A trip to the Black Hills is always an adventure!

Over the Memorial Weekend Holiday, my 6 year old son and I took off for the Black Hills of South Dakota.  Usually, I like to plan and reserve every aspect of our trips but this time was a little bit of planned with a little bit of winging it for good measure!

Saturday - After watching my 17 year old win 4th at the state track meet in the 400 m (yay, Kinsey!), we left Bismarck to head south.  For this trip, we actually traveled to Dickinson and then went south.  It was a beautiful road with a scenic view for most of the way.  As we traveled by van, I decided we should try for Spearfish City Campground as our 1st night's stay.  We arrived just before office closing time and got a tent spot with no problem. 

This campground is located in the heart of town and the creek runs right through it.  The place is clean and comfortable and reasonable at $25 per night for a tent.

I decided a tent was too much of a hassle to set up so we just threw the air mattress into the back of the van and were ready to roll.  Ize enjoyed playing in the creek.  Our neighbors, 2 men on a fishing trip from Eastern SD, came over to introduce themselves and we ended up chatting most of the night.

Sunday -  After a restless sleep due to the mattress developing a hole in it, we were up bright and early to try and tackle Crow Peak before our 3 pm Wind Cave National Park tour.  The previous weeks had been spent searching the internet for a good hike with nice views.  Crow Peak didn't have many recommendations, but the photos I saw were fantastic.  So, off we went to drive the 7 miles to the trailhead, located just outside of Spearfish.

The trail was a bit tough for a 6 year old.  Just over 3.5 miles to the top and then a return.  But the hike was gorgeous.

We finally made it to the top.  It was absolutely worth it:

Our descent was much quicker and we saw a ton of people on the way down (only 2 other hikers passed us on the way up).  Best advice is to hike this early in the day, before others arrive.

We grabbed a quick lunch at McDs and then drove the 1.5 hours to Wind Cave National Park.  We arrived about 30 minutes before our tour to pick up the tickets and walk around the grounds.  The hiking opportunities look great here, so we will definitely be back.

Our tour was the Fairgrounds Tour and was about 1.5 hours long.  Lots of stairs involved but Ize did a good job with it all and didn't complain about the length.

Book your tickets at least several weeks in advance, as they do sell out and walk-up tickets are rarely available.

Our camping neighbor had sent me a very nice facebook message that morning asking if we would come back to Spearfish for another night.  Even though it was another 1.5 hours back, we decided to head there again.  Another fun night of good conversation and Ize learned how to clean a fish (as they caught trout).

Monday - Ize and I had to get up early again for our 9:00 train reservations at the 1880s train in Hill City.  We booked round trip tickets to take us from Hill City to Keystone.  We were advised to book on one side for the outbound and the other side for return to get 2 different views.  On the return from Keystone, we got seats right behind the engine and that was fun to see how it operated.

Ize thought it was ok, the trip was almost an hour each way with only 15 minutes in between.  The scenery was beautiful but the train did move very slowly.

We headed back to ND after our train ride, sorrowful that it was such a short trip this time.  But it gives us a good excuse to go back!

Sometimes the dream finds you

Riding motorcycle was a dream I never had.

It didn't start as me entering the world on 2 wheels like a prodigy.  

I didn't grow up on the back of, or even in front of an adult, on a motorcycle.

Old VHS tapes in long-forgotten dusty boxes show one single, shaky, grainy video of me on a little Suzuki; wobbling around the farmyard, not quite stalling it but with a definite fear of the throttle.  There was no joy in my face, just a grim determination because my parents wanted a video of me.

When I decided to buy a motorcycle with the COVID payment last year, it wasn't thought out or the realizing of some long-held dream.

I bought it, had someone ride it home for me, and then closed the garage a little firmly behind me.  I admit I was secretly pleased with myself.  I had a mini mid-life crisis and it didn't push me out of my comfortable little life.  In my mind, I was a rebel but it didn't hurt me at all or make waves in my life.

I knew how to ride.  10 years in the outback of Australia with only a dirt bike for entertainment and no neighbors for many miles will do that to you.  And still, it wasn't a passion, just a way to keep from growing crazy out there.

I came to the conclusion that this impulse craze was a little too expensive to just leave sitting in storage.  So reluctantly, I went to an empty parking lot with a friend, trying to make feeble excuses in order to get out of much practice time around the college campus.

It was sort of fun, but nothing to get excited about.

I dutifully took my Motorcycle safety class shortly after.  Wanting to be a responsible motorcycle owner but dreading what I was sure was going to be similar to that high school class you only took for a needed credit to graduate, nothing more.

I struggled through the range time, following each set of skills setup but not feeling like it was second nature.  Truth be told, I really struggled.

So it was to my surprise that I aced both the written and the range test.

It was only after I passed the class did I think maybe there was something hiding behind that windshield.  All those social media groups I joined just because I thought it would look cool, there was a lot of passion behind the rides, stories and photos.  Passion I couldn't figure out.

There had to be something I was missing.  I thought I was a smart person.  I had my Masters and worked in a difficult financial field.  Even I could see there was an obsession there.  But I just didn't understand what it was.

Those early days were WORK.  I rode because I felt I had to.  It didn't come easy to me.  I hit a curb, dropped the bike, almost blew a corner and made mistakes early on.  But I kept working at it.  The area I lived in had ONE 'S' curve out in the country.  I rode it back and forth every single day, sometimes 20 times.

I watched youtube videos on how to ride and how to pick up my bike.  I watched a fascinating series on riders with a coach critiquing their skills as you watched the video.

But it still wasn't fun.  It was learning something I felt was necessary for a hobby that could be deadly.

I joined a few group rides.  Casual things.  They were nice social outings but I thought there had to be something more to the enjoyment of riding.  I just KNEW there was something more but I didn't know how to find it or where to look.

It wasn't until I took a 4 day trip out west to Teddy Roosevelt National Park at the invitation of another rider, did I finally unlock that passion.  It was worth the wait.  It was worth the effort I put in to get there.

Sometimes the dream finds you, when you weren't even looking. . .