Boots and Blacktop Explained

I have just started this blog after doing some writing and looking for a way to get it off of my screen and into the world.  The topics will vary, but I started out writing about motorcycle trips and that is where the name of the blog originated.  It also seemed to fit well with the my website, Boots and Blacktop.  The story of how I came up with the website name is a little odd, though.

I was a Catholic school principal for 21 years and retired in June, 2014.  The job is not for everyone, but most of my days were very enjoyable.  One of the most interesting facets of the job is the variety of decisions a principal has to make each day.

The colleges and universities that offer degrees in Educational Administration work hard to prepare people for the job.  There are classes on curriculum development, teacher evaluation and governance.  All of those topics are important and time spent talking about them and discussing them is time well spent.  But there is no class on what to wear at recess.

Actually, there were no classes on recess.  But if you are going to be an elementary school principal, you are going to learn a lot about recess.  There are recess schedules for students and teachers.  There are rules for younger students and rules for older students.  There are warm weather rules and cold weather rules.  There are rules for inside recess during inclement weather.  You will need new recess equipment now and then. Which class gets to use the new equipment?  How about specific areas of the playground?  Who gets the big field today?  Who gets the soccer field?  Can we play dodgeball?

Once that is all settled, you get to clothing.  In the north country, where we experience the curiously treasured "change of seasons", this is a major issue.  Once the snow covered the playground my school had a jacket, snowpants, and boots policy.  That meant the students wore all of that every day for every outdoor recess.  But then the snow would begin to melt and the weather would warm a bit.  At that time it would make sense to allow some leniency to this policy.  Generally, the first thing that could be deemed unnecessary would be the snowpants.  But this would only be if the students stayed off the wet, mushy, still somewhat snowy grass.  They would be able to play in the church parking lot if they just wore their jackets and boots.

So one day, after being asked about the attire for the day a few times, I responded with, "Boots and blacktop."  By this time everyone in the school knew what this meant.  I thought it sounded like a good title for something, and as long as I was thinking about setting up a website, Boots and Blacktop it was.

My Ride to Rocky Mountain National Park

You never really know what the weather will be like in Wisconsin at any time of the year, but it was unusually cold on the late July day that Clark, my riding partner, and I left for our western excursion.

Our destination was Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. For the past five years we have gone on summer road trips, but this would be the longest in mileage and time. We planned to make one overnight stop on the way west and then spend two nights near the park. The trip home would take us through the sand hills of northwest Nebraska and the Black Hills of South Dakota. We would stay two nights at Ellsworth Air Force Base and make one more stop in Minnesota before coming home.

The temperature was in the fifties at 6:30 when we left Green Bay that morning. The route we had chosen took us to Coloma, where we would get on US 51 to head south toward Madison. From there we would take US 151 southwest into Iowa as far as Des Moines. But our plans changed at our first fuel and coffee stop. The stop is at the intersection of US 51 and Interstate 39. While trying to hold our coffee cups steady in chilled hands we talked to a rider familiar with the area. He was heading east on a very comfortable looking Harley trike and told us our planned route was not our best option. He described another one that continued into Minnesota before heading south. With a 600 mile day ahead of us, we took his suggestion.

We stayed on US 21 west through the Necedah National Wildlfe Refuge. The refuge is noted for its work in building up the almost extinct whooping crane population. The effort is a partnership between the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources and the Wisconsin based National Crane Foundation. It has involved using ultralight aircraft with mockups that make the machines look like adult whooping cranes. The ultralights lead a group of cranes south in the fall and the birds return to Necedah in the spring. The project has not gone as well as it was hoped, but the efforts continue.

We stopped for breakfast at the Greenwood Cafe in Tomah, WI. The sun was beginning to warm the air a bit, but it was still cold. There were a few other bikers in the old cafe and it felt good to crawl into the warm booth. Clark and I each ordered a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage and home fries. In addition to the bikers, there were a few locals in the place enjoying their last cups of coffee before heading off to work. Our breakfasts stops are usually pretty leisurely, but the warmth of the cafe probably caused us to stay a little longer than we had planned.

We finally bundled up again and found our way to Interstate 90 on the south edge of Tomah. The Interstate courses through one of the most beautiful areas in Wisconsin. It skirts the southern border of Fort McCoy, an active United States Army post, before entering what is knows as the Coulee Region around La Crosse. A coulee is described as a valley with high, steep walls. In some parts of the country this landform may be referred to as a hollow. They are beautifully lush and the four lane highway winds smoothly among neat farms framed by the hillsides. The road flattens out as it nears the wide Mississippi River, but just after crossing into Minnesota it rises quickly along the the high bluffs bordering the river. Once up over the bluffs the land becomes

level again and we began our ride across the Great Plains.

We rode on I-90 through eastern Minnesota before turning south on I-35 toward Des Moines, IA. Unfortunately, the weather was still pretty cold. Once we got to Des Moines, IA, we headed west on I-80. Our destination was Fremont, Nebraska and we got in at about 6:00 pm. Fremont is a little north of Interstate 80 and is located on the famous Lincoln Highway, otherwise known as US 30. The Lincoln Highway was the first transcontinental highway for automobiles and was dedicated in 1930. It originally extended from Times Square in New York City to Lincoln Park in San Francisco.. Much like Route 66, it now sometimes joins the Interstate system or other highways as it transverses the continent

The temperature had never gotten much above sixty degrees by the time we parked our bikes at the motel at 6:00 P.M. We quickly checked in and headed straight for the diner next door. Mel’s Diner was the sort of place you would expect to find on the Lincoln Highway. It was small and noisy, but we felt at home as soon as we walked in. The waitress was friendly and an open-faced roast beef sandwich was the perfect meal after the long cold ride. We enjoyed some conversation with the locals before going back to the motel for the night

After the hotel breakfast the next morning we rode off with the morning sun on our backs. We would have liked to have ridden the Lincoln Highway longer than we did just to visit a few more of the small towns along the route, but we had a lot of miles to travel and turned up the entrance ramp to I-80 west at Grand Island. The Interstate parallels US 30 as it follows the North Platte River west. During our fuel and food stops I had to remind myself that we were in Cornhusker country as the University of Nebraska colors are the same as the red and white the Wisconsin Badgers wear. They are as proud of their Huskers as we are of Bucky Badger, so there is a lot of red and white to be seen.

The weather to the west looked threatening. The sky was a dark, smoky color and huge thunderheads hovered as the first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains came into view. We rode into Cheyenne, Wyoming and turned south toward Fort Collins. The majestic Rocky Mountains were wreathed in storm clouds looming on our right. Fortunately, the weather remained dry until we got to our hotel. After checking in, we noticed a Mexican restaurant, the Hacienda Real, right across the road. We enjoyed a meal of enchiladas and tacos and talked about our plans for the next day.

The morning dawned bright and sunny as we aimed the bikes south on I-25. We took the Rocky Mountain National Park exit and headed for the Estes Park entrance. The road followed Big Thompson River for a few miles and we stopped several times to take pictures. The river tumbles down the mountain and there are many twists and turns in the road. There were a few people fly fishing in the river along the way. Estes Park was busy and we stopped at the gift shop along the highway right before entering the park. We had to get those Rocky Mountain National Park stickers for the saddlebags on our Beemers!

One of the motorcycling highlights of Rocky Mountain National Park is the Trail Ridge Road. It climbs as high as 12,000 feet and is only open part of the year as eleven miles of it are above

11,000 feet. As we climbed in elevation, the weather steadily deteriorated. What was a beautiful sunny day in Estes Park became a foggy, cool, and misty one on the mountain. Still, there was a lot of traffic and the places to stop for photos were full of vehicles.

It is not uncommon for people unused to the elevation to experience some light-headedness or shortness of breath. At one point, I noticed Clark was no longer behind me. It was not safe to turn around at that point, so I pulled off to the side of the road and waited. About ten minutes later he rode up behind me and stopped. He got off his bike and said he had started to feel short of breath and needed to stop. We waited a few minutes before he decided he was alright to continue up the mountain. Once we arrived at the Alpine Visitor Center we had some hot coffee and he felt comfortable again.

The visitor center was busy with people getting out of the rain and picking up a few souvenirs. The park map seemed to indicate that continuing on Trail Ridge Road would take us farther away from Estes Park than we wanted to go. A conversation with some Gold Wing riders familiar with the park confirmed this. After a few more pictures and another cup of coffee we started back down the way we had come.

By now the mist had become a steady rain and it was important to focus on our speed and braking as we descended. We rode US 36 out of the park through the Beaver Meadows Visitor Center. It was time for lunch, so we stopped at a McDonald’s in Estes Park. While eating and watching the rain fall we struck up a conversation with another rider who had been fishing in the southern part of Colorado. He too had just come off the mountain and we traded tales of fighting wind and rain. We ate our fast food slow in hopes that the rain would at least let up, but there was no sign of that happening. So we soggily headed back down to Loveland where we would pick up I-25 north to Fort Collins.

About twenty miles east of Estes Park the elevation is around 7,000 feet. The rain had stopped and it was considerably warmer than it had been up on the mountain. We stopped in Loveland to pick up a few groceries before going back up to Fort Collins for the night.

The next day’s destination was Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota, so we were up and gone by 7:00 A.M. Instead of going back up through Cheyenne, we rode due east on US 14. The traffic was light and we cruised along easily. At US 71 we turned north into the Wildcat Hills Recreation Area just south of Scottsbluff, NE, which was to be our first stop.

The first order of business was to find a place for lunch. We chose a local restaurant called the Log Cabin. There were a few men wearing blue jeans and boots drinking coffee at the counter. We exchanged greetings and found an empty booth. The hamburgers were tasty and the coffee delicious. As the waitress filled our coffee cups one more time she gave us directions to the Scottsbluff National Monument.

The monument was a landmark for people in wagon trains on the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails in the mid nineteenth century. Many travelers carved their names or messages in the soft sandstone and some wagon ruts can still be seen. I took the short walk out onto the

prairie to see them. There is a paved road that winds up to the top of the bluff. Here you can hike trails to see the badlands area, the city of Scottsbluff, and the Oregon Trail. The temperature was now nearing ninety degrees and we weren’t dressed for hiking, so we took a few pictures and got back on the road.

Since we were so close, we took a short ride out of our way trip to visit Chimney Rock National Historic Site. It is just a few miles south and east of Scottsbluff and is another landmark that westward travelers noted during their journey. The rock formation rises 325 feet above the plains and is visible for thirty miles. The area around the site was purchased by Rozel Frank Durnal in 1883. He planted an orchard there and raised potatoes, watermelons, and various other crops. In 1933 the Durnal family sold about eighty acres of land, including Chimney Rock, to the United States Government for one dollar.

Clark was not as interested in these landmarks as I was, but we pulled into the Chimney Rock Visitor Center parking lot anyway. We peeled off our jackets and noted that we were the only ones there. There were only some scrub bushes around us and it was hard to imagine someone farming this land. There were signs posted several yards out into the brush warning of rattlesnakes. As I walked into the Visitor Center, careful to stay on the sidewalk, I noticed that the area around the center had recently been burned. There was one elderly woman behind the brochure filled counter, and I asked her about the burned area. She rather distractedly answered that it was done to keep the rattlesnake population at a reasonable level. Neither of us are fond of snakes, so we kept a sharp eye out as we put our helmets and jackets back on in the parking lot.

Back on the road, we continued southeast on US 92, passing Courthouse and Jail Rocks. These formations were also recognized by pioneers and given their names due to the shape of the rocks. These are located near Bridgeport, Nebraska, where we turned north on US 385.

The weather had turned very warm and we were anxious to get up into South Dakota. The highway winds its way through northern Nebraska and up through the southern parts of the Black Hills in South Dakota. Ellsworth Air Force Base is ten miles east of Rapid City, SD, and we arrived in the early evening. We ate our dinner on the base and there was time at night for a walk. Ellsworth is home to the 28th Bomb Wing, one of two Air Force units that have the B1B aircraft. It is breathtaking to see them take off and land as I did that evening.

In the morning we walked to the dining facility and ate breakfast with the young airmen before heading up I-90 to Sturgis. The annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally wasn’t officially starting for a few days, but the vendors were already setting up. For about 48 weeks out of the year Sturgis is a quiet northern plains town, but it becomes a beehive of activity in late July and early August. The t-shirt and leather shops were open already. We walked up and down the streets for an hour or so and bought some rally shirts to bring home as gifts. Then we mounted up again and rode south toward our next destination.

We got back on 385 and rode through the historic gambling town of Deadwood. Further south the road passes the picturesque Pactola Reservoir. Once we got to Hill City we found a place to

park and headed straight for the Alpine Hotel. The Alpine is noted for their tenderloin steak dinners, but their lunch offerings are just as delicious. The weather was perfect, so we ate our steak sandwiches on the big front porch.

After finishing up at the Alpine, we entered the twisty Needles Highway from the west. It gets its name from the rock formations in the area and the hairpin curves and narrow tunnels make it a great ride on a motorcycle. We followed the highway to the small town of Keystone. Keystone sits in the shadow of Mount Rushmore National Monument and has a population of only several hundred people in the off season. It swells into the thousands during the summer and is very busy during Rally Week in August. It’s a great place to get a cold beverage, find a shady spot and watch people roll through going up or down the mountain. We visited a few shops before riding back up to Ellsworth AFB.

The next mornin we began our trip home. The route we chose took us across South Dakota on US 14 and into Minnesota. We stopped for the night in New Ulm and enjoyed a good meal at the Red Lobster just across the parking lot from our hotel. After a cold and windy first day of riding, the weather had turned in our favor. Our last two days on the road were sunny and warm. After riding across the plains in Nebraska, up the mountains in Colorado and through the grain fields of Minnesota it was great to get back to the dairy farms of northeast Wisconsin safely the next day.