I have neen here during the bikers rally and its is not a lot of fun. I did enjoy the things  all tourist do but it was hard to do a lot of things without black leather against you on all sides. Some of these bikers are like your family or your neighbor...sweet and kind...but so many have to make everyone think they are tough....and with a few brews in them, they are. I really doubt that stopping this rally will ever take place but wish there was a place  where they could go to enjoy themselves  and still not harm our sacred grounds there. Please send prayers on the smoke for this  event to be somehow resolved in a peaceful way and where it will be good for all...wado
	By M. Spencer Green, AP
Tobacco pouches and prayer flags hang from trees along a path leading to the top of Bear Butte outside Sturgis, S.D., June 14. For more than 20 years tribes nationwide have been buying up land around the 3,100-foot rocky mound to protect it from being developed into another area biker bar.

It's also a tradition for local critics to decry the increasing size and commercialism of the 66-year-old event, which once again will congest highways and hotels (and jails) when rally week starts Monday.

This summer's clamor is louder and more emotional, however, mainly because of a clash that pits Native American heritage against chrome-and-steel capitalism.

The battle is being waged over Bear Butte, a mountain 6 miles outside Sturgis that the Plains Indians have long considered sacred. Indians from across the USA are gathering today for a four-day summit, and protests �?including efforts to deflect biker traffic from the site �?are planned.

With a trend toward open-air biker bars and concert venues, the rally has crept closer to the butte. This summer, construction began about 2 miles north of the mountain on a 600-acre campground billed as the "world's biggest biker bar." The camp is within sight of where Native Americans gather to fast and pray.

"In the past, all the partying was done near town, but now they're going to surround our sacred mountain and desecrate it, drink on it, and leave their trash when they go back to where they came from," says Vic Camp, 31, a Lakota from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

Tempers flared last August, when Arizona entrepreneur Jay Allen announced plans to build the giant biker bar and entertainment complex on Highway 79.

Camp and other Native Americans have gathered on tribal land north of the butte to protest the granting of beer and liquor licenses to Allen and other property owners. They claim that rally-related noise disturbs the sanctity of a spiritual place whose past visitors included Red Cloud, Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull.

The protesters, joined by some area ranchers, are requesting a 5-mile "buffer zone" around Bear Butte, a state park where buffalo roam freely and colorful pieces of cloth hang from trees to symbolize expressions of prayer.

"Just imagine if they told all the Christians in America, 'You guys can't go to church ... until we're done partying,' " says Camp, who is joined by about 100 other Native Americans, with more on the way for the summit and protest. "This mountain that you see here is a sacred altar �?it's our church, school, and hospital all in one," he said. "We have men up on the hill right now who are fasting and praying, and they have to listen to cement trucks driving by and the pounding of hammers."

Much of the rancor is directed toward Allen, the outspoken owner of the famed Broken Spoke Saloon in Sturgis. He first wanted to call his new complex "Sacred Ground," complete with tepees and an 80-foot Indian statue.

Allen abandoned those ideas and changed the name to Sturgis County Line after criticism from Indian groups. He hasn't backed down on his vision, with future plans calling for 150,000 square feet of asphalt and an amphitheater to seat 30,000 concert-goers.

"I get death threats on a weekly basis," said Allen, who first attended the Sturgis rally as a leather gloves vendor in 1986.

"But I have been nothing but respectful to the Native Americans, and I tried to use this as a tool to enlighten people about their lifestyle. Their tradition isn't going away, but ours isn't either." Allen's new venue will consist this year of about 100 RV sites, and crews are working feverishly to finish a bar, vending and music areas before the rally begins. "This isn't a five-star restaurant," said Allen, who plans to travel to the rally from Phoenix in a 1954 Greyhound double-decker bus. "As long as I've got ice-cold beer and good music, we'll be OK."

A group of local volunteers, including Native Americans, called the Bear Butte International Alliance is promoting a "Don't Ride 79" campaign, urging bikers not to travel on Highway 79.

"We probably will stop the traffic from going on this road, but we're going to do it in a peaceful and respectful way," Camp said. "We're not against the bikers, and we're not against the Sturgis rally."

Meade County Sheriff Ron Merwin offered a note of caution about protesters trying to stop traffic.

"I wouldn't say we're expecting anything more than the normal rally concerns," Merwin said. "But if they start backing up traffic on Highway 79, those bikers are not going to be happy."

Camp insisted that if there's any violent action, it won't be initiated by Native Americans gathered at Bear Butte.

"The elders instructed us to go about this in a very peaceful way," Camp said. "They asked us to come here with our pipes and our sacred eagle feathers and staffs to bring many nations together.

"If it is provoked, it will be provoked by the other side �?by disrespectful bikers coming through and hollering at us and spitting at us, like they have done at other protests."