Custer’s (and very nearly my) last stand

A Motorbiking saga in two parts

Part One – The Little Big Horn

Because of classic shows like “Bonanza,” Gunsmoke,” “The Lone Ranger,” and “The Rifleman,” the lore of the old west is engrained in anyone who watched TV in the 1960s.

The ultimate old west tale – one taken from real life – is the story of Custer’s Last Stand, the battle of the Little Big Horn, June 25, 1876. Adding to the fascination is the more modern difficulty that Americans have with how this country’s indigenous people were treated by those American through immigration.

It’s for these reasons, and others, that the site of the battle in southern Montana is a fairly major attraction that would be a really major attraction if it weren’t located in the middle of nowhere. But for the motorbiker, the middle of nowhere is sometimes the ideal, especially when it’s combined with the boyhood fantasy of joining the Calvary, strapping on a six-shooter, holstering a Remington, and doing some old fashioned Indian fighting.

Luckily we grow out of most of our boyhood fantasies – hopefully all of the politically incorrect ones, anyway.

One fantasy remains, though, to stand where Custer and hismen once stood, where they drew their last breaths, to look out over the landscape that they saw for the last time. To try to understand better why it happened the way it did.

Getting to the Little Big Horn Battlefield National Monument is a hike. Steadfastly avoiding the highway makes getting there even more of a hike, but a hike well worth the effort.

One route begins in Thermopolis, Wyoming, and winds its way north on U.S. 20 through rich farmland to Greybull. At Greybull you head east on U.S. 14 and the ride gets really interesting. Winding your way through the Bighorn National Forest is a real blast because of both the exhilarating road and gorgeous scenery. After you crest the mountaintop and pass Burgess Junction the road gets even more interesting. Ride this one right away because they’re building a new road even as we speak that takes out about 90 percent of the coolest curves you’ll ever ride.

At Dayton you can take State Road 343 to U.S. 87 north to Lodge Grass, or stay on U.S. 14 and take Interstate 90 all the way to the National Monument.

The Little Big Horn Battlefield National Monument has a small museum that does a good job of giving nearly equal time to both sides of the story, native and military. Several of the park service personnel are Native Americans and they add credibility to the interpretive explanation of the times and motivations. The walk up to “Last Stand Hill” is a somber one, given that the whole place is basically a big graveyard.

Standing at the monument to the fallen U.S. soldiers you’re struck by the smallness of the battlefield and reminded that fighting a war from horseback is a decidedly smaller scale experience than the more contemporary, 20th century battles.

In summertime, bring water and food if you can. It’s blast-furnace hot and there is precious little infrastructure near the site other than a gas station with a mini-mart.

The distances between stops in this part of the country are immense. Infrastructure is sparse – so the old rule of “eat, sleep and poop when you can” really applies because you can’t be sure there’s an Applebee’s in the next town over – meaning you can inadvertently find yourself overly hungry, tired, and distracted at the end of a long journey. In fact you could easily find yourself at journey’s end.

Oxygen is Overrated

One of the things you have to both love and hate about places like Estes Park, Colorado, is how kitchy-touristy it all is. Estes Park is the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park, and at 7,800 ft. the one true tourist items seemingly everywhere is a t-shirt emblazoned with what must be the town motto, “oxygen is overrated.”

All roads westward from Estes Park lead to the mountains. And for a $10 motorbike entrance fee you can experience a glorious road called the “Trail Ridge Road,” that fully lives up to its name. The road climbs and climbs and climbs, you almost hear a voice in your head say, “the Captain has turned off the seatbelt sign, so you’re free to move about the cabin.” And the road offers up more twisties than you can almost imagine.

This is not a road build for speed, however. The scenery is so spectacular that motorbikers and motorists alike will be craning their necks to take in the vistas, watching the road is a definite afterthought – so speed is not recommended. Even in July, the weather at the top of the world is decidedly windy and a cold 50 degrees. The ridge road tops out at about 12,200 ft., well above the tree-line. There are parts of the road that really feel tilty, like you’re about to tip over and go a-tumblin’ down. And, boy is the air thin. Thankfully, the R1200GS, like all newer oil-head beemers, is equipped with computer-controlled fuel injection, so the bike automatically adjusts for the lack of Oh-Two in the atmosphere, and so the bike never falters.

The rider, on the other hand, should be reminded to breathe in-and-out, try not to death-grip the handlebar, and pay no attention to that pounding pulse you feel in your temples – it’ll pass when you get back down below 10,000 ft. The GS dualsport proves its worth once again as the road from Timber Creek to Grand Lake is under construction and reduced to loose gravel, torn up asphalt and base-course. The street-knobby Metzeler Tourance tires bite right in and never miss a beat. Grand Lake really is grand – even zooming by at 55 mph.

Other nearby roads to recommend: Colorado 125 that connects Granby – on the western side of RM National Park – with Walden. It travels through the Arapaho National Forest and is just a blast. Another is Wyoming 789/US20 north out of Riverton. This road leads into Thermopolis, Wyoming, dropping into the Big Horn River Canyon – a surprise bit of beautiful, majestic topography in an otherwise flat, unadorned landscape. Not to be missed.

So, take a deep breath. Then another. Air Traffic control has given you go-ahead to throttle-up your motorbike and climb to flight-level One-Two Thousand at Rocky Mountain National Park.

Sometimes You Forget

Sometimes you forget how truly beautiful America is, particularly the Rocky Mountain southwest.  Sometimes you forget how much fun it is to be out on the motorbike, especially when it’s been a year or longer since the last big tour.  Sometimes you forget that there’s an America away from the Interstate.  Sometimes you forget that the people of that America are, well, nice.

Take Fairplay, Colorado for example.  Just a tad more than 300 miles straight north of home-base, Santa Fe, New Mexico, Fairplay is located on US285 – which also happens to run right through the City Different.  It’s a hardscrabble 

little town nestled in a wide, expansive valley, surrounded by peaks still dusted with snow in July and bereft of vegetation – as they all tower more than 11,000 ft. – the arborist’s dreaded tree-line.

Seeking a place to rest for the night you may want to try the tiny local U.S. Forest Service office, located right at the town’s main crossroads.  First thing you’ll notice is the welcomi

ng “I really want to help you” smile fromthe young woman behind the counter.  This is not a forced “corporate performance measure” smile – sometimes you forget that there’s a difference between a smile that’s part of an employee’s job and a smile that’s genuine.

The Forest Service maintains two idyllic (except for the mosquitoes) campgrounds near Fairplay, Horseshoe and Four Mile.  The Ranger is

actually camped out at the entrance to Horseshoe and also smiles a genuine smile, and is dedicated to finding campers a place to set up for the night.  When the campgrounds fill up, people are not turned away – instead the Ranger creates a makeshift little village of tents in a nearby grassy field usually used to park vehicles during firewood collection season.

The campsites are well groomed and the Forest Service restroom is typically as clean as a whistle.  The whole camping experience is very nearly perfect, but the ultra-aggressive, dive-bombing, Colorado Attack Skeeter very nearly ruins the experience.  Bring DEET.

Sometimes you forget how much fun it is to steadfastly avoid Fast Food America and resolve to seek out, whenever possible, those little mom-and-pop eating establishments. (Full disclosure, this blog was written in a Barnes & Noble Starbucks Café. Hey! Nobody’s perfect).  In Fairplay, it’s the Brown Burro restaurant, espresso bar and ice cream parlor.

The Brown Burro serves all meals, including a delicious breakfast.  If you are one of those who believe that hot food should be hot, then sit at the little four-place counter in front, and more than likely the owner, George Davis, will personally hand you your plate right out of the kitchen window.  As you gather up your helmet and motorbike jacket, don’t be surprised if each and every employee – including George – says something like, “have a great ride today,” and “please be careful and ride safely,” and, you know, they really mean it. 

Fairplay is steeped in the Old West.  The town itself looks like most of it was built around the

turn of the last century.  If you like your Old West towns to look a set from an old John Ford movie, then a visit to the 1880s restored mining town and museum, South Park City, is a must.  It’s located right in Fairplay – and though it might be a little rough around the edges and a bit cliché, a couple from Iowa with three very active youngsters said the kids loved it.

So here’s to remembering – Colorado is gorgeous, the people – in Fairplay at least – are warm and welcoming.  And the motorbike is just a fabulous way to take it all in.

An Italian voice for the quiet German

BMW motorcycles are not noisy. They do not roar. There’s no ear-splitting blap-blap-blap or potato-potato-potato rumble at stoplights or through the first gears. BMW riders have no reason to rev the engine while idling like so many other bikers who seem to need to say “I Am Here” with a loud blast of engine noise while waiting for a green light.

BMW motorbike engineers clearly seek to delight many senses, but the ear is not one of them.

There are times when a BMW motorbike needs to be loud. When the inattentive or distracted driver begins to lane-drift, power-brake, or red-light-run, a good loud motorbike horn can snap them back to reality, and just maybe, keep them from squishing you.

BMWs of the past came stock with a really loud, deep-throated horn. The 1984 R100RS that was once the “dream bike” had a Fiamm horn that really got the job done.

Today’s BMWs, sadly, are delivered new with a tinny, weak squeaking high-pitched horn made in Spain by Bosch. It’s a horn that works, and given the reputation of BMW designers, was certainly tested and proven to be just loud enough to get attention without startling, and tuned to an optimized pitch that properly informs an offending roadway inhabitant without overtly insulting them.

Right. When a driver more focused on a cell-phone than a rear-view-mirror begins to seriously invade your lanespace you want to startle and insult with quick short-long-short blasts of sound that unmistakably say, “Hello! There’s a motorbike over here! Hello!”

One of the great things about the Aerostich catalog, besides being an excellent addition to the porcelain library because of its hilarious product descriptions, is its utility at traditional times of gift giving. Little blue “post its” easily inform caring family members of ideal motorbike necessities suitable for birthdays, father’s day, and the granddaddy of gifting, Santa's Winter Holiday.

Aerostich offers a couple of aftermarket horns. But the obvious choice is called the “Ear Cannon,” described by the Aerostich writers as “The loudest motorcycle horn available. If Ethel Merman, Sam Kinison and John Philip Sousa ever had a band, and played through a wall-of-sound amp rack, it would sound like this.” Getting an Ear Cannon in a brightly wrapped box under a decorated pine tree while the world is a snow-covered, motorbike-unfriendly place is truly a message of hope and springtime.

The “Ear Cannon” is actually a dual tone air horn made in Italy by Stebel. It’s sold by a wide variety of retailers and even comes in a chrome model for those who want a little bling. The horn comes with a relay, but is not supplied with adequate instructions for either wiring or mounting. And by comparison to the stock horn it’s big – so it’s not clear where the thing can be mounted on a modern, compactly designed BMW.

So a mounting kit is essential. Turns out, one of the best kits is made by a small company called Excel Cycle. The kit comes with everything you need to both mount and wire up the Stebel horn, including instructions. A superbly machined spacer is mounted on the same bolt as the stock horn. Then an angled steel bracket easily attaches to the spacer, providing a perfect place to mount the horn and bolt it in tight right between the front forks without interfering with them.

The kit comes with everything you need to wire into the original horn’s power source and hook it up to the relay, fuse, and battery. Both the relay and fuse holder tuck away nicely behind the t-bracket used to hold the owner’s manual.

The Stebel horn is very loud. Is it Ethel Merman, wall-of-sound loud? Well, no, even though the Aerostich description is entertaining, like most of advertising, it’s only accurate enough to make a sale.

The real proof is the startle effect, but how to achieve an accurate test result? Let's face it, you can’t just pull up beside an unsuspecting morning commuter and blast your horn just to see if the poor soul will jump out of their skin. It’s also no fun to wait for an actual road emergency to conduct the test. Luckily, one recent morning an opportunity presented itself.

As an unsuspecting co-worker sedately motored his way to work, a newly Stebel accessorized R1200GS pulled alongside, and as a way to just say “hi” gave the driver two short samples of the Stebel’s Vocce Italiano. With a sincere apology, let’s just say that the “startle effect” was profound. Honestly, the motorbike is usually very quiet.