Roaming Cage Free

Day 5 – Deadwood, SD to Detroit Lakes, MN

The final morning together dawns grey and damp in Deadwood—fitting weather for our last ride as a pair. We’re up early, engines humming in the mist, both quietly aware that today marks the end of this shared stretch of road. There’s a purpose in our start: North Dakota calls, promising the small thrill of a photo at Roosevelt National Park.

The Dakotas are notorious for their emptiness; mile after mile of fields and sky, the horizon so flat and endless it seems to swallow thought. Anyone who’s spent time here knows: once you leave the Black Hills, or pass through The Badlands, the world stretches and smooths, the twists and turns left behind. The road unwinds in long, lonely ribbons, and there’s a certain peace in that.

We make our first stop in Belle Fourche, South Dakota. Ken has a reason for pausing here, and I let curiosity win. I’m surprised to learn this quiet town marks the Geographical Center of the United States. How many times have I visited without knowing? There’s a kind of poetry to discovering something new in a “familiar” place.

We push north, the highway our only company. Semis thunder by, hauling their own stories across the Great Plains. Highway 85 is straight and unapologetic, and we fall in with its rhythm—a stop for gas station donuts and canned coffee, quiet stretches otherwise.

Sunlight finally breaks through the clouds as we approach Roosevelt National Park. The Painted Hills rise up, a last grand gesture from the land before the road flattens once more. It’s here, at the southern welcome center, that Ken and I part ways: his path bends back West, while mine carries me East, toward the Great Lakes.  A quick embrace, a wave , then the familiar feeling of riding on alone.

The emptiness of the Dakotas presses in after that, the miles growing longer, the landscape quieter. I grumble at myself and take the Interstate—straight is straight, and here, there’s nothing to be gained from wandering. These are the roads I usually avoid but sometimes speed and efficiency win out over romance and curiosity.

Back onto the highway for another 150 miles. The sky changes as I cross into Central Time, an hour lost to the journey and clouds that aren’t clouds at all—smoke from Canadian wildfires smudging the evening light into something eerie. Fargo drifts by, full of detours and roadwork, but I push through, chasing the last pale shimmer toward my destination.

A quick grocery run, a handful of raindrops, and the clock nudges close to 9 PM. The biggest adventure of the day? Grocery store Sushi and Deviled Eggs.

A couple of beers, and then the quiet of a day well spent.