Who Is It That Sees For Miles?

Sitting in Black Hills National forest, overlooking a beautiful lake, eating the best ever South Dakotan apple; Other than the fact that I really have to use the bathroom (and there are constant vehicles passing making squatting discreetly impossible) it seems rather perfect. Trees, water, AND mountains, ofcourse it’s perfect.

Riding through mountains is probably the most amazing feeling ever. Being surrounded  while on my bike is my favorite. And there they are. Large rocks, housing conifers and small snow patches, giving me a welcoming embrace as I pass through.

In Northern Minnesota we have plenty of trees and water but more swamp than highland. The way the world looks over here is almost like a fairytale, magic, or something. It certainly is nothing I’ve ever seen. My mind is being blown and sculpted as I ride through the Black Hills. Much like I would imagine the four heads on Mt Rushmore felt.

Mount Rushmore is crazy big. How awesome it is to see the art of a man who didn’t have much for technology, but yet managed to perfect some of the greatest street art in our country. And on the top of a mountain to boot. Us humans have managed to turn it into a gawdy tourist trap now. Someday. Someday that’ll be me and my work. An in-your-face tourist trap.

Rapid City has this great thing called Art Ally over on Main street. It is a gallery of street art right there in the ally. Anybody is allowed to go and add their own work to the g-ally (the name I have decided to call it. Get it? Gallery and ally?), making for a conglomeration of various styles and abilities of graffiti. It is absolutely beautiful. I added a piece. It was a cool feeling adding to such a large body of work.

It is interesting how everything appears to be larger right now. The g-ally and street art, the mountains and hills, the trees and valley’s, it is all just so much bigger.

I have no music on Little Wing so I often find myself singing to myself. The acoustics in my helmet are awesome making me sound a little better than my usual singing. It is funny the songs and lyrics that pop into my head at certain points. Over the last few days it has been The Who’s song about seeing for miles. It is extremely apropos because I can see for miles. And miles.

On the plains one can see for miles in every direction due to the lack of trees. In the mountains one can see for miles if they look up. Looking up those mountains are TALL. One can also see for miles at the top of the mountains looking down if they look through a clearing in the trees . Then in Wyoming it is a combination of the two, plains and mountains. Plains on mountains. Mountains on the plains. For miles. And miles.

I have never been to Wyoming. The furthest West I had ever been was the Black Hills of South Dakota when I was five. At that time I was too young to go see Mt Rushmore. I remember taking a nap with my sister while all the adults went to vist it. Sixteen years later I rode past it on my motorcycle. All grown up.

Riding new places in the U.S makes me feel bigger too. I mean, my mind is being blown so that helps, but I also do feel grown up or something. The way I looked at all the adults who could go to Mt Rushmore when I was five is now they way I see myself.

Another thing I’ve noticed are Wyoming’s red roads. Red roads, black hills, yellow stones, someone should make a color crayon set from the colors of U.S.

I am no longer sitting in Black Hills National forest munching an apple. I am using the WiFi in a Starbucks in Gillette, WY. It is still a little brisk outside so I’m taking it easy. I am looking forward to a scenic route to the next destination. I took a selfie with Devil’s Tower yesterday, and traveled 34 to Sundance. I found a nice campsite to solve my sleeping situation, and camped for the first night since I started the trip.

It has been 11 days. Only 11 days. It has been amazing. I can’t wait to see what comes next. I have went miles and miles. I have seen miles and miles. And miles.

And miles.

And miles.

Because there is magic in my eyes.

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