Many years ago, we discovered the Mickelson Trail, a rails-to-trails bike path through the Black Hills of South Dakota. I even blogged about it at the time— that was just after we first bought electric bikes!
Rails-to-trails, if you don’t know, are old railroad runs converted into nice biking and walking paths. They’re wonderful because the slopes are never too steep, the curves are never too tight, and they often travel through beautiful countryside. There are initiatives to build these all over the country — there’s even a project underway for a continuous cross-country trail. The Mickelson Trail is one of the best examples: 109 miles of crushed gravel from Deadwood to Edgemont.
The First Ride (2021)
Back in 2021 we only rode about 10 miles, but I was intrigued by the idea of someday riding the whole thing — even if not all at once. As we drove away that year, the trail followed alongside the road down to its end in Edgemont, and I watched it, fantasizing that I’d finish the ride someday.
Two years later, we visited Vicky and Kenny, whom we’d met work camping at Towerpoint in Mesa. They live in Hill City, South Dakota, right in the heart of the Black Hills — and right on the Mickelson Trail. You can literally ride from their house. So we knocked out another 10 miles on that visit. And I blogged about that!
South Dakota is our state of residency, which means we have to return every five years to renew our driver’s licenses if nothing else — and this happened to be one of those years.
RK and Marsha in Hot Springs
In the meantime, our friends RK and Marsha Owen — who we tend to run into every so often — bought a piece of land in Hot Springs, South Dakota. They told us about it, very excitedly, last winter when we crossed paths in Arizona. (Coincidentally, we’d visited them in Surprise, Arizona to see land they’d bought there too, in an RV park called Happy Trails — we’re actually considering buying in at Happy Trails ourselves, and we’ll be spending the winter there to check it out. But I digress.)
Killing Two (or Four) Birds… with one trip
We were summering in Worland, Wyoming, about five hours from the Black Hills. So we scheduled a June trip: visit RK and Marsha, visit Vicky and Kenny, renew our driver’s licenses, and ride more of the Mickelson.
Hot Springs
This town turned out to be a town we’d never actually visited before, and it’s a lovely little place. RK and Marsha’s property sits about six miles north of town on two wooded acres, with a large metal structure and a spot for their RV — everything else (utilities, an actual house) still needs to be built out over the next few years. They’re diving into the community: pickleball, dinner at the USO, and daily trips to Evans Plunge, the local hot springs, where RK works out, sweats in the sauna, and soaks almost every day. The three of us (minus Mike) went for an afternoon soak ourselves.
They offered to let us stay in their building, but since we were there to renew our licenses, we needed a hotel receipt — so we stayed in town instead. I still find that funny: to be a South Dakotan, you apparently have to prove you spent at least one night in the state every five years.
I’d hoped RK and Marsha might ride a section of the trail with us, but without e-bikes (and being, in their words, not as young as they once were), that didn’t happen. We did make time to visit Wind Cave National Park, which isn’t as simple as it sounds — they run a lottery system for tickets, so I volunteered to get in line at 6am. I barely made it through before they sold out. The park sits about six miles north of RK and Marsha’s place.
Hill City: The Longest Ride Yet
Turns out Kenny had caught the same bug I had — he wanted to ride the entire trail too. Mike and Vicky were a little less enthusiastic, but supportive of us crazies all the same.
The morning after we arrived, we rode from Custer back north to Vicky and Kenny’s house in Hill City. The next day, we tackled the long haul: Custer all the way to the end of the trail in Edgemont. That was 46 miles — the longest ride either of us had ever done. Vicky played chase vehicle, checking in every 10 miles or so to see if we were too beat to keep going. Mike wisely opted out of the final 16 miles.
Kenny and I were exhausted but determined to finish. Lucky for us, our strategy of always riding from higher elevation to lower paid off, and with careful planning, our e-bike batteries lasted the whole day. South of Custer, you’re pretty well out of the Black Hills proper — still pretty, but a completely different landscape with a lot more direct sun exposure. Kenny and I both got scorched. It had been a long time since I’d burned like that! Still, it was a blast, and the final stretch through Sheep Canyon was gorgeous.
And Bonus
That night, we got treated to a lightning show unlike anything we’d ever seen before. — Strobe lightning, a term for rapid, continuous intra-cloud lightning that makes a storm look like it’s flashing on and off like a strobe. It went on for a couple of hours. What a show.
Halfway Done — Then Life Happened
We headed back toward Worland (with a stop at Devils Tower along the way), planning to return in August and maybe catch a few hours of the Sturgis motorcycle rally.
Life had other plans, as you read in my last post — Mike’s mom passed away just five days before we were set to head back to South Dakota, and that changed everything. We missed Sturgis, but we vowed to get back to Hill City this year.
Last week, we finally rescheduled. From Ogden, Utah, it was a 10-hour drive — ugh. Kenny was going to finish the trail with or without me. I definitely preferred with me.
Finishing the Job (September)
We drove out on a Thursday. Friday, we headed into Rapid City to handle some county business (voter registration and the like), which left Saturday as our riding day. Vicky and Kenny’s son, Pat, sacrificed his day to shuttle us around.
Our “100% downhill” strategy meant starting at the Dumont trailhead and riding 18 miles (a 1,300-foot elevation drop) into Deadwood, at the trail’s north end. Kenny lived and worked in this area for over 30 years, so he kept us entertained with local history and “his stories” the whole way. A beautiful section.
Pat picked us up in Deadwood, we grabbed lunch, and headed back to Dumont to ride south. Our goal was Mystic — the final piece Kenny needed to complete the entire trail.
Record-keeping
It had been hard to remember exactly where we’d started and stopped five years ago, and again three years ago. At one point, checking in with Pat, I recognized the trailhead as the spot where we’d started riding back in 2021. I realized that trip, we’d ridden south through three tunnels and turned around right there. As I kept riding and thinking it over, I wasn’t totally convinced I’d covered the ground from the last tunnel to the next trailhead. I mentioned it to Kenny. On the drive home, he pointed out the tunnel. And as we approached the next trailhead I recognized it as the exact spot Pat had dropped us in 2023.
There was a 2.5-mile gap in my ride. Ugh.
Kenny turned to me and said, “We can jump out and I’ll ride it with you if you want.” Let’s do it.
So Kenny and I hopped out and grabbed our bikes, while Mike, Vicky, and Pat drove back 2.5 miles to the nearest access point. Kenny said, “No holding back, Phyllis — let’s go!” So I took off downhill, naturally, and pretty soon I was capping myself at 25 mph, which is as fast as I’m comfortable going. Turns out Kenny’s bike maxes out at 20 — I had no idea — so I left him in the dust. But we made it to the tunnel, and now I’m confident I’ve ridden every single inch of the 109-mile Mickelson Trail.
It really is a beautiful ride.
Home Again
The next day we tackled the long 10-hour drive back, feeling incredibly accomplished. We’re so glad we finally closed the loop on this one.
