After a day off due to pouring rain, I got back on the road and continued west along the Missouri. By lunchtime I was in Yankton where I crossed over the Gavin’s Point Dam to visit the Army Corps of Engineers Lewis and Clark Visitor Center on the other side, my last stop in Nebraska. A woman at the visitor center back in Sioux City implied that I shouldn’t miss it. I hadn’t planned on stopping there, but I pushed myself. It was a bit of a letdown. At least I learned that Army Corps of Engineers tended to be primarily about dams and wildlife, so I curbed my expectations in the future. I did, however, get my first view of Lewis and Clark Lake and I fell in love. It was gorgeous! I could see golden bluffs topped with lush, green trees. I biked down the entire length of it, a large portion of which was paved bike paths in the Lewis and Clark Recreation Area. I later told my parents, I could have pitched my tent there and never left. I saw so many people swimming, kayaking, boating, and fishing and felt myself seethe with jealousy. I was so tempted to stop there for the night, and in retrospect I wish I had.
When I reached the other side of the recreation area, I popped back onto a bike path by the highway, and eventually back onto the highway proper. I had two campground options that night, and as I followed the route to the campground I found my route was closed off. They were repaving the road and there was nothing but dirt. So, I sought out an alternative. It went from paved to gravel, and then I saw a sign saying this road was closed and no through traffic. I didn’t seem to have much of an alternative if I wanted to get to a campground that night. I decided to risk it, and to my frustration, this road too was torn up and non-existant. It was nothing but dirt and construction equipment. At this point I decided it was after 6 o’clock at night, no one was here working—I could just walk my bike across this mess to the road on the other side. It was tough going. I did my best to bike the parts that were hard packed by large wheels, but I got to the point where I could hardly control my bike and I got off. With my gear attached to the back of my bike I felt like I was practically carrying it along. The wheels were of no use. I was persistent though and made it to the other end. I turned left down a gravel road, toward the first campground. It was getting late, but when I got to the first campground, I assessed it, a vault toilet, very few campsites and none of them occupied, and a family just now putting their boat in the water after 7pm. They wouldn’t come back in til late and I was sure they’d wake me up when they did. I’d already biked nearly seventy miles that day. So, despite being exhausted, I pushed on. The next campground would likely feel a bit more welcoming, since at least it was next to a town.
I got moving again and followed more dirt roads to what Google told me was the entrance to the Springfield Recreation Area. It certainly looked like there was a park nearby, but the “entrance” was private property. As I was trying to figure out what to do next, an unleashed dog set his sights on me and I had to get off my bike and yell at him until he stood down (he remained on guard until I got up over the hill and out of sight. I was frustrated. I didn’t feel like I could investigate further because this darn dog kept trying to chase me down every time I stopped paying attention to it. My only option seemed to be to press on further into town. It looked like there might be an entrance there, but if there wasn’t, at least the town had a motel. I arbitrarily plugged in a gas station as a destination. When I got to my turn I could have laughed or cried. The road was closed again. I thought for a second I might walk my bike through the closure like I had before, but when I started down the road I saw it dropped off suddenly, 15 feet down into a creek. The road was closed because not only was it gone, but so was a bridge! So once again I needed to find an alternate route. I made it back to the highway at this point and followed Google’s directions (so far it had been my Adventure Cycling Association map that failed me). It told me to turn left…into a state prison. Not by one, but down a road directly into a gate topped in barbed wire. I followed the roads around the perimeter, extremely uncomfortable that I could see prisoners out in the yard as I passed by. I think I went by unnoticed. Finally, I made my way into Springfield, SD, and had a long, hard debate. As I came into town I saw the sign for the recreation area I’d been trying to get to…but there was a motel right there! I talked myself into sticking with the campground. It was nice, there were cute little cabins, and in addition to vault toilets, they did have showers and electric boxes. I’d biked 83 miles, the most I’d ever done in a day, and on hills, yet somehow I wasn’t unconscious the moment I stopped. I called my parents, set up my tent, made dinner, enjoyed the sight of fireflies all around me. I was happy to go to bed.
I had now been in South Dakota for a few days and still hadn’t seen a prairie dog. At Yankton Reservation I saw my first buffalo, a large heard of them fenced in. It’s pretty easy to mistake cows and buffalo when you’re looking for the later, but I got confirmation as I passed fences with warning signs about buffalo safety. I ended my day in Pickstown. It was a Monday and the only restaurant in town was sadly closed. The Army Corps of Engineers Visitor Center at the Fort Randall Dam was on the way to my campground, another State Recreation Area, so I stopped by and learned about the Sioux (Did you know Lakota means friend, and Sioux means enemy, so when you say Lakota Sioux you’re saying “friend-enemy”? There was a small section on Lewis and Clark and another on prairie dogs. I asked the ranger there when I’d start seeing them. She said her father’s a farmer and they’re all over these parts, they just don’t tent to stay near busy roads. I wanted to see a prairie dog town so badly!
Once again I stayed in a state recreation area, once again it was gorgeous and rather luxurious, with a shower, picnic shelters and a waterside view. I was ready to specifically seek them out. I got there early enough in the day to spend some time reading before bed. It was a nice change of pace. The down side to all of these dams was that the campgrounds were beneath them. That meant every morning waking up and immediately biking uphill, but it was gradual, and I managed it fine, but that particular dam was at the bottom of two enormous hills which formed an enormous wind tunnel. I had headwinds and crosswinds the entire way uphill which made it slow going, plus it was drizzling. I gave myself a few necessary breaks on it, sat in the grass and wrote descriptions of the scenery in my journal.
I saw my first sign for Wall Drug. I wasn’t on the interstate, so I only saw a few in total. After my experience with Raccoons back in Fort Massac, I went grocery shopping and replaced my peanut butter packets with a small jar of Nutella. I was so sick of Nutella. My lunches had been a flour tortilla with Nutella and it was too sweet to stomach repeatedly. I always wanted something savory. So, there was a town nearby, Fairfield, SD that was meant to have a café. I took a detour to grab lunch there, only to find it had closed down. I fought strong winds to get there, biked up and down hilly gravel roads and when I did it get there started raining again. (Sidenote: What are you supposed to do when you see a calf has escaped its pen and you don’t know who it belongs to or how to get in contact with anyone who lives nearby?)
I was thrilled when I passed through Bonesteel and found a restaurant that isn’t listed on Google Maps. I got a burger that was way too much food. My server disappeared and I stayed in Bonesteel way longer than I wanted to. I planned to stop at Burke Lake State Recreation Area, since I’d had so much luck with recreations in South Dakota. I finally got to pay and hopped back on the highway. As I biked, I kept on feeling a drag. I’d stop to see if my fenders were rubbing, since that seemed to be the answer to that question, but they looked fine. I heard it though, something rubbing and I felt my pace slow quite a bit. Finally I took off my bags to problem solve. Then I saw it. The arms of my rack were bowed out like they couldn’t take the weight of my gear. I looked closer, the collar where the rack bolts screwed into my bike were snapped off completely. I heaved a sigh and started macgyvering a solution with zip ties. It took forever, but as I was finishing up, a biker dude pulled over and asked if I needed help. I’d done my best to make it work and asked him if he’d hold my bike while I loaded my gear back on. I wanted to see if it would hold. He happened to have heavier duty zip ties than I did, so he gave me a few and held the bike up while I put them to use. He was also planning on staying in Burke that night. We parted ways and I continued up the highway towards my intended campground. Maybe twenty minutes later, the man came back and gave me a handful of heavy duty zip ties and two hose clamps. It was such a kind thing to do. It was a sturdier solution and would make me feel much more secure. He said the hardware store closed at 6 and he wanted to be sure I got what I needed. I thanked him repeatedly and once again we parted ways.
Google Maps had me go down a gravel road that was meant to end in the recreation area I planned to stay at. It wound up ending in some family farm, so I went back the way I came and decided I was going to eat at a restaurant for dinner because evidently that’s what I do when I have a rough day. I got mozzarella sticks and a frozen strawberry margarita. Someone asked me about my bike trip and talked to me a good while about it. I told him about my bike troubles His daughter later gave me her number and told me if I needed help in Pierre to let her know. Finally, I headed for my campground.
The Stars On the Horizon 