Cross-country to Rhinebeck, N.Y.
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I-84 is much better on a Saturday morning. The road parallels the Columbia River and the scenery changes drastically the further east I drive. Shortly, I'm out of the lush vegetation of the coast and into brown grass hills with few trees. In Unatilla I head northeast toward Spokane through prairie. It never ceases to amaze me that western and eastern Washington/Oregon are so different from one another. |
| In Idaho, along I-90, the mountains start to reappear, but where are all the potatoes? I thought I saw some lying alongside the road, but those were apples of the asphalt variety. After Alaska, Canada, and Washington I must be getting calloused. The scenery is great, but great is such a subjective word now. Compared to Alaska, it's just ok. Upon entering Montana from the west I see that 75 mph is a reasonable speed to be traveling through the passes. The median is rather small and there's no guardrail separating the two lanes. I don't want to meet my westbound neighbors in this manner. Later on though, I'd like to open it up. |  |
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Montana is growing on me and the "big sky" label is an gross understatement. A man could be happy under that sky, tucked away in a valley or one of the small towns. The area around Butte is just beautiful. There, I had to say it. Now, if we could do something about that winter business, I'd move in a heartbeat. |
| The sun is casting its long shadows and my riding partner is back. He shows up in early morning and evenings and is only with me on sunny days. Being a fair weather rider he doesn't do cloudy days. Other than that, he's the perfect companion, stops when I want to, rides the speed I want to for as long as I want. I'll let him lead for now. We stop for the night in Billings. |  |
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In the morning, my side is killing me and I'm tempted to stay in bed for the day. With all the riding lately, it hasn't had a chance to heal, but I force myself to get up and head out. Before I know it, I'm crossing into Wyoming passing by the scene of Custer's debacle. If you've never heard Bill Cosby's rendition of the event, it's something you've got to hear. He puts it in terms of a coin toss that Custer loses. As a result, he has to stand at the bottom of the hill while all the Indians in the world ride down on him. |
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| One of the reasons I choose I-90 was to stop at Devil's Tower. It's been a long time since I've been here, to the extent that I don't remember the area at all. Hwy. 14 is torn up, but I feel right at home in the dirt and gravel. Let's give these wire rims a workout. I watch the signs warn me of the approach of Devil's tower and expect to see it over each hill. Where the heck is it. When it finally appears the tower is not as tall as I remember it. Nevertheless, it is still very eerie. The tower itself is somewhat tolerable, but the surrounding hills are just too close and the whole scene doesn't make sense. That's the beauty of the place. Subscribe to whatever explanation you'd like, core of a volcano, alien landing site, but it's one of those places you tuck away in your head to pull out and question regularly. It was a place of mysticism for the Native Americans. |
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From one bizarre place to another, I find myself eating lunch in Sturgis. I've never had any desire to come here when the bikes are here. I see enough bike trailers in Daytona during Bike Week thank you. Today, there are less than a dozen bikes in town. If you stop in Sturgis, it's the law that you stop at Wall Drug also. At least you'll get free ice water at Wall Drug. The town reminds me of a modern day Tombstone, AZ and quickly discover that a ride through town is about all I need to get my fill of the place. |
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In Rapid City I shave 10 years off my life. As I crest a rise in the freeway there are bales of hay scattered along the whole width of the road. I grab a hand full of brakes and realize that this won't be enough even though the ABS is clicking loudly at this point. There's no place to go and stopping just isn't all that good of an option anyway. Instead of hitting hay bales, the next driver would be hitting me. I pick the smallest bale and hold on. Whew, it had been loosened up enough where I went right through it. The guy with the camper in the lane next to me wasn't so lucky. He jackknifed his rig as he went through. About a quarter of a mile down the road was the guy who dropped the load. His loading pattern indicated that he just didn't care about other people's safety, but just about saving himself some time. I made sure that I got his license, gave him a huge piece of my mind, and headed off to look for a cop. Two miles down the road there was a nasty accident in a construction zone and cops were easy to find. I gave one of them the information and told him about the accident. That seemed to lower my heart rate somewhat.
| Having been to Mt. Rushmore before, I passed by on this trip. South Dakota is dotted with Indian Reservations and I-90 misses them all. Mitchell, SD does have the Corn Palace which is worth a stop. Every time I come by it is undergoing renovation. This would have to be a continuous process due to the instability of the decorating material. I'm always impressed with the creative uses of corn in adorning the front of this building. Well, I'm going to cross into Minnesota and call it a night. |
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Today should be an easy day. I'm just going to reach Erie, PA and call it quits. I hadn't planned on all the construction around Madison, WI and ended up using the GPS to route me along some back roads. As I started to approach O'Hara Airport in Chicago, traffic is becoming very thick and slow. In my infinite wisdom I elect to take the beltway around town into Indiana. Hah! I could of used those brain cells I wasted while yelling at that guy in South Dakota. Almost the entire beltway is undergoing construction and is down to two lanes. Fortunately, the toll booths are working which means two open lanes go to 8 toll lanes and immediately down to one or two lanes again. Whose bright idea was this? First gear is getting a workout and I'm losing time. I've got to get off the tollway as the bike is getting hot again.
After what seems like I've experienced purgatory stuck in traffic, Indiana never looked so good. The great part about the state is that it's thin and doesn't take long to get through. Here comes Ohio and I'm back in the state of my youth. I haven't been through the northern part of the state and my home turf since I moved to Florida 11 years ago. Cleveland absolutely blows my mind. It doesn't look much like the city I remember and I'm glad that I'm not being burdened by all the taxes caused by the 3 new sports venues. The city does look good and memories coming flowing back to me.
It doesn't take long to get to Pennsylvania and I don't need a sign at the border to tell me that I've crossed into the state. The road still shakes my fillings loose. Fortunately, my motel room is only a few feet from the freeway and I feel like semis are driving past my bed all night.
In the morning I cross into New York and leave I-90 for Hwy. 17. The last time I was on this road it was mostly 2 lanes. Now there are signs reminding me that it will be a freeway shortly. It's a pleasant ride through the hills of southern NY state. The closer I get to the east cost, the heavier the traffic gets. The neat part of the whole trip from the west coast is that the GPS is doing the job for me. I'm not quite sure where the BMW Motorcycle Owner's Association Rally site is, but do know it's in Rhinebeck. Finding the site is a piece of cake.