Mount Rushless

Friday was a riding day extraordinaire, though the prospects were dim as the day began.  We donned the rain gear and headed for Mount Rushmore, the most famous attraction in the region, and the Needles Highway, a famous Black Hills riding destination.  The needles are spired granite rock formations which line the route, which leads to Custer State Park, another landmark touring area in the Black Hills National Forest.  Rain began just as we were getting underway, and as the attractions of the highway to motorcyclists are the steep, sharp turns, tunnels and hairpins, negotiating the route on wet roads was not an inviting prospect.  We opted to detour to nearby Black Hills Harley-Davidson, which hosts more than a hundred vendors on its 40 acre lot during the rally, in the hopes that the rain would pass and we could resume our tour.  Within a half-hour, the skies cleared and off we went in search of dead Presidents and riding Nirvana.

Alas, while the rain remained at bay, its first cousin, fog, made an appearance.  When we arrived at Mount Rushmore, not even the base of the gargantuan sculpture could be seen.  Evil took us to a different vantage point a few km away where lo and behold, George Washington's stony face could be seen clearly, but no other.  Mount Rushless, we called it, a deal at 75% off.

The Needles Highway, on the other hand, did not disappoint.  The sharpest of corners are marked with 15 mph warnings, and a useful maxim in the hills is that the lower the speed recommendation, the more accurate it is likely to be; you can safely negotiate a 30 mph corner at 40, but 15 mph is not to be taken so lightly.  These turns call for first-gear entry, keeping the revs up, being wary of other motorists encroaching in your lane, not being afraid to scape the floorboards to keep your line through the corner, and accelerating out of the apex.  It requires a degree of near-surgical precision, especially considering you are riding in mountains with no guardrails, and the opposing traffic is mostly tourists unfamiliar with the terrain and gawking at the sensational, distracting scenery.   And did I mention it is great fun?!  Not for the faint of heart or new riders, but exhilarating to the point that we rode through 2,500 km of cornfields to get here to do this!  A few miles into this terrain and we saw a road sign alerting is to the next corner: 5 mph! You gotta be kidding- not even along the Pacific Coast Highway that all three of  us rode last year did we recall a 5 mph-er.  Nope, they weren't kidding!  Round the bend and give 'er!  Even through my helmet I could hear Murph yelling "Yahoo!"

The tunnels are so low and narrow that commercial trucks and all large vehicles are prohibited from entering the highway.  Nearing the end of the road, we came upon a cadre of vehicles stopped and a dozen or more folks taking pictures of the last tunnel, a remarkably narrow passage carved by both man and nature through enormous rock needles.  We took a few snaps ourselves before continuing on our way. And as soon as I can locate an Apple store to purchase an SD card reader/adaptor, I will post pics to share.

Next scheduled stop was to be Custer State Park and the Wildlife Loop Trail, where the deer and buffalo roam.  Last in our small group, I followed Evil and Murph making a u-turn to correct a small navigational error, to wait for traffic to clear before completing it, and found my two friends had vanished.  They thought I had understood we were making an immediate left turn, I thought we were heading straight and never the twain met for the rest of the day.

But the sky had cleared and I decided to continue with the route as planned.  After a fine tour through the Wildlife Trail I decided to re-visit Mount Rushmore, no longer shrouded in fog, paid the $11 fee to get a close-up shot and headed off for another of the Black Hills' famous trails, Iron Mountain Road.  This 40 km run features sweepers and tunnels and hairpins like Needles,  with the added attraction of pigtails: 360 degree turns that wind over or under themselves.  Fabulous stuff!

The weather forecasters be damned, it turned out to be a first-class riding day, full of sunshine and  corners that warm the heart of bikers the world over.  No wonder as many as a half-million riders descend upon Sturgis every year.  It is Nirvana.