Against The Wind

Against the wind

I'm still running against the wind

I'm older now, but still running against the wind

Well, I'm older now and still running

Against the wind

Against The Wind, Bob Seger (1980)

Cold front wind knocks down the grass and appears to bend the MMR sign for French Creek Cutoff.

I don't intentionally seek out adverse conditions, but don't often avoid them either. I just ride.

Lately, however, I'm actually starting to check the day's forecast before heading out for a longer ride in the country. Getting a bit soft, I know.

Last weekend, I decided to ride relatively early in the day before a significant front blasted in with big northerly winds.

 

Too bad the wind didn't get the same forecast.

RideWithGPS map of my ride to the Fairburn Agate Beds.

After last week's downright pleasant cruise on Old Time Gravel, I thought another blast from the past would be fun. Time to go back to the Fairburn Agate Beds, out a bit further east for a gander over the Cheyenne River valley, and then back to Fairburn on a rolling loop with a nifty Minimum Maintenance Road. Just 40 miles and 1,700' gain. Just right for my Black Mountain single speed.

At least if I can finish in Fairburn before that northerly wind hits.

Looking east toward the Fairburn Agate Beds and beyond.

To avoid that early afternoon wind attack, I planned to be pedaling out of Fairburn no later than 08:00 and finish by about 11:30, maybe 12:00. But that start didn't happen. For no good reason, it was more like 09:00. So, I pushed my luck right from the start.

I haven't ridden out to the Agate Beds in several years, but I don't remember those first 11 miles to be so seriously washboarded and heavily graveled. That start demanded a lot more power and attention than any surface last week. And more time. Otherwise, the gentle drop toward the Cheyenne River passed through some nice ranch land with big prairie views, which I thoroughly enjoyed whenever I could glance away from the lumpy road and mounds of loose gravel.

Nice BLM primitive campground on the outskirts of the Agate Beds.

Entering Buffalo Gap National Grassland, the terrain rolled a bit more to drop into very nice French Creek Campground and meander back into the Agate beds. This stretch would be a Low Standard Road in the Black Hills, much more rocky and rough than the adjoining county roads. But I rode a relatively short out-and-back and the Black Mountain handled it.

After riding a bit east toward the Cheyenne River valley, I backtracked a few miles to then turn south on French Creek Cutoff Road for that little loop back to Fairburn. I didn't get far enough. The wind turned on like a giant fan in a wind tunnel. 

Yes, the wind was early and I was late. Now I faced a solid 20 miles of riding west and north into it. Almost all of it uphill.

Crossing mostly dry French Creek in November 2025, en route to the Agate Beds.

Same spot crossing French Creek in early Spring 2015.
(image by Shaun Arritola)

We get some wind out here on the prairie surrounding the Black Hills and this one was serious. Steady 24 mph, with gusts of 38mph. Starting from the North and shifting to NorthNorthWest.

Translation:  Most of the remaining 20 miles were either lean-way-right-to-stay-upright cross-winds or direct headwinds. The single speed ensured a leg press practically every pedal stroke for over two hours.

Sorry to leave, but was looking forward to that left (southward) bend in the road, however short.

It was a head down, all-in grind, at maybe 50-60 rpm. Maybe. 

So much for that smooth 90-95 rpm spin last week on those gentle Sturgis route rollers. 

Standing to power up a climb merely caught more wind and slammed forward progress. So, I sat forward, up just off the saddle, leaned deep into the drops, and slugged it out. I celebrated the crest of every incline of any kind, often with some left-over Halloween candy and a swig of Fizz.

Although it doesn't look like much to that radio tower, that's the final climb against the wind.
The washboard and thicker gravel was prevalent throughout the route. 

Final downhill to Fairburn.
This fuzzy image unintentionally captured the moment. I was done for the day.

It was that kind of day.

Break it down to a manageable piece. Grind it out. Celebrate. Focus on the next manageable piece. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

No, it was not a carefree, light-hearted, joyous cruise. Not all rides are. Not all rides should be.

It was the right ride for that day, built on the past and building for the future.

Against The Wind, Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band (1980)