Motorcycles and Mountains

"Are ya goin to Sturgis then?" we were asked.
"What's Sturgis?"
"You haven't heard of Sturgis?  Wow, everyone's heard of Sturgis.  Biggest motorcycle rally in the world!"
"But we're the non-motorized type..."
"It doesn't matter, it'd be worth it to check it out, you'll be so close..."

Still, being in close quarters with half a million motorcyclists wasn't so appealing to me.  They're not the same sort of people as me-they share different views.  When they pass me on the highway they give me a fright with their noisy motors and higher speeds.  While I like to hear the insects buzzing and the birds chirping while I ride, they seem to enjoy the sound of petroleum burning in their engines.

"I think the louder the better.  It sounds rough, like an animal does - pretty manly," said Gerald Roberts as reported by the Rapid City Journal's article "Decibel debate:  Do loud pipes save lives?"  He continued to say "We're a free country.  Being a motorcyclist is all about freedom and doing what we're allowed to do."

Yet somehow, I found my idea of motorcycles start to change as I got closer to the Black Hills.  I would meet them in places I'd stop and they all seemed like nice people.  I'd get all sorts of comments, ranging from "You just need to put a motor on that," to "That's one way to beat the gas price," to "Now look at that, that's a real bike."  One rider I talked to from Wisconsin told me "One day you'll make a list of things you want to see in your life.  Sturgis will be on there."

By the time I got to Rapid City, I had pretty much made up my mind, I would ride 30 miles north in the evening and see what the big deal was about.  The ride north was exhilerating.  I could feel the energy in the air as I rode along the service road north.  The sound of Harleys filled the air.  A never-ending stream of motorbikes passed me on the freeway as I headed north.  There was an 8 mile stretch I had to take along the interstate.  As I hit 30mph on the downhill stretches - half the speed of the motorbikes - I really felt like I was sharing the road with them.  I was going fast so I was a vehicle on their radar, rather than the silly guy hugging the pavement next to the ditch without a motor to power my two wheels.

When I got to Sturgis, the uniqueness of my form of transportation once again proved a huge benefit to me.  While bikers were being charged $30/night to set up their tent on people's lawns downtown, I found a spot on a couple's driveway for free.  As I got my gear sorted out I heard "Forrest, are you hungry?"  Before I could muster up an answer, there was a plate with grapes, a ginger ale, and a huge piece of grilled chicken before me.

I headed down to the bars to see what all the crazy fuss was about.  I had been warned "You're going to the bars?  Watch out, the girls there are wild, you won't come back a virgin."  What I found, however, was far different than what I had expected.  Middle aged to older men that, in any other bar would be labeled as 'creepers,' stood around bars where girls in their early 20s dressed in bikinis flaunted themselves for dollar bills.  I was disgusted.  At least I knew that I'd never have to put Sturgis on my list of places to see - in fact, I could double cross it off with a permanent marker.

After falling asleep to the sound of motors, I awoke to a similar noise and got ready to leave.  A brief encounter at the grocery store on my way out of town boosted my experience.  A tall man, skinny with long shoulder length hair rode up to me on his low-rider bike.  "Nice ride," he told me.  After taking a closer look at his, I realized he was on a 'bicycle' as well.  His, however, was a front wheel drive, battery powered, solar charged cycle.  He claimed to be able to race Harleys from light to light in town.  "20 years ago they were all talking about going green, man.  I went green and nobody followed," the old hippie said in a grooved out voice.  At least, it was nice to meet someone with a similar mindset.

As I biked further out of town, I saw a sign "Learn to Weld."  Being slightly worried about the integrity of my front rack, I stopped and had the experts at Lincoln Electric take a look at the problem.  About an hour later, I had two weld jobs done on the rack that was about to fall apart.  Perhaps Sturgis had been a good idea in the end.

When I finally hit the road, I headed west to the historic town of Deadwood.  The sound of motors filled the air of the Black Hills.  An extremely sacred spot to the Lakota Sioux, the hills are literally a green bubble in the middle of brown arid plains.  The hills finally came alive to me when I got on the Michelson bike trail in Deadwood - 108 miles along an old railway track.  Immediately, I was carried away from the noise of the road and transported to the beauty of the hills.  The trail followed a mountain stream up up up.  I could hear the noise of the stream, saw fauns and bucks, birds and wild mountain flowers.  I followed a kingfisher as he soared along the stream, searching for a morsel.  The trail lead me over old railway bridges and through old tunnels, past mountain wetlands and meadows where cattle grazed and under rocky outcroppings that jutted hundreds of feet above me.  I was in a state of euphoric bliss, on the verge of tears, realizing how much I missed the sound of silence and the sound of the forest.

That night I camped above Hill City, just off the bike trail in the Black Hills National Forest.  It was a perfect night.  No bugs bothered me as I made a quick dinner in the forest.  I was in bed by 9pm.  At 2am I woke up and stuck my head outside my tent.  The Milky Way appeared above me like a great rift in the sky.  Shooting stars shot above my head every 20-30 seconds.  I could feel it, I was in a different world, lost in time and space with no thought about the constant drone of motors that filled the air miles away in the same sacred hills.

Should motorcycles be allowed to make noise?  It's a controversy, one that is valid for debate and reflection.  In the city, the sounds of motors, people's stereos and cars are noises that should be expected.  When the noises of the city fill the air of the countryside, noise is a public issue.  It's the econ 101 issue regarding the use of public resources.  Motorcyclists should be respectful of the fact that, while they may enjoy the sound of their motors, many people searching for peace and solitude in the hills do not.  It's not about "freedom and doing what we're allowed to do," but about sharing the beautiful resources of this country with eachother and being respectful of other people's methods of enjoyment - by motorcyclists and nature enthusiasts alike.

Regarding the Sturgis rally, for one week a year they bring thousands of dollars to the people of the Black Hills which allows many of the small towns to continue to exist.  One week a year of noise in the Black Hills seems a decent price to pay in exchange for the money that is brought in.