A beautiful holiday weekend Sunday in the Black Hills. We decided to ride the scoots to Mt Rushmore for breakfast. I decided to leave the camera in the top case on the Vespa, so more description than illustration... it was a great ride out our usual curvy roads to Keystone, then up the hill to Mt Rushmore. Very little traffic until we got to Rushmore - the parking lot was a lot more occupied than when I was there a few days ago.
We walked up the hill, through the crowd, and were surprised to find that the restaurant wasn't busy at all. We had our pick of tables - a nice view of the faces with breakfast...
Considering it was "National Park food," it wasn't bad and the prices weren't out of line. Over the years, we have been to Mt Rushmore scores of times - it never fails to impress. We discussed the changes made over the years... not to the carving, but to the grounds leading up to it. It used to be more "natural," with more of a paved path leading up the hill and the restaurant and gift shop over the hill. Now, it is giant stone structures, more like what you see around the monuments in Washington D.C. I liked the way it was, but appreciate what the changes have brought to the experience. Joan prefers it the way it is now. Either way, it is a moving experience, not just for the patriotic expression, but for the monumental undertaking it was to blast and grind away all that granite (1927 to 1941).
The obligatory photo at the observation deck...
Joan wanted to check out the gift shop - the crowds had swelled even more from when we first arrived today. Yes, I know it is a holiday weekend - I thought they'd all be home BBQing in their backyard. I would be wrong.
The construction on the walkway and the amphitheater is still on-going, so people visiting this summer are not getting the experience of the flags leading the way to the amphitheater...
Going into the gift shop was an OMG experience: I thought the mass of people on the observation deck was thick - this building looked like a mosh pit. Well, what I think a mosh pit would look like, because I've never been in one. I've never been much of a mosher, but I digress.
Joan was wanting to look at a sweatshirt... and they have plenty to pick from here. She found a couple that she considered, but the line to pay was at least 50 people deep, with only 4 cashiers...
We'll come back another time before we head south. In that photo above, the lady in pink is at the head of the line, the line goes all the way to the back of the store, then winds back to where you see the people on the right, and then winds around some more... "What did you do for the holiday weekend?" "I stood in line at the Mt Rushmore gift shop." ;-)
We were up for more riding; back to the scoots, west on Hwy 244, then a short jaunt on 385 to get to the road that takes you into Custer State Park at the Sylvan Lake entrance. It was still reasonably early, so I wasn't expecting much traffic. Again, I would be wrong - the road was packed once we got within a mile of Sylvan Lake... and the two miles or so from there to the Needles Eye Tunnel was like gridlock. You have to wait your turn to get through the tunnel (one car width) and apparently these people were not taught about taking turns and being nice to strangers. There were cars parked into the road, making passage around them a giant pain in the ass. To make matters worse, we were behind a car from Spearfish where the driver was pointing out every rock and tree to the passengers in the vehicle... and there are a LOT of rocks and trees.
When that car finally pulled over to a parking place where they would also be impeding traffic, we got around them and behind... yep, you guessed it: a car with Minnesota plates. We were now on the other side of the tunnel; the road is narrow and winding. Apparently, the person driving the car with the Minnesota plates had never seen a curve or a hill before, because it was quite apparent they were petrified - they came to a near stop at every curve... and there are a LOT of curves. I can't say for sure how slow we were going because the speedometer on the Vespa isn't real accurate at single digit speeds. When another car was coming towards the Minnesota car - and there were a LOT of cars coming towards us - they would pull so far to the right that a tire would drop off the road. There are no shoulders on this narrow road. But they had plenty of room between them and the other vehicles passing in the opposite direction. Really, it was WAY more drama than necessary.
Eventually, the traffic eased up and the Minnesota car was able to get up to 15 or 16 miles per hour. Amazingly, we caught up to a Harley driving even slower, with a couple cars behind that bike. Slowly, the cars between us and the Harley pulled over... yep, the only thing slower than the car with Minnesota plates was a Harley dresser with... Minnesota plates.
We turned off of Needles Highway onto Playhouse Road, and blissfully no traffic. Well, there was one car in front of us for a short time, but apparently that driver understood that you have to press down on that pedal on the right to make the car go forward. No, that car did not have a Minnesota plate.
Playhouse Road to Iron Mountain Road for a short bit, then more on Playhouse Road. Fun curves, no traffic. The riding was good. Onto Rockerville Road where we got behind a Can-Am 3-wheeler. The Can-Am trikes resemble a snowmobile with wheels: two wheels in the front, one drive wheel in the back. There is no "lean" to it as it goes through the curves (like a motorcycle/scooter). We quickly caught up to the Can-Am and had to back off on our speed, with no place to pass.
That trike went straight when we made our turn onto Neckyoke Road, so the last part of our ride through the curves was without traffic.
It was warm when we got back (84º). After Rufus got a late lunch, we all sat outside under the awning. Unlike many folks, we did not BBQ today... we got to experience plenty of smoke from the giant smoker (really, it is built onto its own trailer) across the road from us. Fortunately, the light wind kept most of the smoke away, keeping us from having everything we own smell like smoke. Instead of grilling, Joan put a pork roast in the slow cooker while we were gone, and we got to have the traditional Cuban sandwiches holiday feast. Well, we're making that our tradition this weekend. With a side of fried corn with bacon in it. Tasty!
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Side note: In that first photo on this post, the guy on the left is wearing Bandidos colors. For those not familiar with that term, colors would be the large patch on the back of the vest. The Bandidos are a "one-percenter" motorcycle "club" (like Hells Angels). It started in the San Antonio area in the 60s, but they have members world-wide. A group of them are in the Black Hills this weekend. Probably a good time to not wear my Vesparados colors.
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