How dare someone who aspires to work in place making put down a whole state so easily. But that's my opinion for now. I think it's the general lethargy from all the riding and rolling on a continual basis, the plastic breakfasts and plentiful briefings But for me there is a strange emptiness about the parts of SD we've seen so far. Only being in the centre the more built up and more established parts of the state are still to come. But from experiences in Deadwood and Mount Rushmore which both seem to exist now only to draw people into South Dakota (Great Faces, Great Places).
Interior to Murdo
Leaving Interior, after my lush Cheeseburger Pizza the night before there was a heavy mist to start off. But it cleared very quickly. There was a bit of a pause at the entrance to the Badlands National Park trying to negotiate a 'charity rate' discount off the entrance fee. This caused a liitle morning excitment and dalayed us long enough to get to the Cedar Pass Lodge after 8 when it opened for breakfast. Luckily we were ahead of the school bus which then pretty much filled the whole place as the waitresses scurried around like rabbits in the headlights trying to re-fill coffees and plate up eggs n bacon. Albeit shockingly blue eyes rabbits.
We rode through the rest of the park taking loads of pictures and rode out past the site of the Minuteman Missile then took a left into headwinds which required a fair bit of teamwork to ease the pain of the energy sapping wind.
It was tough work, and took a few miles for the six of us (Rob, Bron, Tom, Nic, Sarah & I) to figure out a system to draft effectively and manage the changeovers to help reduce the effort. But the more we rode together the better we rode together, adapting to the angle of the wind and it became quite an enjoyable experience.
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| Ben, Sarah, Nic, Rob, Tom & Bron. Picture by Bob West |
There was an extended coffee stop in Kadoka from a fella from Oregon that had just set up a coffee cart running off solar. Great Idea, but takes and age to brew 13 coffees. But they did have an incredibly cute dog called harper who'd just turned 3. Not normally a small dog fan, but I was very taken and I'm pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Tom VM did a fantastic job of finding a perfect lunch stop sheltered from the wind with a derelict railway to rest up on. I got a bit snoozy but after lunch we carried on the riding of the day and working as a tight little group made the most of what we had,
Towards the end of the long day the groups combines and we rode into Murdo almost as one. It was a bit disconcerting to find out that once we were in town it was actually an hour ahead, so it was even later than hoped. We sloped off for some dinner, pretty uninspiring really, but the whole dietary conversation has been covered elsewhere and will continue to, eating is a pretty big issue after all.
Next morning was the haul to Pierre. it would be 20 miles then turn left and 40 miles into town, or so. The first 20 was a pretty severe side wind, as the road bended it could work to our slight advantage, or disadvantage. I'm pretty fortunate in these conditions having enough weight to keep me pretty planted and steady, so can just plough through, and happily take the wind for whoever I can help. There was a short section where I pulled away however and regrouped at the services. Had a strangely sweet toffee coffee and bought a map. Looked at some LED's to pimp my ride, but thought better of it and headed on.
The road into Pierre was all tailwind, nice wide hard shoulders and lightly undulating. Bliss. Just stormed along trying to max out the speedo as much as possible Managed a top of 53 m.p.h. on the final long hill, happy happy. If only my tyres were fully pumped and I'd sheared the chops in the morning. Coming in through Fort Pierre and over the Missouri River was a little less spacious for the cyclist than the previous generous shoulder. As I came in to the twon I stopped off at the CVhamber of Commerce/Information centre to pick up some maps and get some info. Felt pretty good about the place after a good ride in. But as soon as I turned back onto Sioux Ave was greeted by more lots of burgers and gas. Boo.
I went off for a mooch about, grabbed a shave and trim (of my hair) and took a trip up towards the Cultural Heritage Centre. I was on foot, and it was a bit hot, and taking a little longer than I'd hoped to locate the place, as of course I'd left the annotated local map back at the motel. I checked out the memorial fountain and then had a look in the State Capitol Building.
The Capitol Building really left an impression on me. Not so much for the architectural merits - as far as I understand it's an updated version of the Montana State Capitol building in Helena; neo-classical changing the 'u' to a 'v' on the front as a reminder of the Grecian style of the architecture - but the openness of the building. You can just walk in, and the whole place is free to walk around as you wish. The tiled floors were quite something, laid by artisan Italians. But the thing about the floors that made the biggest impression on me was how much my shoes were squeaking as I walked around.
So i looked in the governors office, walked around the gallery for the senate and house of representatives, took a crapitol in the capitol, and strolled back down to the Legion deck to sit in the sun with a beer upon the advice of a helpful woman in the governors office. Then the evening passed with food, and drinks and probably a few more drinks in the legion and onto Bob's the Irish bar as Irish as green budweiser.
Murdo to Pierre
Next morning was the haul to Pierre. it would be 20 miles then turn left and 40 miles into town, or so. The first 20 was a pretty severe side wind, as the road bended it could work to our slight advantage, or disadvantage. I'm pretty fortunate in these conditions having enough weight to keep me pretty planted and steady, so can just plough through, and happily take the wind for whoever I can help. There was a short section where I pulled away however and regrouped at the services. Had a strangely sweet toffee coffee and bought a map. Looked at some LED's to pimp my ride, but thought better of it and headed on.
The road into Pierre was all tailwind, nice wide hard shoulders and lightly undulating. Bliss. Just stormed along trying to max out the speedo as much as possible Managed a top of 53 m.p.h. on the final long hill, happy happy. If only my tyres were fully pumped and I'd sheared the chops in the morning. Coming in through Fort Pierre and over the Missouri River was a little less spacious for the cyclist than the previous generous shoulder. As I came in to the twon I stopped off at the CVhamber of Commerce/Information centre to pick up some maps and get some info. Felt pretty good about the place after a good ride in. But as soon as I turned back onto Sioux Ave was greeted by more lots of burgers and gas. Boo.
I went off for a mooch about, grabbed a shave and trim (of my hair) and took a trip up towards the Cultural Heritage Centre. I was on foot, and it was a bit hot, and taking a little longer than I'd hoped to locate the place, as of course I'd left the annotated local map back at the motel. I checked out the memorial fountain and then had a look in the State Capitol Building.
The Capitol Building really left an impression on me. Not so much for the architectural merits - as far as I understand it's an updated version of the Montana State Capitol building in Helena; neo-classical changing the 'u' to a 'v' on the front as a reminder of the Grecian style of the architecture - but the openness of the building. You can just walk in, and the whole place is free to walk around as you wish. The tiled floors were quite something, laid by artisan Italians. But the thing about the floors that made the biggest impression on me was how much my shoes were squeaking as I walked around.
So i looked in the governors office, walked around the gallery for the senate and house of representatives, took a crapitol in the capitol, and strolled back down to the Legion deck to sit in the sun with a beer upon the advice of a helpful woman in the governors office. Then the evening passed with food, and drinks and probably a few more drinks in the legion and onto Bob's the Irish bar as Irish as green budweiser.
On Saturday I had a late breakfast. Tom and I headed up to the Cultural Heritage centre and took a look at the museum. Usual stuff... idylic start, white men explore and pass through, white men strike a deal with the indigenous people, white men lie, steal and kill everything going, then find gold and step it up a bit. More white men and women try and tame a vast land. Tough times all round. And there was a fun interactive game where you could beat the milking machine, when almost immediately there was a ten year old boy popped his head around the corner after not a sole apart from Tom and I being there for the whole visit and he beat me!
Probably the highlight of the museum was the view over the town form the observation area. They had worked it so all you could see was a few state administration buildings, the capitol, lots of trees and the hills in the distance. Foolishly I didn't get a picture of this. But somebody else did.
But rest of the afternoon I spent out on the deck of the legion, not writing this, drinking bud light and watching the comings and goings of memorial weekend. I was surprised at how quiet it was for a sunny day by the water. We returned to the same restaurant for dinner after our pow-wow and an early night ws had.
Pierre to Highmore
It was an early start out of Pierre, some bleary eyes at breakfast and a little pensive about bad weather We were chased out by some very nasty looking clouds, but they didn't come to much. There qere attempts to maximise drafting, but it wasn't coming together as smoothly as last week when it was more vital, which gave the morning a slightly dour feel. But the weather was clearing slightly, and though we were going quite slowly the early start meant that there was only 20 miles left after lunch and there was a tail wind.
I had a bit of a snooze on the grass and was woken to the team being on their bikes and departing, so rubbed my eyes, replenished my water an chased along. I learnt in the museum yesterday that L. Frank Baum, the author of the Wizard of Oz stories spent some time around these parts, and I may not have read the books, but can see where the imagery for the film would be inspired by these Dakota grasslands.
There were some wind farms which are always pleasing, and some cavorting cows. Then the arrival into Highmore (Gooo Pirates) wasn't too auspicious. Population of about 832, but there were a few derelict houses and signs of wear and tear. Another place to pass through and pass judgement without getting to know too well. Would I want too? Dunno, but there's gotta be a few stories around.
I always thought I had small town fever coming from a village in Hampshire, always moving to bigger and bigger places, but the fact that I was only ever an hour form London, with so many connections to that world city, it doesn't really compare to the small town feel here. Chatting to some guys in teh bar in Pierre on Friday I was trying to, but it really is a whole different mind set. Also partly to do with being in a country that is so huge, and so new, that it's going to be insular. South Dakota has only been a place, legally, officially, politically, whatever for a little over 100 years. Sure it's been peopled and farmed and hunted on for millenia, but it's current incarnation is very young. Maybe it's the youth/immaturity of the place or the vast distances that haven't quite clicked with me. Maybe it is the lethargy and desire to get into the cities. Maybe it's too much time to think on the bike of past and future. Or maybe it's the sucky roads of changeable quality and weird rumble strips. Hmm yes, I think that's what it is. Those flippin rumble strips. Screw you South Dakota highway engineers, I'm going to Minnesota...
