Our yearly pilgrimage to the Paha Sapa (Sioux for Black Hills), is over. I guess that's why I wrote and you're reading this report.

This year we had plans to join some friends on a ride to the Hills. While that did not happen, at the last minute, I still had my bike delivered to Melbourne and had to find a way, to blast it to Jacksonville. After a double check we peeled out towards the North, 200 miles or so, as quick as possible. We made it, then hauled ass to Sturgis. The guys drove the rental and I pounded the crap out of my black chopper. That was just the start of the adventure.

As you most likely know, the Black Hills area has a special aura, from the tumbleweed town of Sturgis, to Deadwood and Lead. Each berg has a heavy duty history in the formation of, what today is known as, the United States. By the way, I'm going to report on what went on, but I plan to shed some history on the deal, just to be different.

Deadwood was the town that never existed. It was officially out of bounds for the white man, but gold and what turned out to be the largest gold mine, in the US (Lead's Homestake mine), attracted all kind of characters. We wondered the whole way up, all two thousand miles or so, how people walked and rode, canoed etc, through this vast land. It blew my mind that everything from St Louis on was wild territory. Sure, we pondered this while cruising at 65 in our dually. We found something curious about every town and city we passed, Kansas City, the James gang, and more, while zig zagging the trek laid out by Lewis and Clark, on our way to the Sacred Mountains of Paha Sapa.

There's a lot more than a bunch of motorcycles and bars in Sturgis, there's historic past, there's romance and adventure.

We finally made it,way ahead of schedule, after 36 hours of straight driving. Since we did not participate in the Discovery Ride, we did what any normal, overworked individuals would, slept as much as possible and watched TV.

We had no rush, I've conquered this trek many times before. We paced ourselves to survive the whole week. Unlike Wild Bill Hickok, no dead man's hand for us, no sir.

We had an action-packed schedule and would attempt to make every event, which I knew beforehand was fuckin' impossible. We registered friends to meet and places to be. We sorta had a full plate of barbecued appointments and would take care of them piece by piece. The rally kicked-off Monday, officially, and we intended to bum around until then, unless the other guys wanted to cruise. That was fine, but no overdoing it, we had lots of asphalt to cover.

Brothers from Big Mike's Choppers, BMC.