Literally no one was staying in the hotel I was at. I’d looked outside at various times throughout the evening and the only vehicles in the lot were The Doctor and a pickup truck. This was great though because it meant I got an awesome spot for the bike. I like to park her within view from the window if at all possible and I think this time the parking job was spot on:
It looked as though this would be the last full day in Oklahoma. While the morning session to Newkirk looked horribly boring, the afternoon session through Osage County looked like it had potential.
The Alva to Newkirk section was only 109 miles but there were two large straight West to East sections, each 30 miles. In the end 60 of the 109 miles were straight runs.
The second section of the day would run from Newkirk to Dewey, OK; 91 miles. I’m sure you’re asking yourself. Doesn’t the title say Bartlesville? Indeed it does, indeed it does… Due to the lack of lodging available in Dewey all of the searches for “Lodging near Dewey, OK” returned motels 11 miles south in Bartlesville. Another stellar example of: Why would you send people to Dewey when Bartlesville is literally right there?
The ride over to Newkirk started as more of the same. Farms, straight dirt roads, more farms.
That all began to change though as I started riding through oil field after oil field and then wind farms. If I had to estimate, I’d guess I’d rode through almost 10 miles of wind farms.
I rode into Newkirk, topped off the tank and rehydrated. The ride down to Dewey had a moderately sized straight section at the beginning but after that the map showed a decent amount of twisty roads; at least by Oklahoma standards. Almost the entire track down to Dewey was through Osage Nation.
I’ll admit, I still wasn’t sure about running around the backroads of Indian Reservations, kicking up dust and out back ends. I’m not 100% sure how they work so I feel like I need to exercise a healthy level of respect for the area. I guess I just felt more like a visitor than I usually did in out parts of the country. My only other experience was in and around McDermott, NV a few weeks back; I’d never felt at ease there.
Osage was different though. The boring homogenous landscape of Oklahoma had faded away. The landscape’s rolling hills, weaving roads and streams reminded me of the miles spent riding Colorado backcountry. I was standing on the pegs looking as far out as I could just to take it in. I’d passed numerous people; they waved enthusiastically as if they were well aware of the beauty of their land and were eager to share it with an unsuspecting world.
It was obvious they didn’t get many visitors. The people I saw were working on their land not driving by in a car; 91 miles and I didn’t pass a single vehicle.
I pulled into Dewey; it was a bit of a dump. I road the 11 miles down Route 75 into Bartlesville and to the motel.
Bartlesville was huge. Why was this not the stopping point? Plenty of dining and plenty of lodging.
I’d stopped at a Motel 6. These had become my go to. You just couldn’t beat the price. Except they put the wrong toilet seat on…