So, we’re across the 45th parallel – back in the USA.

Once in the “contiguous USA” our plans were some what sketchy.  We had three months and knew we wanted to leave going into Mexico travelling down the Baja peninsula.  We had the big three National Parks earmarked, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon and Death Valley plus the HWY 89, recommended by National Geographical magazine and Dave in Edmonton, highlighted on the map.  Dave and my cousin Debbie had both suggested things to see but somehow we hadn’t digested that into a formulated plan of what to do and see enroute.

Hwy 89 took us straight into Montana’s Glacier Park.  The scenic park road, Going to the Sun, took off westwards to a height of 2026m and seriously down the other side on mountain twisty roads.  We were in a line of traffic doing the tourism trail but that didn’t seem to matter as everyone was progressing slowly admiring the fabulous views of mountains overlapping mountains – great recessions disappearing into the distance, stopping to take the must have photos at the named features.  Fortunately we did too as the return route was marred by rain.  It started out as drizzle that was supposed to stop by lunch time and indeed it did.  However as the afternoon progressed so did the returning rain.  Slight droplets to start with but slowly gaining in intensity without us seeming to notice. I hadn’t taken my normal rain precautions.  Eventually it pissed down!  By then it felt too late to fuss about the rain, we focused on finishing the trip.  Once back at the start we cowered in the lodge drinking cups of tea. Umming and erring about our options we finally caved in and booked a room.

The following day my GoPro video camera, mounted on my handlebar, with the USB lead sticking out, was sick.  It was sodden.  Apart from visible water in the battery compartment it became evident that there was condensation inside the screen.  Gutted at my stupidity we set about trying to rescue it from what seemed like its inevitable journey into the bin. A day on the bike with the battery door open revived it. Don’t know how I got away with that one!

Gid decided he wanted to go and see the site of Custer’s last stand. Now it’s got a more sensitive or politically correct rename, after the location in which it took place, Little Big Horn.  We trundled along enjoying the undulating scenery and nodding donkeys, noticing also the considerable lack of campsites.  We spotted a small camping sign in the middle of nowhere some way before a lonely bar and u-turned to go back and check it out.   Thankfully there were a couple of people out the back.  One was the owner. Yes, we could camp.  Even better we could kip in the chalet that was still being fitted out. 

Eddie, the new owner of the Horse Thief Bar, was very pleased to put us up and spent the next hour or two telling us how he ‘d just got back from Sturgis with a new machine: a rather wonderful looking sage green & cream Indian motorbike complete with leather paniers and dangling tassels that he caressed. 

Eddie was horrified to think that we were going to Little Big Horn and not Sturgis.  After all, Sturgis is an internationally acclaimed bike rally that was on this week – just another few hundred miles down the road!!   We would love it he was telling us.  The town comes to a standstill because of all the motorbikes!

Sturgis it is then.  I’d read about it back in the UK but considered it too far east.  Another 440mi to be precise.  A twelve hour day later we arrived in the dark after a long hard flog into headwinds.  But at least we’d identified a campsite in advance and could ride straight in.

Hog Heaven, a temporary campground was one of eight that encompassed the small town of Sturgis, South Dakota. It was $80/night, but well organised, spacious, and not at all squalid as English festival campsites notoriously are.

Sturgis, the bike rally, attacks hundreds of thousands of bikers every year for the one week long event.  Now aging and many trailing their bikes to the event the numbers are starting to drop off.  Some of the roads in the town were closed for bikers use only and the town was packed with tents and displays of biker kit and paraphernalia, not to mention plenty of opportunity to test ride and buy bikes – Harleys and Indians being the key brands.  Live music was playing all day in the town and at our campsite every evening creating a real party atmosphere.  A programme of events included: best beard and moustache, Jack Daniels tasting and BBQ, show us your boobs, although many didn’t need to enter any competition to tick that box.  Scanty was the ‘clothing’ of some of the ladies about town.

The event is popular not only for the entertainment in Sturgis but also for the fabulous roads in the SD Black Hills, which offer half a dozen of the best bikers routes we’ve experienced in the US in one relatively small area.  Roads like The Black Hills & Bad Lands, Devils tower, and Needles HWY are all comfortable day trips that attract bikers year on year for the multiple hairpins and twisties.  Iron Mountain road is another favourite with it’s multiple twisties and natural narrow tunnels.  One such tunnel had flaggers at each end because of it’s length and narrowness.  It was quite something to emerge into the path of at least fifty bikers waiting to go through.  All behind the flag man.  Mt Rushmore was another popular site to visit. 

The buzz lasted beyond the event itself but after four days we were ready to move on still discussing the amusement of this or that.  On a more sobering note we arrived back at Little Big Horn for a history lesson on the disposable nature of treaties and how the needs of Native Americans have been frequently marginalise for the benefit of the White Settlers.  It’s been easy to see where the Indian reservations are as we ride along because there is an air of greater poverty and run downness.  Plus a few stray dogs – well, maybe “stray” is the anglo-centric view, perhaps they’re communal as in many Muslim countries.

Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming was next.  A truly stunning place!  We approached from the north riding the spectacular Beartooth pass, wondering how even a National Park was going to trump this.

It did!  Panoramic views of pastures with bison was the first wow point.  Towering cliffs with mountain goats was a close second as was the mummy grizzly with two cubs.  The latter both in the distance but still fantastic to see.  From there the list continued to grow with birds of prey, elk, deer, coyote but the most impressive things were the geysers, blow holes and steaming sulphur pools. 

Yellowstone is one of the biggest geothermal & hydrothermal areas in the world.  It is still an active volcano!  Old Faithful is a geyser that has been closely monitored for decades to explain exactly what is taking place for it to blow every 90 mins-ish.  Because the earth’s magma is only 5-7 kilometres below the ground in this area it heats the land and precipitation significantly.  Rain water and snow-melt that seep into the land down cracks etc heats up very quickly.  In the blow hole of Old Faithful there is a constriction near the top causing a greater amount of pressure as the rising hot water gets trapped.  It finally explodes upwards with great force causing the geyser.  The temperature at ground level when the ‘explosion’ takes place can exceed that of boiling water.

Another key feature is the Grand Prismatic Spring which has rainbow colours that look straight out of photoshop.  It is caused by bacteria and other microorganisms that can withstand the extremely high temperatures.  As the water moves away from the central point it cools and different microbes can grow and concentrate causing different colours the further away from the central point.  Another wow moment!

An alert reader may have spotted that our Route 89 plan was taking us through the third vertical column of states: Montana, Wyoming, Utah and finally Arizona. There were odd side trips and corners cut – Sturgis is in South Dakota, and somehow we were in Idaho for a bit. Gradually ticking off the Must See Sites, Yellowstone segued into Grand Teton National Park (nearly as interesting and much less crowded) then we passed through Utah, which was stunning rock, rock, rock, but not so prominently named until we dropped into Monument Valley, on the Utah/Arizona border.

To get into Monument Valley, we were out of the almost continuous named National Forests into an area of desert.  The transition from one to the other had us riding along roads with sparsely spaced mainly fir trees through rocky canyons until the trees disappeared altogether and the vista was thinly spread scraggy shrubs and sand.  Gradually the shrubs disappeared too.  During this time the wind increased significantly until we were both squealing through the intercom about the severe cross wind and sand storm streaming across the road. We were not quite horizontal but getting there!  A large transporter overtook us causing the usual draught where we pinged away from the vehicle as the wind was blocked and true to form as it passed we got sucked into it’s wake but were very promptly spat out as the strong side wind caught us again.

This took place against a back drop of dark ominous clouds ahead of us to the left and right.  Lightning jaggedly illuminating them sporadically.  Our focus was fixed firmly on the small spot of blue sky and white clouds directly ahead separating the two.  If only we could get there before being engulfed in the pending storms to its sides.  What do you expect, a trucker at a gas station had told us.  ‘This is the start of the monsoon season!’  Certainly our focus has moved on from mosquitoes and is now firmly on how to cope with the 38+ degree temperatures that lead into the rain storms where the temperatures drop to 14 degrees within minutes.

But these stormy conditions usually didn’t last long. Seeking shade was more common.