to spell anything correctly... I'm blaming this tiny little stinkin netbook. The keyboard is not only small but it has some funky key placements and getting accustomed to it is causing no lack of headaches. Even though I have a legitimate excuse your forgiveness is still appreciated.

So there were these grandiose aspirations of providing you with direct links to maps for those of interested in doing a ride similar to this one. Unfortunately MapQuest and Google Earth, as much as they would like us to think all the information flows seamlessly between the two applications, are still shooting a lot of blanks. The best I can do for now is provide images of maps and routes. If you really want to take this trip and own a Garmin GPS, I will happily send you data.

Regina to Miles City, MT

Miles City, MT to Rawlins, WY

Rawlins, WY to Montrose, CO

 

Off-Road Outside of Montrose - As much as there is not much detail here, if you were to reference the June 25th entry "The Rally Off-Road Adventure" you should have a pretty good idea of where this route will take you.

Now get out there and find a chunk of pavement or dirt you have not already treaded on.