Boomer & Maverick do Sturgis

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Fun fact: public nudity in South Dakota is not illegal. Unfortunately I had not packed any body paint so was unable to take full advantage of this legislative opportunity. Others had more foresight than I, and so there were interesting 'outfits' to be observed on the streets of Sturgis. But I'm getting ahead of myself. There are 600kms to ride from Cody to Sturgis, 300 of them in the rain, over mountains. And a flat tire.

We start with the flat tire. We had new tires fitted in Cody and when we went to leave on Thursday morning I wondered why I couldn't turn my front wheel. I thought I'd left my steering lock on. Turns out our friendly tire fitters had pinched the tube as they fitted the tire and it had gone flat as a pancake. Fortunately we had packed a compressor as part of our tool kit, so we pumped up the tire which was enough to ride back up to the tire fitter. We had almost considered getting rid of the compressor as it takes up a bit of room. I was glad to have it today though as otherwise there may have been another tow truck involved and no one wants to see that.

There are some ominous dark clouds in the sky as we finally leave town, but as the locals are praying for a good soaking to douse the fires that surround the town, it seemed churlish of us to hope the rain would stay away. It didn't. Still, the riding is magnificent through the Big Horn Mountain Range, a sister range to the Rockies. We wind our way up and over the mountains and along the Cloud Peak Skyway. We imagine being ambushed by Indians riding down in through the hills, attacking from their vantage points overlooking the canyon. Cloud Peak is aptly named, being almost 10,000 feet high. It is beautiful and the canyons spectacular. But rain and altitude equal cold. You're probably sick of me talking about the weather, but it matters a lot on a motorbike. At one point we pull over and do star jumps and running on the spot to get warm. And this is summer.

We seem to be riding at pretty much the same pace as the storm all morning. I look back and see clear blue skies from where we'd just been, and all ahead are dark black clouds. Maybe we should try riding backwards. We ride with the storm for about 300kms and arrive in Buffalo cold and wet and ready for lunch. There is a posse of motorbikes in the carpark of a burger place which we take as a good sign. Might also be able to get some intell on road conditions ahead as well. We have a good chat to some nice fellas from the Spartans Motorcycle Club. We think they may be a Christian based or social club. Then we google them. A bit of a history of drug running, shootings and hijackings apparently. Anyway, they gave us some good info on the weather.

There has been a steady increase in bikes on the road since our stay in Jackson a couple of days ago. A lot of people trailer their bikes to the area and spend a week or two riding around the mountains and of course visiting Sturgis. As we ride the last few hundred k's into Sturgis we are more often riding with a group than on our own. South Dakota is a state where helmets are not compulsory and Andrew and I are definitely in the minority with our helmet wearing. I quite like the shape of my head and how my brain works and I'd like to keep it that way. Also, I can't imagine those bugs hitting your face at that speed, I reckon they would leave a good size dent. Which is why riders without helmets probably ride a bit slower than we generally do. See you later alligators.

We ride through the historical town of Deadwood, the final resting place of Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane, and apparently the wildest town in the west in its day. It is only about 20km from Sturgis and so the streets are lined with motorbikes and there is black leather for miles. I think there will be some reliving of wild days here tonight. We ride through but don't stop except to fix an Australian flag to the back of Andrew's bike. Many are flying the Stars and Stripes, so we thought we'd represent Oz.

The ride into Sturgis is a bit wild in itself. We are now in the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota and bikes are everywhere. A group of young fellas on sports bikes weave in and around the corners. A couple of big custom baggers, with long raked forks and massive front tires look a bit tricky to manoeuvre, based on how they are riding. A woman who had either spent too long at the Deadwood Hotel, or was just a terrible rider, crossing over yellow lines and wobbling her way around corners. There is no way to back off and keep clear of the dangers as we are surrounded by bikes in all directions, so we kick up our spidey senses to full alert and settle in to enjoy the ride.

Of course when we finally get to Sturgis it is compulsory to do a lap of the main streets, or so Andrew tells me. Sturgis is normally a town of 6,000 people which swells a little for the annual motorcycle rally. It is a bit quieter this year apparently, with only 480,000 attending. Last year was an anniversary year and there were over 750,000 people. Also, the Mongols have stayed away this year which has made the Hells Angels happier, and not so many brawls. Good to know. I'll try and behave myself.

Right. Back to those outfits. It seems pretty much anything goes here. Based on what I can see, as long as you are wearing at least a g-string and have your nipples covered, you're all good. Why no nipples are allowed I'm not sure. I guess you have to draw the line somewhere. Anyway, I don't pretend to understand how America thinks. They have Trump running for President. Andrew keeps missing some of the more interestingly attired young ladies. He tells me it's because he only has eyes for me. Truth be told, I think he only has eyes for the bikes.

And speaking of the man, I think I should hand over to someone who may present a different perspective on this event than I. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our guest blogger, Maverick.

I have been hearing stories about Sturgis for more years than I care to remember. Roaring into town with bikes all around us is exciting and you can feel the craziness begin. This is the town I have been waiting to see. Boomer and Maverick in Sturgis for one night only!

As far as you can see there are bikes moving, revving, rolling and roaring. There are Choppers, Bobbers, Baggers and Cafe Racers. There are apes, rakes and big arse tires. It is hard to focus on riding as we are in a traffic jam of hundreds of bikes and we don't have a clue where we are heading. Moving slowly into town past tent after tent of bike parts, bike sales, rock music, crazy people, t-shirts, gear shops and custom bikes. The circus is in town.

We head up Main Street where there is bikes only parking and somehow jag 2 spots near each other. We have have ridden 600km through rain, mountains, then the plains and the heat. We are hot and thirsty, the town is noisy and crazy. It is time to get into the first air conditioned bar we find and get a few cold ones. The bar is huge and we are hunting seats. At the far end of the bar are two stools and next to them are two (of only 6000) locals you will find in this town. Beer + Aussie accents + cool chick who rides 6000km on her own bike to Sturgis = many rounds of drinks and stories.

Realising we haven't yet checked in to one of the most expensive hotels of the trip (I never did hear what the Bellagio cost us in Vegas), we wander back through the craziness to find our bikes and do the obligatory shopping on the way. Sturgis t-shirts (did I mention you can never have too many Harley T-shirts) and patches for our vests. "I rode mine to Sturgis" is not something too many non-Americans get to wear, as most ride rentals. We ride out of town, check in, dump gear and get straight in a cab to go back.

One night only means making the most of it. This is a night time town and the spectacle is in full swing with bikes, bars, babes and music. We walk around and soak it in with a few JD's. We get our patches sewn onto our vests, a process that could have taken ten minutes but took forever as the seamstress (is that what you call a 50 year old guy who sews patches on vests at motorcycle rallies) was keen for a chat.

More music, more drinks and then something strange happens. I have seen enough. It is fun, it is crazy. It is a moment. We have had so many amazing moments and tomorrow holds more of the ones I value most. Time together in beautiful country, empty roads, corners and hills to swing in and out of, small towns, welcoming people and time to talk and reflect.

Thanks Maverick for your excitement and enthusiasm. I'm sure this won't be the only time you get to visit Sturgis. For me however, it is most definitely a once in a lifetime experience.

We spend the next morning still in town, wandering up and down the streets admiring the bikes. The US has far less regulations than we do and so bikes can be customised in ways that we can never do. I'm not sure how some of them are even rideable, but they do look pretty cool.

We head off around lunch time, riding south through the Black Hills on our way to Mount Rushmore. We tuck in at the back of a pack of guys who look like they know what they're doing: nice formation, tight cornering and a good pace. Gradually though the motorbike traffic builds and we catch up to some slowpokes out in front. It is less frustrating than being stuck behind cars and trucks, but still not great.

Mount Rushmore is the famous attraction with four President's heads carved into the side of the mountain. It is both boldly aspirational and destructively arrogant. The sculpting is incredibly skilful and it is an amazing monument, but half a mountain was blown up to create it. And I'm not sure how Teddy Roosevelt, the USA's greatest conservationist President, would have felt about destroying these beautiful mountains to create a monument in his honour.

We stop for a late lunch (delicious pulled pork sandwiches) in Custer, and meet the only other Aussies on bikes we have come across the whole trip. They tell us we must do the Needles Highway, which we have just ridden past. Andrew knows Boomer don't go back. I would rather ride an hour in a forward direction than turn around to go back 15 minutes. But for this it sounds like I should make an exception. We head back up the road we just came down and turn off onto the highway. It is stunning scenery, with rock tunnels and chasms, and granite pinnacles and needles soaring into the sky, giving the highway it's name. Again, the roads are crawling with bikes so it is a slower ride than we would have preferred, but still magnificent.

I am very ready to get back out on open roads and away from the congestion of this crazy place. We keep riding south until the roads clear and stop at the small historical town of Hot Springs for the night. It seems made for us - there is a Bourbon Bar and a hot tub in the hotel. And most importantly, no roar of motorbikes all night long.

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Photos

Maverick
Guest Blogger

Cloud Peak Skyway
On the road to Sturgis

Needles Highway
Black Hills of South Dakota