To The (Near) Tropics!

I know, I know, it's been too long since my last post... I've been bad about keeping you updated! I'll just start where I left off - leaving NYC.
From New York I went straight to Philadelphia to visit an old friend of mine from lovely San Francisco (not that she's old), Barbara Quigley. She put up with me for several days and even acted as my own personal tour guide (isn't it wonderful having connections?!?). Philly was a rush, we were always running around checking things out. Barbara is one of those people that knows everything about everything around her, and can get you from Point A to Point B quickly and without any problems. I just followed along with my thumb in my mouth, wide eyes wandering with the blank expression of cluelessness. The good thing is, Barbara made sure I never wandered off; I can't imagine what would have happened if I'd gotten lost in the City of Brotherly Love (I wasn't convinced that all the people on the street harbored "brotherly love" toward me). We walked up the "Rocky Steps" in front of the Philadelphia Art Museum and had to do the touristy thing - a picture with our fists in the air. We visited the Franklin Institute and nerded out at all the awesome science exhibits. And OOh, OOH! I saw the Liberty Bell! I wanted to ring it, but the man in the spiffy uniform wouldn't let me...

Art Museum

ROCKY POSE!

I wanted to ring the bell...

There's nothing cooler than Giant Ben Franklin



 

Philadelphia Phun Time had to come to an end, and once again I was off, this time to the west to reach the Shenandoah Valley. I figured, if John Denver sang about the Shenandoah River, the valley should be worth seeing, right? RIGHT! In fact, this part of the state was more beautiful than I had ever anticipated. By the time I'd ridden the 105 miles of Skyline Drive on the Blue Ridge Mountains, and subsequently the 469 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway, I decided that, if I were to live anywhere east of the Mississippi, this is where I'd be. Denver wasn't kidding around.

 

View from Skyline Drive in Shenandoah Park



Preparing breakfast just off the Blue Ridge Parkway

I have a problem, you see: when the road is fun and beautiful, I find it hard to make myself stop for a break; I just want to keep going and see what's around the next bend. When the road is dull and boring, I find it hard to make myself stop for a break; I just want to keep going and get it over with. In the case of the Blue Ridge Mountains, I wish I had stopped more often just to enjoy the 

OOooOOhh I LOVE the fog! Except when I'm riding...

scenery. I rode the 574 miles that is Skyline Parkway + Blue Ridge Parkway in just two days; I should've spent three, but hey, you live and learn, right? In any case, I saw more beauty in that two days than one sees in much of the country.


Mabry Mill on the Blue Ridge




Blue Ridge Parkway

It was on the Blue Ridge Parkway that I met a gentleman who greatly influenced my experiences over the next several weeks. Mr. Larry Correll, of Venice, Florida, rides his motorcycle up to the Blue Ridge Parkway every once in a while just to enjoy a cigar or two. I had pulled off the road to buy a banana from a little general store - I was craving fruit, as I'd been dining on sardines and oatmeal - and Larry approached me while I feasted on the still-too-green-and-bitter banana. I thought this would be the typical "Where are you from? Where are you going? You've been away from home since June? Wow! I wish I could do that!" conversation. I was quickly proven wrong. In fact, a couple minutes with Larry made me wishing I was him! Larry has ridden in every state, as well as through all of Canada. He's ridden through Mexico and Central America as far as Panama, and has ridden in much of Europe, Australia, and some of Asia. He's ridden across the U.S. nine times and makes an annual trip up to and through Alaska. Larry has put over a million miles on motorcycles. And he's a really nice guy. After just a few minutes of talking (and after he chastised me for not having enough stickers on my bike - I've gotten more since you saw me, Larry!) he invited me to pay him and his wife a visit down in Florida, since I'd be going that way anyway. He also insisted I visit the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge near Deal's Gap, since I'd be going down that way to ride the Tail of the Dragon. Larry even called the owner to make sure there were still tent spaces available (Clearly Larry is a well-connected individual. Remember what I said about having connections?). I did in fact end up at the Iron Horse. Let it be known that, so far, the Iron Horse is the only place I've had to pay mulah to sleep at night! My goal was to go the entire trip that way, but I just had to check out the Iron Horse. I had a spaghetti dinner and sat around a bonfire with a bunch of other motorcyclists, chatting and watching the flames for a long while before turning in.


I survived the Tail of the Dragon

The next morning began a day I had long awaited - I was going to ride the Tail of the Dragon, legendary for its 318 curves in 11 miles of asphalt. Motorcyclists arrive from all around the country just to ride this thing. What a rush! I think I counted the first four or five curves before giving up. One does wonder, after riding up the TAIL of the dragon, does one then reach the buttox of the dragon? I saw nothing of the sort, though there is a beautiful lake and afterward a stretch of parkway bordering the Great Smokies. Riding up into Tennessee, I entered the National Park and lazily wandered along the windy roads through canyons and along streams in the Smokies. These mountains are a gem, a stunning display of forests and peaks and mist. I had a wonderful lunch of sardines and crackers (again... yummy...) at the pass, which also delineates the border between North Carolina and Tennessee, and over which the Appalacian Trail runs.

The Great Smoky Mountains

From the Smokies I rode down into the northeastern finger of Georgia and found a nice wooded turnout next to a country highway along a large creek to pitch camp. To make things even better, I had ridden through a mild thunder shower, and by the time I set up camp the rain had stopped and a thick mist filled the air. I took a much-needed bath in the creek and went for a long walk down that country road before turning in for the night.

My destiny...?

I had planned on CouchSurfing in eastern Florida while working my way down to Key West (Corner #3!). When I got a hold of my host, however, they informed me that the Hurricne Isaac was coming through, and they weren't sure how much of an impact the rain would have on the first-floor apartment. So, I made a detour to Columbus, GA, where Mom's cousin Mike and his family live - the Henleys! I arrived after giving them a three-hour notice. Fortunately they were graceful enough to welcome me with open arms and even FEED me. Well, I liked that so much, I decided to stay a few days and relax. It had nothing to do with wanting to visit them or anything like that. Okay, maybe a little bit. Besides, Phillip has an Australian sugar glider, which was really fun to play with!

Phillip's Sugar Glider

The day finally came to leave Columbus, so I did... for an hour or two, then I came back. I had discovered that I'd left my cell phone at the Henleys'. By the time I returned to the house, it was too late to leave again, so I stuck around one more night. THEN I left Columbus and rode south! It was a LOOOOONG ride down into and through Florida. And hot. And humid. But wait, Larry lives in Venice, 470 miles away. A day of riding and two sore butt cheeks later, I dismounted my bike in front of a beautiful home next to the Gulf of Mexico, face numb and hands shaking from vibration. I managed to crawl up the steps to the front door despite the fact that the muscles in my legs had atrophied and my arms felt like over-cooked noodles. Penny, Larry's wonderful bride, answered the door and, with a sweet smile, asked the Golden Question every traveler dreams of:
"Would you like something to drink?"
I believe I rehydrated myself with three bottles of beer and two glasses of wine before Larry and Penny took me out for pizza and another two glasses of wine. I cannot, CANNOT emphasize enough how generous people have been to me throughout the course of my trip. After dinner Larry and I enjoyed cigars on the back deck of their home, overlooking the inlet from the Gulf. The next mornig I joined Larry and a group of people for yoga on the beach, and afterward Larry and I rode our motorcycles to a little town called La Belle (about 95 miles from his home) for lunch (which Larry bought for me). We made plans for me to return on my way back north, and after lunch he sent me on my way. Several hours later (and another sore pair of butt cheeks) I made it to Everglades National Park. I paid a visit to the Visitor's Center and then rode into the bowels of the Everglades - just as a rainstorm hit. Well, this was the perfect opportunity for a shower! I found a small building with an overhang, parked the bike there, stripped down to my shorts and stood in the downpour, scrubbing and washing away all the sweat and grime that a day of riding in Florida can provide. When you travel like this, you have to take what you can get. I spent the evening riding down to the terminus of the main road that goes throug the park, down to the southwestern edge of mainland Florida. There was a thunderstorm brewing to the west, and I got off the bike to enjoy the show. In just a few seconds, I realized my mistake: clouds of mosquitoes surrounded me. I had taken my gloves off to relieve myself, and in the time it takes one to go pee I had been the generous host of dozens of mosquitoes dining on my hands. They filled my helmet, and in the course of breathing I had inhaled one that stuck in the back of my throat (it came up later while I was riding away). A ranger had told me the mosquitos were the worst down at the southwestern end (called Flamingo), so I headed back toward the northeastern side of the park to camp. In the morning I was up early for some sunrise sightseeing, and later in the morning I attended a ranger-led tour to see some wildlife, including lots of alligators. Then it was off to Key West!


Smallest Post Office in the United States. Really!



Everglades in the afternoon...



...and everglades in the morning.

The lowest "pass" I've ever ridden through



?



Apparently they pick at the rubber weather stripping on vehicles.

Alligator!

Key West is an interesting place. Not quite American, and not quite... NOT. My CouchSurfing host, Bill, informed me that Key West, along with a few of the other keys, had in fact legally seceded from the Union years ago and named themselves the Conch Republic. And they've never officially been readmitted back INTO the Union. Huh. Well, as long as my cash works here, I guess I'm okay. I spent a day and a half in Key West, exploring up and down Duval Street. I swam on the Atlantic side of the island, and I swam on the Gulf side of the island. I had a mojito (the worst mojito of my life) at an open-air bar overlooking the Gulf. I drank rum and smoked cigarillos with Bill on his front porch. And, I visited the "southernmost point," as well as Mile Marker Zero for US Route 1. It was a unique experience, but I had the bug and couldn't wait to hit the road again.

 

Looking due west from Key West

Big Storms, Big Apples, and Big Buildings

Easternmost point in the U.S

There's not a whole lot to see in northern Maine besides trees and lakes. It's really pretty up there, though! I did make it up to the northeastern-most point of the U.S., the town of Madawaska. The whole way up I'd been looking forward to sitting down in some little cafe with a cup of tea while pondering over something. Yes, I was determined to sit and enjoy my success at reaching this far end of the American Empire! Upon arrival, I found gas stations, lots of small houses, and road work. I walked into the public library and had the following conversation with the woman behind the counter:
"Is there anywhere in town I can find a cafe?"
Mouth agape, blank stare.
"You know, somewhere I can get a cup of coffee or tea?"
"There's a McDonald's down the street by the gas station..."
Great.
I settled for an iced coffee in a bottle from the gas station down the road and then found a passerby to take my picture in the "Most NorthEastern Town in the United States" (so says the sign, see?). Not an hour after I had arrived, I left to ride Route 1 south down to a little town called East Machias. I had started the day in western Maine; by the time I had reached East Machias, I had done over 500 miles since breakfast. With a sore butt and blisters on my throttle hand, I reached my host's house - a published writer and fisherman named Paul - and set up camp in his greenhouse. Paul is a fantastic fellow who has traveled extensively through foreign countries, both by himself as well as with his wife and two kids. If any of you think you don't have the time or resources to go places, you're wrong. Paul is a real-life example of what you can do and where you can go regardless of lifestyle, and an inspiration to me in my travels.
I stayed at Paul's place for two nights, spending a day in Lubec and Campobello (Canada), where Franklin D. Roosevelt had a family cottage that is now part of an International Park. On the morning of August 5 I said my goodbyes to Paul and his kids, and left to explore the great land of Acadia National Park!

F.D.R.'s cottage on Campobello

Awesome building in Acadia. That garage would be perfect for the bike...

Lovely Acadia

Reconstruction of The Friendship of Salem

At the end of a long day of exploring the gorgeous seaside park of Acadia I arrived in Belfast, Maine, where I was to stay with a wonderful couple, Mike and Ellie, who lived in a gorgeous home built in the 1870's. They invited me to stay for as long as I want (this seems to be a common thing among good people) and even took me out for a little driving tour of the town. They took me out to dinner TWICE, once with their friends where I had a really good sandwich, and once by ourselves (actually, Mike wasn't there because he had to work) so I could try a Maine lobster and Maine blueberry pie before I left the state. I didn't argue with that and accepted their generosity with a glad heart and an even 'gladder' palate.

The Great Plymouth Rock

Of course, I HAD to go to Salem, Massachusetts, so there I stayed for a couple days with a wonderful woman named Barbara. Barbara knows everything about everything in the towns and cities surrounding her, so once again I had my own tour guide to point out things I never would have discovered. I spent one day wandering around downtown Salem - there is a lovely memorial to all the victims of the witch trials - and one day down in Boston. While in Boston I met up with the long-lost Theresa Vela, known to me from Berkeley! Theresa is another one of those people who knows everything about everything around her. After getting together with her wife and their two friends at a pub to drink Sam Adams beer and watch the women's USA soccer team dominate, we went for a walking tour of old Boston, where I saw Faneuil Hall (birthplace of the Revolution); the graves of Sam Adams, Ben Franklin, and John Hancock; and the site of the Boston Massacre. I also had a beer in one of the oldest taverns in Boston, The Green Dragon, where Paul Revere and John Hancock are known to have often enjoyed a few drinks!
Another night in Salem and then off to Plymouth to see Plymouth Rock. I was told not to expect anything exciting (which I wasn't; I just wanted to see the rock). Indeed, it is just a rock, or a small boulder. As it was a hot and humid day and I was perspiring profusely in Plymouth, I decided to move on after about 45 minutes and continue down the coast toward Rhode Island. I met up with a fellow BMW rider named Bill and his wife Nancy, a wonderful friendly couple who own a bed & breakfast in Newport. Bill and Nancy allowed me to sit on their front porch and wait out the heaviest rain they'd had all year - thank God I arrived minutes before the shower began! Once the thunder and showers ceased, I headed over to my host's place, just a couple miles away. Erica is a super-fun and generous host who took the time to show me around Newport and Providence (I arrived just in time for a big block party in Providence called Foo Fest, with lots of local bands and artists; so much fun!).
From Newport it was off to Charlestown for a night, where a BMW rider named Rex and his wife let me camp in their yard for a night. Yet another pair of awesome, generous people. Rex took me out for a big breakfast and saw me off. That evening I made it to New York City, where I stayed with my - get this - First Cousin Once Removed! Yep, Dad's cousin Lynn is a fantastic, fun, energetic woman who appreciates life and sees beauty in everything around her. The evening I arrived she took me out for Polish food to celebrate our ancestor's immigration to New York from Poland. I ended up spending a week taking a big bite out of the Big Apple, exploring Manhattan as much as I could. My feet were so, SO sore after my first few days there! I could write pages on what I did and saw in NYC, but I'll keep it short and sweet for now. Ah, how about a bullet point list?

• American Museum of Natural History - My favorite attraction here. I simply could not leave the museum, even though my feet were screaming for a break and my stomach was whining for food. I did leave to buy a pretzel and then returned for more exploring.
• Metropolitan Museum of Art - Second in line of my favorite exhibits, the Met is filled with artifacts from around the world. I saw ancient Egyptian tombs and Samurai armor, old American furniture and ancient Eastern textiles. One could easily spend a week here and not see everything.
• Museum of Modern Art - Some beautiful works of art here, though modern art isn't exactly my cup of tea...
• Guggenheim Museum - Filled with contemporary art, I really couldn't appreciate this one, though I'm glad I can say I've been here.
• 9/11 Memorial - A beautiful tribute and memorial to the heroes and victims of 9/11.
• Empire State Building - Iconic, though the lines were horrendous. Great views from the top, though.
• Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island - What more can I say? Pretty cool to see this stuff close-up instead of in textbook photos.
• One Broadway play and one off-Broadway play - both wonderful! We saw Newsical (a comedy that succeeded in insulting everybody in the room), and Spider Man (a fantastic, original display of theatrical genius).



The new World Trade Center under construction

• Lots of wandering around, checking out Central Park and Times Square and trying to weave through the thick walls of human bodies that fill the streets.

 Well, that's it for now, more to come later!

Of Maple Syrup and Deerflies

Good times in DL!

The trail at Voyageurs

My bath

Leaving Detroit Lakes was difficult, but all good things must come to and end, and lo and behold, new adventures always await around the next bend. From DL (that's local lingo for Detroit Lakes) I rode north, north, north, reaching Voyageurs National Park by late afternoon.
After such a long, hot, humid day, the ripe odor emanating from my person told me I warranted a bath. As luck would have it, Voyageurs is mostly lakes, with lots of little islands. I took a leisurely bath and splashed around a bit like an excited puppy, then got back to business and found a decent site to camp just a few miles outside of the park. Once I was settled in I took a leisurely little walk around my new home. The locals were very excited to make my acquaintance but were a bit too clingy for my taste. In fact, they tried to bite me, which I suppose is what ticks are meant to do. After removing a few from my pajamas I decided it would be best that we never saw each other again and so proceeded to hide away in the tent for the rest of the evening. The next day saw me on the Kab-Ash hiking trail, where the biting flies are incredibly irritating. Throughout my three-hour hike, not once was I left alone, and my shoulders afterward displayed many little red bumps. There was an upside, though - I was the sole hiker among several large patches of blueberries! Any onlooker would have thought me slightly insane (and I was, as the flies were maddening) as I excitedly picked handfuls of blueberries, grunting and grinning with delight as I stuffed my face with the tasty little fruits. I did eventually make it to the highway, and proceeded to walk several miles on the asphalt while trying to catch a ride back to the park. Nobody picked me up until I was about a mile away from where I'd parked; two jovial park rangers, Bill and Bill, were more than happy to give me a ride. Another bath in the lake, and off I went to Duluth, several hours south and right next to Lake Superior. In Duluth I stayed with Jim and Monte (that's MON-tee). Jim is a friendly, talkative, tall gentleman who builds beautiful houses and boats. Monte is black and furry and loves to chase the ball. The matriarch of the abode was on vacation and I didn't get the chance to meet her, although this provided for an atmosphere of manly talk and BS. Jim and Monte treated me well, keeping me on a diet of beer and fish and other wonderful goodies. I spent a full day in Duluth, hiking in Gooseberry Falls State Park to the north and exploring the actual city. On the 25th I left for Michigan, traveling through northern Wisconsin (where I stopped at a meadery for a mead tasting and to pick up a bottle to keep me company on those lonely camping nights) and into the upper peninsula (that's The U.P. in local lingo), where a lonely night of camping was indeed in order. The next day saw me cross the Mackinac Bridge into The L.P (you can guess what that stands for) and ride a looooooong haul south into Detroit. Lots of people in Detroit. Lots. I stayed in an apartment there with a couple people after meeting them for pizza and beer for dinner at Buddy's Pizza - incredibly good and apparently famous. After a good night's sleep I was off to the BMW dealership to pick up my new tires, which I so economically put on myself in the shop parking lot. The mechanic, Don, was incredibly helpful, and gave me several tips and tricks for changing tires. He even gave me a gift certificate to a nearby restaurant so I could eat lunch while he balanced the wheels! I spent the entire afternoon lounging in the showroom, reading magazines and looking at the bikes. There were no customers there, and the guys working had nothing to do, so we sat down and drank coffee and watched a movie about a group of motorcyclists that travel around the world. Yes, it was a great day. My Detroit host later took me on a driving tour of the city, and the day after I moved on to Erie, Pennsylvania.

Ship going under lift bridge in Duluth

Erie is an awesome town and the family I stayed with made it even more awesome! The day I arrived, they took me to the festival at Presque Isle, and we swam in Lake Erie and ate lots of kettle corn (well, I ate lots of kettle corn). Swimming in the Great Lakes is incredible. Looking out over the water, you'd swear it's the ocean. Then you get in the water, and behold! it isn't salty! A BBQ dinner back home, a quick trip to go ride the local roller coaster, and a late-night movie finished out the evening. I decided to spend one more day in Erie, this time with another host who had been willing to take me in, and so I got to spend a second day at the festival and more time relaxing. It's important to take a vacation from vacation every once in a while...

The White Winter Winery ("Meadery") where mead is made!

You gotta love Erie locals. Note the California flag, flown in my honor.

From Erie I rode up into New York, following the lake shore the whole way and taking in the view. Stopping in the city of Niagara Falls, I saw the falls known as Niagara Falls (it gets a bit confusing) and then moved on, going northeast along Lake Ontario. That night I stayed in Rochester (another CouchSurfing gig) and then moved up to the iconic Adirondack State Park. They say the Adirondacks are beautiful. They are right. What they don't tell you is how many deer flies (these, I learned, are the infamous biting flies I've referred to) and mosquitoes there are, although I suppose one should just assume they're there. I'm becoming convinced that the most
beautiful places are also the most uncomfortable places - at least in the United States, not including California. I was able to pitch camp in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods near a lake. Of course, the whole while I set up the tent, the flies and mosquitoes kept me company. I've learned to keep my clothes and helmet on while doing this. I took a short hike through the forest to the lake and took my lake bath and did a bit of exploring, then it was back to the tent, where I holed up and took shelter from the bugs. Within an hour I heard some strange cooing/hooting noises, and to my great delight I saw that a family of barred owls had come to keep me company. As I had not put the rain fly up over my net tent, I got to look up at the owls (who, in turn, looked right down at me) and watch them fly back and forth, keeping me in sight and trying to figure out what on earth this funny dome was doing in their forest. They eventually left, and then I heard rumblings. "Must be a jet," I said. More rumblings. "Maybe a jet breaking the sound barrier!" I said. "Or is that distant thunder?" More rumblings. "Hmm," I said. "Must be thunder. It's still light out here, so I'm sure it's far off." More rumblings. "Maybe," I said, "it's not all that far off..." I decided it would be a good idea to walk out to the road and look out in the direction of these rumblings. As soon as I looked to the west, my hear began pounding - right in front of me was a massive wall of storm clouds. Adrenaline-pumped, I worked as fast as I could to put up the rain fly and jump back into the tent. Not five minutes later, the wind began howling through the woods and a downpour arrived. Ah, but of course! The nice little clearing I had found was in fact a drainage to the lake! Well, there's nothing for it but to wait out the storm and see what the morning brings. Fortunately it didn't rain enough to flood me out, and I was able to enjoy a full night's sleep.
A misty morning in the Adirondacks is a morning every person should experience; I will say no more. Soon the mist burned off, and the riding was lovely. There's not a whole lot more to say about it, except that the scenery is beautiful. I came out the east side of the park at Ticonderoga and took the ferry across Lake Champlain. Here I met two other guys riding BMW motorcycles, and one of them led me to Montpelier via the super-fun Highway 17, which goes up and down over a small mountain range and is full of twists and turns. Hitting US Route 2, I continued east and, needing a place to stay, made use of the awesome BMW Owners Anonymous Book. I called up a gentleman by the name of Angelo, of Danville, Vermont. He and his wife Virginia took great care of me, feeding me a home-cooked fish dinner and providing lots of great conversation. Of course, we talked about motorcycles, among other manly pursuits such as firearms and hunting (this is not to say that mention of and participation in these subjects are not explicitly restricted to the Y-chromosome gifted, but only that said individuals attain an euphoric sense of masculinity by partaking in conversation of such topics). In the morning Angie made waffles with real Vermont maple syrup. According to him, Vermont maple syrup is better than New Hampshire maple syrup. Who am I to disagree?
Moving right along, I buzzed through New Hampshire (never did try their maple syrup) and into Maine, where I had to pull off onto some unnamed, rocky road in the forest to find a place to camp. No near-death anecdotes here, just a long day and more deer flies and mosquitoes than I can count.
For the time being I have no way of getting my most recent photos onto the infinite network of the interwebs, so I will leave off here, though I have much more to tell you. Get on my case about writing more often and maybe I'll be a little more disciplined about it!

Bison and Geysers

I left Bozeman, MT after staying for a few days and hanging out with my sister's friends. I had the privilege of going hiking twice, attending Music on Main, and exploring downtown with some awesome people. I left town on the morning of the 13th of July and rode down into Yellowstone for some epic sightseeing. The first sign of awesomeness came when I arrived at Mammoth Hot Springs. There were elk lounging everywhere, just watching the traffic go by, paying no attention to the people milling about the grounds. After some time at the visitor center, I hit the road, feeling very antsy to get a move on and see the wonders of Yellowstone. This park did not disappoint: steaming fumaroles, bubbling hot springs, and spouting geysers abound in this volcanic wonderland. I made several stops along the western route through the park (I rode north to south on this road, in case you want to look it up) and took advantage of the extensive network of boardwalks built throughout the area. Early on in the journey, I came across a moving roadblock, a bull bison. Needless to say many tourists found it necessary to pull over and take photos, me included.

If you ever go to Yellowstone, definitely stop by the Museum of the National Park Ranger, an underappreciated gem near the center of the park. While visiting the museum I had the privilege of speaking with a retired National Park ranger who, upon hearing about my trip and my future hopes for employment with the NPS, provided me with information and inspiration.
There are many wondrous things to see in Yellowstone, too many to see in a day and far too many for me to describe here. I am obligated, however, to speak of my experience with Old Faithful! While this is certainly not the most beautiful nor mysterious nor wondrous force of nature the park has to offer, it is iconic and reliable. The geyser erupts regularly every 40 to 120 minutes or so, and on any given day the rangers are able to calculate and predict when each eruption will be. As I approached the visitor center for Old Faithful I thought, I should be arriving sometime not too long before the next eruption, then I'll look around a bit and head out. As luck would have it, I saw a spout of water up over the pines just as I was pulling off the main road. Hmm, this has to be Old Faithful. Sure enough, after parking and walking into the visitor center, I learned that I'd just missed the eruption and the next one was not for another hour and a half. A lesson in patience, I told myself. I had lots of time to wander and explore before going to see the geyser. And I must say, it does erupt with regularity; Old Faithful faithfully spouted within two minutes of the predicted time. For the first time in my life, I saw Old Faithful erupt, at 2:17 p.m. on Friday, July 13.


Old Faithful

After my Old Faithful experience I left the park, riding south toward Grand Teton National Park. It had been a hot day in Yellowstone, with the sun shining through crystal clear skies. The Grand Tetons are only miles from Yellowstone, yet I might as well have been a world away once I approached the lovely and majestic peaks of the Tetons. Being late afternoon, a storm was brewing around those majestic peaks, a storm I watched grow as I rode closer and closer. By the time I arrived at the visitor center, the skies had opened and proceeded to dump as much water on me as possible. I left the park through the east entrance and found a nice place to camp, just a few miles from the park boundary. My biggest regret so far is that I did not dedicate more time to visiting Yellowstone and Grand Tetons; someday I will go back and satisfy my craving to explore these places in more depth. For now I will content myself with the ethereal and mysterious feelings instilled by views of these peaks enshrouded with mist and clouds, thunder and lightning.



The Grand Tetons

 The day after my Yellowstone/Grand Tetons adventure was one of the most difficult and monotonous days to date. I rode 474 miles, going east through Wyoming and entering South Dakota at the Black Hills. I camped out that night on US Forest Service land with sore wrists and sore butt cheeks, but it was well worth it; I had a beautiful camp site surrounded by pines, and plenty of leisure time to take a much-needed walk. The next day, on the 15th, I packed up camp and hit the road by 6:45 a.m. I rode to Wind Cave National Park, where I saw another bull bison (this one standing in front of the park entrance sign, as if to welcome me) and, for the first time in my life, prairie dogs! At the park, the visitor center didn't open until 8:00, and cave tours don't start until 8:45, so I walked around a bit before continuing on to Badlands National Park. This was a true adventure, as I opted for the back road entrance to the park, going through the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation on Reservation Route 2, a long and dusty dirt road. At the White River Visitor Center I met a very kind Native American gentleman who worked for the NPS. We talked a bit, and I learned that the nearest gas is in Interior (yes, my low fuel light came on again, and I was a bit nervous...). I left the visitor center and rode north on Reservation Route 27, turned east on HWY 44, and made it to Interior, a little town in the middle of the desert. I fueled up and enjoyed a cold sarsparilla in the parking lot (it was a VERY hot day) before riding on to the Interior Entrance to the park. This is where the main attraction is, one of the terminus points of the Badlands Loop Road. I rode this northwest up to Wall. The Badlands are, to sum it up in one word, incredible. They are a paradox, for life abounds in these harsh lands despite the extreme and harsh weather. The plateaus and hills are alluring yet one knows that survival here is difficult (I would say impossible but the Lakota people lived here for centuries). Due to the heat I did not spend much time walking around; rather, I took my time riding slowly through the park, taking in all the wonders it has to offer. At Wall I stopped at Wall Drug for some sightseeing and lunch. Wall Drug is huge, filled with all manner of trinkets and souvenirs. I had a terrible tuna salad sandwich and the most horrendous slice of pie I've ever eaten, followed by a stomach ache. From Wall I traveled west to Rapid City, South Dakota, and south to see Mt. Rushmore. An impressive mountain indeed. It's a funny thing to see the heads of these four famous men carved into a mountain. What else can I say about this? You all know what it looks like.



Somewhere in South Dakota





Resident in Wind Cave National Park





The Badlands of SD

 I spent that night couchsurfing in Rapid City, then left early the next day for Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota. Roughly 300 miles from Grand Rapids, this was another long haul. There is a lot of nothing between South Dakota and North Dakota, and it is beautiful. T.R. National Park was much more than I had expected. These are the badlands Roosevelt came to for healing after his young wife and his mother both died within hours of each other. Roosevelt came by train, and learned life as a rancher in these wonderful lands. These badlands are much different than those in South Dakota. They are more vegetated and therefore, in MY opinion, more beautiful. Here I visited the museum in the Medora Visitor Center, where I got to see Roosevelt's own firearms, including his lever-action Winchester and a three-barreled shotgun/rifle. The Scenic Loop Drive through the park is beautiful and provides plenty of photo opportunities. The sky was overcast this day, and it even rained on and off, which added to the ambiance of adventure (and helped keep the temperature down). Near the end of the loop I pulled over to hike the Petrified Forest Loop Trail, a 12-mile journey across big plateaus of grassland and into a canyon filled with petrified trees. As luck would have it, the sun began to come out as I started the hike, which made things a bit warmer. While on foot I passed a bison herd in the distance and several prairie dog towns. These little guys make the funniest barking noise, and all together they make quite a racket as I pass by. After traveling through the petrified forest and back up onto a grassland plateau, I started my trek back to the trailhead. A few miles from the parking area, however, the bison herd I had seen earlier that day had migrated and decided that the prime grazing grounds were right on top of my trail. I'm not about to let a herd of bison get in my way... or maybe I will. As I got closer, the bulls slowly lifted their heads, turned in my direction, and walked toward me. Hmm, this doesn't seem like a very good idea. No, not a good idea at all. I immediately made a 90-degree turn, and glanced over my shoulder. They're still following me. And, as I walk past the herd, every bull I go by lifts its head, turns in my direction, and starts walking. Well, THIS seems like a bad deal. Heart racing, I do my best to give the herd a wide berth, hiking out into the grassland but keeping the trail in sight. After about ten minutes of walking and keeping a wary eye on the herd, I made it back to the trail and continued on my merry way, still in one piece. All the grassland in the world and they have to pick my trail to graze on... Might I add that on the same day, a man went missing in the park, and an airplane flew overhead the whole time I was hiking. Maybe he pissed off a bison herd or something.

Theodore Roosevelt National Park



The bison herd when it WASN'T in my way




Little barking bugger




This is why you don't mess with these guys




Petrified forest




The herd I had to go around

 Upon returning to the trail head, I took a much-needed bath in the Little Missouri River, then got back on the bike and headed east to Dickinson, North Dakota, where I stayed the night with a very nice couple, Luke and Danae. They own a coffee shop in town, a wonderful establishment utilizing an old church. Luke fed me bratwurst and burgers, pickles, beer, and tea, and I gratefully consumed everything he put in front of me. Twelve miles of hiking in the badlands really takes its toll. After dinner, we had an awesome conversation that included topics on beer, brewing, traveling, video games, coffee, mountain biking, and probably lots of other things I can't remember. Later in the evening a couple of his buddies came over and we enjoyed cigars and pipes - a new experience for me, and one that I enjoyed very much (FYI these are non-inhalants; I'd never touch a cigarette).
The next morning saw me at Luke and Danae's coffee shop, where I dined on homemade pumpkin bread and a pot of tea while reading a book. After about an hour of relaxation I decided I'd better hit the road, so off I went, gong east again until I reached Detroit Lakes, Minnesota, where my wonderful little sister is spending the summer with her fiancee Alex and his family. Awesome people, the Feldts! Fun, generous, friendly, and always ready to help you out. They put me up for several days in my own room with my own bed, and they fed me as much food and beer as I wanted. I did many fun things with the family while I was visiting, including swimming in lakes and dining out at various diners and bars. One experience is well worth mentioning, however. My first evening there, while we ate a magnificent dinner prepared by Karen (Alex's mom), we heard a big WHUMP on the side of the house. Further inspection revealed that a mallard hen was the culprit, having decided to commit suicide by flying into the not-invisible side of the house. Why she did this, we may never know, but the duck was beyond repair and was slowly losing its life as we watched it wobble and flap on the ground. Something had to be done, so I got to play executioner and break the duck's neck. Yet another life experience to add to my resume.
I've since left Detroit Lakes and my wonderful little sister behind, but all that has occurred since then will have to wait for another time. Until then, I hope you find the following link entertaining; it's the album I've stored all my photos, many of which have not been posted on this blog.
https://picasaweb.google.com/brysonmarks9/BrysonSMotoAdventureUSA