Dispersed Camping Love

So, take me down the road

Take me to the show

It's something to believe in

That no one else knows

But don't take me for granted

Don't Take Me For Granted, Mike Ness (2004).

Late afternoon dispersed campsite atop Coad Hill in Black Hills National Forest.
This was one of my Overnighters in 2019 when I started bikepacking in earnest.

The Black Hills of South Dakota and the surrounding prairie offer a virtually unlimited number and variety of roads and trails to explore by bicycle. A cyclist's hardest decision is choosing where to ride and on which bike. It's an embarrassment of riches.

For bikepackers, it's more than just amazing roads and challenging trails. And it's more than stunning scenery, abundant wildlife, and vibrant history. 

So much of this area is Black Hills National Forest managed by the U.S. Forest Service or Buffalo Gap National Grassland managed by the Bureau of Land Management. That is, it's mostly public land where dispersed camping is allowed most everywhere.

Dispersed camping liberates route making, trip planning, and each day's ride. Create the best route without a compromise to reach a defined campground. Plan a trip without forcing a pre-determined stop. Ride until you decide to stop for the night. Dispersed camping blows open the possibilities.

The resulting uncertainties and responsibilities of choosing a campsite deter some, but I cherish the freedom.

Sunrise at a dispersed campsite near the top of Bear Mountain in the Black Hills National Forest.
This was an Overnighter in 2020.

Recently, an out-of-stater asked me some logistical questions about bikepacking the BackBone Buffet, my 205 mile rough road bikepacking loop out of Hill City. See, BackBone Buffet - RideWithGPS File. He was scrambling to put together a multi-day ride of that route and kept trying to schedule the end of each day at a commercial campground or a state park.

I pointed to several USFS campgrounds along the route, or just off route, and some other possibilities. Then I mentioned dispersed camping, which is available along practically the entire route.

Dead silence. What? 

Dispersed campsite at the end of Day 1 of the inaugural Black Hills Bounty in 2021.

I realized that this bikepacker was from Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes, a smattering of state parks, and the rest mostly private land. Bikepacking for him meant finding a commercial campground or state park, or maybe a small town park. To plan a trip, he wanted to know those options along the way.

Dispersed camping was an unknown term and, indeed, a foreign concept altogether.

Wow. It's easy to take familiar things for granted. 

Add dispersed camping in the Black Hills to the list.

Dispersed campsite at the end of Day 2 of the 2026 Black Hills Bounty.

Dispersed camping is basically setting up your camp most anywhere in Black Hills National Forest or Buffalo Gap National Grassland, subject to a few simple, easy to follow rules.

Yes, really. Practically anywhere, within some well-defined limitations. And maybe some common courtesy and common sense.

More specifically, here's the content from the USFS website on Dispersed Camping in National Forests. Enjoy the freedom of public lands in the mountain west.

_______________________________________________

Dispersed Camping

Setting up your own campsite away from developed fee sites, also known as dispersed camping, is allowed on most of the Forest for a maximum of 14 days in any 60-day period. However, around developed reservoirs, lakes, and campgrounds, camping is allowed only in designated areas. Check with the closest Forest Service office for specific information.

General rules:

• Camp 100 feet away from any creek or stream and 1/2 mile away from developed recreation sites, including campgrounds and picnic areas.
• Motorized vehicles allowed 300 feet off of roads as shown on the Motor Vehicle Use Map (dots) for dispersed camping on the Black Hills National Forest.
• Around developed reservoirs and campgrounds, camping is allowed only in designated campsites.
• Can camp for a maximum of 14 days in any 60-day period.
• No open campfires in South Dakota portions of the national forest.

Check with the closest Forest Service office for more specific information about dispersed camping.

Don't Take Me For Granted, Social Distortion (2004).

Trail Angels in the Black Hills

Trail Angels. They're not just on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

Tales of Trail Angels fill the annals of Great Divide lore. Many who live along the route offer water, food, and even shelter to bikepackers riding by. Some Trail Angels are now legendary, after years of rider testimonies of their selfless service. The Ovando Jail, Lost Llama Ranch, Brush Mountain Lodge, The Resort at the River, and Toaster House were "must-stops" for me on the Great Divide.

Here are links to prior posts that tell a little about those special places and people. Kathy and the Ovando Jail; Barb & John at Lost Llama Ranch; Basin Community Center & Strawberry Safety Shelter; Kirsten at Brush Mountain Lodge; Sylvia & Joe at the Canon Plaza Summer Store and Goldie at The Resort at the River; Nita and the Toaster House in Pie Town; A-F Ranch. There are many more, such as Hanson Livestock Ranch, TLC Ranch, and Hachita Community Center, places I missed, and new places since. 

The first one-lane tunnel of the day, on the climb of Sylvan Lake Road toward Needles Highway.

Another kind of Trail Angel exists that are not connected with any establishment, but rather simply appear randomly at the most unexpected place out in the middle of nowhere particular. Those kind, caring, generous, friendly folks are just out there in the backcountry, maybe playing, maybe working, maybe in need of something themselves. But they notice a solitary bike rider plodding along.

They don't just drive by. They stop to check on you. Are you OK? Are you lost? Do you need anything? Can I give you some water? Are you sure you're OK? Where did you say you were going? And you started from where? On a bike? Are you sure you don't need anything?

I could not tell you how many encounters like that I had on the Great Divide. I'd say most days, except perhaps through the busy, distracted, more developed area of Central Colorado between Kremmling and Como. Perhaps not coincidentally, that was my least favorite section.

Here are links to prior posts that tell a little of a few of those special Random Trail Angels that divinely appeared on my ride. Again, there were many more. Marlene & Paul in Grizzly Country (my most profound Trail Angel experience); Jeff & Colleen at Como; Rock Hounds Barbara & Dave; Dropped Camera Returned; Dawn the Campground Host at Hopewell Lake; Tom Atop Polvadera Mesa; George the Elk Hunter. 

Granite infused hills approaching Sylvan Lake.

Random Trail Angels are not restricted to big, cross-country routes through remote backcountry.

I enjoyed that experience right here on a moderately busy, paved highway in the Black Hills of South Dakota near Mt. Rushmore on a hot day after the Fourth of July weekend. 

RideWithGPS file for my Mt. Rushmore Loop (Hill City)

On little more than a whim, last Monday I decided to ride a favorite, mostly paved loop out of Hill City. It climbs Sylvan Lake Road to the Needles, threads the Needles Eye Tunnel, screams down Needles Highway, meanders along somewhat graveled Camp Remington Road and single track Iron Creek Trail, connects with Iron Mountain Road (aka PigTail Highway) for another climb and then quick descends to Peter Norbeck Scenic Highway (Highway 244), climbs to Mt. Rushmore, rolls to USFS Low Standard Road 356 to connect with Old Hill City Road, and returns to Hill City. 

All told, that's 44 miles, with almost 5,000 feet of elevation gain. It's not a route to just hop off the couch to ride, unless, of course, that's what you do.

I've ridden this loop many times over the years. Some question riding those roads due to the level of car, motorcycle, and tour bus traffic. But they were built for tourism, not for buzzing from Point A to Point B. As a cyclist, I've never had a bad encounter there.

Riding through the one-lane Needles Eye Tunnel, with a pickup escort.

Starting late morning (I know, I know) from Hill City, the initial climb up Sylvan Lake Road to the Needles takes more out of me than usual, due to my relative lack of conditioning and inconsistent riding of late. But the growing heat and relentless sunshine pile on.

Screaming down Needles Highway amp up the average speed and cool the jets. In no time, I turn onto Camp Remington Road, a gravel-sprinkled dirt road that quietly slips into two track and leads to the single track Iron Creek Trail. This smooth stretch trends gently downhill and is often shaded, making for a very nice break from the paved busyness of Sylvan Lake Road and Needles Highway.

Then I'm back to pavement for the climb up Iron Mountain on PigTail Highway.

Camp Remington Road.

One of many creek crossings on Iron Creek Trail.

Now, it's downright hot. 90-some degrees, bright sunshine, little wind. I'm sitting at Mile 23, about halfway around this loop and at the lowest elevation spot of the day. 

The grade is up, but steady and moderate. The views are inspiring, including occasional glimpses of Mt. Rushmore in the distance. This is normally a nice, smooth spin to the top.

Not today. The exertion and heat hammer my speed and psyche. I reach for another gel to find but one left. I reach for a drink to find just a bit left. Even though I'm approaching the summit, I know the warning signs of heat exhaustion. It's time to stop before cratering.

Out of a tunnel, the pigtail goes over, and then under, a bridge.
Or, from the other direction, under a bridge, over the same bridge, and through a tunnel.

I pull off the road, grab the remaining gel and water bottle, and plop down against a pine tree in the shade. I just need to cool off. Take a short break. Finish this climb. Carve a fun, quick descent before a final, nasty pitch up to Mt. Rushmore. Then roll back to Hill City. No problem. Just cool off a bit. 

A pretty steady stream of car and motorcycle traffic drifts by. Most probably don't even notice me sitting under a tree. All good. I got this.

Cooled with multiple Cokes and re-fueled with a buffalo burger at Mt. Rushmore.

Then a car with Alabama plates stops. A 30-something year old man leans out his window and yells, "Hey! Are you OK?"

I smile, give a thumbs up, and wave, thinking that would send him on his way.

But then a woman from the passenger side chips in, with concern in her voice, "Are you sure? It's really hot. Would you at least like some water?"

Well, I must look worse than I feel. And how do I turn down such kindness? So, I walk over to that young couple, accept two, ice-cold bottles of water, and share a delightful conversation with them. 

I tell them that they are my Trail Angels today. And they just made my day a whole lot better. 

America 250 !

O, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

Defence of Fort M'Henry, Francis Scott Key (1814)

Star Spangled Banner - Whitney Houston 1991 Super Bowl

The United States of America is exceptional. 

Exceptional among today's societies. Exceptional among societies throughout human history.

We are blessed to be living during the Great American Experiment, in which the people proclaimed that God created all equal and endowed each person with inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The people then created a government limited to protecting those inalienable rights. This concept was revolutionary in 1776, and still is today.

Imperfect people in a fallen world cannot live up to those lofty principles, but the American people work toward them anyhow. To form a more perfect Union, as our Constitution eloquently says. Our track record through history proves it. And we continue to strive to do so.

Now, 250 years later, the United States of America still stands. A miracle, perhaps. Divine intervention many times, for sure. This is a milestone worth celebrating. And we can celebrate joyously, while still working to improve.

A group of cyclists riding Bikecentennial '76. 
(image by Adventure Cycling Association)

Fifty years ago, the nation celebrated its 200th birthday, from the smallest village to the largest city. It was a nation-wide party affirming our shared history and heralding our hopeful future. The country was ablaze in Red, White, & Blue. What a time!

On July 4, 1976, I was enjoying the summer before my senior year of high school in Yankton, South Dakota, a farming community of about 12,000 people. After the parade through downtown, folks meandered over to Fantle Memorial Park for a host of patriotic festivities lasting all day and into the night.

At the park, I spotted a booth where one could register to vote. Because my 18th birthday was less than three months away at the time, I registered to vote for the first time. On our nation's Bicentennial!

I then wandered around the park, past an assortment of tables of other groups and vendors, many promoting events happening all over the country. Wow. I had no idea. Remember this was 1976. No cell phones. No internet. No email. No cable tv. We had a local daily newspaper, a few weekly national magazines, and ABC/CBS/NBC broadcast news. The only thing streaming was the Missouri River. 

The flyer for one event leapt off a table. Bikecentennial '76. A few dreamers were riding bicycles across the country! All the way from Oregon to Virginia! As I later learned, over 2,000 people completed the entire cross-country route, and almost 50,000 people rode along at least part way. See, Bikecentennial: Summer of 1976.

Across the entire country! On a bicycle! Wow! 

Jubilant finish of my 2021 ride of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.
(image by Cyler Groseth)

That seed landed on fertile ground. Right then, I knew that someday, somehow, I would ride my bicycle across the country. I might even create my own route, thinking East to West through the heartland, like the pioneers.

So, I followed the Bikecentennial group, as best as I could, from information gleaned off flyers posted at the occasional bike shop I encountered. Over time, that group became an established non-profit that created and developed bicycle touring routes all over the country, including several other cross-country routes. In 1993, they changed their name to Adventure Cycling Association ("ACA").

Later, with the sport of mountain biking exploding in popularity, the ACA embarked on a radical plan. Create a new cross-country route for mountain bikers, from the Montana/Canada border to the New Mexico/Mexico border, on primarily remote, rough gravel/dirt roads tracking the Continental Divide. See, Genesis of the Great Divide.

The ACA first published the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route in 1998 and it immediately caught my attention via a relatively new thing called the information superhighway. Wow. The imagination to dream up such a route! The dedication to map it! The audacity to even consider riding it!

This is next-level cross-country!

Is that even possible? How? Boy, if I could ride it, well, that would be something. But for a married professional with two pre-school age daughters, it was way out there. Beyond reality anytime soon. But, someday.

That's when my dream of a cross-country bicycle ride re-ignited, decisively turning away from the paved East-West Bikecentennial route to the primitive, backroad, remote, North-South ride along the spine of the continent through the heart of the Mountain West. For me, it had to be the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

Forty five years after learning of Bikecentennial '76 and twenty-three years after learning of the Great Divide, I finally lived that dream. Unreal. See, Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (2021).

And it all started with a flyer in a small town park at our Bicentennial party. 

What a country!