THE GOOD WAYS

Citizens of the Santiago de Compostela have been receiving pilgrims since 800 AD. Answering a siren’s call, pilgrims file in sporting hydrating backpacks and all terrain boots to help them on their journey. Every year around 350,000 people walk the Camino de Santiago. Pilgrims choose from seven paths that scatter Spain all converging like lines on a scallop shell at Santiago de Compostela. The paths range from as long as six hundred and twenty-one miles to as short as seventy-one miles. No matter what path is chosen, this pilgrimage is simply known as, “The Way”. The simplicity of this pilgrimage narrows the pilgrim’s world down to the basics. The faithful leave behind their lives and homey comforts, trading them in for a life that narrows down to eat, sleep, walk, repeat.

Time is measured by miles. Walkers of The Way follow yellow painted scallop shells that are the symbol of the pilgrimage. On trail, pilgrims greet each other with, “Buen Camino!” A statement of well wishes that translates to “Good Way”. The Way creates an opportunity for pilgrims to slow down and forget the hustle of their lives back at home. As pilgrims trek the holy terrain, they find more time to get to know their fellow walkers and create second families that support each other on the “Good Way”. Pilgrims find reprieve from the monotonous routine of walking the lush Spanish countryside with special travel accommodations. Restaurants called, Menu del Peregrine, offer pilgrim menus that give the perfect amount of food to continue on, and when it is time to rest there are special lodgings called, albergues. The simple pleasures of nourishment and rest keep pilgrims on track towards their goal. The stops accommodated by encouraging locals also allow pilgrims to gather and bond over their united purpose.

Like the citizens of Santiago de Compostela, I have received pilgrims. Welcomed them into my town in the deep heat of August. I have watched 500,000 riders' approach like black charcoal smudges against the yellow bladed grass. Some have traveled from the coasts, beating down mile after mile to near the middle of the country in Sturgis South Dakota. Swarming masses arrive, revving their Harley Davidson engines as they pass under “Welcome Riders!” banners. Full of spirit, motorcycle enthusiasts find the source of their siren’s call. The event that prompted them to leave behind their daily lives and comforts, trading them in for the open road. Bikers have been answering the call in rising numbers since 1938, when “Pappy” Hoel and his leather clad gang, the Jackpine Gypsy Motorcycle Crew, founded the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. The perfect venue for biker enthusiasts to show off. Participating in racing and stunts, bikers proved their skills, courage, and creativity.

Without welcome banners, travelers of The Way arrive to the source of their own sirens call. Tired pilgrims take reverend footsteps over the threshold into the Santiago de Compostela cathedral, the resting place of Saint James. The first greeting is a towering stone column, The Tree of Jesse. Intricately carved the Tree of Jesse tells the story of Jesus’s lineage and Gods plan of salvation. Every pilgrim who has entered the cathedral since the pillars addition in the twelfth century has touched this column. With leaning palms, countless pilgrims polished a handprint into stone. Creating a tangible connection between those who came before and all who come after, united under a pilgrim's devotion to God.

Following The Tree of Jesse in quiet celebration, pilgrims unite for mass. Resting aching thighs, the Botafumeiro swings overhead. As the gigantic brass censor swings rhythmically, it releases a hazy cloud of wood smoke carrying the scent of spices and herbs over the crowd. Rejuvenated pilgrims finish mass purified. The pious will also visit the tomb of Saint James. Down a narrow dimly lit crypt sits his silver tomb engraved with medieval flourish. These are the last few steps of the pilgrimage. Ten steps out of a million. To finally kneel and with blushing pilgrim lips pray.

The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally has kneeled to no one. Granted, as time has marched on the Rally has had to adapt. But, only through dedication and resilience has it been possible to hold onto the foundation. There has been attempts to change or be rid of the Rally. Unfortunately, the bikers have not always helped themselves as they tend to crave some light rebellion. Carrying on as a motley crew in head-to-toe leathers —if they wear anything at all—, blasting loud music, and occasionally sparking violence that would erupt from the fierce loyalty the many different gangs have to each other. The community was happy to have the extra money the Rally brought in but the riders less so. In 1981, the year of the 41st Rally, the locals were tired of losing the town to chaos. Unable to completely abolish the city’s participation in the Rally, they settled for kicking bikers out of the City Park. The eviction created a need. Because no matter what the bikers would come. To fill that need the Buffalo Chip opened as a place for bikers to gather. A quick eight-minute drive from the heart of town, the bikers arrived at a world of their own. Everything at the Buffalo Chip is amped up, louder, and grungier. A culture separate from what is allowed in town or anywhere for that matter. Bands play choruses of rock to rap every day and night of the Rally. Bikers spend days admiring smoothly bent chrome, glittering paint jobs, and elaborate pin-striping. It is the home base of the biker community, where brotherhoods come together. The launching point for many rides throughout the Black Hills.

Rides branch out from Sturgis throughout the Black Hills like roots from a tree. Bikers cruise concrete rivers, from flat prairies to densely wooded canyons. The bikers travel in groups and solo but all with camaraderie that is best celebrated on the open road. Neighboring towns welcome riders with special menus and events. One event being the Ham and Jam which is held in Hulett Wyoming every year. Bikers travel with the sun rising behind them to Devils Tower and admire the geological monument. After cooling in the shadows of the eight hundred- and sixty-seven-foot wonder, riders enter the small town of Hulett and celebrate their luck of having seen the tower together with free music and fried food.

The celebrations were tested when covid struck, both The Rally and The Way had to adjust. In Spain, Covid restriction were firmly enforced. But the Santiago de Compostela still saw pilgrims. Those local to Spain were the largest proportion of pilgrims to journey the Camino de Santiago. Taking advantage of the lack of international tourism, Spaniards took the opportunity to walk The Way and reconnect with what makes their region special. In Sturgis, the community was divided on throwing the 80th Rally. Before Covid, it was projected to be the biggest year yet. Even though there were many locals who opposed having the 80th reunion, Sturgis remained open to riders with restrictions up to private business owners own discretion. Mayor Mark Carstensen, responded to naysayers, “do you want me to build a wall around Sturgis or a wall around South Dakota? Because that is the only way we could have stopped them.” The bikers were an unstoppable force. Rally goers held on to the traditions of the event like a torch in a time of darkness. A beacon against fear —but also maybe against the best interest of the population— they spread their message of free spirit. The head vocalist of the band, Smash Mouth, captured the rebellious spirit of those who went to the rally despite Covid concerns. He said, “Now we're all here together tonight. And we're being human once again. Fuck that Covid shit.” As a local, this statement, felt dismissive of the people who open their doors to the bikers. But the comment resonated with those who could not turn their heads from the Rally, bikers that shoved masks in their back pockets and rode towards brotherhood.

On a journey, whether a biker or pious hiker, people find each other and themselves. Travelers help each other lighten the load. All under the commonality that they are leading a fleeting life apart from the lives left at home. Lives where the hard working are chained to desks, and hours are clocked by timecards instead of how many miles can be crossed in a day —while still having time for a glass of wine in the evenings—. Rich and poor travel the same paths, suffer the same aches. Tradition keeps the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally and The Camino de Santiago where they belong. Love keeps the pilgrims coming back. Love for God, love for bikes, love for community. It is in the connections with fellow travelers that people see the hope they want to hold onto in the world.

Alexandria Eakins attends Black Hills State University and has been awarded multiple scholarships to pursue a minor in professional writing. Her work is often inspired by observations from daily life, including her sticky-fingered children, her own childhood in the Black Hills, school, nature, and the curiosity that sparks from people watching. When she isn’t studying, writing, or working, she is with family or enjoying hobbies including ceramics, reading, and painting. She has had works published in the Three Peaks Review.