We visited the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, a sobering reminder of the Cold War era. Decommissioned in the early 1990s, this site once housed some of the most powerful weapons on Earth. A short film recounted the Cold War tensions, the terrifying brinkmanship of the early 1960s, and how both American and Russian soldiers stood vigilant at these missile sites, ready for a launch that, thankfully, never came. The contrast between this stark symbol of nuclear might and the quiet beauty of the surrounding prairie was deeply moving—a peaceful landscape that once sat silently beneath the threat of global destruction.
From there, we set off for something completely different—Biker Country! Our destination: Sturgis, South Dakota, just days before the iconic motorcycle rally would flood the town with half a million riders. On the way, we passed through Spearfish, a charming town with a scenic loop drive that winds through rugged cliffs and hills, with a tranquil stream cutting through the center. It’s no wonder John Muir, the “Father of the National Parks,” fell in love with the region and worked to help preserve the Black Hills.
Of course, no visit to this area would be complete without a stop in Deadwood, where Wild Bill Hickok met his end and where gold rush fever once ruled the day. The town still feels like it’s holding on to 1887—with its saloons, wooden sidewalks, and tales of outlaws echoing through the streets. Honestly, if time travel ever becomes a thing, I want a ride back here—someone call Doc Brown and warm up the DeLorean!
We wrapped up our day with lunch in Sturgis—a cold local brew, a delicious brisket sandwich, and the obligatory souvenir t-shirt. Luckily, the rally crowds hadn’t arrived yet, so we got a peaceful preview of the town before it transforms into leather-clad chaos. Still, even in its calm-before-the-storm state, Sturgis had its characters—we watched one inebriated fellow drop a wad of cash on the street in broad daylight. Let’s just say we’re glad we beat the crowds.
We spent the night in a quiet, small campground with only about a dozen spacious RV sites. Most were occupied by full-timers like us, and the vibe was peaceful and neighborly. Compared to the KOA-style campgrounds—which feel more like a Hampton Inn on wheels, with pools, planned activities, and noisy kids—I much prefer these smaller, scenic spots. They’re the B&Bs of RV life: calm, personal, and full of charm.