From Manitou Springs we headed north to Boulder, Colorado.

Short journey and so I took the opportunity to visit people who can help people with worries about motorcycles.

The problem I didn’t mention was a starting problem. Twice over a week the bike wouldn’t start first time. That’s pretty unusual.

It meant everytime we stopped in the middle of nowhere I was wondering whether the bike would start. That’s a little bit stressful. Believe me.

Without getting technical I suspected it was to do with either the clutch or stand switch. Ten days we lived with this issue, wondering if and when it would reoccur.

Well I say ‘we’ but Susan was quite chilled about it. She delegated the worrying to me and wasn’t even fussed about the bike getting checked in Boulder. Good approach – ‘ forget all your worries and your strife’.

She wasn’t quite so happy that we were taking less and less breaks in our riding. Several hours without stopping was quite commonplace by now. We often stop in the back of beyond and whilst Susan looks at the scenery, I wonder how long it would take a tow truck to get there.

So when the guys at this garage, who are BMW specialists, told us they couldn’t find an issue, we were reassured. So it’s all fine again. Except maybe it isn’t. You see as far as I’m concerned, we haven’t explained what happened?

Oh, and whilst I’m getting bike issues off my chest I may as well tell you about the other.

We have a fuel filter, which is basically a perforated filter bag, inserted into the fuel tank and retained at the tank nozzle area. This was done before South America because the fuel can be dirty especially in places like Bolivia.

All fuel served in South and Central America is by attendant and some can be less than careful placing the fuel nozzle in our tank. Gradually, they knocked the fuel filter into the tank. I didn’t think that could happen but it did. I don’t know when it happened and only noticed the first time I had to fill the tank myself in the USA.

So now we have a 9 by 6 inch filter bag with plastic nozzle floating randomly inside our fuel tank. I’ve had a peer into the tank and can’t see it. All I can see are electronic switches inside the tank – that’s not reassuring!

Boulder, our destination that particular day, is another lovely place to visit. We had two great days doing tourist things. Susan looked at interesting geology ..

And I bought a bottle of single malt whisky ….

… made by a Scot, trained at the Arran Distillery and distilled in Boulder using Scottish imported malt in stills imported from Scotland. Nice.

I drank as much as I was allowed by Susan in two days, poured the rest into a plastic water bottle and then it was time to head north.

We decided to join two planned days of motorbiking and complete 350 miles to South Dakota, on mixed roads, in a day. Ambitious plan.

Unfortunately, the weather also had plans for the day – gale force cross winds, gusting over 65mph! Jeezo!

We waited until 10am to leave our motel as the weather advice was for the wind to reduce in late morning. It didn’t.

My insides were uneasy at the thought of what was to come. I had memories of our experience in South America. It’s one thing to deal with a bike and yourself, it’s completely different feeling when you’re fully loaded and responsible for the safety of another.

Also when two up and with a top box the surface area for the wind to hit high up is increased significantly. If only Susan was disproportionately skinny and 7 stone it would be so much easier.

Personally, I think part of our ‘baggage’ problem occurs because she’s got too many snacks and biscuits and cream bars and muffins and porridge and peanut butter satchets secreted in her bag and jacket. Oh please don’t think I’m being flippant and making this up! She even carries plastic bloody spoons to eat the porridge!

Yes of course I moan and say it’s ridiculous. Yes of course she does what she wants and replies – ‘what the big dog wants ……. Damn!

So we set off on our journey with trepidation and were absolutely hammered by the wind. The roar in our ears and the force on the side of the bike were relentless.

The first 90 miles were on the interstate and it was frighteningly turbulent. There was no consistency to forces on the bike and it was difficult to handle and impossible to keep in a straight line.

We stopped at Cheyenne for a break and I wasn’t sure it was safe to carry on. But it’s amazing how a coffee and time to relax helped. Susan watched me the whole time we were stopped. Yes, you’re absolutely right – she’s wondering if I’m going to go for that plastic bottle of whisky in the side bag!

We decided to give it another try. Well, I decided.

Susan was okay about it. She just sits on the bike and doesn’t worry about it. That’s pretty calm when we’re not going in a straight line and regularly heading towards a heavy vehicle or off the road.

I’m full time struggling keeping going. But we keep going. And we keep going. Hour after hour.

Then we crossed into Wyoming. F**k me!

The High Plains of Wyoming have a mean elevation of 6,700 feet. Its vast, totally open countryside as far as the eye can see, with absolutely nothing to stop the path of the roaring wind until it hits two old ‘cracker barrel’ people on a bike.

It’s ferocious.

We can’t stop because there’s nowhere to stop. It’s just road and countryside. Even if we did stop at the side of the road we can’t park the bike. It would be blown over and we would struggle to get it up.

It takes us over eight hours to reach our destination. Oh yes, I know you’re waiting to hear me say this – we’re totally exhausted!

We couldn’t get a photo of the high plains of Wyoming but take it from me they’re absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. America doesn’t get enough credit for it’s wonderful landscape and, in my opinion, it’s unparalleled.

Our destination that night was Custer. Named after the guy who fought the native Americans and lost. More about that another time.

So no photo of stunning Wyoming. Sorry. Here’s the next best thing – another photo of me in another bar. Sweet as a nut.

This is the kind of bar I would ride for 8 hours in tortuous, terrifying winds.

Wonderful atmosphere. Wonderful food. Wonderful beer. Wonderful Susan dealing with the day.

Yes, of course there was always the option for us not to travel that day and we did seriously discuss it and start making alternative plans.

But we’re not that kind of people. If we were that kind of people we wouldn’t be here in the first place. To be honest, in hindsight we should have stayed but with hindsight we would do the same again.

Next day we went to see the Presidents. You know the guys I’m talking about – these stoney faced guys.

Wonder if there are any quart people who can name these guys without looking it up? Well, you’ve got Washington at the front (left); Lincoln at the back (right); Thomas Jefferson (second from left); and Chuck Norris at the back.

Yes, yes, you’re gonna have to look it up now!

We added a couple of heads – ‘big heid’ and ‘big dog’.

The monument was completed between 1927 and 1941 by the sculptor Gutzon Borglum and his son.

Each head is 18m tall and the sculpture was originally intended to be depicted from head to waist but a lack of funding cut them short. It’s a pretty spectacular monument in the flesh – well, you know what I mean!

So what is the meaning of Mount Rushmore? Is it just three random presidents and Chuck Norris?

They symbolise different principles. George Washington signifies the struggle for independence and the birth of the Republic. Thomas Jefferson the expansion of the country. Abraham Lincoln the permanent Union of the states and equality for all citizens, and Chuck Norris, the 20th century role of the United States in world affairs, the rights of the common man and the ‘Code of Silence’.

Awesome.

It should be recognised, however, the Mount Rushmore sculpture is in land that was illegally taken from the Sioux nation.

The US Govt seized the Black Hills of South Dakota in 1876 because gold was discovered and settlers began to encroach onto Native American land that had been agreed by treaty. In effect, the ‘immigrant’ Americans reneged on legal promises made to the ‘native Americans’.

In 1979, the US Court of Claims decided that said seizure was wrong and awarded the Sioux $17.5 million. With interest, this amounted to $105 million.

The Sioux refused to accept this ‘hush’ money because acceptance would legally terminate Sioux demands for the return of the Black Hills. The money continues to accrue interest and stands over $1.5 billion today.

Activity continues on behalf of the Sioux but recent presidents, including the superficially supportive Obama, delivered nothing.

To show our support for the Native Americans we went to see Crazy Horse. Yes, of course he got bayoneted by the US Cavalry and we didn’t see the guy himself but we did see him larger than life.

They’re currently carving out Crazy Horse from a mountain. It’s a quite astonishing venture.

Below is a representation of what the sculpture will look like.

Started in 1948, the sculpture was the inspiration of Chief Standing Bear and started by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski who had also worked on Mount Rushmore. It’s a significant undertaking and relies on private funding. Progress is slow but continuing.

Crazy Horse, leader of the Lakota, was chosen as the subject because he ‘never signed a treaty or touched the pen’.

The sculpture depicts his left hand gesturing forward in response to a derisive question he was asked ‘where are your lands now?’

Crazy Horse replied ‘my lands are where my dead lie buried’.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Long live the spirit of Crazy Horse.

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