Texas-to-Canada 2000
A Nonfiction Story About a Motorcycle Trip From Texas to Canada
By Doug McIntire
Discription: This is the first of three stories in which we traveled, by motorcycle, through all of the lower-48 states of the Continental U.S.
Right-click here and choose "Save Target As..." to download an Adobe .pdf version of this story.
Click on the links below to go to those sections of the story or just scroll down.
Day 2 — Saturday, June 3, 2000
Day 6 — Wednesday, June 7, 2000
Day 7 — Thursday, June 8, 2000
Day 9 — Saturday, June 10, 2000
Day 10 — Sunday, June 11, 2000
Day 11 — Monday, June 12, 2000
Day 12 — Friday, June 13, 2000
Day 13 — Friday, June 14, 2000
Day 14 — Friday, June 15, 2000
Day 15 — Friday, June 16, 2000
Day 16 — Friday, June 17, 2000
Before I really get into this, let me introduce the characters, and when I say characters, I mean characters! First of all, there's Randall Glenn. Randall has been riding motorcycles for years. In fact, he tried to get me to buy a motorcycle years before I did. What a great influence and role model...NOT! No, seriously, Randall is the kind of guy that everyone likes. He's just an overall nice guy. (Randall, don't let that go to your head, it's the only time you will ever hear me say something like that!)
I've known Randall for a long time. It's kind of weird how we met. His ex-wife and my ex-wife used to work together at a bank, although they weren't our ex's then. In fact, Randall knew my ex-wife before she was my wife, in fact before she was someone else's ex, when she was still his wife. Anyway, now the ex's are gone, but we remain. I guess that's what's important. Heck, I was still in the US Army when we met, probably 1993 or 1994. Randall lived in Killeen, Texas and I lived in Copperas Cove, Texas, both towns just outside of Fort Hood.
During our friendship, we actually worked together for a time at a computer company as telephone technicians. We drove to Austin together everyday, about 60 miles one-way, so we had hours of ride time to further bond. A few of those times we even rode his motorcycle when it was his turn to drive. That was really when he tried to get me to buy a bike. That would have been in 1995.
Then Randall left to work as a Network Administrator for a chain of funeral homes, but I stayed at the computer company, and that's where I met Mike Satterlee, the second character, or in other words, the other, other character.
Mike came to work for the same computer company as a telephone technician, and we eventually sat right next to each other. But, Mike had a problem. A while after I started working for the company, the company started hiring "Temp-to-Perm." Normally that wasn't so bad, but in some cases, they were in no hurry for the "to-Perm" part, and a few people stayed in the "Temp" category. Mike was one of those. He had been there over a year, and was still a temp. So, needless to say, Mike started looking for work elsewhere.
That's where Randall and Mike met. Randall was hiring. Mike was looking. Randall was interviewer. Mike was interviewee. Randall saw that Mike worked for the same computer company that I did, so he called me to see if I knew Mike. When Randall called me, I couldn't talk openly because Mike was right across the aisle from me. Since I couldn't really tell Randall the truth about Mike I had to lie, and Randall hired him. (Gotcha Mike!) Now we're up to about 1996.
So now we all knew each other. Randall moved to Dallas, so did Mike, I moved to Georgetown, closer to Austin. On one of my visits to Dallas, we all got together at Randall's to reminisce about old times. Reminiscing seems to always require alcohol, so we drank, and we played poker, badly.
I didn't lose track of either of them, but I also didn't keep in close contact either, until a few things happened. Mike probably already had a bike. I'm not sure. But he moved to another office for the same funeral home chain in Kansas City, Missouri. That's about when I bought my bike, a 1996 Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail. Randall had a 1990 Honda Goldwing, and he was thrilled to hear I got a bike, and wanted to get a trip together. He also told me that Mike had gotten a 1998 Harley-Davidson Fat Boy. So there we are, three friends with three bikes, needing somewhere to go.
I needed to make a trip to Iowa, my home state, and Randall had heard about a ride up the west side of Lake Superior that was pretty cool. I have a cousin in Ontario, Canada, and wa la, a trip was born!
My 1996 Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail
Now I just need somewhere to ride!
The first part of the preparation was the planning, and the first part of the planning was figuring out the route. Nothing is set in stone, at least not at this point in the planning, especially the route! But we did need to get an idea of where we wanted to go, and when we were going to meet up.
As I said in the introduction, I live in Georgetown, Texas. Randall lives in Dallas, Texas, and Mike lives in Kansas City, Missouri. What that boils down to is that somehow we all have to hook up together in the same place.
So what we knew of a plan looked like this; we all had to get together, we had to stop in Iowa for at least a day, we had to go up Minnesota State Highway 61 along the west side of Lake Superior, we were going to Canada to stop at my cousin's who lived on the shore of the Lake of the Woods in Ontario, Canada, and that we wanted to come back via Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. I think that was about it for plan.
Aside from the route, there were a ton of other details to work out, like who was bringing what. Mike had a tent. Randall brought the hatchet. I brought the cookware. Space on a motorcycle comes at a premium, so we didn't want to waste our space by all bringing duplicate things. Of course, we took more than a tent, hatchet and cookware, but you get the general idea.
After packing and repacking, both last night and this morning, I was finally able to get everything I needed on the motorcycle. I left the house at about 10:20 in the morning, headed for Canada! It got hot quick, but I didn't care, I was on the road! A couple of mistakes right off the bat though. One was the short-sleeved t-shirt. My arms felt, as Mike called it later, "wind whipped." My other mistake was trying to attach a water bottle to me, and drink on the road...a good idea to have water available, but harder to get it off and actually drink than it sounds. Take if from me, if you have an idea like this, try if before the trip, not during.
I took Interstate 35 north from Georgetown, and went through Waco. As I continued north, I took I-35E where the Interstate splits east to Dallas and west to Fort Worth, and went through Dallas. Randall couldn't leave until Saturday morning, so I went on ahead without him, and he would catch up with me wherever I stopped for the night in Oklahoma.
The first day was kind of rough. My butt wasn't used to being in the seat of the bike that long. This was definitely a problem, but trust me when I say that it was resolved by the time I got back home!
As it turned out, I hit rain just 15 miles into Oklahoma, so I pulled in for the night in the little town of Marieta. I called Randall and gave him directions. He was planning on leaving early so should catch up to me at about 8:00 in the morning.
I made 270 miles, not too bad for a first day, although I was trying to make it to Oklahoma City. As it turns out, we had just begun to see the rain. It would plague us for the entire rest of the trip.
I should have dug out the camera, but as it was, I didn't dig it out for several days yet. Boy do I regret that!
Day 2 — Saturday, June 3, 2000
Saturday morning, I got up, got showered and ready to go, packed the bike, but no Randall. And man, did it look like rain. I figured that Randall got caught in the rain. I called his cell phone number, and he actually answered. He was driving his motorcycle when he answered so naturally he couldn't hear a thing. What a knucklehead! I called him back and left him a voice message, but at least I knew he was on his way! This is also where I learned the third lesson of the trip. Always travel with a phone card.
He finally showed up at about 8:45 am. Evidently he had stayed up too late the night before and didn't get as early of a start as he wanted. I had been watching the Weather Channel, something we would be doing a lot of on this trip, and I just knew Randall had hit rain. As it turned out, he didn't hit any rain at all. That would change.
But the important thing was that he was there, and I was packed, and we were on the road again! We took Interstate 35 North because the next stop was Mike's in Kansas City. No sooner were we on the road, then we did hit rain...and hard. We stopped under an overpass and donned our rain gear, and off we went again. This was actually the first time I had ever ridden my motorcycle in the rain, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
My big problem was that my glasses kept fogging up inside of my goggles. We stopped about 35 miles up the road for breakfast, and I tried everything to keep my glasses from fogging. Windex didn't work. Cutting air holes in the goggles to let them "breathe" didn't help. The eyeglass cleaner we picked up at the convenience store didn't help, but rubbing them with newspapers did seem to make a difference, at least for a while. So we were off again, headed for Oklahoma City. Lesson number four, which I learned after the trip was over is that to keep eyeglasses from fogging up, the cleaner has to be silicon-based.
In Oklahoma City, we stopped at a McDonald's for a break. We had been in rain all morning, and we were determined to get ahead of it. I learned a lot about driving a motorcycle in the rain that morning. It was raining so hard on us, if we just opened our mouths, we could drink from the rain just while riding. Now that's an experience! And I also found out that parking lots are slipperier than roads as my rear end nearly went out from under me as we were leaving from McDonald's. I was glad that I was behind Randall so that he didn't see it.
Aside from the rain, there are just the normal driving conditions in Oklahoma City to contend with. Before we stopped at McDonald's, Randall was in the lead and missed a sign that said that I-35 turns off. We discussed it in the McDonald's parking lot and decided to keep going the way we were headed, and it turned out we were still on I-35, and somehow, we got through Oklahoma City without much problem. I still haven't figured out what we did or didn't do right. Of all the cities we drove in, I think Oklahoma City was the worst.
After we got through Oklahoma City, the rain started letting up. It looked like we finally got ahead of it! There is nothing quite like the feeling of driving out ahead of the rain onto dry pavement after being in it for so long. We had driven in steady, hard rain for about four hours.
With the sun shining brightly, we stopped to put away our rain gear, and headed out again, making much better time. We got into Kansas and before long we were on the Kansas Turnpike, still part of Interstate 35. Wichita is fun to go through on a motorcycle. The interstate has these long, sweeping 90-degree turns that you can take at about 90 miles an hour, and you just lean for what seems forever. After Wichita, it wasn't long before we reached the end of the road...or at least the end of the Turnpike, because we got off in Emporia, Kansas. That was where I discovered that they don't design turnpikes with motorcycles in mind. There is just nothing quite like stopping, turning your bike off, taking your gloves off, digging for your wallet, finding the ticket stub, paying the attendant, putting away the change and the wallet, putting the gloves back on, starting the bike back up and finally going again. I'll bet the cars that were behind us had a few, really choice words.
We finally made it to Mike's at about 8:20 in the evening, tired after a very long day of hard riding. I put on about 485 miles for the day, and Randall put on quite a few more than that because he started his day off in Dallas. But the rain was behind us, and the adventure of the trip was still ahead, so we were jubilant, maybe too jubilant.
In the natural course of our jubilance, we stayed up way too late. Part of that was because we were catching up from not seeing each other for a while. Part of it was because Mike hadn't done much in the way of packing. He still had laundry to do! That did give me a Randall a chance to wash the few dirty clothes we had accumulated along with Mike's. On a motorcycle, you tend to pack pretty light, so anytime you get the opportunity to do laundry, you take it. Of course there was the slight problem of no laundry detergent! But hey, we're guys. Who needs laundry detergent anyway? The clothes certainly seemed cleaner, so we were happy.
An of course, we couldn't leave without breakfast, and showers, and Mike packing. We finally got on the road at about 1:30 in the afternoon. That still wasn't so bad, considering that we really didn't have that far to go. Today was just to Marshalltown, Iowa.
But before we got back on the interstate, we had to stop for gas, and check the oil and tire pressure on the bikes. Mike burned his finger on his exhaust in the process of checking the air pressure on his rear tire. This day just wasn't starting out good. But hey, it wasn't raining.
So after all of that, we were finally on the road. We got back on Interstate 35 headed north, headed for Iowa. Somewhere in north Missouri, another biker came up behind us, and rather than pass, he just rode along with us. We stopped at a rest area and he seemed pretty cool. He stayed with us all the way into Des Moines. We got off Interstate 35 onto Interstate 235 to go around Des Moines, while he continued straight. I-235 joined up with Interstate 80 headed east, going to the Marshalltown exit, which is a left exit off of I-80. Right when we were at our exit, Randall and Mike figured that they needed a break, so they took off on a right exit. Man, what bad timing, because we missed our exit, and it wasn't easy to get back.
It was taking us longer than we thought. A crosswind had been picking up since about the Missouri-Iowa border, if not a little before. So we took a break, figured out how to get back to where we were headed, and we were off the interstate on Iowa State Highway 330, commonly referred to as the "diagonal" to Marshalltown.
And that's where the wind really hit us. Talk about brutal. It was cutting right across our path trying to blow us onto the uneven gravel shoulder, and it was all we could do to keep our bikes on the road. We knew that if we did hit the shoulder, we were probably dead. It's only about 50 miles from Des Moines to Marshalltown, but I can safely say that was one of, if not the worst 50 miles of the trip. I believe Randall used the word "scary" to describe that little stretch, and I think he was absolutely right!
We finally made it to my brother's house in Marshalltown, and we were late. My whole family had been there for hours waiting for us to get there. On top of it all, we were tired and sore from wrestling with the wind for control of our bikes. If we wouldn't have been that close with family waiting, I am absolutely positive that we would have pulled over long before that killer 50-mile stretch.
But now that we were at our destination, and we all discovered that kids can spot other kids, regardless of their age. My niece and nephew, probably four and two years old respectively, took to Mike like he was a long-lost brother. My entire family commented on how the kids liked Mike. I'm not sure; maybe they were attracted to Mike because of his vast knowledge of World Wrestling Federation (WWF) wrestlers and wrestling moves. Maybe they were attracted to him because he was the youngest of the three of us. Maybe it's just because of Mike's low IQ. We may never know.
Monday was a layover day in Iowa. I needed to visit with my Grandmother, and my Dad and I did some running around. Mike and Randall made do on their on, both being rather self-sufficient. They ended up going to a movie that night, but in general, we didn't do much.
That night though, we did see what kind of trouble we could get into. Now bare in mind that we're in the middle of Iowa, so the question really becomes, well how much trouble can you get into? Not much.
Somewhere or other we had come across some of the then-new gold-colored one-dollar coins, and my brother lives near a railroad track. So our big plan was to go put these dollar coins on the track and let a train run over them. Trains were running about every 20 minutes, so this should be easy. Right!
We threw on our jackets, took a quick dip in bug spray, loaded our pockets with beer, grabbed our coins, and it was off to the railroad.
June 5, 2000 — Marshalltown, Iowa
From Left to Right, Mike, Randall, and Me
Note the Duct Tape in Randall's hand to tape the coins to the railroad track.
When we got to the railroad, there were two sets of tracks. Now when I was a kid, this used to be the Chicago-Northwestern Railroad. The story was, that Englishmen owned the railroad originally, so the trains were always going on the "wrong" or left side of the tracks.
But since I had left Iowa, the Chicago-Northwestern had been bought out by the Union-Pacific railroad, so we really didn't know what direction the train would come from, or on which set of tracks. It also just so happened that there was a switch right where we were that would allow a train to switch from one track to the other.
Well, we figured the odds of a train using the switch were a million-to-one. We didn't need to worry about that, so we got ingenious and put some of the coins on one track, and some on the other, that way, no matter which way a train came from, we were set. And it wasn't long before a train did come.
June 5, 2000 — Marshalltown, Iowa
The train has come to smash our coins!
Boy were we smart, or so we thought. You remember those million-to-one odds against the train using the switch? Well it just so happened that this was the one-millionth train to pass by, and it did use the switch. As it turns out, by using the switch, it missed all of our coins! We had coins taped to both tracks, and the train went right in between them!
June 5, 2000 — Marshalltown, Iowa
Randall and I figured out that the train was missing all of our coins!
All of that effort, for nothing! Well, it's back to the drawing board. We corrected our mistake, put the coins in the right spots, and waited...and waited...and waited. As it turned out, the last train of the night missed our coins, and another one wasn't coming. What failures! We couldn't even get coins smashed.
Well, with non-flattened coins and out of beer, we dejectedly headed back to my brother's house. We couldn't even get into what little trouble we thought we could muster...and so ended our last evening in Iowa.
Well, it's back on the road. We left my brother's house at about 10:20 in the morning. We headed back to Interstate 35 and went north into Minnesota. The days were getting cooler, and it was easy to wear our jackets a good share of the day.
Before leaving, we decided to stop at Cabela's, a camping/hunting/fishing/hiking/general outdoors mail order company that also had stores in various locations around the north-central United States. The one we stopped at was in Owatonna, Minnesota.
June 6, 2000 — Cabela's, Owatonna, Minnesota
Randall and me in front of a bronze statue at Cabela's.
Inside the store is a display of stuffed whitetail deer that this was modeled after.
If you haven't ever been to a Cabela's store, I highly recommend that you go. It is so neat! They have an aquarium inside that is bigger than my house, with all game fish in it. There's a darkened corridor you can walk through to see all the fish. Very interesting! They also have a display with almost, if not all, of the game animals of North America. The animals are stuffed, and they're displayed on a huge, fake rock. It's very nice. On top of all that though, they have just about everything you would ever want to buy. About the only thing I noticed that they didn't have was rock climbing equipment.
We spent several hours at Cabela's. I bought a better rain suit than I had and a long-sleeved t-shirt. You remember that was one of the early lessons I learned, no short-sleeved shirts! Both the rain suit and the shirt were worth the money and I used them a lot before the trip was over. Randall bought a set of waders because he had always wanted a pair. I wondered where he was going to pack them, but it was simply amazing the amount of stuff that Randall could pack onto that Goldwing! Remember the waders, because they will come up again later in our adventures!
But it was finally time to leave Cabela's, and leave we did. That was also where we left the interstates. We did get back on interstates once more in North Dakota, but they were so empty that they didn't really seem like interstates, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
June 6, 2000 — Cabela's, Owatonna, Minnesota
Mike, Randall and me at the base of the same bronze statue outside Cabela's.
We headed northeast on Minnesota State Highway 47 and straight for Wisconsin. We cut into Wisconsin for a couple of reasons. One reason was that we didn't want to go through Minneapolis. Our reason for this trip was to get out, not to stay in the cities. The other reason was that by skipping into Wisconsin, we were able to add another state to the list of states we'd been to on this trip.
On the way to Wisconsin, we passed though a lot of hilly farmland, but it was a nice change from the freeway travel! By the time we stopped, I already had about 1,250 miles on my bike for the trip!
So we crossed the river, and ended up in River Falls, Wisconsin, which was where we spent the night. We originally looked at a campground, but they were pretty strict on the rules, and one of the rules was no drinking. So we moved on and ended up staying in a motel for the night. The campground wasn't really our idea of camping anyway, too civilized.
Day 6 — Wednesday, June 7, 2000
Wednesday we took off north, staying in Wisconsin for a good part of the day. Randall had heard somewhere that if he ever got the chance, to take his motorcycle up Minnesota State Highway 61 along the west bank of Lake Superior, so that's exactly where we were headed. The weather was pretty cool and we were able to keep our jackets on most of the day.
We crossed the border back into Minnesota from Wisconsin, and headed toward Duluth. That's about where we started running into Army Worms. We didn't know that's what they were at the time, but it was explained to us later.
In Duluth, we got on State Highway 61, and by now it was time to look for a place to stay. We looked at a "cottage" near French Point, but it was really tiny, so we traveled on. We ended up staying at a little motel near Two Harbors, Minnesota.
It was early enough, that we wanted to get a good meal, and go down by Lake Superior. We were literally right on the shore. As it turned out, there was a good restaurant and bar right by the motel, so we ate, and then wandered down by the lake.
Randall and I ended up in the bar, talking to some of the local folks. There were only a few people there, but a couple of the guys were of somewhat local fame, and we had a good time. One of the guys, I think his name was Frank, was the coach for a local baseball team, and had played professional ball at one point in his career. It was his birthday so we bought him a couple of rounds.
This bar is also where we were finally able to dispel the myth that adding Jolly Ranchers candy to Zima's changes the flavor of the Zima. The bartender had the Jolly Ranchers, I was drinking the Zima, and so the rest, as they say, is history. We took the highly scientific approach of using a double blind for the taste test, since I can't see very well out of either eye, especially when I'm drinking. On top of that, I closed my eyes and they made me promise not to peek. Now I must say, it doesn't get a lot more scientific than that, at least for a bunch of guys in a bar in Twin Harbors, Minnesota!
Another guy in the bar, Sam, was a local artist who did sculptures, carvings and paintings of ducks. He was interesting to talk to, but pretty vague about a lot of things. He heard that we were headed up highway 61 along the west seashore of Lake Superior. He suggested that we change our plans and head to Ely (pronounced Ee-lee), Minnesota. He said that once you go part of the way up 61, it's really just more of the same, but that Highway 1 to Ely would offer quite a different view, with a good chance of seeing a moose or bear along the way.
Ely, Minnesota is where the "Boundary Waters" begin. The Boundary Waters is an area where there are no motors, gasoline or electric, allowed on the water. It's a huge area between Canada and Minnesota where the only way in is by canoe, and it's quite an adventure from what I understand.
Sam also said we had to go to the Holiday Inn and have a hamburger. He said it was the best hamburger we would ever find. So there we were, with two good reasons to go to Ely, wildlife and good hamburgers.
Sam was also the one who explained what Army Worms were. Evidently, every seven to ten years, this worms hatch in huge numbers, probably in the billions or trillions. The reason they're called Army Worms is because they move like an army, eating everything in their path. They don't bite or anything, but they get on, and in everything!
You could see where they were going through. In one spot the trees would be green, just like you would expect to see in the summertime, while not fifty yards away, the trees were stripped bare, like the leaves had fallen off during autumn. It was really wild.
They said that the trees would bud again, just like in the spring, but that they wouldn't be as full as they had been before the Army Worms devoured their leaves.
Sam's last piece of advice he had to offer us was about a back road called "Echo Trail" that we should take out of Ely that would take us to International Falls, Minnesota, where we were going to cross into Canada. He said that the trail wasn't a two-lane highway or anything, but was pretty good, and would offer us more wildlife than we could see anywhere else. He said the bikes would make it, no problem.
Day 7 — Thursday, June 8, 2000
So on the advice of a drunken duck artist in a bar, we headed for Ely. We continued up Highway 61 for a ways on our way to Highway 1. Before getting off on Highway 1, we did stop at a beautiful park that went down to the edge of Lake Superior. There was a river or stream that ran into the Lake, and it was a nice little hike down to the water. There was a family there on the shore looking for Lake Superior Agates, so I stopped and helped them for a few minutes, donating all of my agates to their endeavor. Of course, all of the agates were about the size of a Rice Krispie, so it really wasn't any big lose or donation, but it was the effort that counted!
After the stopover at the park, we said our goodbyes to Lake Superior and headed off on Highway 1 to Ely. Sam was right, the scenery was wonderful, and that's where we saw the moose. Right there, in the middle of the road, a cow and calf stood as we approached. I was in the lead, so I slowed down to let Randall and Mike catch up. The moose trotted off into the brush before we could get our cameras out, but it was still a wonderful experience.
When we got into Ely we were hungry, so the first stop was the Holiday Inn for a hamburger. The service was very friendly, but slow. I think that's because we were the first ones in the restaurant when it opened, and things weren't quite up to speed yet. The worst part was, the hamburgers weren't even above average. We were so disappointed! But hey, at least Sam was right about the scenery!
From the Holiday Inn, we needed gas and we were going to look for this Echo Trail. While we were getting gas, a cop pulled in beside us, so we asked him about this trail. He looked at us, looked at our motorcycles, and said, "You're going to take those?" He went on to describe Echo Trail as mostly gravel, sometimes dirt, but not a good road at all. Sam did say it wasn't a wonderful highway, but also said that we should get through with the bikes without any problems.
Well, we took the cop's word, and we didn't go on the trail. We stayed on Highway 1, and headed out for International Falls. And once we left, the rain followed. Now bare in mind, I haven't mentioned rain since our second day, but it has been right on our heels the whole time. The skies have been overcast a lot of the time, and we were constantly getting sprinkles. It rained in Iowa the day we didn't go anywhere, so the rain has never been far from our minds.
Some miles out of Ely, we hit a weather phenomenon I believe they call a "cold-air curtain". It goes something like this; you're driving along, minding your own business, and not bothering anyone, when all of a sudden the temperature drops 20-30 degrees! It was like driving into a cooler. I think if we had gone back, we could have found the exact spot where we could stretch our arms out and one hand would be warm and the other cold, it was that abrupt.
We stopped and put on more clothes, and rain gear! The rain was here!
After some miles, cold and tired, and finally out of the rain, we stopped in this little roadside bar called the Wildwood Inn to warm up. It wasn't much, but it was heated, the bartender left us alone, and it had an "Old Style" sign out front that none of us had seen in years. What more do you need in a bar?
June 8, 2000 — Wild Wood Inn, Somewhere in Minnesota
I'm getting out of my rain gear, which was starting to become a familiar task.
June 8, 2000 — Somewhere in Minnesota
Heileman's Old Style is alive and well in Minnesota.
A sign you don't see everyday.
So after warming up out of the rain and cold, we were off again. We didn't go too far when we ran across a river, a bridge, a boat ramp, and a place to get off the road. We originally passed it up, but we stopped a mile or so up and decided to go back and see if it was a suitable sight for camping. We had all this camping gear with us, but so far hadn't put any of it to use.
So upon going back for closer inspection, the campsite looked perfect! Of course, there was a sign that said No Camping, but we were sure that what the sign really meant was "don't block the boat ramp". Besides, there was lots of evidence that others had camped there before.
It was still pretty early in the day, but we knew that we wouldn't find another site like this. And besides, who was in a hurry? We weren't. We were on vacation, out on our bikes, seeing America. There was nowhere else we needed to be right then, so we stayed. I wish I could adopt that attitude more often, that there is nowhere else I need to be and nothing else I need to be doing right now. It really let's you know that things aren't as important as they sometimes seem to be when you're working, either for yourself or someone else.
We set up our camp, and somehow or other we were able to build a fire out of all the wet wood! Charcoal lighter fluid is a wonderful thing. We did have some beer with us; and we had some food, so basically we were set.
June 8, 2000 — Somewhere in Minnesota
Me, Randall and Mike, lightening up our load by consuming some of the consumables!
The river turned out to be a popular local spot. While we were setting up the camp, a group of kids showed up and were swimming and jumping off the bridge into the water. There were quite a few of them and they sure seemed to be having a good time.
The river was clear, but the water was a rust color from minerals. I'm not sure I would have been swimming in it, but it was probably all right.
Another couple came and launched a canoe and it took them forever to get underway. It turns out they were camping about a mile up the river on a little island, and they ended up coming back a couple of times more to get the rest of their gear. They were going to stay for the weekend, so they had a lot of stuff.
What we didn't plan on were all the damn Army Worms! They were everywhere. We tried using bug repellant to keep them off the tent, but that didn't even faze them! These things were terrible. There were spots on the road that was literally slick with worm-guts.
You couldn't sit in one place for long, because they would crawl all over you. In my entire life, I have never seen anything quite like it. I'll bet that people who live around here are glad that it only happens every few years, and not every year.
June 8, 2000 — Somewhere in Minnesota
Our campsite by night.
That night was also when we discovered that my air mattress was way too big for the tent. I don't think that Randall and Mike will ever let me live that one down. It's also the night they discovered that I snore. Actually I don't think the snoring was much of a problem, because the thunderstorm that passed through that night drowned out any racket I was making!
Besides, we were all awake during the thunderstorm, so there was no snoring going on. We did survive, and the tent didn't get blown away, and all-in-all, we stayed pretty dry throughout the night.
We woke up the next morning and the sun was shining. You wouldn't even know that a storm blew through the night before, except the fire was doused, and everything was soaked! Of course, by now, we're kind of getting used to being soaked!
There is something refreshing about waking up in the morning after a rain, especially when you're camping! Everything seems so clean and new. The Army Worms were attacking with renewed vigor, but everything else seemed so fresh!
Well, now that it was morning, it was time to take care of the first order of business in any successful man's life...food. Of course we had all the fixings for pancakes, but doing the dishes might be a problem. As it turned out, we had more beer with us than we had water. We did have enough water to drink, but washing dishes was out of the question. The rust-colored water in the river was a little too weird, so that wasn't really an option in any of our minds.
With pancakes out of the question, that pretty much left us with chili as the breakfast of choice. With chili, we could put the can right into the fire, thus, fewer dishes. Besides, what's camping without chili? Hey, at least we were smart enough to wait on the chili until the morning; otherwise there may have been other noises in the tent that night besides the thunder and my snoring!
June 9, 2000 — Somewhere in Minnesota
A can of chili right out of the fire - nothing better when you're camping!
Now that breakfast was out of the way, it was time to break camp and get on the road. We had already burned a lot of the trash that was left here by previous occupants, but now it was time to put the fire out and move along. We carried water from the river to make sure the fire was extinguished, although with all the rain, what could accidentally burn?
Unlike the campers before us, we packed out our trash, which basically consisted of beer and chili cans, and off we went, headed for Canada.
We got to International Falls mid-afternoon, fueled up, and got in line to cross the border. Make a note, if you are going to cross into Canada in the summertime, don't do it on a Friday. There were a lot of trucks hauling boats on trailers ahead of us. Evidently they were going into Canada fishing for the weekend.
The good part about that is that a truck hauling a boat is about two car-lengths. So although we were a long way back in the line, it seemed to go fast because every truck/boat combination they let through was the same as two cars.
But then it was our turn. We got in single file, and I was the first to go through. Sure, let's get the longhaired, bearded, hippy looking guy to go first, that'll work. Well, as it turned out, it would've. I did my thing at the border, told the nice lady where I was from, how long I was staying, etc., and she told me to go on through, that I was finished. I asked if I could pull up in a parking spot to wait for the two guys behind me, and she said that was fine.
But when Randall went through, he said that she had told him that we all needed to go inside. He gave me a piece of paper that she forgot to give me. This just wasn't sounding good, but we didn't think anything about it at the time. So Mike pulls up too, parks, and we all go inside.
Inside, we are the only ones. No one wants to go through our stuff or anything like that. They want to know where we work, do we have insurance, stuff like that. They actually photocopied our business cards.
While all this was going on, I said, "Oh yeah, while I'm here, will you stamp my passport?" The lady replied that if we were allowed to enter Canada, she would. That was about the first clue I had that this wasn't going well.
They asked where we were going, and I explained that we were going to visit my cousin. She asked who my cousin was, and I said "Jerri Ellen McDougal." Randall noticed the lady's reaction when I said that and he asked her if she knew Jerri, to which she replied that she did. Well, come to find out, Jerri was a bit of a rabble-rouser around there and she had a couple of run-ins with the border folks. It seems that dropping her name maybe wasn't the best idea. But alas, after 30 minutes of interrogation, copying business cards and the like, we were allowed to enter Canada. They even stamped my passport, but let this be a lesson to you. If you go to enter Canada on motorcycles, don't let the longhaired hippy go first!
Once in Canada, it was off to see my cousin. We stopped and converted some money to Canadian, but she doesn't live that far from International Falls, so we were there in no time.
My cousin, Jerri and her husband Dennis, run a place called "Pier North." They used to have a lodge out on one of the islands of the Lake of the Woods, called Grassy Narrows Lodge, but they had sold that several years before. Now they were on the mainland. It's kind of hard to explain, but when people are going out to several of the lodges on the islands, they go to Pier North first. From there, Jerri and Dennis call the lodge and the lodge sends a boat in to pick up their guests. Pier North also sells fishing licenses, convenience store stuff like chips and sodas, and they run a Laundromat as well. On top of all that, they also have parking for the guests at the lodges, or for people who take their boats out onto the lake and need to leave their vehicles and boat trailers.
Part of the reason I wanted to come to Canada, was because my brother, Jim, had made the trip on a motorcycle several years before. When he went, Jerri and Dennis still ran Grassy Narrows. Now it was my turn. Jerri must think that the people from Iowa who come to visit can only afford motorcycles!
Jerri and Dennis were great hosts! We set up our tent out in their yard, and Jerri, Dennis and I proceeded to get reacquainted. I remember seeing Jerri and Dennis at my Grandmother's house when I was quite a bit younger, but I hadn't seen them since. Jerri's father was my Grandmother's brother, so of course they knew my Grandmother very well, and just think the world of her!
Jerri explained why dropping her name at the border probably wasn't a good idea. It turns out that when David, their son, was in high school at Fort Frances, he used to go across the border into Minnesota for lunch every day, and every day the folks at the border would stop him and search his car. Well this went on for some time until Jerri finally had had enough. She went down to the Customs Office and raised holy heck with the customs officials! Rumor has it that she even jumped up and down on one of the desks, but we weren't able to actually confirm this. So now we know the rest of the story. They probably stopped me at the border just because I resembled her! Just kidding!
We told Jerri and Dennis about the moose we had seen on our way into Ely, and we mentioned that we wanted to see a black bear. Dennis said he knew the perfect spot to see black bears, so we all loaded up into his minivan, and off we went.
What we didn't know was that Dennis was taking us to the dump. But hey, if that's what it takes to see black bears, we were game!
June 9, 2000 — Ontario, Canada
Me and Randall - at the dump - looking for black bears.
So we get to the dump and we wait. You have to be really quiet. What was really funny about the whole thing was that there were other cars there with people in them, also looking for black bears. This was one of the popular local attractions!
A lady in one of the other vehicles said that they had seen some blacks bears the night before, so we had high hopes! But it turned dark on us, and no black bears. Oh well, there would be other nights!
June 9, 2000 — Ontario, Canada
Don't think that Mike wasn't at the dump just because he wasn't in the first picture!
Day 9 — Saturday, June 10, 2000
Saturday, it rained most of the day. We moved out of our tent and into a storage shed that Jerri and Dennis had. We had to move some boxes around, but it worked out pretty well, and it was dry! We had picked up some snacks and chips from the store, and staying in the storage shed gave the local population of chipmunks pretty much free access to the chips. The chipmunks in Canada are pretty smart. They snuck in to the storage shed that we were calling home and proceeded to eat our food. Darned chipmunks!
The snacks and chips also caused another problem. Jerri and Dennis wouldn't let us pay for them. Now for me, being related, I didn't have too much of a problem with that, but I would rather have paid. For Mike and Randall, they had a big problem with that. I believe what they told me was if they couldn't pay for it, they wouldn't get any. I had already anticipated this problem; so I pointed out that there was a coffee-fund can by the coffee pot, something like a quarter a cup, on your honor. I told them to go ahead and take what they wanted for chips and sodas, and right before we left we would load up the coffee fund.
While we were camped right on the Lake of the Woods, we figured that we should do some fishing. We all bought temporary fishing licenses from Pier North so down we went to the lakeshore to try our luck. Randall had brought fishing gear with him and had his fishing poles strapped up along the antennas of his Goldwing! He had gotten several comments along the way about his priorities, but now it was time to put his fishing gear to work. Unfortunately we couldn't even get a nibble. Randall stuck with it longer than I did. It was cold and rainy, but he didn't seem to mind the weather. He was in Canada fishing!
Later in the day, Randall and I headed to the local convenience store for some beer. With all the rain, there really wasn't much else to do. Dennis and Jerri had other plans for the evening, so that pretty much left the three of us on our own. We did have the use of their minivan though, so we took advantage of it and went out to dinner.
After dinner we felt obliged to go look for black bears again, and being creatures of habit, we headed to the dump again. We tried to entice a couple of the waitresses at the local restaurant to join us in our quest, but they seemed inclined to decline. It turns out that their shift wasn't over in time; otherwise I'm sure they would have taken us up on our very tempting offer to look for bears at the dump. Of course our luck held out, and the bears didn't show up. Darned bears, you just can't depend on them!
June 10, 2000 — Pier North, Ontario, Canada
Me, Mike and Randall, drinking beer, hoping the rain will pass.
Day 10 — Sunday, June 11, 2000
Sunday rolled around, and David, Jerri and Dennis's son, took the day off to take us out on the lake. David, by profession, is the captain of a boat and a guide on Lake of the Woods. He normally works out in what they call the "Big Water", meaning the big, deep, open area of Lake of the Woods. They said that out on the Big Water, they have ocean-type weather and that there are spots where you can't see any land at all. We didn't go out there, but stayed in around all the islands. He knew his way around there pretty well.
He said that the number of islands depends on how high the water is and that there are lots of islands just below the surface of the water. The guides use charts to show where the underwater hazards are, and David said that the guides were actually the ones who provided the input for the charts in the first place.
David took us out to show us the Indian pictographs that were painted on a rock wall right on the lake. That was pretty cool. I had never seen anything like that before. Although we didn't know it at the time, David was taking us out to see Grassy Narrows, the lodge that Jerri and Dennis used to own. Right before we got there though, we saw a black bear on one of the islands near the shore. What a treat! Now we didn't have to go to the dump again! Of course we couldn't get the camera out fast enough before it melted back into the trees, but that was okay with us. We had all seen it and that was enough.
We stopped in at the lodge and talked to the current owners and warmed ourselves over a hot cup of coffee. Boy, there is no other time when coffee tastes so good as when you're cold. David told us that the current owners are good friends with his Mom and Dad, and that he stops in every chance he gets. I also bought a shirt with a Grassy Narrows logo while I was there, partly because I wanted the memento, but also because it was cold out on the lake and I needed more clothing!
I didn't know David was going to take us to the lodge, but that was absolutely one of the highlights of the trip for me. I have always wanted to see Grassy Narrows Lodge since I had met Jerri at my Grandmother's house as a child; almost a life-long dream fulfilled!
After visiting the lodge, we were able to get in some fishing. David took us around to all the good spots he knew, but nothing was biting much. We tried a variety of lures and locations, but to no avail. Randall even tried some fishing after we got back on the docks, but nothing we did would attract the fish. We did get a chance to see some bald eagles though. They were pretty far away so we weren't able to get a picture, but like the black bear, at least we saw some!
June 11, 2000 — Pier North, Ontario, Canada
Randall just won't give up!
Dennis didn't let us down though! While we were out on the lake, he was arranging to have one of the commercial fishermen deliver some fresh Walleye Pikes! Dennis also showed me the secret to frying up fish. You start off with really hot oil. He says you can throw a match in the oil, and when the match lights, it's time to start cooking.
Next, you start off by cooking a pound of bacon in the oil. He says that most people think that the bacon won't get crispy in the oil, but it does! Dennis cooks the bacon for two reasons; one to flavor the oil, and two to feed the guests as an appetizer while everyone is waiting for the fish to cook.
While the bacon is cooking, he coats the fish fillets with corn flake crumbs. After the bacon is done, it's time for the fish. He says that by having the oil so hot, it seals the outside crust, leaving the fish tender and juicy. If the oil isn't hot enough, the fish come out soggy.
After the fish, we did some laundry and started to pack. Tomorrow was the day we were going to leave Canada!
Day 11 — Monday, June 12, 2000
We finished packing, and got the bikes all loaded. We had the leftover Walleye for breakfast, and it was just as good the second time around.
June 12, 2000 — Pier North, Ontario, Canada
Dennis, Jerri and me right before we left Canada.
After breakfast, we said our goodbyes to Jerri and Dennis, and we were on the road again. Right before leaving we stuck all the Canadian money we had left into the coffee-fund can by the coffee pot with a note of thanks. We really had a wonderful time while we were there, and I was actually sorry we had to leave. But we still had a lot of miles to cover. As I left Pier North, I looked down at my odometer and I had already covered right at 1,800 miles!
We made wonderful time today. We got through the border pretty fast. The US Customs Officials were much easier going than their Canadian counterparts! Maybe it was because we were US Citizens, I don't know. But we came back across the border at Rainy River, so maybe they hadn't heard of Jerri Ellen or our adventure getting into Canada, and we were home free!
We stayed up on the north end of Minnesota on State Highway 11, headed for North Dakota. This was probably one of the best traveling days we had. Getting into North Dakota was a real milestone for the trip. It seemed like we were making progress again!
June 12, 2000 — Highway 11 on the border of Minnesota and North Dakota
What a bunch of bums! No one has shaved, but at least we're warm and dry!
We finally figured out that we should stop and take pictures when we enter a state!
Once we got into the state of North Dakota, we headed south on Interstate 29. This was pretty neat, because Interstate 29 was almost totally deserted! No one seemed to be on it except us. Of course, that changed when we got down around Grand Forks, but it was great while it lasted.
We stopped and got gas in Fargo, North Dakota. By the time we hit Fargo it was already mid-afternoon. We also got something to eat there, and took a break. Of course, we couldn't help but think about the movie Fargo, and we just had to ask our waitress if everyone talked like in the movie. We were very politely told no, that accent was actually from Minnesota. So we finished our drinks, got directions to Interstate 94, and headed out.
The directions were great, because they took us right by the Fargo Harley-Davidson Dealership. You know us Harley riders; you get us more than a hundred miles from home and we just have to stop at every Harley-Davidson dealership to get a t-shirt!
Once the t-shirt buying was out of the way, we got on Interstate 94 and headed west across the great state of North Dakota. Once again, we made great time, and we were in Jamestown before we knew it. Mike took over the lead and pulled off. It was a little early for gas, but of course Randall and I followed him. It turns out that he saw a huge buffalo statue along the side of the road, and he just had to see it.
It turns out it was part of a Frontier Village, and there were other things beside the giant buffalo. Of course most of it was aimed at kids and tourists, but it was fun anyway. I won't go into the obscene things Mike did to the giant buffalo.
June 12, 2000 — Frontier Village, Jamestown, North Dakota
This buffalo is so large that we could easily walk under it, with plenty of room to spare.
But along with all the tourist stuff, they also had an albino buffalo. Supposedly there are only two actual albino buffalos in the world, and this was one of them. But like the black bears at the dump in Canada, the albino buffalo was shy and was way on the other side of this huge pasture, so he didn't get his picture taken either.
We got some food while we were in Frontier Village, but we still had some daylight, so we headed on down the road. We spent night in Crystal Springs, North Dakota.
Day 12 — Tuesday, June 13, 2000
Tuesday we woke up to rain, of course. But we went ahead and got loaded up and took off. We got soaked royally though, Mike especially. He had steel shanks in his boots, and his feet were freezing. We were all miserable from the rain, but Mike was just the worst off. On top of that, we could see that we were headed right into thunderstorms. There wasn't much we could do other than call it a day. We only made about 60 miles all day.
We spent the night in Bismarck, North Dakota, watching the Weather Channel and getting frustrated because it only showed North and South Dakota for about 5 seconds each half hour. We didn't get any useful information from watching the Weather Channel, but it felt like we were at least doing something.
There was a little bar right near our motel, so we went there and Randall and I played darts for a while and ordered pizza from Pizza Hut; they delivered to the bar. That was about the extent of our excitement for the day.
Day 13 — Wednesday, June 14, 2000
The day started out surprising clear and dry. We loaded up the bikes and hit the road. After only making 60 miles yesterday, we were anxious to get some miles on today. It turned out that the weather held, and we had a great traveling day.
Once on the road, it wasn't long before we got to Montana, another milestone! The first stop was by the sign going into the state so we could get a picture.
June 14, 2000 — Interstate 94 on the North Dakota/Montana Border
Ah, getting some miles on at last!
Once we got the picture out of the way, we headed south on State Highway 7 right inside the Montana border from North Dakota. The only reason we really went into Montana was just to say we did. As it turns out though, we were really glad we did.
First of all, Montana has this open road thing, where they don't have speed limits out in the middle of nowhere. Well, guess where we were? Right smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, Montana. We found a nice long stretch of highway, and opened up the bikes. It was rather disappointing to discover that 85 miles per hour is about the top end for my '96 Heritage Softail. Oh well, I guess 85 is fast enough. When my wife reads this, she won't hesitate to tell me that 85 is not only fast enough, but way too fast. I can only hope that she skips over this part. We'll see.
Another part about Montana is that old saying, "Big Sky Country" you always see on Montana license plates. Well, let me tell you, it's absolutely true. I don't know how or why, but the sky looks huge when you're in Montana.
June 14, 2000 — Somewhere in Montana
Now I know why they call this "Big Sky Country!"
Well, we really didn't go anywhere in Montana. In fact, when State Highway 7 ran into US Highway 12, we went east back into North Dakota. From US 12, it was south on US 85 into South Dakota. But it was actually still early in the day, so when we got to Belle Fourche, South Dakota, we started looking at the map and realized we really weren't that far from Devil's Tower National Monument in Wyoming, so off we went.
June 14, 2000 — The South Dakota/Wyoming Border
We were getting better about stopping at the signs!
June 14, 2000 — The South Dakota/Wyoming Border
My Heritage Softail and Randall's Goldwing parked in Wyoming.
Devil's Tower was quite a bit more than I expected. I guess I really wasn't expecting much, but it really was one of the highlights of the trip. You can see Devil's Tower off in the distance before you even get to it. I guess it all builds up the anticipation.
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
Off in the distance before we got to the park.
The park is pretty neat as well, and we saw a lot more than just Devil's Tower. The first thing we ran into was a Prairie Dog Community. There are signs everywhere telling you not to feed the prairie dogs, so you can't get right up to them, but you can get pretty close.
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
About as close as you can get to a prairie dog.
The prairie dogs were interesting, but Devil's Tower was impressive. I don't know if I can come up with another single word that fits better!
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
The rubble behind Mike and Randall is actually huge boulders!
The tower is huge, much larger than I expected. In the picture above, the rocks and rubble in the background are actually huge boulders. We went climbing up on them and most of them would dwarf a full-grown man!
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
You can barely see Mike and me. The boulders dwarf us!
These boulders in the foreground are the "rubble" in the previous picture!
It was getting into evening by the time we were ready to leave Devil's Tower, and when we got back to the motorcycles, the Park Ranger was taking down the flag. Of course Randall couldn't resist the opportunity to help.
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
Cheesy Randall helping the nice Park Ranger fold the flag.
As we left, we came upon a deer beside the road. You could tell we were in a national park, because the buck was even less concerned with our presence than the prairie dogs were. We had a heck of a time getting the buck to raise its head so we could get a decent picture!
June 14, 2000 — Devil's Tower National Monument, Wyoming
A nearly tame buck that is truly unconcerned with our presence.
After we left Devil's Tower, it was back to South Dakota. We wanted to spend the night in Sturgis, so off we went once again. It was totally dark by the time we got in, but we just couldn't pass up the opportunity to stay there. Unlike during the rally, we were able to get a motel right in town!
Day 14 — Thursday, June 15, 2000
Thursday started off cold and wet. We definitely wanted to make more miles again today, so the question was what to do with Mike's steel-shanked boots? Randall had the answer. Remember the waders he bought at Cabela's? Well, they worked great! Mike stayed warm, and we made some great distance! Believe me when I say that it was quite a sight to see Mike riding his motorcycle with these waders on. It was definitely one of the better chuckles we had on this trip.
But Randall and I also learned from Mike's experience, and we took precautions against the rain. Randall and I wrapped our feet in garbage bags and taped them down with duct tape. I thought it would make the insides of my boots slick, but it didn't. In fact, it worked great! This was one of the good things I learned on this trip.
Of course no trip to Sturgis on a Harley is complete without stopping by the Sturgis Harley-Davidson Dealer. While we were there a group of riders came in from Ohio. There were a lot of them too. But through all the commotion, I was able to get a t-shirt from Sturgis, so I was happy.
While we were at the Harley-Davidson shop, we decided what to do about Mount Rushmore. The weather was bad, and it didn't look like it was going to clear up any. We decided that whoever was in the lead would make the call. If it looked okay when we got to the Mount Rushmore exit, we went; if not, we wouldn't make it this trip.
As it turned out, I was in the lead when we came to the exit. I couldn't believe it, but it looked like we might be catching a break, so we headed to Mount Rushmore. Was that ever the right decision! When we actually got to Mount Rushmore, there was hardly a cloud in the sky! We got out of our raingear, Mike changed out of Randall's waders, and we proceeded to thoroughly enjoy our visit.
June 15, 2000 — Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
Of course we all had to take turns acting like we were part of the monument.
Randall went first.
June 15, 2000 — Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
It was my turn next. Notice the gorgeous blue sky above?
June 15, 2000 — Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
Mike's turn, what a goof! Too bad he didn't still have the waders on!
I have been to Mount Rushmore before, when I was a kid, but I really wasn't prepared for what I saw. Mount Rushmore comes high on my list of things to do if you've never been there. It was great!
After Mount Rushmore, the only thing left to do was to go through the Badlands. Unlike going to Mount Rushmore, that was absolutely not the right decision, as we would soon find out. Of course, what's a visit to one of our national parks without talking with one of the friendly Park Rangers? So we found a friendly Park Ranger who gave us directions, and then we proceeded on our way.
June 15, 2000 — Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
A friendly Park Ranger happy to give us directions!
It didn't take us long before we were knee deep into the Badlands of South Dakota. Trust me when I tell you this isn't a trip for the meek or faint of heart, at least not the way we went. The first thing that we noticed was that the road turned to gravel. But we were steadfast and not to be deterred from our course!
The next thing we noticed was that it started to sprinkle. What happened to that beautiful blue sky we saw at Mount Rushmore? Randall was in the lead, so he stopped to see if we wanted to don our raingear. We decided not too. It was only sprinkling, and we had our leather jackets on, so we figured we would be okay.
Well, at this point in our ventures, sprinkling was all it really did, but we proceeded to get lost in the Badlands. Now lost is a pretty harsh word, and probably not entirely accurate to describe our current situation. Suffice it to say that we were on a road that didn't show up on any of our maps, and we had no idea where it came out. It also became evident, that although it was only sprinkling and even without our raingear on we weren't suffering, but the road certainly was.
The gravel road became a little softer as the sprinkling had a chance to soak in. We were really beginning to wonder what our best course of action was at this point, whether we should suck it up and turn back, or whether we would find a quicker solution out of our current situation and the Badlands.
About the time we were thinking this, a solution presented itself right before us, we came to an intersection. So here we are out in the middle of nowhere, at an intersection that doesn't show up on our maps, and we turn off our bikes to discuss which way to go. Well, as it turns out, the direction was fairly obvious. We were on a gravel road, a gravel road led off to the right, a gravel road went straight ahead, but lo and behold, a paved road led off to the left. It didn't take three geniuses to figure out that the paved road must lead to some form of civilization, and believe me when I tell you that we didn't have three geniuses among us. Even though the road to the left seemed to be the wrong way, it was paved. We all agreed that it seemed that we should be going to the right, not left, but it was hard to argue with pavement.
So off we go to the left. The road immediately went up a hill, and although there were a lot of deep potholes in the pavement, our spirits were high...until we crested the hill about a half-mile from the intersection. The paved road turned to gravel right before our eyes. Now at this point, I have to ask, who in their right mind would pave a half-mile section of road right out in the middle of miles of gravel roads? It was clearly a malicious civil servant at work, and we were definitely not amused by his or her antics!
So we turned around, and headed through the intersection the way we all thought was the right way to begin with. It was gravel, and it was sprinkling, and the going was slow, but at least we seemed to be making progress.
We went on for what must have been twenty miles this way, when it really started to turn bad. There were potholes the whole way, but now they were getting deeper and nearly impossible to avoid all of them. One thing was for sure though, we were way too far along to go back, when all of a sudden, out of the blue, the gravel turns into pavement again! We were saved!
We pulled over and it was pure elation evident in our faces! We were so happy to be through all that, and we were so proud that we made it and didn't turn tail and run! We found out later that we must have been on the Indian Reservation, which explains why the roads were gravel and didn't show up on our maps. It still didn't explain the half-mile stretch of paved road, but who cared. We were through it!
We climbed back onto our bikes and headed off on slightly damp pavement. We were on top of the world. After all, what else could happen to us today that could possibly be worse than twenty miles of bad gravel road? Well, experience tells me that is a question that should never be asked!
We soon found out what could be worse. We're traveling along, minding our own business, not bothering anyone. We were traveling on US Highway 18, not State Highway mind you, but US Highway 18, when we come to a construction site. Once again, I'm in the lead. We are stopped in a line of traffic, waiting for the flagman to wave our side through since the road was single-lane through the construction.
Our turn comes, and we are waved through. Now pay attention to this part, we were waved through. We weren't just allowed to enter the construction area, but we were actively invited to enter. Well, like I said, I was in the lead, and I got into this construction site, and it was absolutely the slickest stuff I have ever been on, two wheels or four.
This single lane was not paved, but dirt. Now, remember the part about how I said it was sprinkling on us quite a long time ago? Although it wasn't sprinkling at the exact moment we entered the construction site, it had been not long before, and for quite some time.
Well I work at getting my bike through this stuff for about 10 minutes, and realize that I've only gone about 100 feet! All the cars behind us are being very patient, and when I turn back to see, I notice that it's not just me, but Randall and Mike are having just as much problem as I am. But the question at this point is what do we do? This really is one lane, so we can't just turn around because there are cars behind us blocking our escape, and although we can't see them, we know that there are cars on the other end of this, patiently waiting for all the cars to get through so they can take their turn. About that time, still working my bike to push on, it slips out from underneath me, and the bike and me are both flat on the ground!
This is about the time a female construction worker takes a notice of us and our predicament, and comes over to offer her assistance. The first assistance she offers is helping me get my bike back up, to which I am eternally grateful. The second thing she has us do, is pull out of the main path so the rest of the cars can get through. Of course that takes calling a road grader over to make us a ramp out of this one-lane car track. We did get some small satisfaction that once the road grader made the ramp; it proceeded to get stuck in the mud. At least we weren't the only ones!
So we pull off to the side, and we begin to figure out what our options are. One of our options became evident when it began to rain for real, so the first order of business was donning our raingear again. Now bear in mind, not 10 minutes before, I was flat on my back in the mud. Now the mud was in the raingear. But that's okay, because before this ordeal is over, mud will be in everything imaginable!
June 15, 2000 — Somewhere along US Highway 18, South Dakota
This is the female construction worker who came to our aid!
Well, the cars behind us are able to pass now, happy that we're out of their way. By this point, we have been holding up traffic for at least a half hour, if not longer! Once they pass, we really try to figure out what we're going to do. We are all aware by now that we are in some serious trouble.
Once again, our construction worker friend comes to the aid, by getting her boss to come in with a D-9 Caterpillar! So a plan is formed! Although there's only one side of the road being used by traffic, there is the other side of the road that has already been built up. It was about two or three feet higher than the area being used for traffic. So the boss is going to take this D-9 Cat and cut down into this higher area until he gets to dry dirt so we can ride out of there. In addition, there's an area about a third of a mile up where we can cut through the grass in the ditch to get to a school. From there, we can go around the building on a sidewalk, traverse a short stretch of mud, and then we are home free on pavement!
June 15, 2000 — Somewhere along US Highway 18, South Dakota
Our bikes rest while we wait for the D-9 Caterpillar to come get us out of here!
It sounds like a good plan, but they all do when your bikes are buried up to their axels in mud! So in comes the D-9 Cat, cutting and scraping, trying to get us a dry area to drive on. Now bear in mind, mud is probably technically the wrong term for this; snot at the very least is probably more descriptive, but clay is probably more technically accurate.
We can see that as the Caterpillar drops its blade, the clay is actually springy and bounces back up when the Cat is over an area. This is weird, but hey, if they're willing to cut into the area they've already built up, who are we to argue? So it's off again, trying to get through what we now know to be a mile-long stretch of construction.
As we try to traverse through this stuff, we again realize that we aren't making much progress. Our left hands are nearing muscle failure from working the clutch, and once again, the bike slips out from under me and we both go down for the second time into the mud! This time, I see that gas starts leaking out of the gas tank, so I don't really have a choice but to jump off and lift the bike. I got it up, but let me tell you that lifting a Harley-Davidson single-handedly is not something I want to do again.
If you had asked me before hand, I would have told you there was no way I could lift that bike by myself, but I guess you just never know. Since this experience, I've talked with my brother, who used to own a Harley. He has a theory on the ability to lift a Harley that's on the ground; basically you have one shot at it. If you don't get it up on the first try, don't bother trying again because it just gets harder. But chances are good to get it up the first time.
But I digress. So here we are, exhausted from trying to work our bikes through this snot, and all we have to show for our efforts is that now we are further into this mess. So the lady and her boss come back, and we discuss other plans to get us out of here. By now it's pretty evident to us; we're going to turn around and go back the way we came and get out of this. Both construction workers look at us and very seriously tell us that would be a mistake, because now we are halfway into it. It doesn't matter which way we go, it's about the same distance out.
Well, there's nothing else we can do. It's at least a quarter mile to the area where we can cut through the ditch to the school, so the only way we're going to get there is to park two bikes and have the three of us walk the bikes out, one at a time. And that's exactly what we did. Randall's Goldwing was the first one out, and then came Mike's, and finally mine was last. Once again, we were so elated! We got all of the bikes through! You know that euphoric feeling you get when you accomplish something that seems way beyond your abilities? Well here it was. Army Basic Training and Airborne School were the closest examples I had to the way I felt right then.
So from the small area of gravel we parked our bikes on, we had to go around and make a long sweeping curve on the wet, slick, grass and come up a small hill to get to the sidewalk. Of course the sidewalk was right up against the building, so it was a tight fit. Once on the sidewalk, we would have to go around a sharp 90 degree corner, but still on the sidewalk, and then we would have to navigate a big hole, then it was off the sidewalk, through a 100 yards of mud parking lot, then we were up on the pavement for good. Talk about your "over the hills and through the woods", but anything was better then the road!
Well, we all got through it safe and sound! We were on the pavement and tired doesn't even begin to describe the way I felt! There were some puddles of water on the pavement, so we drove through them a few times to try and clean some of the mud off our bikes, and then it was down the road again, or so we thought. We followed the pavement around, and we couldn't believe our eyes! The pavement was only a driveway to the school and led out right back into the mud! Any elation we had felt before was now crushed under the weight of disappointment. The only thing I could say was this didn't look as bad as what we had just come from, so it was decided to give it a try and see what happens. Mike and I parked our bikes to let Randall go first, that way we were available if he ran into problems.
Randall got through with a little bit of slipping and sliding, but not much considering. Mike went next and his mistake was that he followed right in Randall's tracks. He got through, but it was obvious that he had more trouble than Randall did. So I learned from Mike and avoided both of their tracks. I also got through, and now we were all on pavement for real! It only took us about 4 hours to traverse this mile-long construction site from hell!
Once we got out of there, gas was the first order of business. We had been in the gravel and mud for quite a while, and we really didn't know how much gas we had left. We found a gas station at Pine Ridge, South Dakota, just outside of the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation and almost to the Nebraska border. We got our gas, and no less than eight drunken Indians approached me asking for change. All I could think about was that I was tired, I was muddy, I was wet and miserable, and the last thing I wanted to do was fend off beggars.
Well, we got out of there, and evening was fast approaching. We went as far as Rushville, Nebraska, and all we could think about by this time was food. We stopped at a convenience store and ate scary ham sandwiches out of their cooler. Dennis had told us while we were in Canada that those things have a six-week shelf life. That was bad enough, but we were starving. From there, we went to find a car wash to get the crud off of our bikes. There was a carwash in town, but it didn't work. Great. So the only thing left to do was find a motel. We were definitely too tired to go on so we spent the night in Rushville.
We found a motel near the edge of town. Mike and I stayed outside while Randall went in to see if they had any rooms available. The main reason we stayed outside was because we were so muddy, we didn't want to scare them into not letting us stay! Randall was cleanest of the three of us, so he was elected to represent us to the motel management. Randall came back with the room key, and he said the lady would even get a garden hose out so we could wash off our motorcycles!
It just goes to show you that there are still good people out there! But first things first, and showers were certainly the first thing. Once showers were out of the way and we had a clean change of clothes on, one by one we proceeded to take our bikes over to the office so we could hose them off. I still can't believe she let us do that.
She came out while we were washing our bikes. It turns out there were three other guys staying at the motel who were regulars and had been there for months while they were installing cables for a cable company, I think. Anyway, she always got together with them in the evenings and we were invited. Not only that, she said we could do some laundry in the motel's commercial washer. This was too good to be true! What a capper to top off the day we already had!
June 15, 2000 — Rushville, Nebraska
Polli Morton, the nice lady who ran the motel and let us wash our bikes and our clothes!
Day 15 — Friday, June 16, 2000
Well, I hate to say it, but by this time, the trip was really already over. All that was left was driving home. We had seen Mount Rushmore and the Badlands of South Dakota, and those were the last things we had planned on seeing.
The bad part was that we were in Rushville, Nebraska, which meant that I still had a drive of over 1,100 miles before I was home. So off we went.
We worked our way over to US Highway 183, and headed south. We weren't long on the road before Randall pulled over into a driveway leading into a pasture with his hazard lights on. Mike and I pulled up and asked what was wrong. He said he could smell rubber burning. After we all dismounted, we could see that his front tire was rubbing against something. The front fender of the Goldwing sits closer to the tire then the fenders on the Harleys did.
And of course, the fender on a Goldwing is not an easy thing to remove, but Randall pulled out his toolkit and began taking parts off.
June 16, 2000 — Somewhere along US 183 in Nebraska
Randall pulling parts off his bike to find out what's rubbing against his tire.
When Randall finally got into the fender well, what he found was amazing. Mud from the previous day had gotten packed in his fender. Even though he did wash under the fender at the motel, some of the mud stayed in place. When this mud dried, it was nearly as hard as concrete. Well, evidently when Randall was going down the road, a hunk of this dried concrete-like mud had broken loose and got wedged between the tire and more mud, rubbing against the tire. Now wonder Randall smelled rubber burning!
June 16, 2000 — Somewhere along US 183 in Nebraska
Mud had dried in Randall's fender and had turned as hard as concrete!
Randall got his bike back together, and it was on the road again! We didn't seem to make much time, but we finally got to the Kansas/Nebraska state line. As you can see, the weather is holding.
June 16, 2000 — The Nebraska/Kansas State Line on US Highway 183
What a bunch of goofs!
From the state line, we continued to head south to the intersection of US 183 and Interstate 70 in Hays, Kansas. By this time it was already getting dark. Interstate 70 was where Mike had to leave us and head for Kansas City. Randall and I were to continue heading south.
Randall suggested that we cut over to Interstate 35 to head south, but I really wanted to stay on more back roads. Its not like US 183 is a little two-lane highway or anything, but it is quite a bit more open than Interstate 35. So to make a long story short, Randall conceded to my opinion and we stayed on US 183.
We also discussed spending the night to rest up and get a fresh start in the morning, but I knew that if I stayed in Hays, that I wouldn't be able to make it home until, Sunday. If we continued to push on, I could make it home on Saturday.
So we continued on; Mike on Interstate 70 headed for Kansas City, Randall and me on US 183 headed for Texas, or at least Oklahoma. We found out later that Mike drove straight through to Kansas City and got home about 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning.
It was already getting dark while we were in Hays, and when we continued on south, it got completely dark. That, in and of itself is not a problem, but the deer started to come out. Randall and I saw a lot of them! But we continued to push on. We made it to either Coldwater or Sitka, Kansas, I'm not sure which. We were getting tired, and once again we were seeing lightning in the distance and we hit a few sprinkles from time to time. But I was happy. I knew that we were almost to the Kansas/Oklahoma border, and I knew I could make it home on Saturday, so it was time to stop!
It was well past midnight by this time, and there weren't any motels open, so Randall and I found a city park. We pulled our motorcycles in on the sidewalk under the pavilion, and slept on the picnic tables right beside our bikes.
Three lessons I learned out of that experience. First, it pays to get out of your riding clothes. Second, put on lots of mosquito repellant when you sleep out in the open like that. Third, it gets colder than you think, so plan for it.
We were pretty tired when we pulled in, so we really did the minimum necessary to get into a horizontal position with our eyes closed. Unfortunately, there were too many reasons not to get a good night's sleep. Beside those already mentioned, there was the ever-present nagging in the back of our mind that a cop was going to come along and roust us. Luckily, that never happened.
We did log nearly 540 miles for the day. That makes over 3,500 miles for the trip so far!
Day 16 — Saturday, June 17, 2000
It was barely light out when Randall and I began to get around. It was probably around 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning. We brushed our teeth, packed up what little we had unpacked, and we were off again.
We did stop at a little convenience store for coffee and orange juice, but it didn't take us long to get back on the road!
We didn't have far to go before we got to the Oklahoma state line. I was willing to forgo the photo session, but Randall said we should. I'm glad we did looking back on it.
June 17, 2000 — The Kansas/Oklahoma Border on US Highway 183
Notice that Randall is wearing his raingear, and for good reason!
And of course, to make matters worse, or should I say normal in this case, it was raining on us.
But we pushed on, and we actually made pretty good time. US Highway 183 was a pretty good route, but we did have to slow down in every sleepy little town we went through. Randall may have been right when he suggested we cut over to Interstate 35, but we were committed now!
It rained pretty hard on us for a while. In Clinton, Oklahoma, were we stopped for gas, we went through some pretty deep puddles. If there were one word we could use to describe this trip, it would be "rain."
June 17, 2000 — The Kansas/Oklahoma Border on US Highway 183
We're tired! We didn't sleep well last night and it's raining to boot!
Well, going back through Oklahoma was the same as going through it the first time. Rain. All the way through. But we got through Oklahoma without incident, and we finally arrived at the Texas border. I don't think I've ever been so glad to see Texas in my life!
June 17, 2000 — The Oklahoma/Texas Border on US Highway 183
Randall looks pretty tired!
June 17, 2000 — The Oklahoma/Texas Border on US Highway 183
The bikes look pretty tired too! And dirty!
June 17, 2000 — The Oklahoma/Texas Border on US Highway 183
I'm happy to be back in Texas!
Well, just inside of the Texas border is where Randall and I said our goodbyes. He split off to head for Dallas when we hit the junction of US Highway 183 with US Highway 287. He went down through Wichita Falls to Dallas. I continued south on US 183. He got home earlier in the day than I did, and he racked up a total of 3,839 miles for the trip!
But once we separated was when the wind picked up. It wasn't quite as bad as that day in Iowa, but it was close. To make matters worse, the pavement was wet. On the bright side, it didn't seem to last as long. It wasn't any time until I was out of it.
In fact, heading south on US 183, the rain had let up by the time I got to Throckmorton. I took a chance and put away my raingear. It was still pretty overcast, and the pavement was a little wet, but it looked like I may have been coming out of it.
As it turned out, I was out of the rain. Like I said earlier, there is nothing quite like riding out of rain into the sunshine, and today was the extreme of that because I was headed home! In fact, it wasn't too many miles down the road before that Texas heat started to kick in! By the time I got to Cisco, I was peeling off layers of clothes! I still had on long johns and a leather jacket! But did that heat ever feel good! I think I was cold clear through to the bone!
Well, the miles began ticking away, but it seemed to take forever. Then, on US 183, just before I got to my turnoff on Texas State Highway 29, I ran into wet pavement again. It turns out a thunderstorm had gone through about 15 minutes before I got there. Luckily though, I didn't see any of the actual rain from it! Here I am, less than 20 miles from home and I missed out on the rain for the very first time!
I did notice that the bike was getting kind of squirrelly though, especially when I changed lanes. So I slowed down and tried not to change lanes too often. I figured that in my rush to take off extra layers of clothes and raingear that I got my load out of balance. I found out later that wasn't the problem, but that my rear tire was nearly bald! I'm not sure if it happened because of the mud in South Dakota, like Randall's front tire, or if it started before then. I should've been checking my tire pressure more often, and then I would have seen it. This was probably the most important lesson I learned from the trip; check over the condition of the motorcycle frequently!
I made it home at about 7:40 in the evening. Man was I tired! I had put on 590 miles for the day, my longest day of the entire trip! A lot of that had been in rain and high wind, but I was so happy to be home!
June 17, 2000 — My house, Georgetown, Texas
Home at last! But boy is this bike filthy!
June 17, 2000 — My house, Georgetown, Texas
An up-close shot shows how filthy it really is!
June 17, 2000 — My house, Georgetown, Texas
Another up-close shot of a filthy bike!
Notice the clean spot on the air cleaner for comparison!
June 17, 2000 — My house, Georgetown, Texas
The bike is still dirty, but I feel much better after a shower!
I'm so tired that I looked stoned!
I put on a total of 4122.5 miles for the entire trip, in 16 days. Randall and I had been in 12 states (including Texas), and Ontario, Canada.
This will be a trip I remember for the rest of my life. If I had it to do over again, I would have done every mile of the trip again, including the mile of mud in South Dakota! Randall, Mike, thanks for a great trip!
The End