The Journey to the Iron Butt Rally Starting Line
Prologue
This is Part 1 in a 4 Part Series. They are the The Prologue, Leg 1, Leg 2, and The Epilogue
Special thanks to Rick Miller and other participants that I borrowed photos from to help weave this story!
Day -6 Washington
It takes more than 6 days to get ready for this event. Suffice it to say I had seriously started planning more like 16 months. It’s all documented in my Preparation and Other Rides area. Here’s what it looks like when you ride out the door of your home not to return for about three weeks. This, by far, was the longest vacation I’ve ever had and worthy of some amateur poetic foreshadowing:
Listless riding through the moose wilds of Quebec,
Photons dance green on Missouri highway signs,
Fading purple Westward-ho! to Vegas lights,
Arched up to foggy San Francisco Bay.
Cordura swathed astronauts lightly nap on park benches in the Nevada moon,
grabbing Z’s in an increasing REM deficit.
By day they nod knowingly in Interstate passing,
twist their grips zigzagging cardinal continental directions.
The Atlantic and Pacific bookend the mass,
shared young history pierced by a middle arch.
Beards grow long and crusty,
images clearer and more colored,
emotional ribbons of asphalt,
dissolve into sunsetted memory.
They all sleep well in the end.
Day -5 – Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska
Wednesday, 06:25 MDT, Boise, Exit 53
We’re to leave in 5 minutes. Covers off, complimentary breakfast inhaled, and sun is rising.
I-80 here we come!
Gassing up in Morgan, UT. This 15 minutes was essentially 1/3 of the days social interaction.
21:13 CDT, Ogalllllllaaaalllllalaalla, NE
No clue how to spell it. Suffice it to say it’s in the flat part of Nebraska and there are no significant landmarks visible. We’re 720 miles from Bonne Terre, MO, our destination to do maintenance, and calling it a night. Just rolled into another Super 8 with free wireless after having a Freschetta and salad at Wendy’s. Talked to Greg Marbach on the phone and he’s in New Mexico with plans of rolling into Bonne Terre late tomorrow.
More to follow in a half hour, but I GOTTA take a shower and drop the kids off at the pool! (Warning: things will undoubtedly get less subtle and more biological as the next 2 weeks wears on)
21:35 CDT, Freshly showered….now to blog
The day was a “drone” as Tobie put it and other than some military convoy on I-80 replete with two helicopters doing orbits and Humvees with automatic weapons on their roofs…it was fairly uneventful.
Also, think I may have figured out my Starcom and cell phone. Headset unplugged, plug in phone, then plug in headset. It’s a working theory although I’ll need to try a longer cable. Today I also got to realize I hadn’t thought out several recent farkle add-ons. Broke the rules I did….hopefully I can fix them up Friday through Sunday.
I hadn’t been between Cheyenne and Lincoln before….and I gotta say it’s pretty similarly boring as the rest of Wyomong….although there’s more humidity and ton more trees. That and some bugs in the trees that make a huge racket.
Day -4 Nebraska, Iowa, and Missouri
We rolled out at 5:00 a.m. from Oga-la-lee-loo and made it four hole miles before it started to rain. I thought it was going to be a good idea to put on my dark visor and tough out the hour or so until sunrise.
Wrong choice. Rookie mistake. I still toughed it out….cautiously.
What can I say about Nebraska? For the lack in elevation changes they more than make up for with flatness.
We did have two surreal experiences today….or at least the monotony of the “drone” was relieved by first seeing a tourist site as we entered Nebraska. Perhaps impressive as the Great Platte River Road Arch covering I-80 is the reason why one would have possibly built it. Admittedly, I didn’t take a tour, but at freeway speed one puzzles on this point…for at least 50 miles…..which was a pleasant distraction. Well done Nebraska!
Once we rolled into Lincoln the humidity started to climb and the sky started opening up in earnest. Not hot yet as we’ve heard reports of 102 in St. Louis, but we stopped for gas and my one picture from the ride.
After we had left the humid and wet….but still cool….Lincoln area this horrible thing happened. The rain stopped and the sun came out. This made it unbearably hot and humid. 101 degrees worth of yucky stickiness. As a desert dweller I wasn’t cooked puppy like folks back home would know from staying out all day in the dry sun at boat races. I felt more like a hot dog that had been left in the tub of simmering water all day. Neglected……and very, very moist.
…anyway…it was frickin’ hot and the air felt heavy….OK? I’m supposed to be an Iron Butt rider, but I was whining in my flip-face helmet likea wimp. So, I tried to put a more positive spin on things……….
The nice thing about the IBR starting in Missouri is that we’re going to immediately aim our bikes away from this sauna hell hole!
The second surreal experience happened in Blue Springs, Missouri. I chose it because it was slightly over half way from Lincoln and made the last leg slightly shorter….purely a mental thing that Lisa and Paul totally got!
21:39 CDT, Bonne Terre, Missouri
Loading up on Gatorade this FJR rides up and it’s this dude from the FJR forum…..eeksnake! And we had seen him in Park City three weeks earlier. Weird cosmic coincidence….or he’s stalking us……. We exchanged pleasantries and he headed west back home to Vegas as we went deeper into the belly of the steamy beast.
We rolled into Bonne Terre about 5 p.m. and Bronce Smith’s home for a tire and oil change. He’s another member of the FJRForum and volunteered his shop to help us. We had sent off tires to his house weeks earlier, he arranged oil, had the fridge stocked with soda and water…and was the coolest host in the world!
To go over the top he arranged for a local auto parts store (B&D Auto Parts in Bonne Terre) to donate 6 gallons of Shell Rotella oil for free! My first and only sponsorship in this event. Thanks B&D!
And he has a nice shop with tire changer and lift. In fact, I got to break something in the first 30 minutes I was there. See anything wrong with this picture?
So, I apologized profusely, he was the ultimate host by blowing it off, and I signed my faux pas with a Sharpie.
We ordered pizza and spent the next few hours munching slices, changing tires, oil, and shooting the breeze in the humid evening. Also there were another FJRForum member, Bronce’s brother, and a Beemer guy. The cicadas were doing their 13 years dance and I definitely feel like I’m not in Kansas….or Washington anymore.
A picture of me sporting my official IBR haircut…..courtesy of a #2 clipper. Sweat is courtesy of the 427% humidity.
I also rethought my notion of having him install a cruise control and instead took off one of my throttle springs. It was a good compromise as it just lightens up the throttle tension enough to let my Vista Cruise work without slipping. This will pay dividends after about day 5 when my right hand wants to seize up.
Greg is due in about 15 minutes having come from Arizona. And in the morning is a leisurley breakfast next door and migrate up to the Chesterfield Doubletree to unpack, relax, tire kick…….and get ready for the game that will start Saturday morning at 10 a.m. with tech. inspection.
UPDATE 23:00
Greg rolled in and looks unusually fresh. He should look more wiped out after his ride. Hmmmmmm.
UPDATE 00:15
Paul, Greg, and myself are like school girls, amped up, and getting no sleep. Greg is retelling his story about his cell phone scittering down I-something or other as it fell off the bike, jammed the brakes, and running back down the freeway to pick things up as he feared a semi would run the phone over just before he got there. He’s talking on the cell now to his girlfriend….with scratches and chunks missing. The battery sits precarioulsy askew. ….something clearly to occupy his Friday to fix.
Paul is lamenting our poor meal habits today and announces, “Is that Waffle House 24 hours….I’m hungry.” He just wandered off.
It’s like a high school sleepover….except that we have money to buy expensive bikes and hotel rooms for 3 weeks….just to ride around North America taking Polaroids of things.
We’re clearly nuts.
UPDATE TO THE UPDATE 00:30
Paul is back and I thought he got aced out with a closed Huddle House….except that he says, “All I had today was a Hostess frickin’ fruit pie. They gave me eggs, hash browns, bacon, and white toast…..I was outta there in 15 minutes….. I’m an LD Rider!”
….we’re going to try and sleep now. I’ll spare you the sleeping arrangements since Skooter got here. Suffice it to say two of us are gay.
While we were finally about to drift off asleep Paul mentions that he runs Rotella oil in his Jetta. It hits me that three FJR owners all happen to be Volkswagen owners sleeping together. It’s confirmed….all three of us are gay! We finally drift off spouting stories of how many MPG we got. Not only are we all gay…..we’re all nerds.
Day -3 In Chesterfield, MO
Explorers of the Midwest
North America was the “New World” about five hundred years ago when folks like Cristóbal Colón, Jacques Cartier, sailed the Atlantic Seaboard….as it was the to myself and the majority of rookies in the 2007 Iron Butt Rally. Post-modern explorers many of us have visited various places in the Continental U.S. and maybe even lucky enough to get a free weekend while on company travel and point an Avis rental car to a nearby destination. But, the fact that so many of us had to transit several thousand miles to the center of our nation’s heartland was both symbolic and preparatory.
Located in an upscale suburb of St. Louis, Chesterfield has become the space port of 97 of the most hard-core long-distance motorcyclists, dozens of volunteers, and a smattering of family of friends and family descended on the Doubletree Inn to take part in an epic life adventure.
Analogous to the hey-day of man’s race to get to the Moon 40 years ago…. “farkled” motorcycles would look at home next to a Gemini space capsule, and the Aerostich protective gear and flip-up helmets Synchrotech helmets look suspiciously like space-suits. Even one of the folks hanging around in the parking lot has stitched a “NASA” patch on his suit and wears it with the swagger of a latter day Buzz Aldrin. In fact, many of the inventions of the space-race are present. The cliche, but extremely functional material Velcro is found by the spool…and not just standard-issue Velcro, but the industrial-strength Dual Lock that has the gripping strength to tow a capsule if needed.
I abuse the moonshot analogy further as the hubbub of activity on launch pad 39a (known by civilians as a parking lot) has a constant parade of Lookie-Lous asking minutiae from astronaut-technicians fiddling with various bike systems. And they’re happy to answer because this is Thursday and the T-Minus countdown clock is still 4 days away.
Digital cameras litter the tarmac snapping away in excruciating detail.
In Mission Control are the veterans of the sport. Deke Slayton is cross-gendered though and thoroughly blond and hot in a high school friend’s Mom sort of way. Part den mother, part cheerleader, and part Marquee deSade, Lisa Landry greets everybody with a friendly hug and smile.
My attention is immediately drawn to a drop-dead gorgeous pre-production motorcycle called a Victory Vision. Besides being a rolling piece of swooping artistry it’s hoped by snowmobile behemoth Polaris and it’s rider/engineer, Alex, that he’ll be able to pilot this nearly stock art-deco rocket barge around North America and hang with the variety of sport-touring mega-cruiser Yamaha FJRs, Honda ST1300s, gaggle of surprisingly sporty Wingebagos, new-kid-on-the-block Kawasaki Concourse 14, several nostalgic “hopeless class” entrants wearing accumulated bug guts and oxidation proudly, and the every-present Guzzlin Kool-Aid BMW’s. I should note that at the moment none of their final drives appear to be dripping any oil.
To a casual observer the number of gadgets on any motorcycle ranges from compulsively excessive to mind-boggingly incomprehensible. Rob Nye earns his Eagle Scout Farkle Badge by trailering a BMW into the parking lot with some TIG welded rear mast fixed to tail. Strewn with various protrusions and doohickeys this lightning rod of alloy would look more at home on a Naval destroyer con tower than a motorcycle. Heads turn when it enters in the parking lot and not in a friendly “that’s cool!” sort of way. Even battle worn Warchild gapes and asks, “What the fuck is that?”
I retort, “I think it’s to measure Knots Indicated Airspeed like a Cessna. Maybe he needs to compare with GPS ground speed for some ride calculations.” ……..Nye is a nerd’s nerd, but he’s our nerd.
12:46 CDT
Sitting in the lobby with Doug. Classical music is playing over the speakers, the furniture is tastefully appointed,…….and there’s a dude with a doo rag and dingy Aerostich checking in.
…..now, that’s classy.
Warchild just strolled in and planted his butt on the marble coffee table in front of me.
…..more class.
We’re headed off to lunch at a sitdown joint with cloth napkins….wearing our shorts and motorcycle boots of course.
…..heaping mounds of class. It’s going to be a fun weekend.
14:32 CDT
Games are already a foot. Tom Austin came up and shook my hand in the lobby. Exchanging pleasantries I shared that I had never been to this area of the country he asked me what I thought about the place. So, I gave him my line from yesterday, “The nice thing about St. Louis is that on Monday I’ll be able to point my bike away from this hell hole of a sauna.”
He replied in deadpan, “How do you know you’re leaving St. Louis? Maybe the first bonus is to do a Saddle Sore around the beltway.”
….I gave him a pained, quizzed, intrigued, and angry look all at the same time.
Tom is, of course, the brutally strict yet consistently fair scorer that dinged me for not having all four limbs in the proper quadrants in the SPANK Rally last year.
So, I find myself chanting, “Austin will not get in my head….Austin will not get in my head……Austin will not get in my head!”
18:10 CDT
Folks are mingling in the bar…with a few drinking here and there, but it’s pretty sober and safe. Dinner is soon. It’s cool to see the regular cast of characters….Warchild, Higdon, McSweeny, Torters, Rebecca V., Van Santens, etc.
Got back from Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things I had forgotten. My CB worked pretty well. I can only transmit about 1/4 mile or so……maybe I can improve that with a ground or something.
You All Can Get Information Quicker Than Me!
23:53 CDT
Last night I remembered how’d I’d been monitoring regularly when The Iron Butt Rally Website got a 2007 entry. It did a couple of weeks ago, but I just realized I hadn’t checked in 4 or 5 days. So when I visited I found out all sort of useful and interesting information.
First and foremost was the question who would try and fill the big shoes of long-time scribe, Bob Higdon. With the first official IBR dispatch it seems the task has been taken up by Tom Austin (the guy I mentioned in an earlier post and know well from being denied 7,000 points for not having 4 limbs in 4 states last year). Tom is a technical guy and although his style will be different I’m sure…..I think you all are going to get a thorough play-by-play of this rally.
Other good stuff in there that Tom has set up a phone message system for us to call in and give updates and relay stories. A very-engineer-oriented solution. Kudos Tom for utilizing a piece of technology to learn and share information to the smallish audience of folks watching us wander North America!
You’d think being here at the hotel in St. Louis that I’d already know all about this, but the first I’ve heard of this is by reading the website. Tom is probably only 100 feet away from me in some room, but information dissemination occurs more quickly on the Internet.
It boggles the mind…..and more importantly reading through Tom’s sobering first post……I’m in it deep!
I’m getting up at 7:30 in the morning. Tech. inspection opens at 8:00 a.m. and I know they’re gunning to get me. They’re going to find something I’m sure…..and I’m going to stress.
That’s OK. It’s pre-ordained. Like a good thriller movie I paid good money to be scared by Warchild, Austin, Landry, and others….and they’re undoubtedly going to give me my money’s worth.
All I can say is, “Bring it on.” I’m about as ready as I can really be….except for rerouting a couple wires on my audio system and snapping a grommet through my wallet…which I’ll talk about tomorrow. I may have to go park in a corner of the parking lot to hide.
Regardless, I’m ready for the challenge. Tomorrow it gets interesting.
Day -2, I Have A Star On My Belly
11:42 CDT
I got up at 7:30 this morning knowing that Technical Inspection was going to open earlier than planned at 8 a.m. Being there at 7:40 afforded me the opportunity to be about the fifth in line and get done with things before they got hot. Warchild had a bullhorn, a wry smile, and was entertaining the crowd with his “tough love” methodology.
Austin was out with his decibel meter measuring after-market exhaust systems and stress-puppy Greg was pleasantly surpirsed to find 95 decibels when 105 is the limit.
After easing through Tech. Inspection with volunteer, Bob Broeking (‘03 Butt and fellow ‘05 Tech Inspector), I was given an orange dot on my paperwork. That meant I got to go in, get my packet, and sit/stand in various other lines for 3 hours. I felt very much like a character in Dr’s Seuss’ Sneetch Star-On Machine.
Finally, sitting around in a smallish room with nice chairs I was asked into the “Board Room” where Evil Lord Kneebone sat like Donald Trump….except with a much more sensible haircut. I got a form initial from Ed Otto…insurance expert and ‘95 IBR Honda Helix scooter finisher. Then I got an initial from lawn gnome lookalike, Dave McQweeney.
Breezing through these two stations of the inner sanctum I got an excessively uneasy feeling as I planted myself in my third, and apparently final seat, between Mike and Bob Higdon. I’m not usually one rattled by reputations, but the fact that Mike was entering my name and data into some special program freaked me out a little. I couldn’t tell from my angle, but it wasn’t some Excel spreadsheet he had doctored up, but something custom for this rally.
I started to light-headed. By objective measure I was about to officially make it “in” the IBR, but sitting between these two guys I started to feel nauseous. It’s like Bob and Mike’s chi, shakras, and vortices are strangelty dissonant. It doesn’t affect them, but I suddenly felt like a lab rat for the military’s experimental puke ray.
…..then the spell was broken by Mike turning to me, beaming a smile, offering a hand and saying, “You’re in!”
I shook his hand and realized three words with only seven letters made me one huge step closer to starting the IBR.
I feel like Dorothy just landing in Oz.
There are Live Pictures of Us!
They’ve set up a live webcam of the back lobby where riders are walking by from the parking lot to their rooms.
Clicky here for enlightenment…or refresh this page with F5 and see it here.
This link is a gallery of the last 20 pictures.
Tip of the beanie to Joe Denton!
Day -1, Anticipation Builds
I find myself a little bit snippy and abrubt today. Milling people in the parking lot that wouldn’t have bothered me two days ago are like unpredictable cones I have to slalom to go gas my bike up. As I repack or tie wrap I get a comment from a person that I shouldn’t be working on my bike before an event I wanna flick them in the ear.
….gotta go easy for the next 20 hours….gotta pay attention at a meeting and get some sleep.
To lighten things up a bit Austin asked to borrow my Screaming Meanie (actually a Beacon for those in-the-know), but same effect. It’s an alarm clock that will wake the dead and get you kicked out of a hotel. Using the same standards as motorcycle exhausts he measured the decibel output and found 111 decibels. The exhaust standard is 105 or less…..so these things are honking loud!
Then Dick Fish wandered by and Warchild got to tell him his exhausts are louder than Meanies….to which he grumbled something imcomprehensible…… but we’re not sure he could hear us anyway with his hearing affected by the loud exhausts.
As I said…things are getting a little tense.
However, on the light-hearted side of things we have a new winner for the most farkled rig. Rob Nye trailers in his bike and I swear there’s a wind anemometer on the back of the thing like something you’d find on the Weather Channel. I wonder why anybody short of an airline pilot would know knots indicated airspeed, but find out it’s a few other things. This thing is just insanely gadgeted out!
More odds and ends. I got a little Monkey Butt coming down due to the moist heat and hoping to air out the nether region a bit. The beads from Autozone are a bit big so I had to do a little surgery. One thing I learned is that the brown beads roll across the floor and you’re guaranteed to find them at 2 a.m. in your bare feet when you go to pee.
And I’ve been remiss in….like photos of the bikes…so your gratuitous shots of the bike scene:
Riders’ meeting in 60 minutes….so I better get back to work stressing.
The merry band of FJR owners at this event. 4 would eventually be in the top 10!
3793 words
What I Did This Summer: Motorcycle Across North America for Polaroids
Leg 1 of the Iron Butt Rally
This is Part 2 in a 4 Part Series. They are the The Prologue, Leg 1, Leg 2, and The Epilogue
Day 0, Sunday – Chesterfield, MO
Things Get Serious
As much as fun as everybody making final preparations for the rally–the rider’s meeting is some seriously sobering business. We don’t pretend that motorcycling is the same as driving a car. It’s not a death wish, but the cold and hard reality is that there’s no such thing as a fender-bender while riding. And when you’re riding 11,000 miles in 11 days….it’s like you’re stuffing 6 months of average commuting into that time. Every rider accepts this as being the result of an internal calculation of risk vs. reward. And, sure we’d all be safer strapping ourselves to the inside of a Volvo with 19 airbags and crash-tested crumple zones, but one doesn’t smell the freshly cut alfalfa field as you ride by a field, one doesn’t feel the 4 degree temperature and humidity change that tells you you’ve just crossed the invisible line of a 1000 mile weather front, nor does a small flick of your right hand produce an after-burner spurt of thrust down the road.
Riders get it. Non-riders don’t. It’s an immutable law of personal perception that will never be resolved in debate. So, why even try? The meeting includes includes details of the rules we should all have read, but certain items that were worth repeating.
Equally sobering is Lisa’s Mom-Talk to remind us that the rally does not define anybody. There is zero glory in getting hurt and reminds that if we fuck up that whoever we designated as an emergency contact is a person she has to call personally….and she doesn’t want to do that.
I agree. My mother is already a nervous wreck about this adventure and the thought of her having to fly to Podunkville, Illinois because I angered my front wheel into the back of a semi is sobering. I chant my mantra again of finish, finish safely, finish without a ticket……and if I do those….finish well. “Finish” is a goal four times for a very deliberate reason.
After the meeting there’s some more milling around until a dinner banquet at 5:00 p.m.
We Have a Cunning Plan….that will be Changed Multiple Times
We are handed our packets at about 6:30 p.m……..and I been crunching routes with Doug until nearly midnight. 5 hours worth and we have a plan.
We’re going to Canada! Percé, Quebec….and I totally butchered French by leaving off likely-important accents. It’s #10 below and worth 33,000 points! It’s the meat of this leg worth half of the leg’s points for us. We have a critical bonus to get (#7) Hopewell Rocks worth 6,012 points, but it relies on us getting to that point when the tide is out. Getting to this one really sets the tone for Doug and I on this leg.
If we execute this route we’ll be at 86069 points for the leg with this plan…..midway between the guidelines of Silver and Gold. We’re aware it’s not Gold, but this route is an area of the country we have never been and we’re trying to be conservative and arrive at the first checkpoint with reserves to spare. Also, we want to ride it for the fun of it. Strategically, we’re cautiously optimistic that the second leg of the rally will be west coast biased (not one single bonus on this leg is west of Kansas City), leg #2 will be worth more points, and be our back yard.
Watch us on the Star-Traxx and if we make #7 by no later than 2 or 3 p.m. Tuesday (Atlantic Time)….we’ll be sitting pretty to change the route up after that point. If it doesn’t look good we may have to change strategies. The swing could be 10,000 or 20,000 points in this calculation.
Hopefully, earlier than that we’ll have a pretty good clue at about #3 if we’re ahead of our projected pace (which is good), at our pace (which means we have to push ourselves and stress), or behind pace (in which we go to Plan B….#10).
I can only imagine what Owen or some of the other top dogs are doing. Assuming they’re looking at the same route area…they’re trying to squeeze in some stuff around Halifax, coordinating ferries, and probably pulling their hair out how to plan to 5 minute schedules 3 days in advance. Tough stuff!
Oh, and the theme seems to be around “Americana”…or maybe more accurately “Northamericana”.
I’m going to bed. Up at 7 a.m. to pack and then rider’s meeting at 8:30. Then off to Percé Rock!
The Buffet Plan for Leg #1 – 86,069 Points (Didn’t end up following BTW)
St. Louis Arch – 3565
Hoagy Carmichael (IBA Mile Eater Mural), Moundsville, WV- 5099
Reynolds Powersports (Perennial IBR Bonus/Checkpoint), Buxton, Maine – 5300
Hopewell Rocks (Flowerpots with 18 foot tidal changes), Hopewell, New Brunswick – 6012
Green Gables National Historic Site, Cavendish, Prince Edward Island – 8014
Giant Salmon, Cambellton, NB 3014
Percé Rock (more tidal stuff), Percé, Quebec – 33,000
Skylon Tower, Niagara Falls, Ontario – 2910
6 hour rest bonus 7155
Call In Status Bonus 2000
Gas Bonus 10000 (for completed gas log)
Day 1, Monday – Missouri to Pennsylvania
07:30 CDT
Well, I decided to change my bonus hunting plan. My first bonus is going to be this very first one in the bonus packet:
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Island of Oahu, Hawaii 52,000 points Available 8 am to 5 pm daily
Pearl Harbor
Take a picture of the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor
Pearl Harbor is located on the island of Oahu, Hawaii northwest of Honolulu approximately ¼ mile west of
Kamehameha Highway. Warning: Your motorcycle must be present in the photo, however, we will accept a very wideangle
shot as it is very difficult to take with a Polariod; see George Zelenz for photography tips on what is acceptable and is not.
WARNING: To receive credit for this bonus, you must take a picture of the motorcycle you entered the rally with
in front of said landmark. If you obtained a replacement motorcycle during the rally, you may NOT earn this
bonus.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: OH Approved: ______________
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Not really. This is Lisa’s attempt to lighten things up. It did make me laugh though. 
08:00 CDT
Fittingly about 2 hours before the start of the rally it started to rain. Mostly sprinkles and we’re all standing around without our gear one having fun.
My GAWD! We’re Iron Butt Ralliers!!!!! One can tell from the friendly grin of a person that is unaware of the pain he’s about to go through the next 11 days (isn’t Doug cute?) and the sad homage to Karate Kid (Hey Ralph Machio wannabee what are you doing wearing a BMW shirt? You take a blow to the head?) The only sane one in this picture is to the far left (Roger VanSanten)….or at least in recovery from riding in ‘05. He’s secretly thinking, “Suckers!”
5, 4, 3, 2, 1…..We Have Launch of Iron Butt Rally 2007!
As 9:45 comes Warchild leads a final riders’ meeting and the sky opens up in old fashioned downpour half way through his departure instructions. He goes from mostly dry to soaked in less than a minute. The shift in gears of rain intensity actually was electric and changed the mood to absolute seriousness….and then slowed raining again right before 10. The anticipation is palpable.
Noah “Warchild” Wilson led the flock two-by-two out of the parking lot for an abbreviated 11 days and 11 nights of flooding. If only Moses could have been there to part the oceans as riders headed East to the St. Louis Arch. The only thing I really remember than seeing Dean Tanji perched on top of a ladder with somebody holding an umbrella over an expensive looking camera was Dale gesticulating to riders like fighter jets on an aircraft carrier.
I kept muttering four words, “Don’t fuck up…..don’t fuck up…..don’t fuck up.“….which would have been surprisingly easy to do with cold, hard, new, long-distance tires in a slick parking lot with adrenaline being squeezed into my blood stream. Three years of anticipation came down to a 5 minute period as 97 motorcycles launched off 4 acres of parking lot that looked suspiciously like a carrier deck.
Launch!
Right turn onto the deck and slowly twist the throttle. A check of my 6 and my partner, Doug, was solidly in tow and about the time I turned off the freeway for downtown St. Louis I realized I was in the Iron Butt Rally. Mixed in with morning commuters a sea of rain spray and bikes pointed east to their individual destinies.
The First Bonus
Parking in a garage I joined the sea of Aerostiches and ambled towards my first bonus.
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St Louis, Missouri 3,565 points August 20, 2007
Jefferson National Expansion Memorial Park 10 am to 1 pm
Gateway Arch
Take a photo of the large display entitled The Builders and bring a receipt from the Arch Parking Structure.
Located on the bank of the Mississippi River in eastern Missouri just north of the intersection of I55/
I70/64. Parking is available in the Arch Parking Structure on Washington Avenue, just east of I70.
The display in located in the Visitor Center under the Arch.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: GA Approved: ______________
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This, by the way, is the first of many shots I’m not in and didn’t take. They are a hodge-podge of pictures I’ve accumulated from others to at least show what things look like during the rally. I’m hopeful my fellow competitors are OK with this…and would, of course, share any photos I’ve made for their purposes. See them here. / Matt
Departing the garage took far longer than entering…or for gathering the bonus.
Rain Sucks
Any rain sucks on a motorcycle. Riding through a rainstorm for a full tank of gas is demoralizing. Riding through rain from morning, through much of the night, waking up to even harder rain, and donning soggy gear to ride yet another day through it makes one seriously reconsider their choices in life.
The same does not seem to apply to semi trucks. They seem to go exactly the same speed through rain as dry and chuckle in their lofty air-suspended seats as us pavement dwellers choke on their spray and white-knuckle past them to the next gaggle of Kenworths.
The giganto cross in Effinham, IL did little to improve my spirits. Mainly I just thought, “Wow. That’s a freakin’ huge cross! They must really be right with God!…….. 200 feet tall. I wonder what their electric lighting bill is and if any planes fly into it?” ….and again this isn’t my photo, but one I Googled.
Doug’s alternator appeared to have shit the bed this morning, but seems to be a bit happier now. Where he was getting 12 volts at 4,000 rpm at the start of the rally and was very slow to start with “whir-whir-whir” slowness of a weak battery. …now it eventually gets up to 14.0 volts after 20 minutes of riding.
Nothing really to do at this point unless the bike dies which we’re hoping won’t be at the apogee of our route….Perwhatchmacality Rock in upper Quebec. We’re wondering if the Datel voltmeter is wonky at this point. Positive thinking….positive thinking.
I knew I wouldn’t be thrilled with riding the east coast, but I didn’t expect a trial so early on. Regardless, Doug and I slogged through Day 1 in the remnants of a hurricane bound for some dude’s garage in some town I never heard of in West Virginia. We got there in the middle of the time window and it turned out to be heaven as it was dry, warm, the Weather Channel on the TV, and warm grub on the BBQ. It reminded me of what the Love Boat would be like if ran by Harley riding rednecks. Fun and sweet as molasses with hospitality. Hoagy, his friend, and family were my new best friends and also worth 5,000 points!
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Moundsville, West Virginia 5,099 points Available August 20, 6 pm to midnight
Hoagy Carmichael
Take a picture of the Iron Butt Association Mile Eater mural at Hoagy’s Heroes
Moundsville is located on the Ohio/West Virginia border approximately 12 miles south of Wheeling, West
Virginia. Hoagy’s garage/pub is located directly behind the house; go to the back to visit Hoagy’s Heroes.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: ME Approved: ______________
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Mawing on a hamburger I contemplated the state of my feet. I could feel they were pruned with water…….but I actually felt and heard the sloshy sound of water coming from my right boot. So much for the previously vaunted Oxtar boots….they were positively soaked. Maybe it was from the horizontal rain slipping off my fairing to my leg and then running down inside the boot…no matter….I poured water out of it as I upended the Size 14.
Another problem had become apparent……Doug and I weren’t really able to communicate. He just couldn’t hear my voice while I could hear him fine. He could hear me key up the mic, but no voice. Accordingly, we developed a made-for-TV-movie code where 1 click was no and 2 clicks for yes. Simple, elegant, but we needed one more option. I tell him at a rest stop, “Lots of quick clicks is me laughing”.
….Doug smiles and proceeded to tell me a lot of funny stories over 4 days which I respond with a guffaw of …click-click-click-click-click!
It was hard getting back on the bike and I’d like to say Doug and I persevered and rode through our first night, but we made it down the road about 3 more hours and found ourselves pretty much looking like mangy mutts at Somerset, PA. Pulling out the laptop, downing sickly-sweet hot chocolate, and dripping on the floor of a well-lit convenience store we did our best to muster up the courage to ride another tank of gas…or even half a tank before stopping. We had ambitions of trying a combination of bonii up in Canada before the all-important 33,000 point Percé rock and had plenty of clock time if it weren’t for what we figured were regional rainy conditions.
I Begin to Loath Motel Clerks
Instead, we aimed our bikes to a Super 8 across the street and checked in around midnight. We figured we’d get 3 or 4 hours sleep and hit it early…..and the rain would stop by then.
The clerk at the hotel didn’t add to our confidence though. What he was doing behind the keyboard for 74 keystrokes and 17 mouse clicks before acknowledging we were there was beyond me, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He asked my name and I answered, “Matt Watkins” expecting even an error-prone typist to be no more than 15 keystrokes and 4 mouse clicks….yet he seemed to do opt for the same 74/17 combination as before we came in the door.
“Address?”, he said methodically.
I gave him the 11 digits of my address and again he translated it into a 74/17 combination of inefficiency. My patience was wearing very thin so I strategically dripped several drops of water from my soaking head onto the counter hoping it would stimulate his apparent anal instinct to hurry up.
“City?”…..knowing full well that him not asking city and state in combination was going to mean another inefficient round of keyboard and mouse manipulation.
“Pasco…..and we are REALLY tired. We’d appreciate anything you can do to speed this up.”
…of course he paused without typing a single thing defeated me instantly with passive-aggressive calm, “I’m going as fast as I can.”
……another 74 keys and 17 mouse click….maybe even a few extra to show me who was boss.
This exchange repeated too many times to be funny and I pretty much lost it when he pitched me for the “Super 8 Frequent Stayer Club”. I said forcefully, but politely, “I just wanna pay you, get a key, and go to bed. PLEASE help me make that happen as soon as possible.”
It’s Day 1 and I’m this irritated? How am I going to survive 10 more days without Doug having to put me in a half-nelson and not kill someone? Did Lisa plant this guy and I’m on video somewhere? Will the rain stop? I sure hope my attitude improves after I sleep.
With programmed key finally in hand Doug and I zombie-walk to the room and drop everything on the floor with a tired thump. We go through a ritual for the first time. Weather Channel popped on, heat cranked, windows opened, and clothes hung in every manner as to maximize surface area and drying ability.
We had to search for a dry spot on our bodies when we shucked our clothes. Doug has 10 square inches on a shirt and his feet are dry. My ass is dry and the bottom of my back….and that’s it.
My thick packet of red fax-resistant pages is soaked through and I lament not having put it in a ziplock in my tank bag at the outset. Problem solver I am I try putting it in the microwave…..and it works! The packet actually started steaming and becoming lighter as moisture was driven off.
So I set the microwave for 8 minutes and waited for a “Ding!” to dry things more. What I got certainly was a less soggy packet, but towards the middle of the pack there were gray char marks and the smell of smoke filled the room. Doug looked wide-eyed at me and laughed.
Whoa! Hold on! No more microwaves for packets. Thoughts of “DNF – Burned Bonus Packet” on the final standings website jolted me back into reality as I smiled and laughed too.
…that it would be a good story for Tom Austin in our Call-In Bonus.
Settling down on the mediocre mattress I followed Doug 10 minutes later into a quick and fast slumber. Day 1 was done with a soggy whimper.
Day 2, Tuesday – Pennsylvania to Quebec
It Doesn’t Rain Like This At Home
When one wakes up to the sound of an alarm clock on your second day of the Iron Butt Rally it is a fairly easy proposition. The alarm is turned off with confidence that you won’t drift back off to sleep and your brain boots up quickly given it’s still ample supply of endorphines.
The room was comfortably warm from the heater despite the window being open, but outside the window the sound of constant rain we had to gone bed with was replaced by the white noise din of even harder rain. Doug and I could hear each other pause our breathing in simultaneous silence to soak in the reality that this day was going to suck more than the first.
We both started laughing deeply powerless to will Mother Nature into a sun break. Welcome to what is called “The Iron Butt Rally”.
Even though our gear was drier than when we went to bed, it would be a stretch to proclaim them actually dry. We, however, donned them as they were the only things we had to wear for 10 days and headed out in the increasing morning light headed to Buxton, Maine and points north. Road mist from traffic was ugly and we found ourselves beat up again by mid-morning. We admitted temporary defeat for breakfast and dripped all over a sit-down joint near Bethel, PA with good hash browns. This was a luxury probably not yet deserved, but we’ve got 10 more days of riding.
After breakfast we got into a little better rhythm and cruised smoothly through Eastern PA. Doug liked my breakfast suggestion of bypassing the New York City area by going 287 around the mass of New Jersey muck. I had spent 4 months my corporate life in 1999 in Mahwah and knew the area fairly well.
It was a good move too! Traffic flowed well throughout the early afternoon as rain lightened a tad, and we made it easily across the Tappan Zee bridge. I gaffed and missed a turn-off Doug encouraged me to try in Massachusets, but he took lead and we made good time through fresh water spray towards Worcester, Mass.
And somewhere between Worcester and Boston things dramatically changed. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I think…..IT STOPPED FRICKIN’ RAINING! In fact, by some route around Portsmouth, Maine the sun started to come out and I was able to adopt a flying squirrel sort of position and vent dry air through my gear and begin the drying process.
In hindsight, we probably should have stopped in Portsmouth for a minor bonus, but it will be much entertaining to tell you now that we’ll attempt it in several days….just remember cigars.
Cruising through Southern Maine was unexpectedly pleasant and symbolic to me. As I paralleled, but never really saw the Atlantic Ocean I realized I had actually finished my very first trans-continental journey of North America. Not even as a kid had I traveled across the country and this represented the accomplishment of one important life goal.
More would follow to be sure.
The afternoon wound down and we took a nice secondary road through some just plain wonderful riding to get to Reynolds Motorsports in Buxton, Maine.
Buxton has special significance for me also because it’s a referenced city in The Shawshank Redemption, but I never did see a hay field, oak tree, chunk of obsidian, or Morgan Freeman. What I did see was a nicely appointed motorcycle shop with a very warm asphalt parking lot I could lay my clothes out for additional drying.
Later, I’d hang my gloves out in the airflow to dry them by the Canadian border. It’s going to take days for my boots to dry.
Jim Owen wanders by and a smile crawls across my face, heart and brain. Face because Jim is just great guy, heart because it’s another fellow rider on the same adventure, and brain because if I’m on the same route as Owen….I might be doing something right.
He beams back and says, “That rain was demoralizing.”
…it’s like Michael Jordan just agreed we’re in a tough game together. It doesn’t get any better than this.
This picture is popular and scene makes it on the official Iron Butt website daily dispatch.
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Buxton, Maine 5,300 points Tuesday, August 21, 2007 9 am to 6 pm
Reynolds Motorsports
702 Narragansett Trail
Sign in at Reynolds Motorsports. You may sign out after waiting at least 60 minutes. You may not leave the
property during that time period. Note: Reynolds closes at 7 pm so you must arrive no later than 6 pm in order to
earn this bonus. Directions: Reynolds Motorsports is located on US202, miles west of Gorham (approximately 14 miles west of Portland), Maine in the town of Buxton. From I95, take Maine Turnpike exit 36 (old exit 5) (marked I195)
located near mile marker 33. Onequarter mile after the tollbooth take exit 1 (marked “To Route 112″). At the
bottom of the ramp at the stop sign, turn left (follow sign “To Route 112″). Go 1/2 mile to T intersection and turn
right onto ME112 North (Note: in some places, ME112 is marked west, but it is the same road.). Ride 8 miles
to US202 and turn right (east) on US202. Go 2.1 miles. Reynolds is on the left.
Sign In Signature/Stamp __________________________ Time in ____________
Sign Out Signature/Stamp __________________________ Time out ____________
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: RM Approved: ___________
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Hanging out for the requisite hour Doug and I rechecked our gameplan and agreed we try and make it as close to Campbellton, NB as we could before finding a hotel. Lots of little burgs we had never been through before and some might have a hotel, but this was a foreign country and not quite the same as a Super 8 at every exit.
As the long evening wears on I’m in a great mood and twilight in Maine is beautiful. Long shadows and deep green vistas. It’s kinda like Oregon…but kinda not at the same time. Perhaps it’s the different species and overall shape of the trees, perhaps it’s the smell, or maybe something as subtle as the latitude or direction of prevailing weather. However, as the left-handed sun sets over a long continent and the murky indigo of the ocean to the east deepens into night….the scene is locked in my brain forever. This is my mental Kodak moment of Maine.
Traffic wanes through the evening, Doug and I form up and ride abreast north on I-95 25,000 lumens of light shining down the road. Maine takes on a new dimension as we press on to maritime Canada and the second night of the Butt begins. Incredible…….
Time to Learn French
Crossing the border into Canada….more specifically French-speaking Canada was something I was a bit unsure about. I had done it once in 1999 on the way to Montreal and somewhat surprised that the first words out of their mouth are French. Plus it’s post 9/11 so I have my passport just in case.
This is also Eastern Canada so I’m worried about possessing a radar detector that’s illegal in most provinces. I unplug the thing and place it in the bottom of my tank bag so I’m not tempted to use it. Doug reassures me that it won’t be a problem unless they’re on and a cop has a detector for radar detectors….he just unplugs his.
The border crossing is surprisingly easy. I offer to remove my helmet and earplugs to , but the crossing guard tells me leave it all on. He doesn’t even ask for a passport…just a driver’s license I flash for a second. Me thinks previous ralliers have buttered him up!
Shortly after crossing the border the nice divided freeway with an I in it turns into a weird conglomeration of divided highway under construction and gives way to a secondary highway of questionable intent. Doug and I have to pull off because his front-end feels like the brakes are grabbing. After 10 or 15 minutes of poking around with flashlights he figures out it’s a loose wire from an optional turn signal he had placed on the forks and it was ripped off. Doh! At least his alternator seems a bit happier now that it’s dry.
Rolling into even worse roads and definitely not taking the preferred road my GPS is suggesting….we’re on seriously obscure farm roads with crappy potholes and non-existent shoulders. I’m getting tired and it’s becoming clear that there isn’t going to be any hotel between here and Campbellton.
We press on though, as it gets colder, more remote, and big hoofed animals with four knees each start crossing the road…their shining stare at us in disapproval. A moose strike is the LAST thing I want as a Canadian souvenir.
And just as we make it back to what seems a fairly decent highway that one can do 100kph….it disappears under my tire in a free-for-all of torn up gravel. Not that I would have known what “Pavement Ends” would have been in French, but there wasn’t a single Le Sign to warn me. Doug probably had a slight clue as my taillight started whipping up, down, left, right, with frantic flashes of brake lights. 5 miles of 20 mph road and we’re back on blacktop and descending out of a mountainous pass area.
I can’t remember if it was this direction or the return trip, but I know Doug and I also passed several fellow competitors. Bill Watt later suggested we “blew” by them. I’m not sure about that. Both Doug and my roots were with dirt bikes, but to be fair he and Paul Allison were both riding behemoth Wings. Also, know Bill’s a Canuck…so maybe he was the sane one going at a respectable pace in his home country. Oooh…there goes another moose.
Campbellton couldn’t have come soon enough. I was tuckered out, low on petrol (I guess I know a little French now), and it was oddly reassuring that the 19 year old clerk didn’t know a word of English. However, he eagerly translated my hand motions into a request for a receipt at the only open gas station in town.
We rolled downtown passed the Howard Johnson and doubled-back to find it as one of the taller buildings in a weird little community. The room was steep at $105, but after just falling asleep Marbach called seeing our bikes and crashed with us. So, we all began to sleep for 7,155 grueling but perfectly timed and needed bonus points.
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Rest Bonus – no specific location 7,155 points Must start on Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Stop for 6 or more hours. Document this stop as follows:
___ at the start of the rest period, obtain a dated, time receipt from a location, for example, a gas station, a motel,
a store, etc.
___ at the end of the rest period, obtain a dated, time receipt from the same location
Our preference is that you also include your motel receipt with this bonus if you motel it, however, it is not
required.
WARNING: We are giving you wide latitude on this bonus with few restrictions so that you may have the
flexibility to use it as needed. However, we want to stress that if you are caught bending the rules in the slightest,
you will be expelled from the rally. This bonus DOES NOT mean ‘get a receipt and go collect bonuses’, it
means stop and rest.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: R6 Approved:____________________
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Day 3, Wednesday – Quebec to Maine
I’m In a Foreign Country
We’d made it to Campbellton, NB and rode well into the night. We stayed even a little longer than the rest bonus required, but getting organized was a little tougher this morning. A bagel and a coffee is a nice breakfast and the air is chilly with a single digit metric temperature. Marbach is already bouncing off the walls and gets out before well us…which is good because the personality n the little breakfast area feels like something out of a European movie. Things are subdued…people speak in hushed and intellectual French tones. The cream cheese containers are oddly shapend. Canadian news is on and it’s way more worldly than snack-sized CNN. I reign in my innate urge to be an Ugly American and “Harumph!” loudly with arms flailing.
When in Canada…..
Doug and I turn our attention to the the salmon bonus as we rollout in search of it. Take a picture of a salmon somewhere here in town…how hard can it be to find? Then ride on the north side of the bay out to Percé Rock for the mega 30,000 points!!!!!!
Then we’re headed back to St. Louis. We can’t do Prince Edwards Island, Halifax, or other bonii with any certainty so why risk missing the checkpoint on the first leg. The rain sealed that fate…and I’m sure the Big Dogs like Owen and Earls still did them because when they’re not rallying with us mortals they’re Super Friends hanging out together at The Hall of Justice.
Trying to hang personally as a junior varsity Greatest American Hero I’m looking at the Niagara bonus as compromise option. Doug’s a bit skeptical of even that….so I’m watching to see what we get to Montreal compared to Street and Trips. If ahead of the estimation I’m eager to try, and if behind go to something else closer to home for less points. It’s clear I’m on more aggressive being a newbie…even though I know the smart money is to lay back a bit in leg 1. Emotion vs. Intellect. Enthusiams vs. Experience. Don’t leave your wingman!
Various electronics were seriously waterlogged from the constant rain from St. Louis to Boston. Boots are still wet, but much better this morning.
We have trouble finding the salmon and drive all over town….until we realize it was a block away from the hotel. Damn.
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Campbellton, New Brunswick 3,014 points Available 24 hours
Giant Salmon
Take a photo of your bike in front of the Giant Salmon. Located in north central New Brunswick, from NB11 take exit 412, go north to Lily Lake Road/Salmon Blvd. Turn right and continue approximately .7 miles to the intersection at NB134.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: GS Approved: ___________
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After the salmon we cross a bridge and realize we can do our call-in bonus. Time and motion wasted, but Doug pulls out the cell phone that’s low on batteries, but works in Canada and leaves his message…..then the battery dies. My phone is fully charged, but it doesn’t work in Canada because I didn’t bother activating it because Doug did his.
No problem……Doug has a charger…except that it popped his fuse. I try it in mine and see a small flash, the muffled sound of a “Pop”, and the lingering scent of burn plastic. Check! It makes smoke just fine. Damn.
That was extremely dumb. Now I have a popped fuse….that I remember is inside my dash and not easy to get to. Oh well, I guess I’ll do my call in later and figure how badly I screwed myself with this maneuver. I turn off my cell phone to save vital battery charge until I call in much later when we get back to the U.S…..which might be before midnight. Damn some more.
We end up riding the Gaspe Peninsula on a very nice highway for many, many kilometers through many, many little burgs with reduced speed limits. We take it in stride as the weather is wonderful and and we’re going to make it with the narrow tide windows in plenty of time.
Doug waves as I pull out the digital camera near Paspébiac. The sun is warm, traffic is slow, but we’re seeing country we would have never seen if it weren’t for Lisa Landry. This is some friendly riding!
Riding, holding a camera at the right angle, smiling, and remembering to turn on the flash are hard to do. I got three of the factors right. The Atlantic Ocean is SO blue!
Trans Continental Orbital Apogee
As we roll into Percé Rock (French for “pierced”) we get a view of our mother lode of points for this leg. It’s a beautiful site and was worth every kilometer to get here. Doug and I find a side-street of the tourist town to get as near the target as possible….which is full of fellow ralliers in various state of bonus snatching. Jeff Earls is here and he’s got a determined shit-eating grin on his face. The endorphines are kicking in for this boy.
Doug and I walk down the beach snapping one photo and then passing Brian Roberts and others.
We are even asked by a fellow competitor if we can take his picture for him with our camera as his crapped out. We tense up as if beaten in a concentration camp and politely inform him that we can’t as we think it would be outside support. I remember some passing comment in my reading that it would be OK to give him my camera…or a spare one for the remainder of the event and I think Doug does too.
I even think that maybe his asking was a test by Lisa by a spy. My paranoia meter at apogee of Leg #1 is at full tilt!
For photo #2 I read the bonus very carefully and notice the person prior stood in front of the rock as a person took their picture. No problem on having somebody snap your picture, but his flag was not “on the rock”. I press my flag to the rock as Doug snaps the photo. Having been burned the year before for not having all four limbs in all four states at Four Corners….no way is Austin going to catch me on this one.
Funny thing is that after Doug and I do our photo..the guy before us…..comes back and does the exact same thing. TILT! TILT! TILT!
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Percé, Quebec, Canada 33,000 points Available daylight hours
Percé Rock
This bonus requires two photos.
Photo #1: Take a picture of Percé Rock from the bottom of the stairway. Your ID flag does NOT have to be
present in this photo. This photo must show that the tide is out! These are fast moving tides; no wading this year
Tom! Depending on weather conditions, you may access Percé Rock for approximately 2 hours before and 2
hours after low tide.
Photo #2: Walk out to Percé Rock, place your flag on the rock and take a closer photo.
WARNING: This bonus requires a short walk across the ocean floor; however, the footing is treacherous and
should not be attempted unless the water has subsided during a low tide. Tides in this area are extreme and fastchanging,
rising 6 to 8 feet per hour! Percé is located on the eastern end of the Gaspe Peninsula on Provincial Rte132.
To get to the access stairwell, turn right on Rue Biard.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: REBECCA Approved: ______________
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I also just got something as I write this final report. Lisa had told us prior to the rally that we’d be returning to hilarious ‘05 Battery Point bonus…which we never actually did. However the code for this one is REBECCA. This must be the hint for the Rebecca Vaughn bonus.
A reverse-angle shot shows some interesting geology and the 1/2 mile walk back to the bikes to the right.
Unwinding the Spring
Riding back to Campbellton took even longer as the lolly-gaggers came out in force to clog the Canadian roads. We were hoping to make it back to New Hampshire before bedding down and daylight would be fading before we got out of Canada and Moose like to come out and party at night in these parts.
I’m also worrying about getting back to U.S. cell phone range so I waste a precious 15 or 20 minutes finding an international calling card…to which I promptly scrape off the little lotto-like covering for the security number. Except that I scrape off two of the digits along with the wax. There’s $5 Canadian and 20 minutes wasted. Get me out of this damn country.
When we get back to Campbellton we found a Subway and ate a sandwich as we pulled out the laptop and look a little more closely at Niagara Falls. Doug’s apprehensive of the route, distance, and weather. He think we should go do New Hampshire and bag a few bonii there and decide in the following morning. I agree and we undo the Canadian kilometers back to the border…but this time do it on a nice and established highway punctuated by divided freeway.
My ears are starting to bother me also. My Etymotic ear monitors sound good, but they’re rubbing my ears raw. I lube them up with Neosporin, but wonder if I’m going to make it all eleven days. My right ear is also being rubbed by my helmet, but I can’t seem to find the problem. An annoyance, but not a deal breaker. This is the stuff that a true IBR rider just puts up with.
To the positive my beaded seat is phenomenal. I’d been working for nearly three years to turn the seat into a true Iron Butt seat and the hastily built $8 set of beads were the final bit to make the seat comfortable.
I’m also eager to get back to the range of a U.S. cell tower and do my call-in. By this time I realize that I had another Powerlet rigged for my electric clothing and I could use as an alternate to power my tank bag and charge my cell phone. I tried to convince myself this was deliberate fail-safe planning like an Apollo mission, but knew I was just lucky. Unwind one of the damns.
~23:00 Houlton Border Crossing, Maine
Crossing the border back into the U.S. was just as easy as going up. The U.S. guys were friendly and again didn’t seem to care that I had earplugs in. As Doug talked to the agent I pulled ahead and did my call in. Houlton. I shared my packet scorching story and figure Austin would get a chuckle and headshake out of it.
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CallIn
Bonus no
specific location 2,000 points Available August 22, 2007
Call XXX XXX XXXX and leave the following information:
Your name, your rider number, your location (city/town and state/province), the last bonus you scored, and the
bonus you are headed for. While it is not required for this bonus, if you have a quick story, please leave it also!
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: CI Approved: ______________
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Who comes riding by, but John Langan. John holds a special spots in my heart because he was the first “veteran” I got to ride along with in my very first rally–the 2005 Utah 1088. He also is missing most of the digits of his right hand, but still seems to make his Goldwing do things I can’t on an FJR.
Pleasantries exchanged he rolled out before us and we figured we wouldn’t see him again until St. Louis. John can ride!
I was wrong, however. As Doug and I cruised the nearly vacant stretch of Northern Maine I-95 we were doing our wall-of-light thing when we came over a rise to see blue lights flashing away. Checking our speed at the same time we reduced our lumen output. We knew we weren’t the object of those swirly lights…we were lucky “The Man” had found somebody else on this lonely road to hassle.
As I rolled by I saw this digit-missing man standing on the side of the road, head down bathed in blue swirling lights, but sneaking a glance and smirk at me.
Clearly Doug and I owed this man beverages after the rally was over for running point and getting nabbed by Charlie. Knowing we had lost one of our team to the PoPo we did like any self-respecting Iron Butt rider would do…..we rode on! Zero good could come from us stopping and know he would have done the same thing. We also know he’s safe.
John would later tell as at the banquet that he had come up on a police officer doing just under the speed limit and engaged in a 10 mile slow pass. Giving him ample room he returned to the right lane, but the officer seemingly thought the distance was too ample and pulled him over saying, “We take the left lane is only for passing law seriously here in Maine. You should have moved right earlier.”
Uhhhh…yeah.
Doug and I rode on to just past Augusta and found a Wal-Mart so Doug could get a replacement cell phone charger. After that we found the nearest hotel and called it a night. We did look at the weather channel and decided against going to Niagra Falls mainly because there was a giant weather front moving north with Niagra Falls and the Chicago bonus square in the middle. Seeing it’s track we reasoned that we could go down south and then cut West underneath it….or more precisely a thin spot of the front.
I ‘d never purposely dodged weather on a regional scale before, and it was fun thinking in such strategic terms. We’d find out later from people that did take the route that it was rainy and generally ugly.
Day 4, Thursday – Maine to Pennsyvania
Three’s Company
Doug and I rolled out of bed…a bit slower than the day before….and the day before that, but still not exhausted. Today’s tone was different. We’re going to bag a fair number of smaller bonii today, but it all leads ups to getting to Reading and York, PA before nightfall and snap a picture of a Pagoda and the Harley-Davidson plant.
First up is to ride about 30 miles and snap a picture of a skeleton of a “schooner”….which is pronounced “shooner” by one of the fun-loving two-up foreign teams. Within a couple of blocks we saw John ride towards us. He wheeled around and follows us back to bonus and we decided to hang for the day.
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Bath, Maine 1,888 points Available daylight hours
Maine Maritime Museum
243 Washington Street
Take a photo of the lifesize skeleton of a schooner under construction. Bath is located approximately 30 miles north east of Portland, ME on US1. Turn south from US1 onto Washington Street. The museum is approximately 1.2 miles on your left.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: BM Approved: ______________
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Doug encourages me to lead and I figure we snag a small one So, about 10 miles later we’re looking for a cow on the top of a coffee-shop roof. Quick, easy, we’re gone.
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Brunswick, Maine 456 points Available daylight hours
Udder Place Coffee
156 Pleasant St.
Take a photo of the cow in the giant coffee cup on top of the Drive Thru shack. Brunswick is located in southwestern Maine, approximately 25 miles northeast of Portland, ME. From I295, take exit 28/US1/ Pleasant Street east towards Brunswick approximately 1.5 miles
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: UP Approved: ______________
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Screwing the Pooch
“Everybody screws the pooch during the Iron Butt Rally. However, whoever the pooch the least amount of times and the lss hard….wins.” Tom Melchild – August 2007
Excited by the bing-bing-bing prospect of picking off bonii all day I had figured the night before to stop in Portsmouth for a cigar and 900 points. ..however read ahead to the bonus and see if you see any problem with my plan. If you spot it quickly…you should be in the Iron Butt Rally. If you don’t, you made a rookie mistake like me.
We made it to Federal Cigar and I picked a $7 cigar with a label “Rain” on it and packed it away. The owner seemed a bit puzzled about us being there, but still gives us a newspaper with a stamp. Your friends were here a couple of days ago…you guys are a bit late.
John and Doug quickly figured out my Streets & Trip data entry faux pas. I hard forgotten to label this bonus as a red-restricted time bonus and we weren’t allowed to claim it. It was really only attainable on the way to Percé Rock, but Doug and I had bypassed this chunk of Atlantic getting up to Buxton.
Doh! Rookie mistake…no first place for me. But, at least I have a cigar for the finish.
However, Portsmouth is a town I want to come back to. It just seemed like what a revolutionary town would look like in the textbooks. This was the kind of place I’d spend the whole afternoon walking around.
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Portsmouth, New Hampshire 878 points Available Tuesday August 21, 2007
Federal Cigar Store 7 am – 7 pm
800.961.9944
Pick up a certified stamped copy of The New Hampshire Gazette with the Iron Butt Rally ad welcoming us to
town located inside it (the Gazette is the Nation’s Oldest Newspaper it has been in production since 1756) from
Federal Cigar Store. Do NOT pick up a copy from another source; it will not have the required stamp inside by
Federal Cigar Store employees.
WARNING: If you arrive late, you may NOT pick up a Gazette from another source! You must arrive on time to
collect this bonus as Federal Cigar Store will be recording which riders stop for the papers. Portsmouth is located on the New Hampshire/Maine border just to the east of I95. From I95, take Exit 7; turn left on Market Street Extension to downtown, proceeding east, then southeast for .9 mile. (Market St. Extension narrows and becomes simply Market Street, which is One Way. Beware the right at the Sheraton, it will take you into Russell and Deer Streets and get you quite lost.) At Bow St. on the left, with the King Tiki bar ahead, Market St. deviates about 30 degrees to the right. Proceed south .08 mile. At Market Square, with the white steeple of North Church ahead, bear right. Proceed southwest along Congress St. about 150 feet to High St. Turn Right on High St One Way. Proceed northwest about 200 feet to Ladd St One
Way. Turn right on Ladd St, Proceed less than 100 feet eastnortheast to Federal Tobacconists.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: FC Approved: ______________
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I shook it off as best I could and floundered a bit trying to find the rocking chair, but finally got it. Again, minor points, but we’re cooking with gas now. Why did I keep thinking of Lily Tomlin while I was here? Hint: Rowan and Martin the year I was born.
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Milford, New Hampshire 465 points Available 24 hours
World’s Largest Rocking Chair
Take a photo of the rocking chair. Located in south central New Hampshire approximately 11 miles northwest of Nashua, NH. From Hwy 101 go north on NH13, take the first right on Hammond Rd and follow to the end.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: MH Approved: ______________
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By the time we got to the bridge I had summarily decided that New Hampshire was a beautiful, windy, and lush state. I was really hoping to run across a Bartlet for America campaign sign. Bonus points if you can connect the rocking chair and the Bartlet hint.
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Winchester, New Hampshire 1,201 points Available daylight hours
Ashuelot Covered Bridge, 1864
Take a picture of the Ashuelot Covered Bridge
Winchester is located in south central New Hampshire, near the Massachusetts border to the east of I91.
The bridge is approximately 1.7 miles west of the junction of NH10 in Winchester on NH119.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: WC Approved: _____________
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The three of us made a gas and rest stop after the bridge in Hinsdale at a perfectly cute little general store including a clanging screen door on a spring. Gatorade restocked the drinking containers and a quick call to a couple family and friends. It was a good day!
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Hinsdale, New Hampshire 1,001 points Available daylight hours
License plate house
Take a photo of the house covered in license plates. Hinsdale is located in southwestern New Hampshire at the junction of NH63 and NH119, approximately 55 miles southwest of Manchester, NH. The house is on NH63/Northfield St. approximately 2 miles south of NH119/Main St.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: HN Approved: _____________
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With the thousand points out of the way we pondered briefly trying to go to Mt. Washington for a 2300 point bonus, but collectively decided it was worth it to try and beat feet for Pennsylvania and see what we could squeeze in a 3300 point bonus before dark. This strategy also put us more on the positive side of getting back to the barn….a reality that in less than 24 hours the first leg would be over.
So, we hauled but back through Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, and New Jersey. It got worse as we went and we did our best to filter through traffic squatting in the left lane and had a nice piece of HOV lane that bypassed a bit of the bumper-to-bumper. Jersey 287 wasn’t quite as kind to us on our return trip and we had stop-and-go clear until Pennsylvania.
Then in Allentown traffic was just plain stopped! We stewed and fretted as our motorcycle fans kicked on. Was it open 1/4 mile after the bend or backed up for miles. We just couldn’t stand it and went for the shoulder and the next exit. I doubt I could retrace our actual route, but it was all secondary roads and daylight was burning.
And that particular leg was the best riding I had the whole rally. The three of us tossed our bikes from corner to corner in the most beautiful rural areas, past streams, good road, and a beautiful evening.
Where we had hoped to get Reading and York, by this point we were just hoping to bag the Pagoda. ..and for the record….it was still daylight and we got points. We MADE those Polaroids show sky…and got extra receipts just in case.
In hindsight I guess I wonder if I hadn’t messed up earlier in the day if York would have been possible or it would have been better to just get Mt. Washington. Maybe so, but again I’m hoping Leg 1 isn’t the make-or-break leg for a decent finish.
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Reading, Pennsylvania 920 points Available daylight hours
The Pagoda
Skyline Drive
take a photo of your bike in front of the pagoda Reading is located in southeastern Pennsylvania, approximately 55 miles northwest of Philadelphia, PA. Downtown Reading is about 1 mile east of US422, via the Penn Street exit (BusinessUS422). Local directions to the Pagoda from downtown Reading: fromthe corner of Penn Street & 5 th Street ride north on
5 th Street for 3 blocks, ride east on Walnut Street for 0.8 miles, ride south on Clymer Street for 0.2 miles, turn left
on Duryea Drive and follow it for 1.1 miles, turn left on Shearer Road to the Pagoda at Skyline Drive.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: PG Approved: ______________
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Accepting that we weren’t going to make the the Harley plant in York we decided to sit down to a meal. The neighborhood was seedy, but the family restaurant seemed decent and the Philli Steak went down well….even though I didn’t know how my gut was going to handle the sudden rush of foreign grease. This was the first less-than-healthy thing I’d eaten in days and I could already feel myself losing some weight. In fact, it was the first meal Doug and I had all day. The routine was becoming only one meal stop a day…lunch or dinner….and munching on jerky and granola in the tank bag the rest of the time.
More laptop work figuring out what we might get tonight and tomorrow. Smart money was clearly to go to Todd Witte’s House for a 1700 point bonus and then see how much closer to St. Louis we could get before grabbing a hotel.
Stalking Incident #1
In the surreal department is about 2 miles from Todd’s house at a streetlight near the now-dark Harley plant. I had NPR going through my Etymotics and Karl Castle was doing his baritone report slightly shifted to one ear and interviewees in the other. Coming from far left a fresh voice that didn’t match the context of the conversation in the slightest……who is that? How does, “I’m Randy from the FJR Forum.” fit into a story about the national healthcare crisis?
Then WHAM! In my peripheral vision I spotted a bike to my left that wasn’t Doug’s FJR. It was a blue color closer to my own. This worried me for a split second as I thought I was hallucinating. More disturbing yet the apparition reached out to shake my hand. My eyes must have been as big as dinner plates. Randy later wrote on the forum:
I just met up with Matt, Doug and John Langan in York, PA and he asked that I post this. They ate in Reading, PA before heading to York. They got their bonus and were heading back towards St. Louis. We left York around 11 PM and they peeled off to pick up I-76 and were going to try to get 2-3 more hours in before they pull off to rest. They’ll make the call later on to determine if they’ll try to get any additional points before making it back to St. Louis. They might end up in Somerset, PA tonight – the spot of their 1st rest.
They were all in good spirits and no major issues with the bikes.
Seems Randy lives in the area and was watching Doug’s Starr-Trax. He knew we were coming in and waited for us.
Mind you…this is not without precedence. The same thing happened to Doug in the ‘05 IBR headed for Florida. In fact, I got to know Doug better before I even really met him because of that ‘05 thing.
Technology is surreal sometimes.
Rolling down the road to Todd’s house was also a bit odd. It was an upscale neighborhood with nobody home and a Caprice in the driveway meant to resemble a cop car. I had heard enough about this bonus that Todd has some sort of beef with the local municipality he lives and all us IBR riders were designed to help pissing off his neighbors and city council. Also by design was that Todd was on vacation during the whole affair…making plausible deniability. Sweet!
….I didn’t pull out my Mayor Pro-Tem badge to be sure….
Snapping a picture of his bumper, exchanging pleasantries, and politely declining an offer of a place to stay, we bagged the bonus by doing paperwork and headed for the Interstate.
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York, Pennsylvania 1,712 points Available 24 hours
Todd Witte’s Home
Take a photo of the Anti Grinch Unit emblem on the squad car parked in front of Todd’s house. Todd Witte, being a chronic overachiever and father to twin boys, put up a Christmas light display second to none. In the process, his neighbor took issue with the crowds flocking to the neighborhood and called the police to intervene. So, with too much time and money on his hands, Todd ‘decorated’ his very own police car the Witte Wonderland Christmas Light Patrol to park in front of his neighbor’s house. York is located in south central Pennsylvania, approximately 25 miles south of Harrisburg, PA. Located in northwest York, from I83, take exit 21/Arsenal Road and go west approximately 2 miles. Turn right onto
Roosevelt Avenue for approximately .2 miles, then right on Greenbriar Rd. Continue on Greenbriar approximately 2.4 miles to St Andrews Way and turn right. Follow for .4 miles to Detwiler and turn left for .6 miles then turn right on Burning Tree.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: YP Approved: ______________
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00:54 CDT, Friday – Somerset, PA
John had bigger ambitions the next day so rode farther while Doug and I subscribed to the symmetry theory and returned to the Super 8 that we spent the first night of the rally. The clerk I despised had the night off and we were checked in with ease. The room was conspicuously absent one microwave, making it far harder to incinerate my packet….which was also good.
We drifted to sleep far easier and more deeply than we did the first night. Visions of barns danced in our heads…..
Day 5, Friday – Pennsylvania to Rally HQ
Waking up in the same hotel in Somerset, PA as I did on Day 2 was strangely disquieting. On Day 1 we had gotten beaten down by the remnants of a hurricane and stopped way earlier than we had expected. Here it was Day 5, some wispy ground fog, but otherwise blue skies, and I’d be rolling back into the first checkpoint this afternoon.
My left ear had gotten to the point that it was just too painful to put an Etymotic in so I put an earplug saturated with Neosporin. It felt less painful.
Doug had talked that he wanted to head straight to the checkpoint, swap tires, get some rest, and be ready for the second leg. Since I did not plan to change tires or do any bike maintenance. I just couldn’t bring myself to head straight for the barn even if there were only a couple paltry bonii extra to scoop up. Something just told me that 2,000 nearly on-the-way points were important so I planned on a 10 mile detour off of I-70 for a 489 point bonus to take a pictures of “The World’s Largest Basket”. And as I rolled through town I saw a seven story building with giant wicker handles on it. It was the Longaberger Basket Factory in Newark, Ohio.
I chuckled at the scale of this thing, that I had seen it only a few months earlier on John Ratzenberger’s “Made in America” and here I was at a place I’d never, ever normally come if it weren’t for the Iron Butt Rally.
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Newark, Ohio 489 points Available 24 hours
Longaberger Basket
1500 E Main Street
Take a picture of your motorcycle parked in the Longaberger Home Office Parking Lot, with the “basket” clearly
visible in the background. Newark is located in central Ohio, approximately 35 miles east of Columbus, OH. Longaberger Basket is 3 miles east of Newark off OH16, south on Dayton Road, then east on Main Street.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: LB Approved: _____________
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Five minutes later I had my Polaroid stashed and pointed my bike West in the direction of St. Louis. Instead of back-tracking to I-70 and then going through Columbus I thought this method of squeezing out bonii was worthwhile so I headed Marysville, OH about 60 miles away. Via two-laner and in another hour or so I found myself parking my Yamaha FJR next to a sexy little Honda S2000 and parking lot full of other Hondas and snapping a picture of the Honda of North America.
I find it interesting that the one of the few pictures I can find on Google is so small. Me thinks Honda discourages picture taking and happy my Yamaha didn’t suddenly burst into flame or struck by a CRV.
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Marysville, Ohio 1578 points Available daylight hours
Honda of America Manufacturing
24000 Honda Parkway
Take a picture of Honda of America Manufacturing The Honda of America Manufacturing is located approximately 9 miles north west of Marysville, Ohio and approximately 40 miles northwest of Columbus. From US33
take the Honda Parkway exit north. We will accept any picture of a Honda building at this location (there is both the car and motorcycle factories here, either one is acceptable for this picture).
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: HA Approved: ______________
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Sprawling and beige…I guess I expected something different and more spectacular, but I knew inside is where the goodies were made. At 1578 points though…it was worth the trip. And the most direct route back to St. Louis now wasn’t even a traveled two-laner-the GPS navigated a very interesting slew of local roads. I passed tractors with the smooth “zzzz” I had become in tune with of my FJR contrasted with their marbles-in-a-can “grrrrrraaack” of a diesel. I zipped by fattened and shocked geese who seemed to have given up on the whole migration thing for what was probably a farmer with sacks of grain and a predilection for miniature windmills. Corn and other midwest rotational crops grew in their straight rows and I knew I was in a Red State.
Americana can’t get more Norman Rockwell than this.
It’s sunny, reasonably warm, and the clouds are even puffy white. Things are smooth and I’m on a good pace. But, I don’t really have enough time to scoop up another bonus without pushing the checkpoint too much so I start thinking about what I need to fix up for the next leg in our 12 or so hour layover. Like any good IBR contestant I form a list in my head. A list that I have to repeat to myself as I ride since I would otherwise forget as I roll into town.
· Wash the undergarments. Socks are stiff, bicycle shorts are ripe, and long underwear is funky.
· More Sharpies to replace the ones I keep losing.
· More earplugs in case I won’t be able to put an etymotic in both of my ears.
· A waterproof Tupperware bowl to stuff receipts and pictures. My nylon pouch isn’t up to the task when it gets wet. I had seen Jeff Earls’ slot type container and liked it.
Ugh. There’s probably a line to the washing machines back at the hotel……no there’s probably not even washing machines at the Doubletree. Why do I have to do it there…..hey what does the GPS say? A laundry in Urbana, OH! Perfect!
Urbana, OH is a is a little city that sort of reminds me of what my home city of Pasco was like in size about 20 years ago. 10,000 people with highways piercing the heart where Subways and Laundromats cohabitate.
Shucking my morning gear in the bathroom for a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and fresh socked feet I threw all the crusty stuff into a machine, dropped the lid with a clang, and loaded quarters and a little box of soap like I was a college refugee. With nothing of substantial value nor anybody even in the establishment I hoofed across the parking lot to Subway and began my 6” ritual of an Italian BMT full of veggies and light on the fat. My one vice will remain jalapeño potato chips…..Jared would understand.
With my face stuffed I wandered across the street to a Rite-Aid and scored more Sharpies and earplugs, but can’t find that perfect sized Tupperware bowl so I give up hoping that the second leg of the rally is drier than the first.
Stalking Incident #2
Walking back to what was a wash cycle that was going to be perfectly done in 1 minute I had my second weird-small-world-and-you’re-in-a-fishbowl moment. A car pulled up with a guy and a gal and they announced to me, “You in the Iron Butt Rally?”
I knew instantly. Of course a smile lept to my face and I started shaking my head. I wasn’t with Doug so he couldn’t have seen the Star-Traxx. He just spotted my bike and knew. Rich….great to know there are fans out there. It makes me remember how lucky I am to compete in this thing. Truly a life event!
Pleasantries exchanged I redressed myself and headed south out of town back for I-70. I knew I had plenty of my time, but there’s something about being on Interstate headed for a city that’s predictable. Yes, it was 400 miles away, but the homing instinct was kicking in and I really didn’t know what rush hours would be like. In fact Indianapolis scared me a bit with radio traffic so I ran the beltway instead of going through the center of town.
There were also afternoon thunderstorms at various points on the horizon and as I’d miss one by ten or 20 miles I’d see yet another one on the horizon. Then some ugly traffic jam in the middle of open country. I diverted off somewhere and did my best to run parallel roads and think I saved a bit of time, but I also started to see the cells get closer and closer as I approached St. Louis.
[Mom, skip over the next few paragraphs please]
In fact, about 30 miles out a wall of dark grey clouds became obvious as being in the path I needed to travel. I stopped and donned my rain gear once again and saw the occasional lightning strike.
I was nervous.
As I got closer it I realized it was more like a giant vertical wall of blackness…..only broken visually by leading wispy gray runner clouds. These phantasmal forms reminded me of Poltergeist as they angled towards me from starboard. Sinister forms belying a wall of evil blackness on what was just earlier a nice summer afternoon.
The eerie calm disappeared as I drove into the wall at 70 and was engulfed in a wall of mist. Water drove sideways into the deepest recessed of my clothes as I yawed to port. I pushed and leaned to the right to counteract the force, but couldn’t see 50 feet in front of me to decide if I was still in my assigned lane….nor could I even see far enough to know if the lane continued straight. I instinctually let off the throttle knowing I had some following distance between me and the several cards behind me.
Eddies and currents buffeted the bike and the visual just did not match the yaw of my ass! I searched frantically for some horizon reference, but that is one farkle I hadn’t installed.
So, I kept the handlebars straight and vain sort of faith and a few seconds later I saw pavement again, made a quick course correction, and kept going….although at only about 30 mph. Surreal…and I know how Dorothy and Toto must have felt. In about a mile I made it through the wall to what was nice and normal hard rain. Rain I don’t get where I live, but perfectly navigable and average for the IBR.
In my rear view mirror I could see the back side of this ominous shape and wonder in hind-sight if there wasn’t a tornado hidden in there somewhere and I had just gotten lucky. Fortune smiles on the ignorant I guess.
[Mom, you can start reading again]
With the immediate cyclonic storm cell passed I start thinking about how I’m going to navigate across the meaty part of St. Louis not knowing really anything about Friday evening commuting traffic. I enlist the support of my XM radio channel 218 and listen to the traffic reports rapidly firing off staccato data points. I can decipher that 270 and 255 are bad in some spots, but I can’t translate where on this loop they’re talking about so I just aim for the middle and hope. I return by the very same arch I started 5 days earlier and stop for gas as I make it into St. Louis.
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St Louis, Missouri 1 point Available 24 hours
Get a gas receipt from St Louis, MO.
St Louis, MO is located in eastern MO on the shore of the Mississippi River.
Time: _____________ Odometer: _____________ Code: GSL Approved: ______________
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I know 1 point isn’t worth the time or effort, but I wondered why it conspicuously was only worth 1 point. Could it be that it will be a paired bonus on the second leg and worth 10,000 points then…but only if you claimed it in leg #1?
I had time, so what the heck.
I will save you the suspense and tell you there was no pairing and I only got 1 point, but at least I was thinking.
With the fresh tank of gas I would also be staged with a nearly full tank for Leg #2 and slogged the last 20 miles to the hotel. It was rainy, traffic-clogged, and generally miserable, and with a 30 minute buffer I was a bit nervous there’d be a pile-up in front of me. But as I turned off of I-64 to the hotel it all became a memory. I had finished Leg #1 and felt that my slog through the uber-dense East Coast went well and racked up some great memories of maritime Canada.
I checked in with about 30 minutes to spare, accumulated my documentation, and headed for the rider’s room to wolf down some hot grub and iced tea. In between scoops of BBQ pork I arranged receipts and Polaroids in chronological order and carefully transcribed data onto my fuel log and bonus sheets. I internally chanted, “Don’t leave any points at the scoring table…..don’t screw the pooch……get done so you can sleep before Leg #2.”
I had one problem with a receipt. Between it being wet on Day 1 and how it sat in the pouch….it was extremely hard to make out a critical gallon amount or the dollar amount. I rushed to my room and logged into my credit card statement to reconstruct the amount….then dividing by what I remembered the gas to cost I did the math and came up with a number that matched several of the digits and turned it in.
I should note that Ira Agins was the head scorer this year and he has a slightly different demeanor than Tom Austin. “Slightly” is probably underexaggerated. A caricature analogy would be that if you told Ira you gave him a bottle of fine read he’d probably notice it was light by a half glass and forgive you for drinking it. Tom, on the other hand, would have a scale to the microgram available, properly tare out the cork, and put in a hydrometer to test to make sure I hadn’t watered it down by stealing half a glass.
Although I think I would have passed Austin muster for all but one receipt I do like the Agins school of casual.
With no points lost at the table I walked out of the room and began my mental game plan for Leg #2. I think I got settled in bed and asleep about 22:30.
Summary of Leg #1 – St. Louis, MO to Percé Rock, Quebec to St. Louis, MO
78,844 points. Standing #43
4258.4 miles (S&T) 39.8 mph
Day #1 – Chesterfield, MO to Somerset, PA – 693 miles
St Louis Arch 3565
Moundsville, WV IBA Mural 5099
Day #2 – Somerset, PA to Campbellton, NB – 1077 miles
Reynolds Sport Center Buxton, Maine 5300
6 hour rest bonus 7155
Day #3 – Cambpellton, NB to Augusta, ME – 728 miles
Campbellton, NB – Giant Salmon 3014
Perce, Quebec Hike across ocean floor! 33000
Call In Status Bonus 2000
Day #4 – Augusta, ME to Somerset, PA – 744 miles
Bath, Maine – Schooner 1888
Brunswick, Maine – Udder Place Coffee 456
Milford, NH – Worlds Largest Rocking Chair 465
Hinsdale, New Hampshie – License Plate House 1001
Winchester, NH – Ashuleot Covered Bridge 1201
Reading, PA – The Pagoda 920
York, Pennsylvania – Anti Grinch 1712
Day #5 – Somerset, PA to Chesterfield, MO – 1016 miles
Newark, OH – Longaberger Basket 489
Marysville, Ohio – Honda motorcycle factory 1578
St Louis, MO GAS 1 (thought it might be paired with a second leg bonus worth a bunch…but it wasn’t)
Gas Bonus 10000 (for completed gas log)
