I was a bit jealous of the people hanging around for Bike Week, except the longer I was in Spear Fish Canyon, the more crowded the road became.
I did not want to relive the parking lot experience from Yellowstone, so I motored through Spearfish Canyon and rejoined U.S. Hwy 85 heading west out of the park.
I stopped at Four Corners for gas and a convenience store sandwich. The Harley riders coming in from the south were starting to congregate there and that was attracting the local and state police. Oddly, they did not seem at all interested in the old white guy on the Ducati. The gendarmes seemed most interested in eye-balling the wannabe badasses. After talking to a few of them, it appeared most were middle class blue collar family guys out of Denver. They leathers still squeeked. And I had miles to go before I sleep. So back on the road south.
The ride from Four Corners to Lusk was much the same as the previous day's ride from Willingston to Belle Forsche, except I was meeting riders headed north rather than south. But the landscape was pretty flat and boring except for just north of Lusk. I was looking for gas but the town's one gas station was backed up nearly a mile with Harley riders with the same idea. I grabbed a sandwich and headed for Guernsey to the south as I had enough fuel to make it there. Apparently no one takes WY270 into the Black Hills because it was largely deserted. Three gas stations greeted me in Guernsey and prices were substantially lower than in Lusk.
I headed over to I-25 after leaving Guernsey for the final leg into Fort Collins. The sky started to darken ahead of me, and I pulled over to put on my Roadcrafter as it looked likely I was about to get wet.
I got a lot more than wet. I got hailed on. About 2 miles down the highway from where this picture was taken it started raining, then shortly after hail started coming down. I thought with the armor in my suit and the helmet, I could withstand it, but it was not going to happen. I pulled over to the side of the road, still on paving. Someone in a SUV pulled over behind me and turned on the SUVs 40-way flashers because there were still lots of vehicles, including 18-wheelers, flying by us. I tucked my head and wrapped my arms around my chest to maximize the protection from the shoulder armer and helmet. I still got several bruises on my arms from hailstones. The hail seemed to last forever, but once it let up, the rain and wind continued pretty hard. Since I was getting close to Laramie, I thought I try to make it to a truck stop and get out of the weather.
Once I got into the Pilot Truck Stop in Laramie I was able to strip off the Roadcrafter and get some hot coffee. I got to talking with a guy riding a BMW R1200 from the south. He said there were tornado warnings in the area. I expect I rode right through them when I was in the hailstorm.
The ride into Fort Collins was uneventful except when I arrived at the motel I found the parking lot completely flooded. I was able to find a little high ground in the back and parked Trigger for the night. After the hailstorm, I decided to order in pizza and warm up in the hot tub.
When you are having an adventure you complain about the conditions and worry about your safety and the condition of your motorcycle. It only takes a day or two for the anxiety to turn into pride of accomplishment. It makes a great story to tell your friends after you have successfully navigated your way through the situation.
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