The hotel bed was a good one. Probably the second best bed on the trip after the one at the Airbnb on Whidbey Island. And it was a very close 2nd. It felt good to sleep, and I hardly woke up during the night. When I did awaken, it was just to use the bathroom and then I went right back to sleep.
On this last day of the trip, I had nowhere I needed to be by a specific time. My house wasn't going to close if I didn't get there by a certain time that evening. And I only had a little more than 400 miles to go, a majority of which was on the interstate. I was in no hurry to get on the road this morning, so I didn't bother to set an alarm.
I slept in until 7:30 AM (mountain time.) That would be 8:30 back home, but due to how screwed up my body was from all the time zone switching, who knows what time zone to which it was currently set? I wound up getting more than nine hours of sleep, which my body desperately needed.
I got up, dressed, and packed. I decided to go down to the breakfast buffet, but figured as long as I was heading in that direction I would take the first load of luggage down to the motorcycle. The morning temp was reasonable in the low 70s.
I went through the buffet line and loaded up. They had a pancake machine, but much to my disappointment it was out of order. However they did have cinnamon rolls, so that covered my desire to spike my blood sugar.
Technically today was supposed to be a fasting day. Yeah, that didn't happen.
After I ate, I then drank a whole bunch of caffeinated coffee. I went back up to my room and got the remainder of my gear, then on the way out of the hotel I stopped by the front desk to check out.
The lady behind the counter asked my room number, then asked my name, and kept tapping on the keyboard. Eventually she said, "It looks like someone has already checked you out of your room!" Ok, then. I'm glad that my keycard worked long enough to let me retrieve all of my possessions.
I finished loading the bike, and made all my preparations. I started the time lapse camera for the final time on this trip. Here's the first picture of the day from that camera:
Next to the hotel was a gas station called "Big Bat's." It was in a convenient location for me to fill up before I got too far down the road.
After I topped off the tank, I was ready to roll. It was about 9:30 AM. Later than I usually depart on my motorcycle trips, but like I said, I wasn't in any big hurry today.
Today's route was simple. Ride 75 miles east, then ride 75 miles north, then take I-90 east the rest of the way to Sioux Falls. Easy peasy.
Because my hotel was right on the west side of Chadron, I hadn't seen the town before this morning as I rode through. It's a nice little college town.
My first leg of the journey was to ride from here to Kadoka, SD.
I'd noticed about halfway through Chadron that a cop had pulled out behind me after I went by. He followed me for several miles out of town, and then did a u-turn and headed back. I'm not sure what that was about. I wasn't speeding or riding erratically. Maybe I look suspicious? Maybe Chadron doesn't get many motorcycles? Who knows. In any event, nothing came of it.
It was a very beautiful morning. There were hardly any clouds, the wind wasn't whipping and the temp was reasonable.
Nebraska has a lot of dull roads, but the panhandle portion isn't too bad. There are bluffs and trees and other scenery. The western side from Scottsbluff north is probably the most scenic portion of the state.
The road was mostly straight, with the occasional gentle curve.
Physically I was in pretty rough shape from the rigors of the trip. But mentally, I was doing well. I think because I knew I was on the home stretch a lot of the "what if I break down" worries were behind me.
The road was very quiet. Occasionally I would see another car, but for the most part I had it to myself.
Around 25 miles to the east of Chadron, I moved out of the scenic portion of the state and into more of the flat, treeless plains that usually come to mind when one thinks of Nebraska.
I rode through the town of Rushville, NE. Nothing too remarkable to say about this, other than this is the 3rd time in my life that I have ridden through Rushville.
I continued east.
The previously cloudless sky was now becoming partly cloudy. It didn't look like I would be encountering any rain. I only noticed because in this area of the country there often isn't much else to look at other than clouds.
When I got to Merriman, NE, I pulled over alongside the road for a stretch break. Just 75 miles into the day's journey and I was already in a lot of pain. I really, really need to do something about the stock Indian saddle.
I've got a bunch of cash back bonus money saved up on my credit card. I'm seriously thinking of using it to buy an upgraded seat for this motorcycle. It's sad that on a motorcycle that costs tens of thousands of dollars, a person still needs to spend another $1,500 on an aftermarket seat just to make riding the bike bearable.
I kind of needed the bathroom. It wasn't urgent, but enough that when I saw what I thought was an old outhouse in a field a couple hundred yards away, I walked over to it.
When I got there, it was surrounded by thick weeds. I trudged through the weeds only to find the door locked. Once I got up to it, I wasn't even sure it was an outhouse. In any event, I wouldn't be peeing here.
I trudged back through the weeds to the dirt path, then inspected myself for ticks. Seeing none, I meandered my way back to the motorcycle.
I continued north on highway 73 out of Merriman, NE.
If I felt that highway 30 was sparsely traveled, highway 73 was even moreso.
I reached the South Dakota border. Not home yet, but at least I was in the correct state.
In the town of Martin, SD, I made a right turn as highway 73 merged with highway 18. The two roads share the same pavement for about 10 miles, then highway 73 will branch off to the north again.
At the intersection, I saw the gas station where I had an incident with a couple of gang-bangers back on my very first big motorcycle trip I took in 2006. Thankfully no troublemakers were anywhere in sight on this day 18 years later.
A few miles east of Martin I encountered some road construction. I pulled up behind a truck that was stopped while waiting for the pilot car, and parked my bike. A kid working on the construction crew walked up to me. I wondered if he had important information to tell me, but I think he was just bored.
We chatted for a while as we waited. He was a college kid going to the University of Minnesota and studying engineering. He was just working construction during the summer. He said that working on the traveling road crews paid decent money for a summer job.
The pilot car arrived, so I bid the kid good luck in his studies, then followed the line of cars into the construction area. The "line" of cars was only about four of us. This is a pretty sparsely populated area.
Highway 73 unmerged (unmerged? Is that a word?) from highway 18 and headed back north. The terrain was getting hillier as I approached the eastern edge of the badlands.
There were spots where it was very obvious that I was on the fringe of the badlands. These areas were quite scenic.
These interesting places were interspersed with stretches of not-very-scenic riding. Things would be dull, then I would go over a hill and see some scenery, then over the next hill it would be dull again. Back and forth.
I arrived at Kadoka, SD around 12:20 PM. This was a planned gas stop, and there were two gas stations from which to choose. I pulled into the first station. When I looked at the pump, there was no premium gas available. My bike is supposed to run on premium fuel.
Thankfully there was a second station next door, so I rode over to that one instead. When I pulled up at that pump, I found there was no premium available there either. Well, that's a dilemma.
I supposed I could have tried to ride further down the road and hope to find another town that had a station with premium gas. Towns and gas stations in this area of South Dakota can be a good distance apart. I decided that one tank of regular octane gas wouldn't be the end of the world, so I filled up.
I went inside to use the bathroom, then bought a couple of Powerade Zeros that were on sale. I put one in my saddlebag for later, and sipped on the other one. I decided on this trip that I prefer the taste of Gatorade Zero, but prefer the price of Powerade Zero.
As I drank, I watched a woman at the pump next to me. She was traveling alone with two young kids who obviously didn't want to be in the car any longer. The expression on her face made her look as tired as I felt. Except I'm willing to wager that she didn't have to travel 4,000 miles in order for her to look that exhausted. It made me remember traveling with the Tundra Boy when he was little, and how stressful that could get.
I had made it through the first of the three sections of the day's journey. I was hoping that the next two sections would pass faster than the first one.
Kadoka is right at the intersection of highway 73 and I-90. I entered the interstate heading east.
Like much of South Dakota, there's not much to look at for a good portion of I-90.
Near Murdo, SD I crossed the time zone into Central Time. That meant I lost an hour, and instead of 1:30 PM it was now 2:30 PM.
Occasionally another motorcycle rider would pass me. We would wave. There's a solidarity among riders, especially when traveling through vast areas of nothingness. I suppose it's like bushwhacking through an untamed forest and encountering another hiker; the shared experience creates an informal bond that is understood without needing to speak of it.
My butt was really hurting. And I know I've said that before, but it had reached a new level of posterior pain that I had never felt before. Had Dante not lived in the 14th century he surely would have included the stock Indian Roadmaster seat among the punishments inflicted within the nine levels of hell.
It was interesting. A few days earlier, my mind had reached a very dark place and I wasn't in a good spot mentally. Maybe it was due to a good night's sleep combined with an ample breakfast, but now my mind felt really good. Mentally I was enjoying the journey. I was kind of sad to accept that it was coming to an end.
However physically, I had reached the end. I knew that it would be a grind to make it home today, and that once I got there I wouldn't be able to ride a motorcycle again for a while. I'm thankful there wasn't a day 11 planned on this trip, as I really don't think I could have forced myself to sit on the motorcycle for another day.
I made it to the Missouri River, which is a landmark whenever one travels across the state. From here I only had about two hours left to get to Sioux Falls.
As I crossed the bridge I upheld my tradition of holding my breath from shore to shore. What a weird tradition.
I did need to make one more gas stop in order to have enough fuel to get home. I had planned that stop to be in White Lake, SD. I don't think I'd ever been to White Lake before.
The gas station wasn't right next to the interstate, so I had to ride into town to the one station.
As I got off the motorcycle, I noticed I was having some gastric issues. We've all had gastric issues before from time to time, but these were different. I can't really explain how, but they felt unlike others. I really think my butt irritation had reached the point where it was also irritating my intestines, and my innards were now voicing their displeasure at the situation.
I finished filling up the bike with gas. Then the alert went off on my phone stating that my credit card had been charged $200 for the tank of gas. What??? I hoped that was a temporary charge. In any event I had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.
I ran inside the store to discover there was a single stall restroom, and someone was in it. I waited as patiently as I could until they came out. Then I went in and unleashed the fury of my inflamed bowels.
Sorry for the instances in my trip stories where I get a little graphic and share information you may not want to hear. However, in the interest of full disclosure I like to share the good with the bad. Those planning on a motorcycle trip of their own need to know that sometimes it comes with pitfalls.
After a few minutes sitting on a different kind of seat than what I had been sitting on up to this point, I felt a lot better. That is until I went out and got back on the bike. The butt pain was absolutely searing.
I had no choice but to suck it up and keep going. I was within 115 miles of Sioux Falls now.
Prior to this point during the trip, after I would get off the motorcycle and got back on, it wouldn't hurt as much for a little while. The amount of time after a rest that I could ride without severe pain has been decreasing throughout the trip, and now it had reached the point of zero. Immediately upon getting on the motorcycle I wanted to get back off.
My gastrointestinal emergency had made me temporarily forget about the weird charge on my credit card. A few miles down the interstate I suddenly remembered about it. At this point I wasn't in the mood (or even physically able) to turn around and go back. I decided I would hope that it got resolved on its own, or else I would have to deal with it later via phone.
Thankfully when I got my credit card bill the actual amount on the pump was all that got charged. So I didn't have to mess with any of that.
A bit of good news was the temp was comfortably in the 80s. After seeing triple digit temps on every other riding day during this trip, this was a welcome change. I can only imagine how miserable I would have been had the temp been blazing hot again on top of my physical pain.
When I reached the I-29/I-90 interchange, I felt like a man in the desert who finally spies an Oasis. This interchange denotes the northwest corner of Sioux Falls.
As much as I wanted to get home, I decided to make a stop first. So I got off the interstate and rode through town.
Eight days prior, on the evening I was in Moscow, ID, a friend of mine from church had fallen and broken her ankle. It was a very serious break, and she had been in the hospital ever since. With me being out of town, I couldn't stop and do a hospital visit until today.
I knew that if I went home first I wouldn't have the motivation to go back out to visit her. So I decided that it would be best if I stopped to see her now.
I parked my motorcycle in the hospital parking lot. I decided to risk leaving my luggage on the bike rather than carrying it with me.
I'm very familiar with this hospital. I worked here for three years when I was in high school, and this is where I had my open heart surgery five years ago.
As I was walking towards the building, the gastric issues I had experienced earlier returned. I started to wonder if they would get triggered when I would get off the motorcycle. I decided to make a beeline to the closest restroom. Thankfully, from all my post-surgery visits I know where they are all located.
I knew of a side entrance that had a restroom nearby, so I went to that door. It was locked. I stood there puzzled for a moment when someone yelled over at me that I have to use the main entrance. That was not what I wanted to hear.
Arguing with a person yelling across the courtyard wasn't going to do me any good, so I hurried to the main entrance. From there I knew where there was another bathroom down the hall.
However, when I walked in the door I was greeted with a brand new security procedure. A guard was standing there asking why I was at the hospital. I explained I was there to visit a friend. Then I had to wait in line for someone to check me in.
When it was my turn at the desk, I had to explain who I was, who I was visiting, and provide a photo ID. I hoped my cringing face from me trying not to soil myself right then and there didn't make me look too different from my driver's license.
Once I passed that approval, I then had to go over to a kiosk where I could print out a visitor's pass. Are you kidding me? I'm not sure what happened at the hospital since I last visited to cause all this new complicated check-in procedure. In the past I would just walk in and ask the receptionist what room the person was in, then head that direction.
After I got my badge printed, I grabbed it and hurried down the hall. I hoped that someone wouldn't stop me from going in a non-approved direction compared to what was printed on my visitor's badge. I'm afraid they wouldn't appreciate the evidence I was about to produce that would justify my detour.
I finally got to the bathroom just in time and furiously unleashed another tsunami of refuse. It wasn't pretty. There were others in the restroom who probably were alarmed by the sounds emanating from my bowels.
With that emergency behind me (pun somewhat intended) I was now able to find my way up to Kim's room.
She was up and in good spirits. We visited for over an hour. One of her daughters and grandchildren showed up, so I used that as my excuse to head home, and bid her adieu.
While I was visiting Kim, my cousin had left me a voicemail. As I walked back to the motorcycle I gave him a call. He wanted help with our 1924 Ford Model T, so we set up a time to meet the next day. Looks like I'm jumping right back into life.
I was hoping more than an hour off of the bike would lessen the pain when I sat down on the saddle. Nope. It was like a knife stabbing me in the tush. At least I only had about five miles to go to get home.
About a mile from home I stopped and topped off the gas tank and got my final info for my trip log.
It felt good to finally pull into our cul-de-sac.
Home. I made it. It felt good to have a successful trip under my belt.
I unloaded and unpacked my gear. Spot the Cat had mixed emotions. She seemed happy that I was home, but was obviously mad that I had been gone so long. I snapped a photo where you can clearly see her annoyance that I had abandoned her for ten days.
The Tundra Girl was still at church, but the Tundra Boy was home. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, so I grabbed him and we went out to one of our favorite Guatemalan restaurants. From there I held him captive with stories from the trip.
After a few days I healed up physically. This year's trip left me in a very good mental state, and had pretty much erased all the bad memories and feelings from the previous year's fiasco. It felt good to be back on the horse.
Return To The Main Motorcycle Gallery
This page last updated on 12/10/2024