When news arrived that Lucinda was fixed on the afternoon of the 30th, I broke camp and with a few farewells to the those I had come to know in Selkirk, I rode southwest with what remained of the light. That night I slept in a ball park in Grafton, North Dakota, happy to be moving after a week of seeming exile. The next day I traveled west through North Dakota on Rt.200 and then south, passed infinite stretches of grassland often bespectacled with grazing cows, down 85. Pockets of cumulus clouds spotted the big sky, offering picturesque riding until their safe distance lessened. After a few gripping moments, I arrived to a safe place to put up my tarp, not far from Sturgis, South Dakota.
The following day, route 85 south through Black Hills of South Dakota offered some of the most beautiful surroundings, windy roads and dry, warm weather of this entire trip. It was incredible while it lasted. On route 34 in Wyoming, also, the road cut wonderfully along a river at the base of a gentle valley. Nothing ever will last and while crossing the pass from Wyoming into Colorado I was met with cold rain.
Now I am in Steamboat Springs staying with my friend Samantha. I have some decisions to make concerning what to do next.