Up Over: 8/20-8/21/16 Making Tracks

At some point you have to admit the party's over and it's time to head home, but there are always distractions along the way.

Route 90 has been our constant companion for two days, except for a few detours. It saw us out of the door in Sheridan and propelled us East. The Wyoming landscape flew by as antelope played by the road.

Turning down route 16, we headed out of Wyoming and into the Black Hills. In recovery mode from the Sturgis bike rally only a week past, small towns along the way hawked half price 2016 rally T-shirts, trying to squeeze the last bit of profit from the event. Instead of 1,000,000 bikes jamming the streets, we rode freely with a few other stragglers. Even the tourist traffic has backed off, a probable result of back-to-school.

Returning to our old haunt, favorite rides beckoned us. Custer State Park, the Spearfish Canyon and Needles Highway wanted riding, but we put blinders on and cruised by. Yet we couldn't pass up Iron Mountain Road. Always the icing on the cake, this engineering phenomenon can never get old. Winding over the Black Hills, the conception of this road began in the 1930's as Rushmore was being carved. Governor Peter Norbeck envisioned a winding road that would focus on the beauty of the Black Hills and highlight the faces of the Presidents. Three pigtail bridges, amazing curves and inclines, narrow stone tunnels framing Rushmore all add to the marvel of a road. Our reunion with this old friend was gratifying.

Rolling off the mountain, we headed down into Rapid City, regrouping for a mad dash across South Dakota after a night's rest.

And a mad dash it was. As the heat roiled up behind us, we ran in front of it with the sun in our faces. Then we were snagged by another diversion -The Badlands. Riding from flat monotonous prairie land into a moonscape that arises suddenly is one of the most shocking geological changes imaginable. Each turn brought new wonders. Castles of sedimentary rock rose before us, striated with millennia of erosion. Deep chasms of naturally carved formations awed us as we leaned into them. The spirituality oozing from this ancient site was well recognized by the ancient Lakota who held ghost dances in the interior.

Too soon we were back on 90, battling the wind and traffic. Corn took over the landscape and I'm fairly sure the next few days will see little change. A day of gorging on miles, we hauled our stiff bodies off the bike just past Sioux Falls. Tomorrow will be another run east. Hopefully there will be more diversions along the way.

As we close the distance to home, I have allowed myself to miss my family. Anxious now to see my grandchildren and children again, our daily dose of highway is not too difficult to swallow. Every mile we travel brings our reunion nearer. But if the road and Rascal decide to swing off course for another side trip of discovery, I will gladly ride along, afraid to miss any nuance of our journey.