Crisp, cool (57) mountain air filled the quiet morning; the town still sleeping from it’s Friday night revelry. It did not take us long to get to the trail we would be on for the next couple of days. The Mickelson Trail is on the “bucket list” and the reason we came in this direction. This 108 mile trail is a re-use of an old railroad; the tracks still visible in areas.

Instantly, we were surrounded by magnificent mountains, rustling creek, the fresh smell of spruce and…..bunny tail! Just as quickly, we began our climbing; the cool morning, occasional waterfall and incredible scenery kept us (almost) distracted.  It took us an hour and a half and seven miles to climb 1000 feet. In places the hard packed road was soft and rutted with rain from last night, making it impossible to pedal. Pushing was not much easier, but the only option. It was a shortcut we had chosen; signed at the end of what we had already discovered – 20% grades. Once our lungs regained oxygen, we continued the beautiful climb for another seven miles reaching our first summit of 6238 feet (our continental divide crossing was 6131 feet) shortly after ten o’clock. We pedaled downhill to maintain good speed, as we had more climbing ahead, but not too fast to miss the view. The photos don’t show and words fall short to describe the beauty of this trail; ranks just below the “Ride to the Sun” in Glacier.
Jumped off course to grab a bite to eat, but the saloon was not open yet.  Rockford is a small town with a Big sense of humor.The sign on the building is University of Rochford.  As we enjoyed the shade and cold water, the wind started to swirl and the clouds build. We’d been promised an afternoon storm and we did not want to be on the trail when it hit. With less than a thirty minute rest, we got back on course, once again submersed in the beauty and quiet. Gone was the scream of trucks and the rubble of motorcycles from yesterday’s ride, only the sound of the creek we followed, remained. We crossed through a short tunnel and all of a sudden had to start gearing down.  We checked the water flow of the creek and confirmed, we had started our second climb. Having dropped 1400 feet from our first climb, we had a lot to regain. Thankfully, by 1:00, the trees once again cast shadow on our trail, offering wonderful shade for our frequent breaks.
Nine miles later, we reached the top (5649 feet) of our second climb. The scenery remained stellar, but the clouds were building fast. We hastened our pace for the downhill stretch into town.  Around a corner and for a brief moment we caught a glimpse of a spectacular mountain. We reached the edge of town at three o’clock.  With a scheduled tire change, we decided to take care of it now and allow the storm to pass. The hour + rest was great, with new tires we pedaled out of town to find where we are staying.  Past neighbors from the Brac had a wonderfully quiet place in the hills; it was a tough five mile stretch with a couple 20% grades but then we were done.  A quick run into town for supplies and dinner at the oldest hand-hewn log (commercial) building in South Dakota, built in 1885.

We’d spent just under seven hours on the bike seat to go only 54 miles, so we were ready to take our legs to bed.

The towering hills in this area are amazing, but it would be unheard-of to miss the most famous of all.  Playing the tourist, we left the duckies resting and headed to Keystone.  The sight of the 60 foot high faces of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln is awesome; Mt. Rushmore is hard to comprehend, without seeing it in person.The walkway lining the path to the sculptures is lined with flags from every state.  On the column below each flag it lists the state and when it joined the union, impressive.  We caught another glimpse of President Washington’s profile as we drove away.And just how many pictures can one take of this monument?  Apparently, quite a few!

A few miles down the road in Custer is The Crazy Horse Memorial.  It boasts a striking profile of a yet unfinished sculpture, the end result will be unbelievable.The museum is huge and filled with incredible history and costumes; can you imagine this Indian headdress!

We headed back to Hill City with a little bit of something for everyone.  For the adults, wine tasting rooms  and brew companies are plentiful and the town is home of the Guinness World Record “Largest Teddy Bear Collection.”  Of course, there are the characters on their way to Sturgis and some impressive chain saw carvers.All this motor touring made us hungry.  We better get back on our bikes if we are going to afford this much food.See you tomorrow.

Go east, to go north to go west into the wind to go south, and that’s just the first seven miles to get us back on the Mickelson Trail.  By the time we had climbed a couple hills to get us back on track, we’d forgotten the 55° it was when we started at 6:30 this morning.  After close to 400 pictures yesterday of fields and steams, “we” tried to be more judicious with the camera.  As we passed more campers waiting for the big rally, we hoped/prayed we’d seen the last of the motorcycles.  Nothing against the riders, but their gathering of 1.5 million people next week in Sturgis, has wrecked havoc on our course and finding a place to stay.

For the first few hours, we paralleled the highway; traffic wasn’t too bad at this early hour, but it was still noticeable.  Seventeen miles and over two hours of climbing through the beautiful countryside, we finally reached our first climb to 5900 feet.  We caught a quick glimpse of the Crazy Horse Memorialthen took a turn away from the highway and enjoyed a quiet, shady six mile coast down to Custer.  A quick liquid refuel and we began another climb, only three miles (5320′) and much easier.  The constant stream from yesterday was replaced by amazing rock formations in the middle of incredibly green fields.

Pulled into the saloon at Pringle for our lunch break, only to find them closed on Mondays.  Thankfully, the owner was there and could offer us something cold (water) to drink.  As we rested, a cowboy with a hat brimmed as wide as his shoulders strolled in.  Discussing our route, he said, “That’s a far bit on a dirt road.”  Having finally left the dusty trail, we had been looking forward to some pavement; twenty miles of dirt road was not part of our plan.  A highway was our next option;the amazing rock formations continued.We rolled up the highwayand past a hill struggling to regain green after a fire.We reached an almost treeless plateau of the Custer National Park and Wind Cave State Park; a remarkable topography change from the last two days.
The three amigos were anxious to tell us of their victorious gunfight and the best saloon in the park. They were quite chatty, but the wind was picking up and with no trees to protect us, we needed to push on.  One last cattle guard crossing, a downhill into the wind and we finally reached our town at 1:30.  A quick stopfor food and a cold beer, then a tour of just a few of the many sandstone buildings in town.

  The day had gotten HOT, dry (15% humidity) and dusty, we were happy to duck into A.C.  It was only a couple hours later we heard the rumble of thunder.  An hour later, an incredible hail, wind and rain storm came in and raged at our doorstop.   We began to wonder if it would stop, so we could get dinner.  A brief break in the rain and lightening and we briskly walked past flash flooding and road closures to the closet place a half mile down the road.  An easier pace back to our hotel, revealed a beautiful, yet a bit tumultuous, sky.

Last night’s storm had washed the sky clean and the dust away; all that remained was cool temps and a breeze.  We pedaled uphill for a couple of miles past a beautiful ravine with pretty rapids and then over the Cheyenne River.  Past that, was a long, straight road.  A rest at the top of one of the rolling hills and a look back on the last of the Black Hills.  We rolled (mostly up) for miles, seeing a whole lot of very little.  Though the temperature were perfect for biking (think football season), we were hungover from the vista overload of the last few days.  In reality, we were both upset we were heading south and not east, taking advantage of the incredible WNW wind.  Twenty two miles down the road we came to an east intersecting road.  We stopped and looked in the direction we longed to go.  But there was nothing on that road to be found for over a hundred miles, except for a liquor store and one hotel that was booked.  So we plodded along with the wind at our shoulder, not a hindrance, but not a help.Look at the wind on the water reeds.

We reached a ridge at the Nebraska state line and took a quick break.  It didn’t look like much more to see from here, but with a slight bend in the road and an eight mile downhill, we flew with the wind.  It was not until a few miles from town we started to see signs of civilization and life.  Another late lunch in town and then up the hill to our hotel.  Once again we looked at all the options to head east and avoid another day of our southerly direction.  Thankfully, the puzzle was finally coming together.  Though too late to enjoy the 20-30 mph tailwind we would have had today, at least tomorrow we will begin again to head towards home.  A little dinnerafter our 57 mile day.

Beautiful cool morning facing directly into the sun, as we headed on our easterly course.  The fields seemed greener and there were interesting things to see along Historic Route 20; some verydifferent things, too…..can’t make this stuff up!

We rolled up 17 manageable (and beautiful) miles to the 4000 foot summit of Pine Ridge, that had filled our morning horizon.  There was no downhill to our ridge and most of the trees disappearedreplaced by lush farmland in the middle of harvest.  We passed small towns, big farms, prehistoric vehicles and an old railroad.  We had pumped out almost 35 miles by 11:00, when we reached our lunch stop.  The southeast breeze was picking up, when we waddled away from lunch, and the temperatures were still in the low 70’s, perfect.  From here, the route was slightly downhill and with the wind on our shoulder we sailed through the next few towns to reach our town for the night.  Made a quick stop at the store for some supplies, while Jerry garnered Nebraska wisdom from a local (family roots go back 130 years).  “Nebraska’s weather is great, but not for women and horses” and another classic, “The settlers came here with nothing and managed to hold on to all of it.”

Met another “rancher” (don’t call them farmer, ouch) at dinner, just as friendly.  He works over 1000 cattle on his ranch from sunrise to sundown, “…and it gets a bit tough and lonely in the winter when it’s 37° below Zero!”  

We solved the worlds problems over Chicken Fried Steak, then said our good nights and farewells.

Rolled out of the two block town past a Vietnam War relic and into the beautiful countryside.

Our rancher from last night, spoke of the “six mile hill”, quickly explaining after seeing the look on our faces, that the hill was in six miles, not that it was six miles long. We approached and climbed it (while avoiding the crop-duster) with relative ease along with the few miles of ups and downs that followed.  This was the beginning of the Sand Hills.  These fields of sand were softly painted and the clouds in the distance seemed airbrushed into our morning canvas.  Incredible to think that sand dunes can foster such lush grass and hold water, too.  An hour into the ride we came to a freshly paved road that offered tremendous relief form the speed bump filled shoulder we had encountered since entering Nebraska.A light cool morning breeze and flat smooth road, we were feeling good and started boasting about doing our long ride today, instead of tomorrow as scheduled.  All our giddiness was quickly squelched when we hit mile 40.  Our flat road started rolling and rollingand the un-forecasted northeast breeze that had plagued us all morning was gaining strength.  We still made it to Buffalo Bill Cody’s hometown, our planned stop for the night, shortly after noon, 55 miles done.  Slid into a booth at the local food trough, ordered a to die for grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce, tomato, mayo and cucumber with super hot fries!!  Lunch was devoured way before the thought of taking a photo ever occurred.  We checked our pulse (not our sanity) and the wind direction (changing to NW any minute) and decided to forge on.  The wind did keep us cool, but kept toying with us; coming from our side only to turn and hit us in the face.  But the scenery remained enjoyable and somewhat distracting as we rolled along waiting for the wind to change to our advantage.Pedaled past a couple towns, the Minnechaduza Creek and crossed the Central Time Zone sometime in the afternoon  The sky was crystal clear except for ever changing clouds in the south.

Two doors before our hotel, the “golden arches” beckoned us in for a delicious chocolate milk shake; hot and very low on energy, it was well worth the stop.  Since we lost an hour with crossing the time zone, by the time we were showered and had downed a few ice cold bottles of water, it was time to go to dinner.  Hard to find pasta in these cowboy towns, but we hit the jackpot this time; there were more tender strips of sirloin then pasta on this plate.  Perfect remedy for a 94 mile ride.

As a side note, we would like to thank all that have contributed so far, to the EOD Warrior Foundation.  Celebrating our first 1,000 miles, we contributed today, too.

The morning had already heated up, with our hour later start (after 8:00).  The northeast winds were now coming from the southeast; not a good day to be heading in that direction, especially with rolling hills.  Rolled down one hill to cross the Niobrara River, a big draw for canoeing and rafting.

Our second day of pretty pastures in the Sand Hills and still amazed at the immensity of the farms and ranches reaching for miles and miles.  Avoided a good size snake, but did stop for a photo of a huge turtle  and of course, horses.  At 11:00 we took a cafe break, because it was there.  An hour later, stopped for a chat, at the quaint cowboy town of Johnstown.  The day was heating up, so we were happy to arrive at our small quaint town and find a chocolate peanut butter milkshake by 2:00.

There was very little choice for dinner in this small town, but thankfully all three were right beside our hotel.  We opted for the warehouse looking building that bragged about their steaks.  We’d been disappointed so far, but tonight we scored big.  This “Omaha” steak was crazy good.  Better put more than 47 miles in, so we can enjoy our next one!