the journey to the iron butt rally starting line...

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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

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.

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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.

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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 like a 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!

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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.

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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 leisurely 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

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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 moon shot 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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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.....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.

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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.

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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!

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What I Did This Summer: Motorcycle Across North America for Polaroids

Leg 1 of the Iron Butt Rally


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

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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

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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:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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

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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!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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.

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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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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

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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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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. ;)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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:___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Day 3, Wednesday ‐ Quebec to Maine

I'm In a Foreign Country

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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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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!

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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.

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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!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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.

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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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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.

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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

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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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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. ;)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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

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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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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.

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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 "* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * " 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.

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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

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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.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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

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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)

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More Summer Riding...How About One More Ride Across the Country?

Leg 2 of the Iron Butt Rally


Day 6, Sunday, 03:00, Chesterfield, MO to Zuzax, NM

As the alarm clock went off I awoke excited, but not quite as rested as I had hoped. 4 ½ hours was a fair amount of sleep in the scheme of things, but this was the beginning of a very long leg and I was hoping to recharge my net battery reserve a bit. We got up for a 4 a.m. rider's meeting where I found I was 43rd and handed our Leg 2 Packets.

Back to Doug's room and we crunched the route and it's 139 bonii for 3 hours and 20 minutes into Streets and Trips. This was a huge amount of bonii data, but it took only about 30 minutes before we

pretty much homed in on the idea that Lick Oservatory was the far point and center of a well‐crafted route. The question was what loop to choose getting there and back.

It seemed fairly obvious to me that the top dogs would try and go for Washington State first, pick up some 10K bonii including St. Helens, and work down to California before going back. Doug and I weren't sure we could swing it and conservatively chose a more direct route totaling 5,000 miles with a a set up for a gnarly day of California bonii, then Lick and the Bay area another day, and then back through Nevada, Arizona, Colorado scooping up smaller bonii to round things out. To do that The Oklahoma City bonus when strung with the Grand Canyon and some stuff along I‐40 seemed our pace....and it was a sweet route that would yield nearly 190,000 points...more than enough to move us from Bronze position to Gold medal position. It was a strong move for this leg to make up for taking it a bit easy on Leg 1. It was also achievable.

Here's the final route plan followed shortly by what I ended up doing. Although not identical....it's fairly close to the original plan:

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Doug and I packed up and headed to the parking lot about 10 a.m. and noticed a large number of motorcycles still in the parking lot. 6 hours of route crunching and people still weren't done! Lisa had created a tough nut to crack. Regardless, we had our plan, a full tank of gas, and headed to Oklahoma City. ....well, we stopped at Best Buy and bought a couple of FRS radios to be able to talk first. My levels still weren't right, but they kinda worked so we got on I‐44 and headed Southwest to the first bonus.

Separation is Bittersweet

I had big internal plans for today and didn't plan on staying at a hotel that night, but wasn't sure how that would go with Doug. I really wanted to kick this leg in the butt and maybe even snag more bonii on the return leg than we had initially planned. However, I figured we'd have a conversation about it later in the evening.

It seems Doug had been thinking already and pulled beside as we got into Oklahoma. He told me he was pulling out of the rally. He said he just wasn't having fun and the prospect of slogging across the country to California on the Interstate just wasn't worth it.

Needless to say I was surprised and I asked him very seriously, but his mind was made up. We stopped at the next exit for gas and he turned around.

I guess it would make for a better read if it was a big drama, but it wasn't. I surely felt bad and adjusting my mindset I felt bittersweet. I was going to miss Doug to be sure...he was a rock and mentor in the first leg....besides being fun to ride with. In the second leg he and I came up with GOOD, solid ride plan and it was now my roll to execute the plan. I quickly resolved I'd try and kick the 2nd leg's ass for Doug.

So, I got back on 44 and headed for Oklahoma City. I debated the 761 points for a bonus in Tulsa, but the extra 10 miles somehow didn't make sense to me...or was close to a wash. This being my first rally across a continent I had this urge to get out to the juicier bits in New Mexico, Arizona, and Kalifornia.

The stretch from Tulsa to OKC was familiar to me having driven it once a decade earlier in a galaxy with a girl friend far, far away. And I had been downtown OKC not too long after the bombing. It was easy to find and the early evening air was warm and humid.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 3,110 points Available daylight hours Survivor Tree/Oklahoma City Memorial 620 N. Harvey Take a photo of the Survivor Tree. Oklahoma City is located in central OK, near the junction of I35and I40. The memorial is located about 1½ miles northwest of the junction of I40and I235, at the corner of NW 6 th Street and N. Harvey Avenue. Surviving the blast that destroyed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in OKC, the tree is located on the north side of the memorial Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: ST Approved: ___* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Aimed back west on I‐40 I ran the remainder of my tank until dusk and in the Texas panhandle found a gas station in the aptly named town of Shamrock with a Subway and took a break with my laptop. Even though I had a plan I wanted to refine and reinforce the shape and distances it in my head, as well as have contingencies. I knew at this point that the most critical two days of the rally were clearly the observatory, but also trying to scoop as many big‐ticket points

in the California area the day before. Death Valley, Yosemite, and some others were possible if I could figure out where to stage and be on the morning after the next.

I also realized that family and friends had been watching my progress via Doug's Star‐Trax GPS locator, but wouldn't be able to anymore. I gave a quick call to my buddy John and knew he'd be able to do updates in areas I could use a cell, but not Internet access.

After the whole rally my Mom would say, "Man, I got hooked on that GPS thing! You ever do another one of these rallies....you're going to have to get one of those."

OK Mom. I have a birthday in June next year. ;)

Belly full after less than a sub I had also noticed I was losing weight at this point. I was eating decently, keeping hydrated, but I felt 5 pounds lighter. I'd end up losing 15 pounds total and this time in Shamrock really shifted my mindset into a different rally. Doug was gone, no hotel plans, and I'd try and ride through the night, probably take a nap on the side of the road (aka The Iron Butt Hotel) in the early a.m., and welcome the dawn like a true IBR warrior. In fact, far more than the money savings is the time savings. No clerk to talk with, no credit card, no covering your bike and lugging the expensive bits to the room that's inevitably the farthest point away from where your bike is parked. And no undoing the routine in the morning.

As it turns out I made it almost to Albuquerque before I had a micro sleep and decided to pull over. Long ago I had read Don Arthur's excellent treatise on fatigue and promised myself I would follow it's tenets. In many ways I'm a far safer traveler.....like in college where I'd "road rally"....I'm older and wiser now. Plus the benefit of having on all this motorcycle gear including a helmet, earplugs, and body

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armor is that you're wearing the equivalent of a sleeping bag and bedroll just by letting gravity do it's job.

Somewhere about Santa Rosa I found an agreeable exit with no traffic, a nicely inclined sandy bank without too many stickers or critters, and slept for a couple of hours. When I awoke a semi was about 40 feet from me, but that just means I knew something truckers new. I returned to the road in the same I‐40 drone and made it another 30 miles before my rally came to a sudden halt.

Poof. Darkness.

My single remaining HID light went out near Zuzax (I couldn't make that up if I wanted too). My only light source was instantly dark and I was still traveling down the freeway at 3 a.m. in the dark.

Slightly panicked I rolled off the throttle and consciously continued to keep the bike pointed straight. As my eyes adjusted my parking lights cast a ghostly glow on the white stripe to the right and the yellow to the left. In an ethereal effect of perspective I kept the bike between the middle of the glowing stripes and eased on down the road to the next exit a mile distant.

Damn.

It was chilly out and I emotionally rolled over from excited about the leg plan to bummed that I just DNF'ed the whole rally. My HID lights were a serious project last winter involving taking off the whole nose of my bike and wiring things with special care. I had loved my HID lights as serious emitters of photons FAR superior to the dingy yellow of halogen bulbs, but was now lamenting not leaving this part of the bike stock. Relays, zip ties, high‐voltage circuit's, low voltage circuits, signal wires.....it was all rather depressing.

With my Petzl Zipka Velcroed to my helmet chin I looked around vainly hoping for a loose wire or that if I jiggled something the light would come back on. I banged the fairing in desperation, but nothing would happen.

Damn again.

...then it came to me like Foghorn Leghorn saying, "Fortunately......I say....fortunately I carry a spare halogen bulb for just such an emergency."

I remembered that when I rigged my HID lights I had left it so that I could abandon the relayed component, swap HID bulb for halogen, and revert back to the stock connector. The only trick was now to pull out the bulb in the dark, in frosty cold, and hope it lit back up.

It did, but took about 45 minutes and pulling off some of the fairing pieces.

Repair made I returned to the road with the single yellow glow of a crappy halogen bulb.

Day 7, Sunday, Zuzax, NM to Death Valley, CA

Back on the road I made for Albuquerque and a gas stop in the wee hours before dawn. My next bonus was Mancos, CO and some arrows in the ground at a trading post. Kitchy I knew it was in the middle of Navajo country and had another brainstorm that was very un‐Iron Butt‐like, but was a personal necessity. My college roommate, James Fundarke, lives in Farmington, NM and I had not seen him since just shortly after college. I had called the night before in Shamrock, but he wasn't home, so I called again as he had left message while I was on the road. We made a breakfast date at a Denny's and I slogged up NM 550 to meet him. The cold got to me as I entered Navajo lands and tried to stay warm with electric clothing and even pulled over for another nap just after dawn.

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I'd find out months later that I was probably about 2 hours behind Chris Sakala at this point and two unknown FJRs. He was probably at Mancos at this point.

It was beautiful, but very harsh country. Except for the modern ribbon of Tarmac it was very easy to imagine the land being the same hundred and thousands of years ago.....with the culture of a people old as oral traditions can reach back.

I got to the Denny's a bit earlier than the appointed time, so used it to make some clothing changes, steel some bandwidth from the nearby hotel, and blog a bit. I'm also trying to home in on a plan for my next day in California. I've got today figured out, but where I land tonight is critical to how I attack tomorrow.

James comes in and it's great to see the ol' lug. James is a couple of inches taller than me and played football for Weber State back before Mike Price moved to WSU. A long story of karma for another day. It was just great to see this guy. It was also fun to share the perspective of the journey I was in the middle of...one that I think he figured out fully by later reading this blog.

After Farmington I wandered through a nice chilly rain storm up to Mancos, Colorado, took a picture, and score a nice curio of a handwoven basket for the girlfriend.

Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: DH Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Mancos, Colorado 2,767 points Available 24 hours Giant Arrows 38651 Hwy 160Take a picture of the Giant Arrows at The Hogan Trading Post. Located in southwestern Colorado along US160 at MP 53, 3 miles West of Mancos, CO, and 15 miles East of Cortez, CO. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: RR Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Heading back down to I‐40 I diverted off and caught another 5,000 point bonus and see Shiprock in the distance. Also, very important relgiously for the Navajo, Shiprock is a great geologic formation in the warming sun. Another fuel stop and clothing change in Yah‐ta‐hey.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Shiprock, New Mexico 5,320 points Available daylight hours Take a photo of The Shiprock. Located in northwestern NM, the Shiprock is large rock formation located south of US 64 and west of US 491 (formerly known as US 666) just south of Shiprock, NM. From the intersection of US 64 and US 491, go south on US 491 approximately 6.4 miles to Indian Service Road 13 (the Red Rock Highway). Go west approximately 4.8 miles. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: SR Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rejoining I‐40 at Gallup I head West more and stop off at Holbrook for a picture of a hotel. It's just off the freeway so an easy 1800 points.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Holbrook, Arizona 1,845 points Available 24 hours Wigwam Motel 11 W Hopi Drive Take a photo of your bike in front of one of the wigwams. Approximately 90 miles east of Flagstaff, AZ In Holbrook, AZ, the Motel is 1 mile east of I40 exit 285 (US180 Business I40 Route 66). Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: AZ Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Another 15 miles and it's another quick exit, picture, and return to I‐40. I have an appointment to visit the North edge of the South rim of the Grand Canyon for 13,000 points that's the big bonus for the day.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Arizona Route 66 677 points Available 24 hours Jackrabbit Trading Post Take a picture of the giant Jackalope Approximately 80 miles east of Flagstaff, Arizona at Jackrabbit Trading Post, along south frontage road of I40, 2/10 mile east of exit 269 (Jackrabbit Road). Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: JK Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After bagging the latest bit of Americana I blaze for Flagstaff and turn off of I‐40 for 64. A little unsure how far it was to the Grand Canyon I pull out my packet and laptop to try and pinpoint things further. Again, being set up in the morning for California is critical and I've never been to the Grand Canyon before. I read very carefully the following:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Grand Canyon NP, Arizona 12,978 points Available daylight hours Cape Royal

Take a photo of the Grand Canyon Vista plaque at the rim overlook. Located in north central Arizona, Cape Royal is 175 miles east of Las Vegas, NV on the extreme southeastern point of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Cape Royal is near the end of 15mile long Cape Royal Rd, which turns off of AZ67. The trail to the rim overlook is approximately ¼ mile from the parking lot. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: CP Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

AZ67? Hmmm. Must be a typo....I'm on AZ64. My bonus is 56 miles away.

Why is the bonus talking about being east of Vegas and what's this Cape Royal thing? I'm not seeing that on the map.

....hmmmmm......

South edge of the North Rim.....check....I'm going to the North edge of the South Rim......

Call Doug. "Doug, gut check me here. I'm on AZ67 near Flagstaff......which side of the Grand Canyon is this bonus? .......Thanks....talk to you later."

Phuck me......I'm on the WRONG side of the Grand Canyon! Instead of 56 miles...how about 268 miles? There's 13,000 points I can't do. I kick myself, but only for a couple of minutes and start heading West. It's a loss, but I can't dwell on it. I need to head for Death Valley...I'll just be there earlier than I had planned.

Had I made it to the Grand Canyon....a thought I really liked as I've never been there before...it would have looked something like this. I could have tried taking a picture of the plaque, however I'm sure it would have resulted in something like a George Zelenz Lighthouse Bonus picture....so didn't even try. However, I did ponder making for the nearest hot spring and bagging the rally for a second.

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In fact, as I rode my mental wheels started turning and the hard work I had done setting up this route and downloading all the bonii to my GPS paid dividends. I quickly figured out that even though I couldn't score the 13K bonus, I might be to go after some bonii that would be second best. In fact, I figured out I should have enough time to hit Kingman, Lake Havasu, and Vegas instead. 5,000 is 8,000 less than 13,000, but not a total loss.

First stop was Kingman....and I think I even rode by Greg Marbach...or another FJR rider.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kingman, Arizona area 976 points Available daylight hours Golf Ball House Take a photo of the golf ball house. Kingman is located in west central Arizona, along I40, approximately 100 miles southeast of Las Vegas, NV. The Golf Ball House is approximately 20 miles south of Kingman, AZ, from I40 take exit 25 (Alamo Rd). The house is approximately 4/10 miles south on the east frontage road. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GB Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Then off to Lake Havasu....where it was seriously HOT! Horribly hot, 107 hot, but I was committed. Even though the sun was going down it stayed hot and I had to stop for a Gatorade recharge and a yucky AM/PM burger including burned cheese.

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Lake Havasu City, Arizona 1,320 points Available daylight hours London Bridge Take a picture of London BridgeLake Havasu City is located on the Colorado River in west central Arizona, approximately 55 miles south of Kingman, AZ. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: LH Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In hindsight, that evening was the beginning of a fog that would happen as each evening descended into night. Days were fine, but with the limited visibility of night I was living in a world that only extended as far as my HID's could reach. This was all country I had regionally near before, but while the GPS did it's best to share basic compass directions I couldn't fathom more than the 100 miles it showed on the screen. In a way I became an automaton heading from way point to way point....or maybe like I've heard military pilots live life in their radar screens at night going from way point to way point.

Also in hindsight I had always found that southern wedge of Nevada interesting when looking at map as it angled up against California, but I didn't realize I had ridden it until long after the rally. I can't remember Needles, CA at all and no clue the Mojave was off to my left. What was extremely weird was ascending some mountain in the middle of the desert for no apparent reason and riding through casino‐laden Searchlight, NV. My mind mushy I descended the beacon of light slightly, found a side road, and took a nap on what I do weirdly remember as Grandpa's Road.

After a nice combat nap of 45 minutes I was freshened up a bit and headed for Vegas.

Vegas was a whole can of surreal I probably will never reconcile, but here goes. It's night 7 in the Iron Butt Rally and I haven't showered in several days or shaved the whole time. I have every manner of crust, crud, and critter caked on my face and gear....and I park my bike in an obscure corner of the New York, NY Casino's

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parking garage. By this point I even leave the expensive bit on it and just throw my jacket over the top.

With a forward lean of authority I take my best guess at a shortest route to the Statue of Liberty on the strip and find myself.....miraculously....wading through the casino floor. Hotty chicks dressed in glittery dresses and most‐excellent brevity of undergarments walk by and give me weird looks. I'm sure it was because I had a rally flag, waterproof pouch, and Polaroid carabeenered to my jacket and not because of my disheveled appearance or zombie‐like facial expression.

I made it outside eventually and found my best vantage point for a picture. Shit‐faced 20‐somethings with Mardi Gras cups in hand slurred lines to skanky coeds as I hung my flag on a fence and snapped photos.

I was in another dimension.

Finally getting a picture far worse than above, but meeting the requirements of a recognizable statue I headed back for the bike...again through the Casino floor, but getting totally lost this time and seeing even more cute butts in various girly outfits. Nose rings, glitter, pert butts, and in my mind's eye they were twirling on brass poles. It has been 7 days after all and the Donger needs more than food!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Paradise, Nevada (aka Las Vegas, Nevada) 3,112 points Available 24 hours New York, New York Casino 3790 Las Vegas Blvd South Take a picture of the Statue of Liberty. Las Vegas, Nevada is located in southern Nevada on I15. New York, New York is located east of I15. Take exit 37, Tropicana Avenue east one long block. You will have to park your motorcycle in the casino parking lot and walk to the corner of Tropicana and Las Vegas Blvd to take the picture. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: NY Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blasting out of the parking garage I pointed the bike what I thought was north (which was actually west) towards Pahrump and the conclusion of night 7.

Pahrump, NV 00:23 ‐ Funny and Serious at the Same Time

One has to laugh at the name Pahrump. Is it Puh‐rump, Pah‐rump, or Pair‐ump? That there's funny right there...I don't care who you are. Gassing up around there (I think I was closer to Vegas) I called in for a call‐in bonus and sure I sounded fairly stupid when Austin played the message. But 2,000 points is 2,000 points and who knows where I'll be in the next 23 1/2 hours.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * CallIn Bonus no specific location 2,000 points Available August 29,

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2007 Call 916XXXXXXX and leave the following information: Your name, your rider number, your location (city/town and state/province), the last bonus you scored, and the next 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: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No quick story of substance that I remember, but if it had been 20 minutes later I could have provided a great anecdote as I got pulled over for the first and only time in the rally. At o'dark thirty it seemed like nobody that wasn't on Casino Row was awake in this town.....except for one very perplexed looking young deputy carrying a box from his SUV to some building.

As I came around a hedge at a velocity that was appropriate to me for an asleep town, but totally inappropriate for an officer on the night shift...we made eye contact.

He saw me.

I saw him.

He saw me see him and I saw that he had seen that I had seen him. It was fate.

Instinct took over on both our parts. He dropped the box on the ground running for his cruiser and I executed throttle roll‐off maneuvers.

We both practiced the soon‐to‐happen conversation in our minds. I knew that conversation would probably start with him and would probably be in the form of a question, "Where are you going so fast?" And, I knew that my response would be short and involve a destination that was in the range of my current tank and in no way

would involve the full length of my journey. Besides, saying, "Chesterfield, MO by way of California." just doesn't compute.

At about this point I saw headlights appear in my rear view and a brief radar blip, but even if he had shot I was definitely cruising at whatever the signs suggested. He was a 1/2 mile back so I went ahead and slowed more...in fact, I stopped on the road with nobody but us two on it and even had time to take off my helmet, pulled out my wallet, and put my hands back on the grips before he decided then to turn on his whirly lights.

"Goin' a bit fast there!", this 19 year old kid said to me. ....OK, so it wasn't a question at all. He's going to want to do the talking so I'll indulge him.

I answered positively with a nodding head and cryptic, "May....be!"

"Well, license and regsitration please." to which I obliged as well as proof of insurance. Two minutes later he came back and said, "Well, I'll just ask you slow down and realize there are cops ahead where you going"....which made little sense to me as I'd be cruising Death Valley at 3 a.m. on Sunday night and doubt there's any other traffic at all let alone cops....but whatever. Pahrump was his world and I was just passing through. Puh‐rump....that's just funny....but not a good time to laugh.

Released from my only talking to of the whole rally I rode along 10 miles I returned my V1 to it's perch and realized I had lost an important mid‐IBR farkle. My bottle anti‐cancer SPF30 was caribeenered to the power cord on the ground back where I had stopped. Now was not going to have sunblock for the rest of the ride. Oh well...I'm in now technically in Day 8 of the IBR and no longer a virgin.

Death Valley Junction, CA

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Another 30 miles and I was at the point that I needed to ride to start at in daylight...or so I thought.

There was a gaggle of smallish bonii in the area that teased me for their point values. Was it best to wait a few hours until dawn and start with this 1410 point piece of the Amargosa Opera House, 2,345 at Bad Water, 4,787 at Trona, or ride on and stage for 4,996 at Scotty's Castle? My dulled mind raced and I tried to predict the next day. I knew I needed to make it to Mono Hot Springs for 12,667 and wanted 8,704 at Sequoia. I decided Mono and Sequoia were worth too much to risk and rode on past Amagorsa, and decided to skip Bad Water and Trona. Those three totaling 8542 equaled the one at Sequoia...and it would end up being a good choice later when Mono Hot Springs would throw me for a loop.

Had I waited until dawn this would have been Amargorsa Opera House, Bad Water, and had I not gone for Bristlecone, Yosemite, and Mono I likely would have gone Sequoia. As I write this I realize Lisa and Tobie were in the same area.

The weather was also threatening. A massive thunderstorm did it's show in front of me and I began to feel like a very small bug in the middle of nowhere. I pressed on though and started an unrelenting descent from a pleasant temperature into a pit of 100+ degree

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ugliness.....all well after midnight. I had wished the thunderstorm was on me to cool things down, but as I stopped at a Death Valley entrance and made a dooky in an echoey toilet I read provided material about the climate of Death Valley.

I imagined a force field above this regional depression and imagined clouds being rebuffed in a stratospheric dilemma. The mind was foggy and starting to get a bit emotional. This would be my second night in a row sleeping at the Iron Butt Hotel and I missed having Doug around to bounce off of. Also outside the bathroom was a kiosk that you were supposed to pay money for park entrance. Intrigued that there wasn't a powerline around I inserted $10 into it...and pleasantly surprised it whirred in the pure silence and produced a printed ticket. This was probably the ultimate in the honor system as I was hopefully going to be out of Death Valley by noon and headed to the second of a gnarly bonus, but whatever.

I rode as far as I felt safe....marveling at the fact I was the lowest I had ever been on the planet. I've even scubadived to the stunningly stupid depth of 186 feet below see leve....about 50 feet deeper than recreational divers should go, but as I rode by the aptly named Furnace Creek I saw a sign that said ‐200 feet and noted it was as hot as it was deep.

Finally stopping at where several random blacktop roads intersected I pulled to the side of the road and grabbed some more sleep. I had about 35 miles to Scotty's Castle and would get up about 30 minutes before sunrise.

I slept marginally in the balmy 95 degree night. I could hear to super‐distant rumble of thunder and I was intellectually aware that long‐term fatigue was setting in. This was the blurriness I had been told about by many IBR veterans and that this was the time that people either folded in forgivable humanness....or endured instictually. My thoughts and internal mind conversation were now

only short sentence and I knew enough to know that didn't fully fathom intellectually the cumulative effect that would happen the next 3 days. I was running more and more on instinct.....running a plan I had made days earlier and committed to memory every time I stopped and pulled out the laptop. I was actually doing probably pretty well..or at least far better than I had expected. But, was I doing as well as Jim Owen, Jeff Earls,...or Greg Marbach? How were Lisa and Tobie doing.....where was Paul Peloquin? I drifted to soap opera sleep....sort of.

Day 8, Tuesday ‐ Death Valley, CA to Mono Hot Springs, CA

Waking up in the early glow of pre‐dawn and a passing car I lifted my body mass onto my bike and started the daily ritual again. Point the bike towards a direction and twist the throttle. Let gyroscopic forces do the work of steering a thousand pounds of bike and 250 pounds of mush‐brain to the next bonus.

A car had passed my location as I was sleeping and I could see it's brake lights in the distance. I knew I was making ground on it as the light of morning glowed stronger and stronger on this weirdest of world geologies. I was pretty sure he was headed to the same place and found myself rolling into the parking lot Scotty's Castle just about a minute behind him. The pale green of his pickup truck quickly identified him as a park ranger.

As he wandered the parking lot he appeared to be a Harley rider that was forced to put on a uniform as a job. He also was not the least bit impressed as I tried to ride past him to my target where 3 or 4 other riders including Paul Peloquin and Rebecca Vaughn were parked. He gesticulated wildly and sent me back to the stripes of a formal parking lot. Settling on walking an extra several hundred feet I looked around and saw other structures in the area and engaged in loud‐voice speaking with the other riders as we all had earplugs in.

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Flag plant, back up, picture snap, take flag, walk back to the bike as it develops.

For good measure I asked the Ranger with airquotes if that was "Scotty's Castle" and he said something I couldn't hear, but his anger was unmistakable. He gave me the finger "come here" sign and I wandered over oblivious to how much myself and the other riders had already botched his day.

I'm sure he had hoped to get out here before any of us crashed the gate, and have a cup of thermos coffee before tourists arrived. What he found were a bunch of scruffy non‐Harley bikers ignoring his precious No Parking signs. "I'm sure you want to ride free on the road and all, but Man I could arrest you all for ignoring the No Parking sign. Who are you all with? What ride is this?"

My eagerness to chuckle was totally deflated by his pointed question. We had been cautioned about this at our earlier riders meeting and doing like anybody in Day 8 of the Iron Butt Rally did when asked a terse question does...I froze in place and looked guilty as hell. Hiding my flag that was an obvious common denominator to this man yet I feebly tried, "No formal group. We're just doing....ummm....a scavenger hunt."

Meanwhile, I had removed my helmet and earplugs as he had pointed at his badge several times to underline some level of authority I wasn't giving enough respect too.

Behind me I heard a motorcycle start and take off....Rebecca I think. For a fleeting moment he thought about chasing it on foot, but gave up renewing his anger with me. I knew I was the sacrificial lamb at this point and them having to converse with this guy would not help things in the least.

As he started to thing about waving his hand and stopping whoever it was departing I tried to deflect his attention, "Hey, so what is the history of this place?"....which seemed to work because he commenced to start into a rehearsed explanation of Scotty's Castle.

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Another bike rode away and I started walking backwards to my bike hoping he'd lose interest in me.

The ranger eventually gave up as my comrades left the scene and I had stuffed earplugs back into my ears. Yet another place that I'd have to come back to when I had more time. Yet another civilian that is probably just a great guy that I can't make understand in the short time I have.

Such is rally life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Death Valley National Park, California 4,996 points Available daylight hours Scotty’s Castle Take a picture of Scotty’s Castle In Death Valley, approximately175 miles northwest of Las Vegas, Nevada. Scotty’s Castle is located at the extreme northern end of Death Valley National Park, along North Hwy, approximately 38 miles north of junction of North Hwy and CA190 (milepost 93). Follow signs to Scotty’s Castle. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: DV Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As I left the parking lot I started to follow Paul Peloquin, but his route wasn't the one my GPS had chosen for me so I turned around and went the direction. He must have been going to another bonus.

Wrong! I had thought....or probably more precisely....vainly hoped my route would be asphalt, but it wasn't. Paul was smart enough to not blindly listen to his GPS and I had chosen a route that turned into a 37 mile gravel road of washboard. Click here and imagine my desire to find a more direct route from A to roughly B.

Taking it in stride though it began what was an interesting morning of a rain storm turned into a hail storm....while in Death Valley...to flashbacks of being a kid on my very first washboard road and a dirt bike....to a journey that would take me to the highest altitude I'd ever been on the planet...a scant six hours after I had been to the lowest point.

Just simply an epic day.

Coming out to black top near Big Pine, CA I hung a right and went east on 168 and found the turn‐off described in the next bonus, Bristlecone. The road was twisty and technical and a welcome change from the washboard gravel. I passed a couple of other riders coming down and made it past the visitor center and back onto ugly gravel again.

But for nearly 20,000 points I knew this bonus was a must‐get.

Miles and miles later the road just seemed to keep going. As I came around yet another corner parked in the road was Paul. Doh! Now I

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know how my gravel shortcut had worked...not well. He was puffing a cigarette and had a very dour look on his face.

"Matt, I don't think this is the right road!"

Instinctively I replied, "Of course it is....it's just a little farther."

"Are you sure?" he asked probably realizing I had never been here before and had no frickin' clue.

"I'm sure.", I assured him nodding.

"OK. I'm going to finish my cigarette and will be up there."

As I left I said to myself, "It's the right road......I think it's the right road.....God I hope it's the right road."

Turns out my optimism was rewarded and in about 1.5 miles I found the target. I even recognize the scene described from stories of previous IBR riders nearly burning this thing down.

But, a bit concerned I realized my low gas light was flashing. Ugh...this is not the place to run out of gas, to blow a tire, or to otherwise be stranded. I checked my fuel cell and there was a bunch of gas in it, but the constant grade up had pulled fuel from my tank to my cell...so I parked the bike downhill and left the fuel cell cap off hoping to transfer for the ride back to civilization.

Paul rolled up and had gone from Mr. Sour to Mr. Beaming Smile.

"Thanks Matt! You came along at just the right time!"

We would later find out that Paul and I finished right next to each other in the final standings. I scored about 2,000 points more than him, but we had done different routes and only ended up seeing

each other at 2 or 3 of the big ticket bonii. It's like we were on a similar orbit, but paths didn't cross that often.

We even got a picture together. It's not a great one, but is definitely one of my favorite as we stand in front of the Patriarch...a 4,000+ year old tree on top of the planet.

Matt and Paul Peloquin with a timer shot

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, California 18,567 points Available daylight hours Take a picture of the plaque located near the Patriarch tree with the tree in the background. NOE: In 2003, Sparky (accidentally) tried to burn down the oldest living thing on earth; please try and NOT do the same this rally! The Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest is located in east central California, northeast of Big Pine, California. From Big Pine, ride approximately 13 miles east on CA168. Turn north on White Mountain Road to Bristlecone Pine Forest. Follow the road approximately 10 miles to the Visitor Center. Continue approximately 12 miles further past the Visitors Center on the dirt road to the turnoff for the "Patriarch Grove" (which is well marked). From the turnoff, follow the road approximately 1 mile to the parking lot. This road may not be passable in wet weather. Unless the road is officially closed, you will not receive credit for not making it to the tree.

Follow the trail from that parking area approximately 150 feet to the Patriarch Tree and take a photo of the plaque (which is mounted on a large rock) with the Patriarch tree in background (the Patriarch Tree is the largest known Bristlecone). Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: AB Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Coming down off the peak I started to make an incorrect turn down Silver Canyon Road, but when I saw a sign that said "Four Wheel Drive Recommended After This Point" I wisely turned around. It would turn out that Brett Donahue would also make the mistake. He let "Betty the Bitch" from his Garmin GPS route him and his Harley Sportster down a goat trail called Silver Canyon Road. Six stream crossings later, he finally got back to pavement.

Or somebody holed their tire. How about having to plug a hole in your tire on the side of a gravel road.

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Making it back to civilization myself I gassed up in Bishop, CA and pondered what my afternoon would be like in Yosemite.

Another Stretch of 395 and Lots More Points

I live on Highway 395 in Washington, and know it starts way deep in California and was the primary route to travel North and South before the Interstates. I've also been on all of it until about Reno. So, I waxed nostalgic that I rode it from Bishop to Lee Vining.

Munching more granola bars today would be a no‐meal‐stop day...just not enough time. I had already bagged 25,563 points and was hoping to scoop up another 36,000.

Turning up the mountain to Yosemite entrance I, for some reason, thought of Yogi Bear. However, that was Jellystone Park and was an homage to Yellowstone...which was a thousand miles from here.

More mind tricks. More pseudo‐random thoughts weirdly interconnected. More depletion of my higher order cognitive abilities......oooohhhhh.....look at the pretty butterfly!

....what was I talking about? Oh yeah....off to Yosemite!

Entering Yosemite was bittersweet. I knew this place was beautiful and was a place I wanted to visit for a long time, but I also knew that every other resident of California was going to be here today. I'd be lucky to do 10 miles under the speed limit and just knew it was going to be a tough ride.

I made it to the Ahwahnee Hotel and the road up to it was everything I imagined in scenery. The picture of the actual bonus sucks, but one I found of this hotel in the Winter is more like I remember it.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Yosemite National Park, California 4,567 points Available 24 hours Ahwahnee Hotel 9005 Ahwahnee Drive Take a picture of the plaque to the right of the front door of the Ahwahnee Hotel designating it a National Historic Landmark. Ysemite National Park is located in central California, approximately 80 miles north of Fresno, CA. The Ahwahnee Hotel is located inside Yosemite National Park at Yosemite Village Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: AW Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next bonus was suspiciously close as the crow flew, but many miles via the roads available. I figured out as I rode that I was going to go from this valley to a much higher elevation overlooking Half Dome. But for another 10K points...it was easy‐pickings.

Lots of tourists, but a very nice...and increasingly cute to this guy.....German lady took my picture in front of Half Dome.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Yosemite National Park 10,234 points Available daylight hours Glacier Point Take a picture of Half Dome from the Glacier Point overlook. NOTE: Half Dome is marked on several signs (it is across the valley), if weather prevents you from taking the picture, document your stop at Glacier Point by taking one of the information signs at the overlook. Yosemite National Park is located in central California. Glacier Point Road is within the Park and begins near Chinquapin, CA, from CA41, approximately 80 miles north of Fresno, CA. Turn right onto Glacier Point Rd and follow to the end. Half Dome is marked on several signs (it is across the valley). Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GP Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After Glacier Point I started to get drowsy and decided an afternoon nap was absolutely needed. Finding a nice slope in the shade I took what I think was an hour siesta and woke up a bit

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startled, but definitely refreshed. It was a warm afternoon, but the altitude kept it from being too hot.

However, descending out of the park, it just got hotter and hotter. I made it to Shaver Lake by the early evening and found myself jerking the bike to the right to a parking lot near the lake edge.

Unceremoniously I shucked all my clothes except my bicycle shorts and dove into the lake. Ducks and and humans looked at me a bit oddly as I swam around in the lake. Layers of grime and many degrees of heated body core melted away in this needed diversion. I knew that my day had been overly ambitious and I wasn't going to have enough time to make it to Sequoia before dark, but I figured this Mono Hot Springs thing was in the bag. Feeling normal for 10 minutes was a reward for riding a hard day. A couple quick phone calls and I was back on the road.

With gear back on, a grime layer removed, and ducks getting back to their normal routine of whatever it is ducks do in the early evening hours in California I made the final push to Mono Hot Springs. I envisioned a nice two‐lane highway to some little burg on the edge of civilization...but what I found was nothing near what I'd call civilization.

My first clue that Mono wasn't easy points was turning off the major highway onto a borderline blacktop road with no striping. When asphalt gave way to a glorified golf cart path I began to worry. When the golf cart path started to have trees and large rocks poking through the surface I worried more. When I had ridden 10 miles and still didn't find the place and shadows were getting longer I started to freak out a bit.

Then a blur passed me, "Zoooooooom!!!!!"

Here I was on a sport bike, Day 8, I'm on the top of my motorcycle handling game...clearly at one with the machine and the road in front of me and a frickin' Harley Sportster with a fuel cell just passed me like I had been lapped. This guy was a good!

Another 10 miles through several streams, through some mud, off‐camber on the edge of a cliff with a crumbling edge, and some beautiful scenery mixed I rolled into some weird little enclave of buildings in the middle of nowhere.

How the hell did they get here? Were they airlifted in as part of a military exercise? And that dude sitting by the fountain...he looks like a gray haired version of Jeff Spicoli. Was Rod Serling just out of frame doing a 30 second monolog about the Twilight Zone?

Removing my gear I shrugged it off long enough to snap a picture with some light in it and ask Spicoli Senior if it's OK to drink from the fountain.

"No problem....it's full of minerals but you can drink it!"

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I look around and see that I've suddenly gotten lost and traveled back to 1969 and found a hippy colony. The "dude" must have been Jeff's grandfather in this time portal. Brett Donahue and I are voyagers from the future....however his thoroughly abused Harley Sportster looks at home in this area.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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Mono Hot Springs, California 12,667 points Available daylight hours Mono Hot Springs Post Office & General Store

5593251710 Take a picture of the Mono Hot Springs Post Office & General StoreMono Hot Springs is located in central California, approximately 90 road miles northeast of Fresno, CA. and may not be on many regional maps. From Fresno, CA, follow CA168east. Near the end of CA168there willbe signs to Mono Hot Springs. The Mono Hot Springs Post Office & General Store is the only store in town. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: MH Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Brett and I pondered a burger at the restaurant. It was getting dark and we thought we were the last ones going to make it that evening, but Curt Gran rolled in with eyes wide. I snapped a photo of him trying to accentuate the borderline daylight left. He said, "No problem....I'll just get a receipt from the store to corroborate."

I mocked friendly, "Sure! They'll make you a nice handwritten one inside." Handwritten notes are acceptable forms of corroborating evidence from what I understood.

He frowned slightly, but did whatever he needed to make good on the bonus.

I had learned many years earlier that people interested in knowing the world don't all go travel and see it themselves. Some folks like Fijians or Mono Hot Springs dwellers purposely live in a

place that encourages tourists to come and stay.

Coupled with an open attitude these folks are actually worldly in their non‐conventional way. I mocked as I pulled out my cell phone that it would show no bars, but was stunned as it showed 5 full bars. The same local pointed to a sturdy tree that had an industrial

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piece of hardware attached to it. He said proudly, "We've got Gen 3 cell service and phat AT&T bandwidth up here. We're seriously wired!"

More weird.

Curt left us...probably hoping to score more points. Turns out he'd get Sequoia in the morning...which was probably a smarter move than I made. Brett and I settled long enough to down a burger though. Firing up lights my gnarly FF200's interested him enough to follow on the ride down...and it was as fast a one as I could muster to be sure. It reminded me of late‐night snowmobile blitz from my teenage years....only much warmer.

As I got back to civilization I rolled as smoothly and directly as I could towards Santa Cruz, but by the time I got to Madera I was exhausted. I got my receipt for a rest bonus and went to sleep for about 5 hours....maybe even 6. This was the first time I had been in a hotel for 3 days and I justified it as well earned.

In fact, for all intents and purposes I had bagged over 60,000 points for this 30 hour period. This was my best effort of the rally even though the the next day was purposely designed to have more points as it was apogee for this leg.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Rest Bonus – no specific location 7,723 points Must start on Tuesday, August 28, 2007 Stop for 5 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: R5 Approved:___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Day 9, Monday ‐ Madera, CA to Lovelock, NV

Fatigue: Friendly Foe

Note: On January 19th, 2008 I was working on my taxes and came across some credit card receipts. It turns out I wasn't in Madera, but the receipt says Gustine. Looking on a map....Gustine was about 60 miles farther....and kind off the optimal route. Now, I'm not sure. Weird...this is the only part of the whole rally I'm not 100% sure of a route I took.

I tried to awake after a ridiculously long 5 hours of sleep, but couldn't quite pull it off...and hit the snooze on my cell phone for another half hour. How do the Top 10 do it!? I drug myself from a coma knowing that lingering in a bed was contrary to my goals.....but it just felt so good!

Even once back on the bike it took longer to get back into routine this morning. I knew I was on the negative size of the rest equation and it would take more time to come up with decision, more focused concentration to process information, and not delude myself into missing a bonus.

I had resolved myself that my immediate choice this morning was to make it down to Big Sur and try and score an extra 2,222

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points...or risk it and leave that one out. Lick Observatory was a "must‐get" and I didn't know how California traffic was going to be. There was also a 1900 point bonus in San Juan Batista, but it wasn't open until 9 a.m. That was a natural pair with Big Sur, but I skipped both erring on the conservative side.

I did have plenty of time for Santa Cruz and it was more on the way so made as straight a line as I could for that city.

As I rolled into the area of the sign I saw Rebecca Vaughn long enough to share a smile, thumbs up, and "See 'ya at Mt. Hamilton."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Santa Cruz, California 2,984 points Available daylight hours The Boardwalk Take a photo of the overhead sign that reads “Welcome to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk” Santa Cruz is located in west central CA on the north shore of Monterey Bay, approximately 30 miles south of San Jose. The Boardwalk is on Beach Street between Riverside Avenue and Raymond Street. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: SC Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After leaving Santa Cruz I cruised up 17 on a road I had traveled to a cousin's wedding about 15 years earlier. Eventually twisty and fun as it got closer to San Jose I recognized though it was full of traffic and got worried as I saw a sea of brake lights in front of me.

Con‐frickin'‐gestion! Ugh! This is not cool....this has the look like it's going to be stop and go for 25 miles.

Then just as sudden as my shoulder slumping dread moment a light bulb went off. BING! This is California. You can "lane share" here!

...but how do I do this? I've never actually done it and only seen it done once by a motor copy 15 years earlier. ...boy those cars look close together....how are they going to like a motorcycle riding between them? If this were at home they'd freak out in 3 seconds......I gotta make a choice......go slowly......CAR PASSED!

I made it by another several cars...and another.....then a car sees me approaching and moves away an extra foot out of courtesy....WOW! Lane sharing rocks! We should get this in Washington!

I adopt a heady, but cautious routine of going about 10 or 15 mph faster than the other traffic. I quickly figure out that the safer time to overtake a vehicle is actually when cars are side‐by‐side. If you go when there's an open spot beside them...there's a risk they might change lanes suddenly.

After 5 miles it's becoming second nature..or at least it's not freaking me out. The FJR is wide in the hips, but if I remember correctly the handlebars are slightly wider. If the bars can make it...so can the bike's ass.

I then see Rebecca Vaughn in the distance sitting in a lane perched on her BMW. It's amazing how one can spot fellow competitors with increasing accuracy and distance.... I'm sure she's never lane split so I wave at her as I go by with a big arm sweeping, "Follow Me!" Tentatively, she comes out...and picks up the pace a bit. I end up losing her, but smile anyway. I'm sure she'll catch up with me at Lick.

Cruising through the metro meat of San Jose I find myself back in rural twisties again and still 20 miles until the GPS destination. Carving up some seriously cool and snaky countryside this bonus isn't quite as easy to bag as I had thought.

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Half way up the final mountain I'm in a sport bike groove...and even dragged my pegs on two occasions. The rear tire howls and complains it's middle‐age.

Ahead of me a minivan with rear door up squeals it's tires and jumps in front of me. A camera is pointed at me and I look sternly serious as I catch up to it. I can't help myself, but pretend I'm a Valentino Rossi and I have to pass them to secure the season Grand Prix championship. Yes, myself and bikes are fat whales compared to his MotoGP swagger, but it's still fun to pretend on this glorious California day. I'm less than 5 miles from being at the more‐than‐symbolic downhill point for the 2007 Iron Butt Rally and only finally scrubbing off my chicken strips!

"Snick" as I twist the throttle on a straight stretch and rocket past the mini van...hoping it will make for a great shot in the documentary Tanji is working on.

Somebody snapped this picture of me and besides having IBR patina all over me this is probably the skinniest I've looked in 5 years. I can actually see a dimple and not so much on the double‐chin. One helluva weight loss program.* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Mt Hamilton, California 24,057 points August 28, 2007 Lick Observatory 9:00 am to 3 pm This bonus has two parts: Take a photo of the sign above the archway entrance to the observatory that reads: "Lick Observatory, University of California". Make sure the observatory dome is visible in your photo. Sign in with Dean Tanji in the Observatory Parking Lot. Lick Observatory is located on the summit of Mt. Hamilton in the Diablo Range about 12 miles east of SanJose, CA. From I680 take the exit for Alum Rock Avenue / CA130, turn east on Alum Rock and ride about 2 miles, then turn east on Mt. Hamilton Road to the observatory There are several telescopes on the mountain. Toget to the main observatory you need to make a sharp right turn at the top and follow the road around. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: LO Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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Making it to the top of the mountain there is a sea of rider activity going on. People are munching granola, snapping photos, signing in to logbooks, catching up with fellow competitors, and being interviewed. Everybody is upbeat.

Rebecca Vaughn shows up a few minutes later and thanks me, "It was so great you went by. I always wanted to try lane‐splitting, but it was so much better having an expert show me how to do it."

I replied, "Expert? Sure. At the point I showed you...I had 5 minutes more experience than you did."

"Really!?", she replied.

"Yep. You're as much of an expert as I am!"

We laughed.

Also rolling in was Jeff Earls. He looked tired and affirmed that he'd ridden his butt off. In fact, "Crispy" was his choice of an adjective

and he definitely looked it. Not only has he come her by way of Washington State first...he'd even bagged Victoria on Vancouver Island! He's probably 50,000 points over me right now...and I just have to be thoroughly impressed. The dude is a point scooping Terminator.

It's like a reunion here. I see Brian Roberts....when I had last seen him his V‐Strom had to be trailered back to the hotel because of a grinding metal problem. He'd later write a full report of his adventures.

I saw Paul Peloquin again and he was particularly upbeat this time.

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And I even saw Tobie and Lisa Stevens...although Lisa didn't look like she was having that much fun at this point. It turned out the switchbacks had scared the bejeebus out of her.......and rightfully so. One of the turns I thought of less like a road and more like a slope I had snowmobiled before with heavy avalanche risk.

I knew Tobie was a great wing man though and would make sure she got back to St. Louis safely and enough points to finish.

Descending the mountain seemed a bit easier than the ride up, but I played it a bit more cautiously going down. I had scrubbed the tires going up fairly seriously and knew they were starting to get a

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bit cupped. Plenty of tread, but I could feel them being a bit fishy and noisy when I leaned over.

However, once I got done with San Francisco this afternoon I'd have mostly a straight ride back to St. Louis.

I pointed North on 680 and made for my next stop, Livermore, CA. Livermore was a cute little community, but the bonus involved firefighters that may or may not be on a call...and as I rolled past a grocery store in downtown I actually spotted their engine flanked by cones. They were getting lunch and I'd have to wait 15 minutes with Vicki Johnson and Chris Sakala until they got back.

Chris seemed in a funk. I knew he had finished second in '05 so when I had heard him say, 'This is the stupidest thing ever to ride our motorcycles around for 11 days. Stupid, stupid, stupid.'....or so I think I remember. I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or serious. I'd later find out in January when he wrote his tongue‐in‐cheek report that context is everything and that a few things going wrong can sink an entire rally. Chris, man, my heart goes out to you.

Picture from Chris Sakala

(I think I'm the guy on the left)

Taking a picture of a dimly glowing light bulb seemed sappy at this point. I don't know why, but it just seemed a weird claim to fame to be the World's Oldest Light Bulb. Here's a live webcam shot to make it a bit more interesting. Maybe I was just in a funky mood.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Livermore, California 3,123 points Available 7 am to 10 pm Fire Station #6 4550 East Ave. (925) 4542361 Take a picture of the Centennial Light, the oldest continually burning bulb in the world on since 1901. You will need to go into the Fire Station and ask to see the light. Go to the door and ring the bell. You MUST also sign the guest book as we will be monitoring it! If the fire personnel are out on a call, you must wait for their return. Livermore is located in west central California, approximately 40 miles east of San Francisco, CA. From I580, exit at Vasco Rd and go south. Turn west on East Ave. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: LM Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Getting In Touch With One's Sensitive Side

After leaving Livermore I aimed my bike at San Francisco and pondered if this slug of six bonii were going to be easy or hard. They certainly were different with so many bonii adding up to a healthy 17K in gravy....was there some sort of trick? Why was Lisa

encouraging us to actually go into densely packed suburbia for points?

Well, I got it as I rounded I‐580 and caught my very first glimpse of the Golden Gate bridge. Or, more precisely I began to cry like a baby.

Here I am riding....a stable guy's guy....been that way all my life. Sure, I've cried at movies after I've worked myself up into a lather, but I just start bawling for no apparent reason. Deep sobs, tears, and jerky breaths....like a four year old....and I have no idea where it's coming from.

I even panic a bit. For one reason having your eyes full of tears as you're cruising in the left lane of a major freeway in California is NOT when one should get weepy. I move over a couple of lanes and slow down the bike...and the water works. The second reason I'm panicking is I don't have an intellectual explanation for why my emotions just puked out onto the sleeve of my riding jacket.

So, I do like any macho male would....and make up a reason. It doesn't even matter if it's true or I totally believe it....just a veneer of truth will suffice.

I think to myself, "I'm on the West Coast...on the downhill leg of an eleven day journey." ......yeah.

"I'm fatigued and not thinking straight." ......this is working.

"That bridge is frickin' beautiful with it's Art Deco arches and wisps of fog on the bay." Wahhhh!!!! ......damn more crying.......

"Perce Rock was an arch on the blue Atlantic Ocean. St. Louis was an arch that was a gateway to the West. I'm seeing arches on the green and huge Pacific Ocean." ....yeah, that's it.

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My sobbing settles down into an occasional sniffle and I wish Lisa had been there to hug. This was that priceless moment I'd been preparing for 2 years, the result of why I'd spent four grand and three weeks of vacation on a giant tour of the continent‐‐ the very reason I'm broken down and fatigued.

I'm finally open to truly appreciate the beauty and spectacle of North America and it overwhelmed me with a sense of calm and perspective.

As the day would wear on I'd intellectualize it even more and take stock at how good we really have it in North America. The newest settled continent on the planet...even post 9/11 still remains remarkably open. Here I was on a two wheeled motorcycle and could navigate the length and width of it with near impunity. Flashing a piece of laminated plastic I only had to pass one marginal homage to a border and navigate easily from from a gigantic ocean to an even more gigantic ocean.

I'd communicated with French descendants that didn't even share a common language with me, I'd learned how there's no "r" in car in New England. I'd seen a neon glowing read Pagoda in the green mistiness of Pennsylvania and the rural flyover subtlety of Ohio. I had seen the tragedy of a building blown up by a very intolerant whack job in Oklahoma and somber grandeur and spirit of rock formations in the sovereign Navajo nation. I had been an alien amongst the glitzy poll‐dancing glamor of Vegas and slept in the hot bowels of Death Valley while then launching vertically to the top of the world to touch a 4700 year old gnarled tree before lunch....all without burning it down. Then to wind the stark beauty of Ansel Adams in Yosemite and to happen across an enclave of unknown American culture near the Muir wilderness of California was gravy.

Now to stretch the rubber band to the fullest extent I was going to ride into San Francisco and orgy on what I've learned is a Seattle on Steroids.

Resolved.

Back to the left lane, twist the grip, rush forward, and sail the afternoon breeze onto The Embarcadero.

This is the true zenith of the 2007 IBR and I'm going to savor the experience.

San Fransisco Is Alive

I'd like to think by this point of the rally I'm getting good at finding destinations and grabbing the first available parking spot regardless of what the authorities might consider legal..however I'm no Jim Owen. I fumble around taking two laps of The Embarcadero before squeezing into a spot flanked by a scooter and a sleeping homeless guy. He quickly quit sleeping as I nosed in, but seemed satisfied with giving me a sneer and decided I smelled worse than he did.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * San Francisco, California 1,415 points Available daylight hours

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Cupid’s Arrow Take a photo of the Cupid’s Arrow sculpture with the Bay Bridge in the background. NOTE: If weather prevents getting the Bay Bridge in the background, obviously we will accept the foggy background. San Francisco is located in west central California, near the western terminus of I80. Located in the northeast corner of the San Francisco peninsula on The Embarcadero between Folsom St and Howard St, just north of theSan Francisco Bay Bridge Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: AR Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Floundering further it takes me a good 15 minutes to find the right nook and cranny to traverse and make it to the top of Telegraph Hill.

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San Francisco, California 2,567 points Available daylight hours 1 Telegraph Hill Blvd. Take a photo of the statue of Christopher Columbus San Francisco is located in west central California, near the western terminus of I80. In the northeast corner of San Francisco, from The Embarcadero, go west on Bay Street. Turn south on Stockton St and then east on Lombard. Follow Lombard and it turns into Telegraph Hill Blvd. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: TE Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lombard Street was easy to find and I ponder just taking a picture, but since I've never been here I decide it's worth the extra 10 minutes and ride down it. It really IS steep. I, again, don't have the balls to blow off signs like this Goldwing, but like their picture much better than mine from across the street.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * San Francisco, California 4,109 points Available daylight hours Lombard Street Park at the bottom of the “World’s Crookedest Street” and take a photo of your bike. Make sure we can see some of the world famous turns. San Francisco is located in west central CA, near the western terminus of I80. Lombard Street is located in the northeast corner of the San Francisco peninsula; go to the intersection of Lombard and Leavenworth Street. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: LS Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Finding the Palace of Fine Arts was easy too and this place stunned me. I know I had seen it before in movies....I just couldn't remember which ones. In my state it actually reminded me of the CG effects in Star Wars of the Nabu world. Would JarJar come out and greet me?

Here's another rider's morning shot to show how things look so different.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * San Francisco, California 2,452 points Available daylight hours Palace of Fine Arts Baker Street Park your bike on Baker Street and take a photo of your bike in front of the domed building, the Rotunda of the Palace of Fine Arts. San Francisco is located in west central California, near the western terminus of I80. The Palace of Fine Arts is located on the north end of San Francisco, just east of the terminus of the Golden Gate Bridge, 2 blocks south of the intersection of Baker and Marina Blvd. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GS Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm cooking with gas at this point and on a high. 4 bonii in less than an hour. I zoom out to the western edge of the city and snag Sutro

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Baths. I talked with Curt Gran‐‐he had talked about popping a tire at Bristlecone and I counted myself lucky.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * San Francisco, California 3,345 points Available daylight hours Sutro Baths Take a photo of the Sutro Baths ruins. San Francisco is located in west central California, near the western terminus of I80. Located in Sutro Heights Park, in the extreme northwest corner of the San Francisco peninsula. From the Golden Gate Bridge, follow CA1 south to Geary Blvd. Ride west on Geary which will turn into Point Lobos Avenue, go north on Merrie Way into the parking lot. If the ruins are visible in your photo you may take the photo from the top of the stairs. Otherwise, walk down the steps until you get a photo CLEARLY showing the ruins. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: SB Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

15 minutes later I ride across the Golden Gate and stop for a common reverse shot with hundreds of other tourists. Bam! another 2453 points and I'm done with SF.

Now back East, to Sacramento, and revel in the gnarly day of points. By sundown I should have my second highest one day total of 54,000.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * San Francisco, California area 2,453 points Available daylight hours Golden Gate Bridge Vista Point Take a picture of your bike so that the Golden Gate Bridge is visible behind it. San Francisco is located in west central California, near the western terminus of I80. Located north of San Francisco, take CA1/US101 north across the Golden Gate Bridge and take the first

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exit to Vista Point (the viewing area on the right). Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GO Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Into the Bi‐Polar Frying Pan

The coolness of the Pacific lasted until I made it about half way to Sacramento. The heat was ugly and my sweat glands began to hurt as they oozed out fluids. I was well hydrated, I've learned after days and days in 100+ heat while running Unlimited Hydroplane Races that the beating sun just hurts to be in. I was cooked myself.

But, I pressed on as the evening was approaching. I engaged in some more lane splitting and found myself heading towards another ebb in my spirits. Snagging the sub‐1000 points of a Coca‐Cola cup I knew I was headed towards the more usual sparse bonii gathering typical of the West.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sacramento, California 993 points Available daylight hours Huge CocaCola Cup 4101 Gateway Park Blvd. Take a photo of the CocaCola Cup Sacramento is located in central California near the junction of I15 and I80. The building is 1 ½ miles East of I5 Exit 524 (Arena Blvd). Take Arena Blvd east to the southwest corner of Arena Blvd and Gateway Park Blvd. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: CC Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rolling into the mountains it cooled down again and my mood improved as I made it to a little burg called Grass Valley.

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Trying to find the "Kneebone Cemetery" I wasn't in any state of mind to say with authority if it was actually Mike Kneebone's relatives...or some clever bonus by Lisa. In fact....I still don't know to this day. Regardless, I was respectful and the evening was golden with dear foraging for supper. Normally, I'd flip off these forest rats and wish them a painful death at from the grill of a semi, but I contained my anger out of respect for whoever these Kneebones were.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Grass Valley, California area 2,786 points Available daylight hours Kneebone Cemetery Take a photo clearly showing one of the Kneebone headstones. Located 55 miles north of Sacramento, California in South Yuba River State Park on Pleasant Valley Road, 8 miles north of junction of CA20 and Pleasant Valley Road. This junction is approximately 8 miles west of Grass Valley, CA, and the road is well signedfrom both directions on CA20 (traffic signal at junction). Approximately ¼ mile walk to the fenced in cemetery. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: KB Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a double bonus in that a covered bridge was just walking distance away. I had remembered I had stressed this paired bonus

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days planning at the hotel as maybe being on other sides of some mountain...kind of like the two in Yosemite, but found it wasn't a problem. I think Doug even homed in on the locations. In fact, it was a nice walk and such a luscious evening. The cooling air made sound travel up and down the canyon in subtle waves.

I thought about what normal people were doing and how crazy it was to bust my ass to ride all around the country for stupid Polaroids.

My emotional state was becoming a roller coaster. In less than 5 minutes I had gone bipolar from blissful to pissed to confused to smiley again.

...it would turn out to get even worse as the night unfolded.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Grass Valley, California area 3,314 points Available daylight hours Bridgeport Covered Bridge Take a photo of the Bridgeport Covered Bridge

Located in central California, 55 miles north of Sacramento in South Yuba River State Park, on Pleasant Valley Road, 8 miles north of junction of CA20 and Pleasant Valley Road. This junction is approximately 8 miles west of Grass Valley, CA, and the road is well signed from both directions on CA20. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: CB Approved: ___

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Mounting back up several riders came by and were happy to see my bike as they said they'd have ridden right past the cemetery. I had a choice of back‐tracking to I‐80 on straight two‐laners or to take a twist road that would save me some time and opted for the latter...however that was probably the wrong choice in retrospect. When I'd lean over the bike it would shudder in a very bad sounding way.....so much that it felt like metal on metal and the rear end was going out.

It happened to a bunch of Beemers by this point and it could happen to an FJR I thought. I could hear and feel this horrible juddering like teeth were slipping on gears...ugly. I stopped several times fearful that I was gushing burnt oil and that my tire would slide out from under me. For the next 2 or 3 hours I dreamed up worse and worse scenarios ranging from not finishing the Iron Butt Rally to me dying a nasty and horrible death.

I did make it back to I‐80, but even in the long highway sweepers the bike was vibrating badly.

It didn't help that I was ascending Donner Pass. My personal roller coaster of despair was running a hundred miles per hour and it wasn't even 10 p.m. How was I going to survive the night trying to cross Nevada? This was the worst place in the world to have a mechanical failure and I'm groggy.

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So, I got off the bike and started making phone calls trying to solve the problem. I called a fellow FJR rider in the Reno area hoping I could borrow his rear drive. That seemed logical....just replace the entire chunk that's freaking me out. I'd even buy a new one if it meant that. What's another grand?

He didn't answer though and depressed I decided it was time for some comfort food and take a break...so I rolled into one of my favorite restaurants The Black Bear Diner had a franchise in Truckee. The waiter looked at me weirdly for no reason...except that I thought it was because he knew I was a failure in life and would mock me with the line cook after he seated me.

Fine.

I went into the bathroom and realized how crusty my face was. Normally, I'd have laugh, but it didn't fix my failing rear drive any. More grimness.

No answer from my friend so I finally called Warchild...which I should have done in the first place...and he calmed me down.

"It's not your final drive. It's an FJR! They don't break!", he said as a helpful beacon in the night.

"It's gotta be your tire. Go out and run your hand on the edges and see if it's cupped. If so, nothing you can do about it, but it's probably safe to ride....at least until Salt Lake.", he finished with honesty and the right amount of caring.

"You're fried. Get some sleep.", as only somebody who had gotten a 4th place in the '97 Butt could share with me.

Slightly buoyed I ate a meal, cranked up the laptop, and pondered how I'd spend tomorrow bonii hunting if my bike didn't fall apart.

The rest helped, the tire turned to be badly cupped, and I felt a little better, but still very, very tired.

So, I rode as far as I could and tried sleeping at an exit near Lovelock, NV. However, mosquitoes chewed on me and I had to get up after just a few minutes. I made it about 25 miles farther up the road to an actual rest stop and pulled in. Two LD riders were posed like vampires under a picnic bench on the horribly uncomfortable concrete. (I had thought they were Vicki Johnson and Chris Sakala, but found out later they had gotten a hotel in Winnemucca and ahead of me) They could have chosen the bench‐tops, but the buzz of the fluorescent lights would have been horrible so I opted for the concrete.

I fell asleep in 27 seconds.

Day 10, Wednesday, Lovelock, NV to Dillon, CO

Waking up sometime before sunrise somewhere on I‐80 in Nevada ....near Imlay...I think....I continued rolling east. The miles of Nevada melted away due in equal parts of my mind being numbness, boring scrub scenery, and nobody around to worry about one's choice of velocities.

Wendover was a welcome oasis even if I missed the proper exit for Bendover Bob. In fact, I blew two exits and made it to the Utah exit for the Bonneville Salt Flats before I backtracked through town. I'd like to blame it on a firetruck that went passed me, but I knew it was a goof. I thought to myself I was still doing pretty well for what was Day 8 or 9 of the Iron Butt Rally.

....that fact you obviously just saw my paragraph title as being Day 10 should make you wonder a bit how my days were running together....

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Good ol' Bob was tall and slim in the Nevada/Utah desert and acted like a beacon to corrupt Mormons from the Salt Lake area. I should know as the only other time I've been to Wendover was with temple‐worthy Mormons playing Black Jack all night. They wouldn't consume booze, but that's about the only thing they wouldn't do. ;)

And yes, I know the locals don't call him Bendover Bob, but Wendover Will. But it's Day 8 or 9 for me (or 10)....and I can

hallucinate all I want thank you very much.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Wendover, Nevada 2,878 points Available 24 hours Take a picture of Wendover Will (we will give you very wide latitude on a nighttime shot) Wendover, Nevada is located on the Nevada/Utah border along I80. Wendover Will is located off I80 in Wendover (it is not a very

large town). Will is 64 feet tall, we are pretty sure you will be able to find him! Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: WW Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

My mood was hugely different than the night before. Where I was in a deep funk the light of morning melted it away and I thought a McDonald's breakfast was in order...and a session on the laptop to nail down bonii for the next several days. By this point I had gotten pretty good at estimating where I'd be by the end of dark and a cluster of bonii in Colorado intrigued me. Where it looked impossible to do days before seemed very possible since I had purposely skipped Gerlach because it was the week of Burning Man. Normally totally vacant Gerlach was overrun with 20,000+ "Burners".....and I should know because I had been to that event a decade earlier. They didn't scare me, but the fact that half the law enforcement in the State of Nevada did scare me.

Missed the IBR Memorial, but the Stevens didn't.

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Sunrise at Doobie Lane. "Burners" snooze off to the right in a camp

of tens of thousands.

Sexy!

And who will be listed for 2007? We'd know in a bit over 2 days.

I'd hit a bonus in Salt Lake, a bonus in Vernal, and then boogy to Colorado and see what I could snag before dark. Anything left I'd get the following day and then beeline for St. Louis. Whoa....I just figured out it's Day 10. I only have one more day to go!

Another rider came in as I was about to leave and said Hello. Back on the road, however, I was stopped on I‐80 because of a bad accident. Good thing I had chosen breakfast because had I kept going I'd have waited in line. Needless to say the prospect of sitting behind 2 miles of semis and cars sounded horrible...so I "filtered" to the front like I was a lost Californian used to lane sharing. As if fate I parked next to a fellow competitor, Mike, on a BMW near the front like we had been separated.

One of the noted masters of line‐cutting is Jim Owen. You'd look at the guy with his warm and amiable smile and think he'd be the paragon of courtesy. But more than once there has been a rallier sitting in a line to watch him ride by like he owned the place. Owen would be proud of me for my line cutting stunt. I smiled the whole

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time either like I was a lost tourist, that I belonged there, or I was supremely grateful they had motioned me to do it. ....I thought a parade wave would have been over the top.

We exchanged pleasantries and watched two helicopters take away

two people from what appeared to be a bad rollover.

Shortly after the second chopper lifted off the traffic started to move and both our cycles quickly sprang out in front. Weirdly, this is the very first time I've ever traversed I‐80 from Wendover to Salt Lake City. I've always been to those cities from other directions and it felt strange to have zero traffic for nearly 100 miles. I can tell you though that I eventually caught up with pre‐accident traffic somewhere about Toele...and I could see the HID lights of the BMW about 5 miles back in my mirror. Mike would later say that he was cruising "LTO" or "LT Optimal". Gotta love FJRN..... or "FJR Nominal"...even if my fuel economy sucked on this leg!

Filtering through morning SLC traffic I journeyed across from the capital and snapped a picture of some very weird looking composite buffalo. I'd been to this two block area three times in the past two years with this stop and the Utah 1088. Seems like SLC is the center of my rally universe.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Salt Lake City, Utah 1,021 points Available 24 hours Council Hall Building 300 N. State Street Take a photo of one of the decorated buffaloes Salt Lake City is in northwest Utah at the intersection of I80 and I15/I84. Exit I15 at 600 South/UT269 and travel east approximately 1.2 miles to State Street. Turn left (north) on State Street and travel north to the intersection of State Street and 100 North (the state capitol will be right in front of you). Turn right (east) on 100 North. On the southeast corner of State Street & 100 North is the Council Hall building and the home of the Utah Travel Council. In front of the Council Hall building are two painted buffalos. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: SLC Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Getting back on I‐80 I headed East and rode a familiar route to Vernal...where I had taken a picture of a sign in a previous Utah 1088 at night, but would get to see more of the park this day.

Colorado weighed heavily on my mind. At this point I was in the mode that I would always be heading back to St. Louis, but it was important to squeeze out every point I could. That squeezing would make a difference in the end I was sure. Barring mechanical failure, bad luck, or a horrible mistake it was at this point that I could see the end of this epic adventure...and I had my fangs out to get as many points as my greedy little Polaroid could take. 10K is also a good chunk of points.

I also was down to my last container of film. I was having to be careful to get the picture right on the first try.

Again, I don't have a picture myself of this bonus, but a fresh shot of the dead sexy Polaris Vision is always good. I wonder how Andy is doing? Or how Brian Roberts is doing......oh I find months later he was doing just fine.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dinosaur National Monument, Utah 9,102 points Open daily 8:30 am – 5:30 pm Fossil Bone Quarry Visitors Center Take a photo of the large stegosaurus sculpture outside the Visitors Center. Located in the northeast corner of Utah near Jensen, Utah, the Visitors Center is along UT149, miles north of the junction of US40 and UT149. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: FB Approved: ___

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I meandered through Colorado on secondary roads encountering some construction delays between Meeker and Rifle. There were four bonii in the area and I couldn't compute a bullet‐proof method for attacking them. I had dark to worry about and figured I couldn't get all four before dark so I tried to find the best combination of two that I could get...and then either get the other in the morning or be able to move along to St. Louis.

The road from Aspen to the pass was incredibly beautiful, but my severely cupped tire were a handful. Combined with the altitude, slight moisture on the road, impending night, and my general fatigue level I went slowly and concentrated. My fuel level light also started to flash and I shut off my cell on the incline to prevent losing more fuel. Once I made it to the top of the pass I could then point down and have the fuel transfer. That probably wasn't the smartest thing skipping gas in Aspen...oh well.

12,095 feet....yet another record for me! The air was thin and my fingers and toes felt cold even though I had my electrics going on full. But, at the same time this was some marvelous country.

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First was Independence Pass for 4300 points and was gotten to by going through the uberchick Aspen. I skipped gas figuring I could make it to Leadville after the bonus.

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Independence Pass, Colorado 4,341 points Available daylight hours Independence Pass Take a picture of the Independence Pass sign on CO82 Independence Pass is located in central Colorado, approximately 19 miles east of Aspen, Colorado (between Aspen and Leadville) on CO82. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: IP Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I coasted down the hill and gingerly twisted the throttle...even with the incline my low fuel light never stopped flashing and I had 43 miles to Leadville...the nearest probable gas. I ended up making it, but took on the biggest load of fuel I had to date...11 gallons. Under optimal conditions I had 1/2 gallon or 20 miles left, but I've never squeezed in more than 11.1 before...so I could have been just a few miles to Sputterville.

Perhaps coincidental, but clearly I was on the long end of the stick in karma, I'm pretty sure I saw Chris and Vicki again around this time. Memory's fuzzy, but the light profile from those BMW's stuck in my mind. Again months later I'd find out that Chris' bike had grenaded its transmission in Leadville....just after they had gotten Independence Pass. Again, man, wow. Chris' ride was over and he'd DNF.

Light was waning, but I thought I could squeeze in Tennessee Pass and made it with probably 15 minutes to spare. These two passes represented 8,000 points I had almost skipped...and I thought I'd have enough time tomorrow to score the other two bonus locations before continuing on to Kansas.

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Leadville, Colorado area 4,320 points Available daylight hours Tennessee Pass Take a picture of the Tennessee Pass sign Leadville is located in central CO near the junction of US24 and CO91, approximately 85 miles southwest of Denver, CO. Tennessee Pass is located on US24 located north of Leadville, Colorado and south of I70. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: TP Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rolling down off the pass back towards Leadville evening gave way to inky‐dark night and I could feel fatigue coming again. I debated hard whether to stop at Leadville, but remembered the city was over 10,000 feet. I genuinely worried about altitude sickness and held out to Dillon, which was about three thousand feet lower. I even thought about toughing it out and trying to score the Idaho Springs 24 bonus and getting closer to the fourth bonus to the North, another pass, but I was just plain tired and needed to rest.

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In a Super 8 I found some time to catch up on blogging, scarf a Subway sandwich, and catch some sleep. Not a huge point day like the previous two, but I felt like I had done well as a transition day to get back towards St. Louis. Tomorrow could be a good day if I could make it to eastern Kansas before night.

Day 11, Thursday ‐ Dillon, CO to A Picnic Bench, Missouri

Getting out a little after sunrise I whipped out 35 miles to Idaho Springs and snagged a small point bonus, but hugely symbolic bonus. It was a figure that had loomed large in the IBR '07 artwork and confounded many of us as being some key to solving a riddle. It turned out it wasn't a big key at all, but still fun and I was lucky enough to have a local snap this fun picture of me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Idaho Springs, Colorado 878 points Available 24 hours Steve Canyon Statue Take a photo of the granite statue of Steve Canyon Idaho Springs is located in central Colorado, approximately 30 miles west of Denver, CO. Located off I70 at exit 240 eastbound or 241a westbound, at the east end of town, on the corner of Colorado Blvd. and Miner St. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: IS Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From Idaho Springs I backtracked about 20 miles and started up another road to the last Colorado pass bonus. 6300 points just seemed worth it...and seemed a better choice than the increasingly small points available closer to St. Louis.....besides I think I had enough time to pick up some stuff in Kansas later in the day.

Milner Pass was lower than the others, but between here and my escape to the East would end up lying the gnarliest of roads I'd ever been on.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado 6,320 points Available daylight hours Milner Pass Take a picture of the Continental Divide sign. Rocky Mountain National Park is located in north central Colorado, approximately 60 miles northwest of Denver, CO. Milner Pass is on US34, approximately 4.5 miles west of the Alpine Visitors Center. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: RM Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I'd run across breath‐taking beauty before, but Rocky Mountain National Park was staggeringly beautiful. One corner I rounded I thought to myself, "Why would they put that huge stuffed elk so near the road? It's rack could clip passing cars?" And, of course, in my fragile mental state the fact the elk moved as I rode by. This doesn't inspire a lot of confidence for my mental state, but was smart enough to stop, turn around, and snap a picture of the behemoth that later Tobie and Lisa would say similarly scared them.

Another corner and I realize the road I'm riding is on a serious slope at the 12,000 foot level. The edge is crumbling and I found myself hugging the centerline to occasional oncoming traffic. Beautiful country...and I hope to come back here someday.

I descended the mountain quickly into Estes Park and civilization again. Motoring on around Denver I was running out of bonus hunting time and did the mental math and GPS routing to decide what I could get in my last 18 or so hours. I figured I could get Chalk Canyon (only slightly off the direct route for 3,000 points) and Greensburg, KS that was more off course for 4,000, but made it easier to pick up Olathe for another 3,000. It would be better to get these and still have a chance of 4,000 more closer to home base.

So, after a short entertaining stop on the freeway for:

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Chalk Canyon was about 7 miles of gravel road going in and the same coming out. Fairly uninteresting in terms of what the West has to offer in the way of geology....but we're in Kansas where anything that isn't dead flat is interesting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Chalk Canyon, Kansas 3,012 points Available daylight hours Monument Rocks Take a picture of your motorcycle in front of the “HoleintheWall.” Located in northwestern KS Monument Rocks is approximately 26 miles south of Oakley, KS. From I70, take exit 70 (US83 at Oakley, KS) and ride south on US83 for 20 miles turn east onto gravel road at the sign, go 4 miles east, then 2 miles south from the “T”

intersection. Roads to this site are good, but one 300 yard section is very fine, loose dirt. In rainy conditions, caution is required. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: CK Approved: ___

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Heading farther south...and against what my internal compass was chanting, "East....east....east". I rode 83 south towards Dodge City. I reveled in the idea of a childhood memory of Matt Dillon in Gunsmoke...and the idea of first name Matt, driving by Watkins, after having woken up in Dillon....well added to my already rattling brain.

Time to stop again and eat a Subway sandwich...and to look one last time at the map and make sure I haven't missed something obvious on the way back home.

Dinner was tasty and confirmed that if I could ride through the night I was going to snag four more bonii. It was like a 14 hour rally now and I just had to ride 800 miles. Easy as pie....which is weird because here I am 10 1/2 days into a rally and 800 miles seems like nothing to me. I must be crazy....

As I left Dodge City I started to see signs for Greensburg and got a weird feeling. Reading my packet the night before I vaguely remembering something on Discovery Channel about this town getting wiped out by a tornado. Besides never seeing a tornado I had never even seen the result of a tornado.

When I got to Greensburg a sense of sorrow just overwhelmed me.

It was SO quiet.

Not just quiet because 12 people had died, but an empty quiet where a small community had existed, and was wiped celan from the face of the Earth.

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The May 2007 Greensburg tornado had been first confirmed Enhanced Fujita Scale 5 tornado on record.

I parked in front of the county courthouse (which was one of the few structures left intact) being somewhat on the edge of the tornado for a picture including a FEMA tent for an extra whopping 1 point....remaining respectfully silent the whole time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Greensburg, Kansas 4791 points Available daylight hours 239 S Main Take a photo of the courthouse. Located near the intersection of US183 and US54/400 in southcentral Kansas approximately 45 miles east of Dodge City, KS. On May 5, 2007 a tornado one halfmile in diameter practically removed this town from the map. You won't have trouble finding it, since it's one of the few buildings in the area that is still standing. For a tiebreaker, earn another one tenth of a point if your photo shows a FEMA tent in the front yard. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GK Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back on the road the shadows started to get longer and I gassed up in Wichita. The last night on the road and I knew I was tired, but I pressed on. I had a bail‐out and could skip bonii if I needed to, but this was the crunch period.

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Somewhere around Emporia, KS I saw a set of hazard lights blinking on a motorcycle on the side of the road and stopped a few hundred yards past. Trying to roll the bike backwards I pushed back and nearly dropped the bike. It was really the only time of the whole rally that I almost did something monumentally stupid...and after the rally I'd learn that dropping bikes was not an uncommon occurrence.

Fortunately, the headlight moved and passed me...so I caught back up. I recognized it as an FJR, but couldn't for the life of me recognize them by name. But, that didn't matter. We rode together like it was a summer joy ride on some typical evening. I'd later figure out it was Dick Peek and did my best to snap a photo while we rode.

We made Olathe and snapped a picture of the Garmin World Headquarters that makes GPS units....which has probably become the single‐most important gadget we all use. Both Dick and I were sporting Street Pilot 2730 units.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Olathe, Kansas 3,189 points Available 24 hours Garmin International 1200 E. 151 st Street Take a picture of a large Garmin sign with the globe. Olathe is located in northeastern Kansas along I35, approximately 20 miles southwest of Kansas City, from I35 take exit 215 and go east approximately 8/10 mile. There are several acceptable signs located around the Garmin campus.

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Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: GI Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dick was up for the same next bonus so we trucked up to just north of Kansas City.....or so I thought. I even called Dad and suggested I'd be in around 2 or 3 a.m. However, rolling clear to St. Joseph I figured out it was much farther away from Kansas City I had thought. My Streets & Trips planning days before contained a estimated location that I hadn't marked accordingly. Dick was also stressing about no gas stations being open. I had enough gas, but was a bit surprised that my second to the last bonus was not where I had placed it 6 days earlier. Who'd have thunk.

Rolling through country roads we stumbled across a lit, but closed gas station that had credit card pumps and Dick breathed a big sigh of relief. I gassed up too. We were in good spirits, but stretched. This rally was over soon and the sense of anticipation was palpable. It's not us....but I think it's the same gas station and probably a couple hours before us. Two‐up couple Lehmans look about like I felt.

Arriving in King City Dick and I wandered the few blocks of town and finally found the thing.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * King City, Missouri 1,891 points Available 24 hours Big Pump 508 N. Grand Ave. Take a photo of the Big Pump King City, Missouri is located in northwest Missouri approximately 65 miles northeast of Kansas City, MO between I29 and I35 on US169/MO31. The Big Pump is one block north of CRZ/ MO48. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: RA Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the pump we made our way back to I‐29 and the last 300 miles. This time back on I‐29 I noticed that the road was different than when I had gone through. There was a seriously steep downhill to Kansas City. Like a 6% grade that wouldn't quit.

This was weird. I even found myself leaning back in the seat to negotiate the unexpected mountain.

A mountain in Kansas? Yeah, right.

Time to pull over. So, I peeled off from Dick at a rest area with a couple of quick light flashes and he waved to me as if to say, "Good night." I had paced myself to be in Chesterfield already and I was still 300 miles out. I just wasn't going to make the final pitch without some sleep. As I got off the bike I was careful to put the side stand down and not have it fall off this mountain I was on and looked all around. It all sloped off away from me whichever way I turned.

Really weird.

No matter, on another picnic bench an unknown fellow rider had somehow perched himself in a bivouac on a ledge face. I chose a table ledge nearby and cinched up my hammock drawstring. A 45 minute combat nap later and I bolted upright. Hopping on the bike like I had slept 8 hours I noticed that the world was flat again. The 6% grade had disappeared and all was right with the world again.

Plugging in Chesterfied to the GPS my ETA suggested I had about 1 hour to spare. Plenty of time! So, why not snag a last 1900 point bonus? At Columbia, Missouri I figured a Polaroid of 5 columns at University of Missouri at 4:30 on a Saturday morning would be easy as all the students were passed out from partying the night before...and it was easy....except for the light part. It was a 24 hour bonus, but I was expecting lights something like this:

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However, I had to burn 3 photos with a strategically placed flashlight before I was satisfied that I'd get points. It seemed that the light timer must have turned off hours earlier...even though this was a supposedly a 24 hour bonus. This is what it looks like by day:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Columbia, Missouri 1,910 points Available 24 hours University of Missouri Take a photo of the six Ionic columns that are a symbol of the University of Missouri Located in central Missouri near the junction of I70 and US63, from I70, take exit 126/Providence and go south to E. Broadway and turn east to S. 9 th Street. Turn right and park near 9 th and University Avenue. From that corner, walk west onto campus and the columns will be directly in front of you. Time: ___ Odometer: ___ Code: CM Approved: ___ * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As I walked back to my bike my cell phone rang and it was Dad with special instructions, "Get your ass home! ....Warchild says to get your ass home!". My fangs were out. What's 105 miles in 2 hours? It's easy......

Rolling on I‐70 I started to take stock of this little journey I was about to complete and became very peaceful and serene.

The sun was coming up and I was about to complete something only 325 other people had done before me. Time stood still and I have a hard time remembering the last miles before the hotel. But, I do remember having the goofiest grin on my face as I rolled into parking lot and the finish line. Notice the single, yellow halogen that became my candle of hope for the previous 5 nights?

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Warchild was there and had an equally beaming grin on his face. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen! ...man am I exhausted or what?

The only thing is that he looked at me very dourly and said, "OK, now do 25 push‐ups!"...to which I gave a very perplexed look. I really didn't remember this bonus in the packet. Had I forgotten some serious instruction? What the hell was I going to do now? How many points did I just lose?

I looked around at a see of smiling faces from onlookers and family with my confused look and they let out a huge laugh. Bastard's messing with me.....

Still, I looked in my packet to make sure I hadn't missed something.

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It was also phenomenal to see Dad and Kris. They simply amazed me a year earlier when they said they'd come to the finish of the rally. I mean, I was floored and honored they'd drive all the way to St. Louis to basically see me ride a motorcycle into a parking lot, have dinner with me after I slept, and then head back home. It meant a tremendous amount to me to have them there.

Laying out the booty of a rally‐‐precious precious all‐important

points! (a fellow competitor)

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An hour or so later I had put together my receipts, filled in my log, and went as ready for scoring

Don Moses scored me and is a great guy...he'd scored me on the first leg of SPANK the year before. His 2+2=5 shirt was mesermizing as I pondered it and most assuredly failed to grasp it's deeper meaning in my delicate state. I kept wanting to convert the 2's to kilometers and look for extra digits of the 5 gallons to put on my fuel log.

At the end of his scoring we had a difference....to my detriment...but we quickly figured out it was because my bonii extended into a third column he hadn't had to use yet. "Man, you hit a lot of bonii....you did very well".

...that is the highest praise and the sweetest words one can hear after riding across North America......twice.

He punched on the calculator again and our numbers matched so I signed my name on the line and left the scoring table.

193,210 points for Leg #2....nearly 2.5 times as much as I had scored on the first leg.

Leg #2 ‐ St. Louis, MO to Central California

193,210 points. Leg #2 standing #14 (not to be confused with my final standing)

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Day #6 ‐ Chesterfield, MO to Zuzax, NM ‐ 1001 miles Survivor Tree/Oklahoma City Memorial 3110

Day #7 ‐ Zuzax, NM to Death Valley, CA ‐ 1112.7 miles Mancos, Colorado ‐ Giant Arrows 2767 Shiprock, New Mexico 5320

Holbrook, AZ ‐ Wigwam Motel 1845 Jackrabbit Trading Post 677 Kingman, AZ Golf Ball House 976 Lake Havasu City, AZ ‐ London Bridge 1320 Paradise, Nevada 3112 (aka New York, NY Casino)

Day #8 ‐ Death Valley, CA to Madera, CA ‐ 605.9 miles4 Call In Bonus #1 August 29 2000 Death Valley National Park, Scotty's Castle 4996 Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, California 18567 Yosemite National Park, California (Ahwanee) 4567 Glacier Point ‐ Yosemite 10234 Mono Hot Springs, California 12667

Rest Bonus ‐ August 28 7723

Day #9 ‐ Madera, CA to Lovelock, NM ‐ 663.7 miles

Santa Cruz, California ‐ Boardwalk 2984 Mt Hamilton, California ‐ Lick Observatory 24057 Livermore, CA ‐ Centennial Light, 3123 San Francisco, CA ‐ Cupid’s Arrow 1415 San Francisco, CA ‐ Christopher Columbus 2567 Lombard Street, SF, CA 4109

San Francisco, California ‐ Palace of Fine Arts 2452 San Francisco, California ‐ Sutro Baths 3345 Golden Gate Bridge Vista Point 2453 Sacramento, CA ‐ Huge Coca‐Cola Cup 993

Grass Valley, CA ‐ Bridgeport Covered Bridge 3314 Grass Valley, California area 2786

Day #10 ‐ Lovelock, NV to Dillon, CO ‐ 925.4 miles Wendover, NV ‐ Wendover Will 2878 Call in bonus August 27 2077 Salt Lake City, Utah 1021 Dinosaur National Monument, Utah 9102 Independence Pass, Colorado 4341 Leadville, CO ‐ Tennessee Pass 4320

Day #11 ‐ Dillon, CO to Chesterfield, MO ‐ 1315.8 miles Idaho Springs, CO ‐ Steve Canyon Statue 878 Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado 6320 Chalk Canyon, Kansas ‐ Monument Rocks 3012 Greensburg, Kansas ‐ only building standing 4791 FEMA tent 1

Olathe, KS ‐ Garmin International 3189 King City, Missourri ‐ Big Pump 1891 Columbia, Missouri 1910

Rider Emergency Contact Card 4000 Gas Bonus 10000

The Fat Lady Sings ‐ The Banquet

After scoring time seemed to slide by..probably because I used a few hours of it to nap. The banquet was interesting, but a story for another day in details and tone. I do know that the bottle of Leonetti I snuck in tasted VERY good. Toasts were made....and in my mind the volunteers and staff of the event were the foremost on my mind. Certainly Lia Landry, Ira Agins, Mike Kneebone, Tom Austin, and high profile individuals. But, the Fouseks, Dave McQweeny, Don Moses, other scorers, and myriad of dedicated workers just are the coolest folks in the world. These folks take off

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weeks of vacation so I could go ride around the company. It's clearly a debt I will have to pay off over time.

The table I sat at included Doug and his wife....more huge props to my first leg riding partner for leading this rookie through that leg and getting started on the second. Dad and stepmom to be sure as well as Greg M. and his girlfriend and Jeff Earls who I was rooting for to win.

Since 64 had enough points to finish they worked backwards and every batch of 10 that my name wasn't called meant I made it higher than I had hoped. As they called out #19 I was giddy with satisfaction. My first IBR and I had placed in the top 20.

As it stood I was called #17 and went up on stage and actually lifted Mike Kneebone with a hug...and I even felt his back pop. He probably is still a bit confused about that one.

The official results.

The Top 10....all at reduced body mass indexes

The biggest thing that struck me was there was a 34% wash‐out rate and even long‐time veteran riders agreed ‘07 was the hardest rally ever. So, I reveled in a Top 20 finish, got a bit drunk….and went to bed to get up and drive back with Dad and the bike in back of the truck.

Signing out from St. Louis

Matt Watkins

2007 Iron Butt Rally Finisher

17th Place, IBA #332

272,054 points, 9,857 official miles

the journey to the iron butt rally starting line...

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