My alarm went off at 6 AM. The previous day really took it out of me physically, and then I had a short night. I could have easily rolled over and gone back to sleep. About the only thing that got me out of bed was the excitement of leaving on my trip.
Having showered and shaved the previous evening, I didn't have an extensive preparation routine. After I was dressed I went out to the kitchen. My coffee maker had already brewed my 1/2 pot of morning joy. I sat and drank coffee and ate a bowl of cereal as I reviewed my map for the day's journey.
The Tundra Boy was also up early because he had a golf tournament. He wasn't in a particularly jovial mood. That's not unusual. He's driving now and left the house around 6:30 without saying goodbye. Also not unusual as of late. Raising teenagers is such fun.
I finished putting the remainder of my items into my luggage and triple checked my packing list. Once I was confident everything was ready, I said goodbye to the cat who did seem happy to see me this morning, and rolled the bike out of the garage just a couple minutes after 7 AM.
In my exhaustion, one thing I had neglected to do the previous evening was go top off the gas tank. So that was the first order of business. I rode about a mile to a nearby station I frequent and filled up.
When packing the previous evening I realized that I had forgotten to bring home the power cable for my laptop computer when I left work on Friday evening. So, the next thing on my list was to swing by the client's office where I was working and grab it off the desk. The good news was I didn't have to go too far out of my way to retrieve the cable.
Being early in the morning before most everyone was at the office, I parked in the parking ramp without too much regard for the assigned spots. I gambled that the person whose spot I was in wouldn't show up in the few minutes it took to run inside and grab the cable. Another early arriving worker questioned why I was there, as he knew I was on vacation this week. I kind of thought he may want to chat for a while, but I was pleasantly surprised when he didn't. I also decided to use the restroom in an attempt to prevent another restroom break from happening just a few miles down the road.
And I was off...
My route had me heading west to Mitchell, SD and then from there north to Huron. The fastest way to Mitchell was to get on Interstate 90. I wasn't necessarily looking for the fastest path there, however, so I decided to take highway 38 from Sioux Falls to Mitchell. I figured I'd see some new things that way, as I've been on the interstate a million times.
10 miles down the road in the town of Hartford I was already needing the bathroom. I thought maybe I could press through it, but decided to not make myself miserable. I was going right by a golf course which is part of my gym membership, so I decided that gave me bathroom privileges. I pulled into the parking lot which was surprisingly full. By the time I made it into the restroom I was glad I didn't pass it by.
Back out in the parking lot I could see why the parking lot was so full early on a Monday morning. There was a high school golf tournament going on here. This was a smaller school conference than the one my son was playing in.
I continued down highway 38 west past the town of Humboldt, and on to the town of Montrose. Years ago I used to have some friends who lived in Montrose and I used to visit on occasion. The highway passes by the south side of the town. I hadn't actually been in the town in nearly three decades, so on a whim I decided to ride in and see if anything looked familiar.
I rode over to where my friend's house was located, only to discover it was no longer there. Well, that's one memory I won't relive. I then turned around and was heading to main street when a guy in a van coming the opposite direction stopped and rolled down his window.
He was smiling and said hello, and asked if I was looking for something. I told him that I hadn't been in Montrose in a long time and was just back seeing what has changed. He took my statement to mean that I used to live there, so he started asking my name. I told him and then had to explain that I didn't ever live in Montrose, I just would visit a friend. After another minute he wished me well and I turned onto main street.
Main street didn't look very familiar anymore either. The legendary Irish Pub was no longer there, which was the local hot spot. So this didn't turn out to be much of a trip down memory lane and I rode back to highway 38 and continued west.
As I went down Highway 38 I passed a lot of spots where they were putting fresh oil and crushed rock on the road surface. In fact, every highway I rode in eastern South Dakota on this day was getting re-oiled. Must have been the summer project for the state DOT.
I made it to Mitchell and was in need of another restroom break. You don't own coffee, you just rent it. I figured the area around the Corn Palace was quite touristy (is that a word?) so there would probably be a public restroom nearby.
I parked in a public lot about a half block from the Corn Palace. Once I got off the bike and stood up my need for the facilities made itself much more pronounced. I didn't see any obvious restrooms, so I started walking past some gift shops on my way to the palace itself. Everything was still closed due to the early hour. I wound up walking across the street and going into the Corn Palace to use the restrooms. I was glad there's free admission. And as it turned out I made it just in time.
Once I was no longer under pressure (not a figurative statement) I walked out into the lobby. They were selling corn on the cob. It sounded kind of good, but then again it was 9:30 in the morning and that seemed a little bit of an odd time to eat corn on the cob. There were tourists sitting there munching away, but I decided to pass.
I went outside and snapped some photos of the exterior of the Corn Palace.
If you're unfamiliar with the "World's Only Corn Palace, it's an interesting South Dakota icon. It is a more than 100 year old arena where concerts and sporting events are held. On the outside, murals are displayed which are created out of ears of corn. Different colors of corn are used for shading. They change all of the murals every year.
My best friend calls it "the world's biggest bird feeder."
From Mitchell, I headed north on highway 37. It was about 50 miles to the town of Huron, where I made a gas stop. After filling the tank I grabbed a snack in the form of a slice of breakfast pizza. Casey's breakfast pizza rocks.
It was starting to get a little warmer and was probably around 70 degrees. I opted to leave my jacket on for the time being. It was a touch uncomfortable when I was standing around eating pizza, but about right with my jacket at highway speeds.
From Huron I headed west on highway 14 for about 60 miles. By the time I got to Highmore the temp had risen significantly. I decided to find a place in Highmore to stop and stretch my legs and remove my jacket.
Then I ran into something interesting. In the town of Highmore, SD is the Mashek Food Center. This is interesting because this store shares my sir name, which isn't exactly a common one. Surely whoever the store was named after is a relative, right? I decided to snap a picture and then go inside and do some detective work to see if I could find out more information.
I walked out into the street to snap a picture of the store. No sooner did I do that when a guy walked up to me and said, "You must be a photographer!" I realized that explaining the whole story was going to take longer than I really wanted, but before I could respond another guy pulled up in a pickup truck and said, "If you're taking pictures you need to take one of the mural across the street!" Then he started to give me an oral history of the mural.
I thanked him and assured him I would take a picture of the mural before I left town. I then attempted to escape the onslaught of friendly by going inside the store. I looked around but didn't see anyone working in the store who either looked like a family member, or looked like they were possibly the owner. I bought a soda and chatted up the kid behind the cash register.
Without being completely awkward about it, I managed to mention the fact that the store name shared my last name. The kid said, "the store owner is here. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Sure!" I replied. He disappeared in the back for a couple minutes and then came back with a lady about my age. I introduced myself and explained what brought me inside. We started talking about our various relatives and finally decided that we probably shared a great, great grandfather. We had a great chat for about 10 minutes, until I decided that I had sucked up enough of her time. We said goodbye and I went outside to finish my soda.
Before I left town, true to my word I walked across the street and took a picture of the mural and park.
From Highmore I headed north on highway 47. We were getting into the more rural and featureless portion of the state. Which is saying something, because most of South Dakota is rural and featureless.
Of course, no trip is complete without some road construction. Highway 47 was one lane for a stretch, so I had to stop and wait for the pilot car.
I only had to wait a couple of minutes for the pilot car to arrive. This turned out to be a stroke of luck because the stretch of highway that was under construction was long enough that it probably was a 30 minute round trip. Had I arrived 5 minutes later after the pilot car had already left I would have been sitting for quite a while.
Further north I turned west on highway 212. Before I made the turn I looked to my right and saw a semi off in the distance. I had plenty of room, so I pulled out. Then I must have started thinking about something else and let my mind wander, because I suddenly looked in the mirror to see that truck right behind me and I was only going about 45 mph. Oops! Sorry trucker guy!
After going west for a few miles I turned back north on highway 47. The scenery didn't change. One thing that is visible through most of the pictures of this trip is a haze. At the time I was traveling there had been huge wildfires in California and Canada. The smoke from these fires was covering a good portion of the country, and even on a sunny day like this one it gave kind of an overcast look to everything.
At the highway 12 junction I headed west again towards the town of Mobridge, SD. The crosswinds out of the south were starting to get a bit strong. They weren't bad when I was alone on the road, but when a truck would pass going the opposite direction the wake would slam into me with startling force.
Mobridge finally appeared on the horizon, which was a relief because I was quite ready for a break and was pretty hungry. First I stopped and filled the gas tank. Next, I looked for somewhere to eat. My options appeared to be limited to chain fast food, so I settled on a Taco Johns. At this point I wasn't too picky as long as the place served food and had air conditioning. By this point the temp had risen to around 98 degrees outside and I was really warm.
This was a small taco stand that at some point had what looked like a greenhouse attached to it to provide some indoor seating. The restroom was in the back of this greenhouse. When I went in I discovered two things. First, the restroom was so tiny you could barely turn around in it to either use the toilet or the sink. And second, the bathroom wasn't air conditioned. Given the nature of the room and the temps, it made for an interesting aroma. I can only imagine it felt like a night in the box in Cool Hand Luke.
I walked out of the restroom dripping with sweat, which made the air conditioned eating area feel that much nicer. I ordered my food and took a seat and wolfed it down.
As I ate, I was watching this guy seated across the aisle from me. He was talking to the girl working at the restaurant. She couldn't have been more than 15 years old. He never said anything inappropriate, but the amount of attention he was giving her made me a little uneasy.
The girl disappeared back into the kitchen. Then the weird guy turned his attention to me. He started asking questions about where I was from and where I was going. I mentioned that I was heading west and my next stop would be in Lemmon, SD which was about 100 miles west. He told me all about an art studio in Lemmon that I absolutely needed to visit. I told him I would keep that in mind.
Then he offered to go along with me and show me the art studio. Ummm.... no.
It was time to hit the road and I wanted to get away from the weird guy, but I needed to re-apply my sunscreen. I did that as quickly as possible, then climbed on the bike. The weird guy also got in his car and pulled out. To my relief he headed east and I turned and went west.
On the west side of Mobridge is the Missouri River. Highway 12 crossed the river and then I was in the Standing Rock Reservation.
As expected, the already sparsely populated state got even more so. There really wasn't a whole lot to see out in this part of South Dakota, and that includes other motorists. Occasionally a car would go by in the opposite direction. The north western quarter of South Dakota is a very lonely area.
I came to the town of McLaughlin. I stopped and took a picture for three reasons. First, I had a friend who grew up in McLaughlin. Second, my son's middle school orchestra teacher had just accepted an administrative position in McLaughlin.
But the third (and most interesting) reason was because of all the controversy in the 1970s surrounding the McLaughlin Monster. As an eight year old boy I remember hearing about Bigfoot sightings in this area. It made the papers, and along with the Bigfoot mania that was sweeping the nation I found it fascinating. Having heard all about the town but never visited, I wanted to see it first hand.
Frankly it was a bit of a let down. I'm pretty sure Bigfoot didn't hang out around here. If Bigfoot existed there wasn't anywhere for him to hide in McLaughlin. I continued west on highway 12.
The next little town I went through was McIntosh. Coincidentally, I also had a friend from this town too.
Throughout this day at different times I had the wind coming from every single direction. Now the wind shifted around and started blowing from the north quite intensly. In fact a few times it felt like it was trying to lift me off the bike by my helmet. I saw another motorcycle coming in the opposite direction and it was leaned over at an angle fighting the cross wind. I assume I was doing the same thing. It was awful.
By the time I arrived in Lemmon I was ready for a break from the wind. I stopped at a gas station. The pumps were full, so rather than waiting I decided to go inside and relax for a few minutes first then I could gas up before I left. I went inside and bought a soda. They had a sitting area on one side of the convenience store. In the corner was a group of a half dozen older women having coffee. Behind me was another table with three guys sitting and talking. This must have been the social gathering location for the area. I relaxed in a chair.
As I enjoyed my beverage, I looked out the window and noticed that the lights of my bike were on. I had turned off the engine, but left the ignition switch on. I decided that Lemmon, SD is not where I wanted to deal with a dead battery (and I certainly didn't want to have a dead battery two motorcycle trips in a row) so I ran outside to turn off the switch. While I was outside I realized I'd left my cell phone sitting on the table inside with my drink. Odds were that everything would be fine in a tiny town like Lemmon, but just in case I hurried back in. Everything was fine.
Once I recovered a bit from the beating the wind had given me, I decided there was no choice but to face it again. I only had about 100 miles to go to Dickinson, so I might as well get it over with. I went outside and saw that now there was a gas pump open, so I moved the bike over and filled it up. There were another couple guys on bikes also filling their tanks at the same time.
Continuing west on highway 12, I only made it a few miles until I encountered more road construction. In this part of South Dakota there are no alternative roads on which they can detour traffic, so basically the road just stopped and turned into a dirt path. I slowed down and carefully rode through the loose soil where pavement once had been.
After a mile or two of dirt, the pavement returned and I came to a flag man stopping traffic. I pulled up and shut off the bike and got off. We were waiting for a pilot car and it looked like it would be a few minutes.
Shortly after I stopped, the two guys on motorcycles who were gassing up in Lemmon pulled up behind me. I turned around and struck up a conversation. They were from the Minneapolis area and were on their way to Idaho. Tonight's destination for them was Bowman, ND. They also agreed that the cross wind wasn't much fun at all.
A couple more minutes passed and the pilot car arrived. We followed it through a few more miles of loose dirt construction and then were back on our way down highway 12.
I noticed dark clouds were ahead of me and the temperature was dropping. The intense heat had broken and the temp had fallen at least 30 degrees in the last hour. It looked like there was a storm rolling in from the north. I really hoped that while I was still heading mostly west I could get past the storm before my route took me north to Dickinson.
It started to sprinkle a little. I considered stopping to put my rain gear on, but decided that I would wait. It still looked like I could skirt the worst of the weather.
When I hit the border I pulled over to snap a picture of the North Dakota sign. The two other bikers roared by. I let a couple cars pass until the road was clear and then pulled out. The temp was really feeling chilly now, but for some reason I felt compelled to push on and try to beat the storm rather than stop to put my rain gear on and then wind up being in the middle of it.
I passed through the town of Hettinger, ND. I saw the two bikers had pulled over to put their rain gear on. It was a steady mist now, but wasn't heavy enough to cause me to feel wet. I pressed on. It was a gamble as if the skies did finally decide to fully unleash I was going to get good and soaked before I had a chance to safely pull over and change my duds.
12 miles west of Hettinger I reached highway 22. Only 55 miles to go! I was heading straight into the wind, which was actually nicer than having it come at me sideways. The temp was still a little chilly but the best part was that I won the gamble with the weather. The storm was now to the east of me moving south, and ahead I could see sun poking through the clouds. Within a few miles the sprinkles stopped and there was no moisture falling for the rest of the way into Dickinson.
I came into Dickinson and rode through town. Having never been there before I was taking in the sights. I knew there was a college there (Dickinson State) and saw the signs pointing to where I would turn if that were my destination. The city has a population of about 18,000 so it wasn't a small town, but wasn't huge either.
My hotel was on the northern portion of the city right next to the I-94 interchange.
It was about 5:30 Dickinson time when I checked into my hotel. Not bad. Sometimes on my trips I arrive so much later in the evening that it's hard to have any time to unwind and relax before bed. The time change to Mountain Time helped by giving me an extra hour, but that was only a mental difference as my body was still on Central Time.
I got settled in my room and relaxed for a few minutes. I wasn't sure what I wanted for supper. There was a Japanese steakhouse across the street that looked good, but I think it was a little fancier than what I wanted for that evening. Plus I probably would have felt odd sitting alone while the chef cooks my meal at the table. I also didn't want to go anywhere where I might feel out of place in a bug crusted t-shirt and jeans that have just traveled 500 miles on a motorcycle.
I looked online and found a Chinese buffet about a half mile away that had adequate reviews. Not as ritzy as a Japanese steakhouse, but I figured it was close enough. At least they featured a Hibachi grill so I could have some food cooked in front of me if I had the notion.
I rode over to the King Buffet, which turned out to be sitting in the middle of a strip mall.
The buffet was a little smaller than what it appeared to be on Google. Still, there was plenty there for me to eat. Unfortunately, when I arrived I saw a sign that said "Hibachi grill available every night but Monday." Of course, this was a Monday. Oh well.
I ate lots of Chinese food (or at least Americanized versions of what we think residents of China eat) and read my book. The young waiter spoke little English, but was very nice and earned a generous tip.
After I was done eating I stopped at a gas station right next to the mall and topped off the tank, then went back to the hotel.
I called my wife and got the news of the day. She didn't know the outcome of Tundra Boy's golf tournament, and he was holding to a strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy. So I looked it up online. He had a blow-up round and scored 14 strokes more than his average. Ouch.
I had brought my swimsuit and thought about going down to the pool, but my body being an hour ahead of the time started to catch up with me. I wound up just watching some baseball on TV and then turning out the light for the night at a reasonable hour.
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This page last updated on 09/11/2018