Sioux Falls: Falls Park and Biking the City Loop

I hadn’t slept well last night. Around midnight I had to move the van when a tractor-trailer pulled in nearby and fired up a generator. Then around 2 a.m., a guy who had parked close by started periodically yelling at the stars—literally. He kept it up off and on for a couple of hours until, I guess, he finally ran out of energy.

I drove to Sioux Falls in the late morning and, somewhere along the way, started to smell sewage. Not great. I pulled over and traced it to the shower pan—first time I’ve ever had an odor from that drain. Cleaning didn’t help. The kitchen sink was fine thanks to its p-trap; the shower doesn’t have one. I copied that drain from a YouTube build where they said smells weren’t an issue. Well, I had one. I detoured to Walmart in Sioux Falls, bought a universal sink stopper (a flat rubber disc), and set it over the shower drain. Problem solved—at least for now. I may need to install one of the new straight p-traps as a permanent fix.

Falls Park

I headed to Falls Park, the reason I came to Sioux Falls, SD. It was close to 2 p.m., and the sun was too bright for good exposures of the falls. I grabbed lunch at the Falls Overlook Café—mediocre food, great staff, and walls full of historic photos. The outside deck offers a nice view of the falls. The building was originally the Sioux Falls Light & Power Company’s generation station, once housing a few 500-kilowatt hydroelectric generators. It ran from 1908 to 1974, then was donated to the city.

I walked the grounds for a couple of hours, reading plaques and imagining what this was like when Native Americans visited. Downstream, the Visitor Center has an observation tower with a 360° view of the park. I checked out the gift shop—t-shirts, souvenirs, and a few interesting books about the falls—and learned that Sioux Quartzite (“pink rock”) is the second hardest rock after diamond. No wonder so many buildings are made from it.

There was a nice breeze, and I started heading back toward the van. As I walked, I heard a woman say, “That was a great ride.” A group was loading bikes into a truck. I asked about the trail, and they pointed to it—about 30 feet away. It loops 26 miles around the city, they said, with maps every mile or two.

Back at the van, I opened the side door and roof vents and took an hour nap. Why not—I’m retired and don’t have to be anywhere. When I woke up, I took my time getting ready for a ride. Dressed, everything charged, and the weather holding, I set off at 5:45 and gave myself two hours to explore.

From Falls Park the trail climbs, then levels along the Big Sioux River straight through downtown. It’s smooth, well maintained, and clearly a point of pride. Benches line the way, and people were walking, jogging, and riding. Side trails branch into neighborhoods. Old railroad bridges have been converted into connectors. I missed a sign about a mile in and found another around 2½ miles. I realized the loop I was on was actually about 19+ miles—maybe the 26 includes a spur. Oddly, the mile markers are on the halves (2½, 3½, etc.). I passed big soccer fields and a broad levee/water channel with the path on both sides. The west-side neighborhoods looked newer. There was a bandstand and a playground. I stopped often to watch ducks and geese and take photos. Around mile 12, there was an interesting brick structure—looked like water control to slow the channel. Neighborhoods kept changing: brick mansions, condos, newer single-family homes, rundown older places, then wealthier homes near a golf course. The northwest side is more business: the airport, a layered driving range, some kind of mining, food processing, and more.

Near the athletic fields, a woman merged onto the path. I passed her, then stopped at a dam a few miles later to shoot a couple of phone photos. She caught up and said, “Yeah, that’s a good one,” grabbed a shot, and rode on. I took in the golden light reflecting off the water, then caught up, and we rode together for a bit.

She’s lived here most of her life. Twenty years ago, she said, this trail barely existed; the city has put a lot into showcasing it. There’s no oil and gas revenue like North Dakota. She told me about her three kids—her pride and joy—and the oldest, 17, trying to figure out college. As the sky darkened and the wind picked up, she told me I had about 2–3 miles until Falls Park and peeled off to meet her husband and 12-year-old for a football game.

I’d thought the trail was mostly flat, but a big active spillway proved me wrong. The path switchbacked down and crossed directly over it—great view—and then it was a little more than a mile, mostly downhill, back to the van.

Spectacular Sky

At the van, I packed up the bike, changed, and grabbed my camera gear. The sky went wild: huge brown swirls, orange puffs, bright rays cutting through clouds. To the east, dark gray towers with blazing edges where the sun still hit. The place was buzzing—walkers, photographers, joggers, drone pilots. A warm breeze turned gusty, then strong. The air took on a manure smell that kept intensifying, and dust started blowing. Park lights came on and lit the haze. I wondered if this would spin into a tornado, but there were no alerts on my phone.

Back in the van, things calmed down. With the shocks on their heaviest setting, there was no rocking. I headed to Planet Fitness for a shower and maybe shelter. To the east, the sky was pitch black with lightning everywhere, but in town the wind was easing.

The shower felt amazing. I tried the HydroMassage bed for the first time—next level compared to the chair and lounge. The lot was quiet, so I stayed. Planet Fitness was open 24/7. I made a salad around 9:30, watched a few videos, and drifted off.