beemer01
Active member
Preamble - I rode down to the BMW motorcycle shop in the city a few days before we were to leave on a Roadtrip from Chicago to Wyoming and points West. I bought 4 quarts of BMW oil (an indulgence I afford my aging 1985 bike) and the official filter. Remembering a post on MOA about the need to always carry an spare clutch cable, I asked if they had one in stock. Mark checked and indicated that he'd have to order one…. I promised to verify the part number on the existing one, since the bars are not the standard RS bars, and call him back. No rush, as the previous owner indicated that he'd changed the clutch cable just a couple of years earlier. I didn't call him back.
This would come back to haunt me.
Day One. We were off to the MOA rally in Gillette, Wyoming. My buddy Thomas, who does something within the bowels of the Federal Government involving information security and protecting life as we know it, was to be my riding partner. He'd ridden in from DC a day earlier. Thomas sports a late model K1200LT, so fully decked out I'm not quite sure it still qualifies as a bike.
Except that it is fast... and could tip over.
I'd mapped a route out to Gillette that included some slab and a few back roads, and we got a fairly early start. We headed Northwest past Lake Geneva (Wisconsin, not Switzerland)
and on over to LaCrosse where we stopped for a break after crossing the mighty Mississippi where we chatted up an older couple on a Wing with a trailer who seemed to relish their gypsy lifestyles.
Up and out of the River Valley, we began to blast across the Eastern edge of the Plains. Minnesota's version is verdant green, lush with crops…. and increasingly GE wind turbines. Minnesota has committed to have 25% of its future electrical energy come from renewable sources, and the result has been a boom business in wind farms on it's Southern plains. These silent white turbines seemingly float on the lush fields like clipper ships - with rotating blades rather than billowing sails. The size of these turbines is astonishing - this became readily evident when we saw and visited a turbine assembly field - each blade seems to be 130' long, giving the unit a 260' diameter blade area.
This new generation of 1.5 Megawatt wind turbines, using light weight carbon fiber blades and planetary gear reduction, permit power generation from the constant prairie winds. Man, these are big pieces of American engineering.
The heat crept upwards as we powered on across the prairie - my visor collected many bug specimens - so many that I had to clean my helmet visor at every gas stop.
We finally arrived in Fairmont, Minnesota where we stayed at the local inexpensive motel and had a Mexican dinner…… that wasn't half bad. The margaritas were cold and cheap.
Day Two. Up and out at dawn, we slabbed it across the seemingly endless prairie on I-90. Temps crept upward and we did our best to stay hydrated, always getting fluids when we stopped for gas. The land began to slowly change - flowing prairies and slightly rolling hills had taken root … the emerald corn and soybean crops changed to vast endless fields of grasslands.
All of which would have encouraged speeding if we had been so inclined.
Full disclosure - South Dakota is beautiful, when seen from the seat of a motorcycle… and probably boring when seen from inside a car. Interesting. When you frame this picture, it loses perspective. Robert Persig was right.
We stopped at the Minuteman museum near the Badlands, and got the nickel orientation on how these solid fuel ICBMs had stood guard for years, with rotating crews assigned the dubious duty of staying underground for three days at a crack - keys around their necks at the ready.
Can you imagine the desolation out there in February?
BTW, one of the reasons that the Minuteman Missiles were concentrated here - if concentrated is an accurate word with silos scattered across the vast featureless prairie - if that incoming Russian missiles detonating would create minimal civilian fatalities. The other reason was that with a North Pole route to the USSR, this area provided a fairly short route to their programmed destinations.
From there we rode the Badlands - simply amazing geography, that come to think of it probably inspired Dr. Seuss. Striking and strange. It's not hard to imagine bands of Indians or outlaws hiding there… perhaps even still!
We wound up in Rapid City, a city clearly on the edge of the Rockies, and had a decent steak dinner followed by cigars in the bar - a nicely civilized touch no longer available in most of this increasingly politically correct country of ours.
Day Three. Up and at it early, we gassed up and headed to visit Mount Rushmore.
A simply amazing exhibition of human ingenuity and American engineering skills. Besides, I can't imagine looking at a mountain face and seeing the potential of presidential faces carved into the rock.
We met a Coast Guard officer with his family who was in the process of relocating to Juneau, Alaska. He wistfully confided that since Juneau has a total of 65 miles of paved roads, he'd decided to put his1200RT into long term storage back in Wisconsin. (I think he was on the verge of tears as we described our intended trip).
We left the arid mountains around Rushmore and aimed at the Thunder Basin grasslands in Wyoming. Simply amazing - Antelope and deer on the highway - and a clear view to the horizon probably 40-50 miles away in every direction. Except for oil fields dotting the view, this is what the pioneers saw as they walked Westward. In our case, had we been inclined to speed, this would have been an excellent area to try this activity.
Approaching Gilette I observed a perfect example of vertical integration, a open pit coal mine abutting a power generation plant. Coal mined is merely transported by a conveyor to the power plant.
Note - I did see a few wind farms here, but I'm thinking that for the time being coal and oil are kings in Wyoming.
We arrived at the Rally in Gillette in the early afternoon, registering and setting up camp on a grassy field that utterly defied the tent stakes I'd brought along… even with the loan of a hammer from a neighboring camper.
We were rather quickly joined by hundreds of other campers, and we soon wandered over to the vendors area… and recognized many of the faces. (The guy with the tattoos selling leather vests however looked like he may have selected the wrong event.)
We found the beer garden and had a number of pleasant conversations as we rehydrated with a few cold ones.
We eventually found our way to the volunteer booth where we were discovered by Rick Nelson, and persuaded to take the shuttle driving shift from 9-midnight. Right, no wonder it was available for the taking.
Since Thomas has a police background, I assigned him to handle the rowdy drunks who would undoubtedly be needing our services and I slid in next to the driver for the earlier shift to learn the ropes. Good thing, since the actual route was a bit convoluted, and I certainly didn't have his skills in backing up a loaded trailer should I take a wrong turn in the gathering dark. And storms… did I mention the blowing, gusting wind, splattering rain and severe weather warnings - in the dark? Really dark, at least compared to Chicago, the land of eternal light.
Anyhow after 7-8 loops, the current driver was finally convinced that I could probably drive this rig without killing too many people. Steady and slow, with smooth stops was the mantra. Take every inch available for the turns to avoid clipping the trailer.
I think we did well, but I did get some extra supervision with Rick eventually riding shotgun and watching my velocity so the other truck and trailer would be approximately 180 degrees out from us on the loop.
We ended our shift at midnight, Thomas turned in his bleating airhorn and we retired to the campsite, which I had wisely marked with a flashing emergency LED beacon - which did help it stick out amidst the growing ocean of tents.
The torrential rains of course hit about 2AM, collapsing the tarp Thomas had rigged for outdoor sleeping. I had gone out to Wallyworld earlier and gotten their generic yellow tent stakes, and with the borrowed hammer pounded them deeply into the unyielding prairie. No good, the rig gave way during a violent gust eventually propelling Thomas into the tent. Not much sleep that evening as lightening crackled, popped and strobed across the evening sky.
Dawn arrived…. damply. We staggered over to avail ourselves to free coffee and to exchange war stories with other survivors. More than a few bikes had blown over during the storm - probably a combination of wind and rain softened soil.
We took in a MSF class and decided to call it a rally. We had an aggressive road riding agenda outlined courtesy of some gentlemen over on Adv Rider, and little time to ride it.
We broke camp and headed out - Alt14 had been suggested over to Sheridan. Man, what a road. Unlike some of the more heavily traveled routes later on our journey, this road is in near perfect condition… and devoid of other vehicles.
We soared up the grades and switchbacks, thoroughly enjoying the dry mountain air and amazing vistas. On the down grade we saw where the road appeared to have been damaged by the winter and whole sections had been hastily replaced. We arrived in Sheridan, Wyoming in the late afternoon - did a load of laundry, had dinner and crashed.
.
This would come back to haunt me.
Day One. We were off to the MOA rally in Gillette, Wyoming. My buddy Thomas, who does something within the bowels of the Federal Government involving information security and protecting life as we know it, was to be my riding partner. He'd ridden in from DC a day earlier. Thomas sports a late model K1200LT, so fully decked out I'm not quite sure it still qualifies as a bike.
Except that it is fast... and could tip over.
I'd mapped a route out to Gillette that included some slab and a few back roads, and we got a fairly early start. We headed Northwest past Lake Geneva (Wisconsin, not Switzerland)
and on over to LaCrosse where we stopped for a break after crossing the mighty Mississippi where we chatted up an older couple on a Wing with a trailer who seemed to relish their gypsy lifestyles.
Up and out of the River Valley, we began to blast across the Eastern edge of the Plains. Minnesota's version is verdant green, lush with crops…. and increasingly GE wind turbines. Minnesota has committed to have 25% of its future electrical energy come from renewable sources, and the result has been a boom business in wind farms on it's Southern plains. These silent white turbines seemingly float on the lush fields like clipper ships - with rotating blades rather than billowing sails. The size of these turbines is astonishing - this became readily evident when we saw and visited a turbine assembly field - each blade seems to be 130' long, giving the unit a 260' diameter blade area.
This new generation of 1.5 Megawatt wind turbines, using light weight carbon fiber blades and planetary gear reduction, permit power generation from the constant prairie winds. Man, these are big pieces of American engineering.
The heat crept upwards as we powered on across the prairie - my visor collected many bug specimens - so many that I had to clean my helmet visor at every gas stop.
We finally arrived in Fairmont, Minnesota where we stayed at the local inexpensive motel and had a Mexican dinner…… that wasn't half bad. The margaritas were cold and cheap.
Day Two. Up and out at dawn, we slabbed it across the seemingly endless prairie on I-90. Temps crept upward and we did our best to stay hydrated, always getting fluids when we stopped for gas. The land began to slowly change - flowing prairies and slightly rolling hills had taken root … the emerald corn and soybean crops changed to vast endless fields of grasslands.
All of which would have encouraged speeding if we had been so inclined.
Full disclosure - South Dakota is beautiful, when seen from the seat of a motorcycle… and probably boring when seen from inside a car. Interesting. When you frame this picture, it loses perspective. Robert Persig was right.
We stopped at the Minuteman museum near the Badlands, and got the nickel orientation on how these solid fuel ICBMs had stood guard for years, with rotating crews assigned the dubious duty of staying underground for three days at a crack - keys around their necks at the ready.
Can you imagine the desolation out there in February?
BTW, one of the reasons that the Minuteman Missiles were concentrated here - if concentrated is an accurate word with silos scattered across the vast featureless prairie - if that incoming Russian missiles detonating would create minimal civilian fatalities. The other reason was that with a North Pole route to the USSR, this area provided a fairly short route to their programmed destinations.
From there we rode the Badlands - simply amazing geography, that come to think of it probably inspired Dr. Seuss. Striking and strange. It's not hard to imagine bands of Indians or outlaws hiding there… perhaps even still!
We wound up in Rapid City, a city clearly on the edge of the Rockies, and had a decent steak dinner followed by cigars in the bar - a nicely civilized touch no longer available in most of this increasingly politically correct country of ours.
Day Three. Up and at it early, we gassed up and headed to visit Mount Rushmore.
A simply amazing exhibition of human ingenuity and American engineering skills. Besides, I can't imagine looking at a mountain face and seeing the potential of presidential faces carved into the rock.
We met a Coast Guard officer with his family who was in the process of relocating to Juneau, Alaska. He wistfully confided that since Juneau has a total of 65 miles of paved roads, he'd decided to put his1200RT into long term storage back in Wisconsin. (I think he was on the verge of tears as we described our intended trip).
We left the arid mountains around Rushmore and aimed at the Thunder Basin grasslands in Wyoming. Simply amazing - Antelope and deer on the highway - and a clear view to the horizon probably 40-50 miles away in every direction. Except for oil fields dotting the view, this is what the pioneers saw as they walked Westward. In our case, had we been inclined to speed, this would have been an excellent area to try this activity.
Approaching Gilette I observed a perfect example of vertical integration, a open pit coal mine abutting a power generation plant. Coal mined is merely transported by a conveyor to the power plant.
Note - I did see a few wind farms here, but I'm thinking that for the time being coal and oil are kings in Wyoming.
We arrived at the Rally in Gillette in the early afternoon, registering and setting up camp on a grassy field that utterly defied the tent stakes I'd brought along… even with the loan of a hammer from a neighboring camper.
We were rather quickly joined by hundreds of other campers, and we soon wandered over to the vendors area… and recognized many of the faces. (The guy with the tattoos selling leather vests however looked like he may have selected the wrong event.)
We found the beer garden and had a number of pleasant conversations as we rehydrated with a few cold ones.
We eventually found our way to the volunteer booth where we were discovered by Rick Nelson, and persuaded to take the shuttle driving shift from 9-midnight. Right, no wonder it was available for the taking.
Since Thomas has a police background, I assigned him to handle the rowdy drunks who would undoubtedly be needing our services and I slid in next to the driver for the earlier shift to learn the ropes. Good thing, since the actual route was a bit convoluted, and I certainly didn't have his skills in backing up a loaded trailer should I take a wrong turn in the gathering dark. And storms… did I mention the blowing, gusting wind, splattering rain and severe weather warnings - in the dark? Really dark, at least compared to Chicago, the land of eternal light.
Anyhow after 7-8 loops, the current driver was finally convinced that I could probably drive this rig without killing too many people. Steady and slow, with smooth stops was the mantra. Take every inch available for the turns to avoid clipping the trailer.
I think we did well, but I did get some extra supervision with Rick eventually riding shotgun and watching my velocity so the other truck and trailer would be approximately 180 degrees out from us on the loop.
We ended our shift at midnight, Thomas turned in his bleating airhorn and we retired to the campsite, which I had wisely marked with a flashing emergency LED beacon - which did help it stick out amidst the growing ocean of tents.
The torrential rains of course hit about 2AM, collapsing the tarp Thomas had rigged for outdoor sleeping. I had gone out to Wallyworld earlier and gotten their generic yellow tent stakes, and with the borrowed hammer pounded them deeply into the unyielding prairie. No good, the rig gave way during a violent gust eventually propelling Thomas into the tent. Not much sleep that evening as lightening crackled, popped and strobed across the evening sky.
Dawn arrived…. damply. We staggered over to avail ourselves to free coffee and to exchange war stories with other survivors. More than a few bikes had blown over during the storm - probably a combination of wind and rain softened soil.
We took in a MSF class and decided to call it a rally. We had an aggressive road riding agenda outlined courtesy of some gentlemen over on Adv Rider, and little time to ride it.
We broke camp and headed out - Alt14 had been suggested over to Sheridan. Man, what a road. Unlike some of the more heavily traveled routes later on our journey, this road is in near perfect condition… and devoid of other vehicles.
We soared up the grades and switchbacks, thoroughly enjoying the dry mountain air and amazing vistas. On the down grade we saw where the road appeared to have been damaged by the winter and whole sections had been hastily replaced. We arrived in Sheridan, Wyoming in the late afternoon - did a load of laundry, had dinner and crashed.
.
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I sure missed a great one.
