Riding the George Mickelson Trail in South Dakota

Riding the George Mickelson Trail in South Dakota’s Black Hills has been on my list since I first read about it in a magazine that Rails-to-Trail Conservancy sends me periodically.  So I scratched out a three day weekend here recently and packed my bike, gear and, oh yeah, my wife and fourteen year old daughter in to the car and up from Olathe, Kansas we drove.

Driving was part of the adventure.  We stayed in Omaha on Thursday night and took in their Old Market District.  Then it was up to the Badlands of South Dakota where I had my wife drop me off so that I could get in a twelve mile (or so) ride as they did a little hiking and visiting the Visitor’s Center.  Beautiful!  And there was this descent that would have been even more fun had it not been for the van from Nebraska in front of me… Yet, he was taking in the beautiful scenery, too.

bicycling south dakota
Pausing at the end of my short ride.  Such a beautiful place, the Badlands.

As a final “pit stop” on the way to our destination in Deadwood, we were legally required to stop off at Wall Drug.  I mean, anyone putting up that many signs for 500 miles deserves to capture at least a few of our expendable dollars, right?

769 miles later we arrived at our hotel in Deadwood, South Dakota.  As my wife and daughter planned their shopping and sight seeing for the next day I readied my Masi CXGR gravel bike and supplies for the ride on the Mickelson Trail.  At 6:54 am the next morning I turned on my Garmin Edge 25 and made the first kick towards Custer.

You can find my ride on the George Mickelson Trail here.

Deadwood
There was some construction creating a single lane on the main road leading to the trail and yet it was early in the morning, traffic was light and a police officer was right behind me to block any aggressive driving.  As I pedaled I realized that one block to my right was “downtown” Deadwood so I hung a right and pedaled down and back the two or three blocks of brick covered streets to take in the sights and odd names of many of the stores in front of me.

Then it was on to the trail announced by bold architecture where I registered my ride and paid the fee for trail use.  I believe the trail use for one day was $4.00 I only had one $1 bill and the rest were $20s.  So, Merry Christmas Mickelson Trail!

One of my early observations of the ride was how well the trail was taken care of and, at least in the Deadwood portion, how it appears that they didn’t take up the old tracks. They simply covered the rails with chit gravel.  I know this because in more than a few places the rail bleeds through and my tires were riding on steel.  Not in a dangerous way, mind you.  I had just never seen that before.

My second observation was how beautiful the Black Hills are.  The smell of the pine and feeling the crunch of the gravel under my tires sparked my senses.  And there was the noticeable coolness in the shadows as the cold water cast off waves of relief in the unseasonable heat…even at 7:15 in the morning.  The sound of that rushing water.  Of our five senses…the only thing missing was the taste.  And with all the rain they’ve been having there wasn’t much dust to eat.

Riding the George Mickelson Trail
There were a couple of buildings protected by the fence.  Was the fence to there to keep the ghosts in?

Up and Up and Up or Down
One of the things I probably should have done, especially as a Kansan, is check the elevation map. Listen, I promise you Kansas isn’t as flat as you’d like to believe.  At least in the eastern third of the state.  Yet, we do not have anyway to simulate hills that climb for the better part of 16 miles.  Yes, our Flint Hills can have steep rollers, yet they do not go on for the distance per climb you get in the Rockies or Black Hills.

Look at the ride.  Essentially, I only “climbed” four hills in the entire 67 miles.  Yet, except for a very short respite, the first hill goes on for 16.9 miles.  AND, I ride at 800′-1,000′ most days.  This ride bounced me between 4,500′ and 6,200′ throughout the day.  With only one night’s sleep at “altitude” this may have effected me more than I realized as I was climbing and climbing.  Sure, my overall speed on the ride was respectable considering all the stopping I did for sightseeing and pictures along the way, yet I began to feel that ride in that last climb before Custer.

Mickelson Trail Black Hills South Dakota
Roughly 8 miles in from Deadwood there is this beautiful rest stop at the Russell “Uncle Russ” Vermann memorial picnic table. Thank you to whomever provided this in Uncle Russ’ memory.

LESSON: For my friends in western Kansas, southern Illinois  and most of Florida, you are either riding up and up or descending when you ride the Mickelson Trail.  Very little, if any, flat. 

And speaking of descents…WOW!  Look at that first real descent.  That’s over an 18 mile free ride!  Well worth the climbing that precedes.  I was torn between hitting speeds of 25 mph and taking in every sight as slowly as I could.  The experience was truly a remarkable time on the trail and perhaps my primary lasting memory as time goes forward.

Wildlife
A couple of snakes of unknown species, a deer clearly unafraid of my being on the trail, a chipmunk here and again…that was really the only wildlife I saw on the trail.  So I was disappointed on this front. It has been unseasonably warm in the Black Hills and this may account for the animals bedding down in the shade where I could not see them.

George Mickelson Trail railroad tunnel
One of the three or four railroad tunnels I traveled in my 67 miles. We don’t get many of these in Kansas.

I will write more about the George Mickelson Trial in the near future.  The trail was simply inspiring and I took more pictures and notes along the way. The journey was renewing, relaxing, exhilarating and hard work…all in the same day.  That is a good day of bicycle riding in my book.

Bicycling Maine from Portland to Bar Harbor

As we sit here planning our bicycle adventures for 2019 I had to stop and realize I had never shared our video of Marie and I when we spent a week in June of 2017 Bicycling Maine from Portland to Bar Harbor.  What a great time that was.

bike tour maine

Click to View Video

Husband and Wife
First, it is the first time I have ever gotten Marie to do a “major” ride with me.  The promise of all the romance Maine had to offer was certainly a factor…not to mention the lobster.  The rides we rode to train together were great, too.  Away from the kids and the chores of daily life we could just be husband and wife, friends.

Summer Feet Cycling
To arrange the tour we used Summer Feet Cycling to make our lives easier.  They shared with us bike routes, made reservations at B&Bs and shuttled us from place to place when the route called for it.  Knowing that we would be staying at Bed and Breakfast establishments as well as getting the occasional car ride really helped me to sell the trip to Marie.

Summer Feet did a great job. We were well pleased with the B&B accommodations, locations chosen and most of the route.  There were some minor things I would have changed about the route. Then again, if I had gone on my own there wouldn’t have been a route!  I would have just set off from place to place and wandered in between.

bike touring Maine

Mountains and Coastline
By far, I think Marie’s favorite parts of the ride were the coastlines.  Me?  I was in agreement though I did enjoy the mountain climbs and the views from on top.  Marie was really NOT in to the climbs but was a good sport about it all. No, we didn’t see any moose.

The Cities
I had no idea how cool the cities in Maine would be.  I loved Portland and Belfast.  Marie got a great deal of pleasure at the shops in Bar Harbor.  The brick buildings and water views and, well, for these landlubbers the cities had a lot to offer.

bicycle vacation maine

Ice Cream, Beer and Cod
All you ever really hear about in Maine is the lobster.  And it was good.  Marie had it many, many times.  Me?  I loved the beer culture in Maine.  Holy cow!  Every city seemed to have its own brewery, or two.  Every city had ice cream everywhere. And the Cod?  I fell in love. I ate far more Atlantic Cod than lobster.  Then again, I’m a steak and bbq guy.

We Just Were
All told, we rode 228.82 miles with 12,157′ of elevation gained. Not a sprinter’s pace, to be sure.  Still, I didn’t write at all while on this bicycle tour.  The moments were simply enjoyed…and photographed.   I’ll let the video above and the pictures tell the rest of the story.  I’m just glad I was blessed to take the trip…with my wife. That will always be my memory of bicycling Maine.

 

Gravel Riding in Costa Rica

There was a moment when I stopped, listened carefully to the sounds of the jungle and wondered what Marie (my wife) would think when she got the call exclaiming “We found him!” Logically, I knew I was only a mile or so from some kind of sign of civilization. Yet here I was at road’s end. Yes, the road had simply stopped at a stream. This is where I found myself on a bike ride in Costa Rica a couple weeks back.

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Earlier in the day I had rented a bike several notches below my usual standards, as I wrote last week, for my inaugural ride in Costa Rica.  A short ride, to be sure.  Yet a ride that brought smiles.  On this ride I had decided to be a bit more adventurous.  Without much thought and certainly very little planning, I took a glance at my Google Maps and headed off from the Tamarindo Diria Hotel.

The noise and cars of Tamarindo soon began to disappear quickly as the asphalt road turned in to gravel as I was heading up a slight incline past the Banco Nacional.  I smiled to myself having to admit that I had never seen a bank so modern and protected by security fences located on a gravel road.  Surrounding the bank was an area I can best describe as Hostel territory.  Apparently, as I learned upon arriving, Tamarindo is well known for its surfing.  (See the video of our adventures below.)

Bicycling Costa Rica

VIEW COSTA RICA ADVENTURE HERE

As such, the hostels bubble over with the young and adventurous looking to spend a week or month or year chasing the perfect wave with little on their minds but how to get just enough work done to survive until tomorrow’s ride.  As a bicyclist, I immediately could appreciate the sentiment.

As I continued my ascent I would see a sign pointing out some sort of establishment here and there and was really quite stunned how quickly I was “out of town.”  I looked down at my Garmin Edge 25 and, if memory serves me, I was less than two miles from the hotel. As I continued up the hill, nothing too steep, I caught a glimpse of a sign that said “Lots –>”  As it is my fantasy to someday live in Costa Rica, or at least have a part time residence here, I followed the arrow down around a dog-leg left, up a small rise and down a  bit followed by a serious, serious climb.  As I am still not back in bicycling shape I am sheepish to say the hill was so long and steep that I did walk my bike the last quarter of the climb.

Walking the bike did not help my heart rate.  My thighs burned and lungs cycled quickly because after spending most of the year grieving my daughter the bike had been put aside.  Why?  I really don’t know and didn’t realize it for the longest time  Without my usual miles at this time of year I had to admit to myself, “Chris, this isn’t Kansas.”

gravel bike ride

As I reached the peak I had found the “Lots.”  Luxury homes poked up over the right side and still more up and up.  The road laid out in front of me with a downhill that beckoned, the tree down over three-quarters of the way over the road be damned.  “Maybe that should have been a clue for the initiated,” I would later think to myself as the road quickly turned in to what I would most definitely deem to be a “minimum maintenance road.”  To say the very least.

No worries.  I’m here having fun with no real direction to go and so long as I beat the sun, I’d be okay.  I stopped to take a picture of the road and after crossing a stream, the first of three, I stopped to set up my GoPro to take those video snippets in the video above. It was fun and I was enjoying myself.

Sure, the mud leading to the flowing stream had paw prints I had never seen before.  And yes, the howler monkeys were howling away somewhere in the distance and, “Hey, what was that?” was happening here and again as unknown leaves would rustle not that far from the road.  Yet, this was my first jungle experience and I was tickled to death.  Without the power of a bicycle and the courage to rent one an go I would not right now be sitting here, out of breath, enjoying all that God had provided around me.  Pretty cool.

Which, after crossing another stream with unknown prints around it in abundance, brings me to where the story began…in the middle of nowhere with only one safe way to go…back the way I came.  So back I went.  Remember that hill/mountain I had to walk part of the way up? Well now let me tell you, that was a lot of fun on the way down!

Soon I found my way back to the “Lots–>” sign and continued my original direction, up and up the hill, on gravel, on a bike that did not fill me with confidence.  Finally, and not too far up the road I saw a weather-worn sign pointing out the DreamSea Surf Camp to the left and (happily) I cut the climb short and took the sharp left with a quick downhill.  It wasn’t too long before I saw the camp on my left with what looked like a showing agent convincing someone this was the place to stay.  Frankly, if I were a surfer I’d give it a go.  After all, it’s surround by nothing.  What a great place to hang after a tension filled day of finding the right wave and not hitting the volcanic rock if the tide is out.

It wasn’t long thereafter that I headed up what I thought was a hill and then quickly realized as I turned slightly right that it was mountain…with a sharp switchback followed by the steepest, straightest climb I have ever attempted.  Now understand, while I do live in Kansas, I do ride the Flint Hills.  What are the Flint Hills you ask?  The are a beautiful ecological tallgrass challenge that run north and south in Kansas and made bicycle-famous by the Dirty Kanza.  Hop on over to the DK200 website to find out more.

That said, this mountain kicked my bicycle hiney.  Can I blame it on the bike?  Probably not.  I stopped three times on the way to the top. And, at one point, I found it curious that a motorcyclist cut his engine at the peak and as he came over he was super slow and using his brakes. He stopped next to me and said in broken English that I was just about there and with a smile, he was gone again.  Helmet on, engine off as he went down the steep descent.

Mountain Keeps Going
The mountain just kept going up!

Encouraged, up I went and was so relived when I hit top.  So relieved.  I stopped and took a picture where you can, if you look closely, see the Pacific Ocean a couple miles off.  (See feature image.) And then down I went. Another ordeal.

You see I came to Costa Rica without bicycle gloves or a helmet.  The clipped shoes I remembered though the shop didn’t have clipless pedals.  That descent?  That motorcyclist with his engine turned off and ever so slowly going down the other side? Me not wearing a helmet?

Off I went. Terrified.  This I should have walked! It was probably a 350 meters long and my guess is a 15% descent, or more.  Maybe some smart guy can look at my Strava and figure it out for me.  As the gravel would fly by I glanced down at the Garmin and saw speeds creeping past 26 mph even as I feathered the brakes as best I could.  One ounce of pressure too much and the back brake kept locking and sending me in to very uncomfortable skids.  Keep in mind, I am an experienced gravel rider.  Yet with this negative pitch, large chunks of gravel, rain trenches snaking and cutting their way through the Costa Rican dirt roads leaving trenches inches deep and, remember, no helmet, I was a little stressed.

Should I lay it down and take the road rash?  Should I keep going and do the best I can?  Which tree exactly will I be hitting?

Finally, the road began to level.  Slowly but surely.  Almost to the end of the hill I found three men changing out a radiator on a very used Toyota.  I’m not sure what the deal is with radiators in Costa Rica but the one hour ride from the airport to the hotel featured several radiator repair shops.  (Make a note: I’ll need to look in to that.)

And like magic, the pavement of the “highway” appeared in front of me in perpendicular fashion.  Since this road is the major way in and out of Tamarindo I slowed to be sure I could make it and jumped the highway to a path running parallel just off the pavement.  Though not cared for this path had to be safer than the road itself, at least in my current jittery mode having survived the longest, bumpiest, gravelliest, steepest, straightest descent I have ever ridden.

tamarindo costa rica bike rideAnother mile or so and I was back at the bike shop before they closed for the day so the blonde German girl could check me in as she made plans to go out for the evening immediately upon her release from work duties.

From there I walked across the street and headed back to my hotel.  It’s a short walk from Kelly’s Surf Shop to the Hotel Diria with the merchants interspersed on both sides of the road, the Pacific Ocean calling on the west side only, the sound of waves crashing muffled slightly by cars passing and music from the open air bars. As I took one quick glimpse at my Garmin before shutting it off my bike ride had totaled 6.4 miles and 222 calories burned. Are you freakin’ kidding me?

 

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