Sturgis to Yellowstone: All in a day's ride

Crossing the Bighorn Mountains, the canyon below the road got very steep and sheer just befoe the road dropped down to the level of the water, and then exited into a fertile, green ranching valley.

I headed out of Sturgis on Thursday morning and there were a lot of other bikes on I-90 headed west with me. But there were probably an equal number of bikes heading in to Sturgis, so I'm sure the crowd never missed us.

Between Sturgis and Gillette, WY, the highway was crawling with state patrol and anyone with any sense was keeping strictly to the speed limit. Past Gillette it was OK to open it up. I had 475 miles to go so I did.

At Ranchester I turned off the slab onto U.S. 14 to go over the Bighorn mountains. I was headed for Yellowstone to meet my wife, Judy, and family for a family get-together.

While in Sturgis I came across some folks I recently became associated with, the folks from Butler Motorcycle Maps. They had a booth on Lazelle Street. While talking with them I mentioned my plans and we talked about the route. Pulling out their Wyoming map, Justin suggested that I take the northern route, U.S. 14A, through Lovell, though it was a little longer than the southern route, U.S. 14, through Greybull, because it covered more good roads. I figured I had enough miles to go that I didn't need to add extras but I kept the thought in mind.

At Ranchester it was looking very stormy and the numerous bikers on the route were mostly putting on rain gear. I looked at the sky and figured I didn't need to, so I kept riding.

It's a great road out of Ranchester, carving its way back and forth across the face of the mountain, with terrific views that you don't dare look at. And every time you do dare to sneak a peek the prairie reaches farther and farther into the distance.

Finally the road finds a crack in the face of the mountain and plunges toward the interior. The ride takes you for awhile across the table lands where there are hilltops all around you but none all that much higher.

At the junction where I had to decide I took note that the storm clouds look very threatening to the north, while to the south it looks OK. I opt for the southern route.

A little further on, the road swooped down into a broad valley, which T's into a canyon and takes a hard turn to the right. I rode the cut in the canyon walls and the cliffs towered higher and higher above me as I went down and down. Then the sloping sides of the canyon came together below the road to form a sheer, vertical rock face with the river far below. A series of switchbacks and then I was down to the level of the water and I hoped I would have no need to stop for any reason because there is no place to stop. It's just a rock wall on one side, a guard rail on the other keeping you away from the water, and no shoulder at all.

Then the walls of the canyon opened wide and I shot out into a green, fertile ranching valley. Past the community of Shell, population 50, the land took on a more ambivalent nature, with the lower areas all green and the higher areas all brown. The weather was still treating me kindly but now to the north I could see heavy rain, lightning, and dense, dark clouds. That's the route I didn't take and was I glad!

At Greybull I let some other riders convince me I needed my rain suit but as I rode on I got just a little precip that my fairing, at speed, would have kept off me. I didn't mind the rain suit, however, because it was now keeping me warm as the temperature dropped.

I pulled into Cody and stopped for gas and used the opportunity to pull out some more warm clothes. Then I stayed on U.S. 14 as it headed up the canyon toward Yellowstone, still 50 miles away. The canyon was incredible! If I've ever been on this road before it must have been when I was a kid, because I was amazed at how gorgeous this road was, and I know I've never seen it as an adult. Steep cliffs, towering mountains, rock formations of all kinds . . . I'll use the worn-out word: Awesome.

Finally, the park

And at last I reached the park but then it hit me just how big Yellowstone is. I was at the park but my destination inside the park was still 43 frickin' miles away! Oh man, I just wanted to get there.

So on I rode, through miles and miles of dead trees that, without bark or limbs, looked like nothing so much as a thick head of silver-grey hair. The park ranger I asked said either beetle kill or forest fire; it wasn't clear which was responsible for these. I've seen a lot of beetle kill and it doesn't look like this. But it wasn't charred like a fire would do.

On into the park's interior, across Fishing Bridge, and then north toward the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. The sign told me I was 16 miles from my destination. Six miles passed and then traffic was stopped. There were buffalo all around, and this is Yellowstone. Everyone stops. I would have like to have shot some pictures, too, but having come more than 450 miles and being 10 miles from the end of my ride all I wanted to do was keep moving. I can shoot pictures of buffalo later.

Finally I was at Canyon Campground and there was Judy. No tents set up. No dinner waiting. They had just arrived 10 minutes ahead of me. And the rest of the family had yet to arrive.

Oh well, at least I could get off the bike.