In June of this year I will take my place as one of the one hundred riders on the start line of the 2017 Iron Butt Rally (IBR). This bi-annual event is eagerly anticipated and endlessly discussed by thousands. The process of getting to that start line is long, expensive and contains an element of luck. The rally involves riding anything up to 11000+ miles in the space of eleven hectic days.
Clearly this is not something to be undertaken lightly. Preparation of the motorcycle is extensive, but in many ways routine. Preparation of the rider is equally important, and fortunately that involves many miles and hours doing one of the things I like doing the most ... riding my bike.
It is still only mid-March and I already have five thousand miles under the wheels. Before the start of the IBR, I hope to have around seven thousand more. I will be as prepared as I can be, then let the games begin. I have already completed an in-state SaddleSore 1000 this year and attended a Ride to Eat that was a 500 mile day. This ride, the Ride Around Texas (RAT) is the third of a planned series of rides.
The RAT was conceived several years ago and gifted, as a Certificate Ride, to the Iron Butt Association, as one of their well-established series of rides. It is a multi-day event. The objective is to circumnavigate the state of Texas staying within the borders of the state while keeping as close as reasonably possible. The result is a ride of three thousand one hundred miles. There are two levels. The "Insanity" level allows a rider eighty five hours to complete the ride. The "Insanity Gold" has to be completed in less than seventy hours.
Seventy hours to ride 3100 miles on mixed roads, following coastlines, taking a ferry. Visiting islands well-known for their beauty, and equally well-known for their slow roads. Goat Island, Galveston Island and the ferry between the two. South Padre Island then on to Laredo and Del Rio before dipping in and riding through Big Bend National Park and it's 45mph speed limit. When you are through with that there is the 50 miles of the River Road between Lajitas and Presidio. Then a run west to Anthony before turning east through the Guadalupe Mountains and on to the Panhandle. Around the Panhandle you go then east along the Texas border to Texarkana. Drop south from Texarkana to Port Arthur before arriving back at the Gulf Coast. That's a brief flavor of what a rider will experience during this ride. Roads vary considerably. There is some Interstate, but it's limited. There are also farm roads of varying quality, four-lane divided highways, passes, many, many small towns, the afore-mentioned River Road, etc. On the plus side Texas has a 75 mph speed limit, about everywhere.
To keep the pressure of the clock on me, I chose to attempt the ride during Spring Break, and go for the sub-70 hour time. The morning of the start found me in Paris, Texas. I opened the door of my motel room at around 4.45 am and was greeted by heavy rain. Great! Just the start I wanted. I filled up at the nearby gas station and got a receipt timed at 5.15 am. It was Monday morning, so I now had until 3.14 am Thursday morning to get the ride done, and this weather was not a promising start. It was cold enough to require heated jacket as I gassed up the bike and pointed it east. Riding in the rain isn't a major deal. Riding in the rain and dark is a little more trying. Riding in the rain, dark and cold is downright unpleasant, and more to the point it slows you down. So I made modest progress towards Texarkana, got the necessary receipt and turned south. As I rode south I was watching the weather radar closely. I could see the end of the rain bands, and it was getting light. Things were picking up as I rode towards Port Arthur, but it was around four and a half hours before I met any dry roads.
Approaching Port Arthur, your hapless hero was greeted with the sight of the Port Arthur Bridge. Seriously Texas? You expect me to ride a motorcycle over that!! The double bridge rises high into the grey sky, and looks about as intimidating as a bridge could look from the seat of a motorcycle. Granted there may be more scary-looking bridges in the Amazonian jungle, but I was in Texas. Just to make the task even more exciting, road construction had closed the southbound bridge so everything was being funneled in a contra-flow over the northbound bridge. The video does not do it justice.
Pleased to get that out of the way I was now free to stop for the third of the compulsory eighteen receipts around the route. Next up is the very long ride along the Gulf Coast. First clear Houston, and the traffic cooperated, then head down the islands. This was always going to be one of the slowest parts of the ride, and it didn't disappoint. When I was planning the ride I had hoped to get a solid 1200 miles in during the first day. That would put me in Del Rio, and well placed to tackle the rest of the ride. It would also ensure that I hit Big Bend National Park, and the River Road, in daylight. Riding the River Road is always a task best completed in daylight, but there was another reason. I wanted to see the area. I have often ridden close to Terlingua, the Park and Lajitas, but never quite made it. This time I wanted the view. That was the main reason I decided on a clockwise route from Paris. In retrospect, it was also smart to get the tough bit done early rather than have it ambush you later.
The ride through the islands was wonderful, but slow. Riding down Goat Island (High Island?) the sea laps right up to the road. It's spectacular, as are all the buildings raised around twenty feet on stilts. I guess there are times when storm surges can push sea water right up and over much of the land here.
The Galveston Ferry was always going to be an unknown factor. I've never been on it before, but have heard tales of very long wait times, and I'm mindful that this was Spring Break. In the end it took one hour from arriving at the ferry, to riding off the other side. That's still an hour lost to just a few miles, but I guess it could have been much worse. I had been looking forward to a rest on the ferry, but two bike-owning guys wandered over and wanted to chat for the entire trip. Okay, some human contact was nice, but I had wanted peace from the crowds. Oh well.
Once rolling again, it became clear that this part of the journey was destined to be slow, slow, slow. Galveston, with its traffic lights every other block, and other towns as I tried to make my way out and head to Victoria, all the while conscious of still having to get down to South Padre Island. I slept at the Stripes gas station there before the start of a Heart of Texas Rally, and I was planning a fill-up at the same place.
It's a funny thing, but I always feel more weary when the going is slow. Even in the early part of the ride this can have a greater effect on my well-being than the wide open spaces later in the day. Right now I was enjoying the ride, but there was just that nagging suspicion that I was losing a little more time than I could really afford. Running behind the clock on day one is not good for your nerves, even when you expected day one to be the slow day.
So I pressed on. Victoria came and went, and darkness fell as I turned for the run down to SPI. Twice I have been there, and twice I have failed to see anything as it has been dark. There were a couple of drunk "spring-breakers" wandering around the gas station, but zero in the way of the bikini-clad babes my wife had warned me about. I filled up and headed out. I sent a text to Jodie saying "Just about to leave South Padre Island. All is well". That got the reply "I never thought I would hear that sentence on the first day of Spring Break" .... Huh ... well I'd stay, but where are all the babes?!
The original ambition of "Del Rio or bust" was ... a bust. I made it as far as Zapato, 1010 miles into the ride, before I needed to stop. I found a cheap motel, managed to score a room and got six hours sleep. Six hours was probably an hour longer than I could afford, but I figured I'd earned it. I dragged myself out at around 6.45 the next morning, and I couldn't see ten yards. The fog had come down so thick that it was a bit of a gamble even trying to ride out of the parking lot. This is never good. So, I switched on the extremely bright TIR3 LED light fitted to the back of the bike for this very situation, and gingerly made my way through the town, heading for Laredo. The fog light is set to a "steady" pattern. For those who are not familiar with this light, it has 24 strobe patterns all available to me at the push of a button. I considered using one of them in these conditions, but I just know some officious LEO would have accused me of "impersonating a police officer", or something equally ridiculous. So it stayed on steady.
The next couple of hours saw slow progress until the sun came up and began to burn off the fog. When I stopped the previous night my GPS was showing an Overall Average Speed of 44 mph. This is exactly what I needed to finish dead on seventy hours. By the time I set off again it was down to 40 mph, and that is simply not fast enough to make it. Two hours of fog improved neither the pace, nor my mood. By the time I hit Laredo, and the Laredo traffic, the speed hadn't improved much, but the weather had. Clearing Laredo I point the bike on to Del Rio, and slowly the overall speed creeps up. From Del Rio I began the trip towards Big Bend, hitting Sanderson (another gas station I once spent the night at - Big Tex Rally 2012), then on to the park itself.
This part of Texas is also known for the many Border Control Inspection points. On this day, the second day of my ride, I went through five of them. I also passed several remote monitoring set-ups along the way, so who knows how many times my bike was photographed, and details sent whirring through various DHS computers that day:
Sticker shock ... The nice Park Ranger wants $20 to allow me to ride right through at the splendid speed of 45mph. I knew I should have bought that Passport earlier. The park is gorgeous, but I obeyed the speed limit and that did little for my overall miles per hour, or mood. Neither did the temperature which, by now, had risen to near 90F. Panther Junction Visitor Center is a compulsory stop. I wanted to get Jodie a shot glass, but they didn't have any. I took a brief stop there, maybe 20 minutes before heading out of the Park and on towards Terlingua and Lajitas.
Panther Junction:
Now comes the tricky bit. I have long known of the reputation of the fifty miles of road between Lajitas and Presidio. They call it The River Road, for the simple reason that it runs alongside the Rio Grande affording spectacular views and easy access to Mexico, should you so desire. Literally, you can walk a few yards to the river and wade across. At this time of the year it is narrow, and shallow. I wondered quite how a wall is supposed to be built here. The obvious answer is that it isn't. They are not going to build a wall here, whatever you might hear on the TeeVee Machine.
Video shows the first eleven minutes riding this road:
River rides come at a price. Easy enough for flower-sniffing and a leisurely cruise, somewhat less easy pushing a fully laden sports-touring bike with a clock ticking. That fifty miles takes anything up to two hours. Tight bends, poor visibility and hills at around 15% gradient all conspire with the tourists and Border Protection vehicles to slow you down ... but the view is terrific. All I have written about so far is "slow you down". Where are those wide-open spaces when you need them? Well they are up next.
When I leave Presidio, a dusty and poor border town with nothing apparent to recommend it, it isn't long before I hit I-10, one of the few stretches of Interstate on this route. Cool, set the cruise control to an only slightly illegal ninety, and sit back and enjoy the ride to El Paso. The overall average has been creeping up, hopefully buying me some sleep later, and this stretch is going to help. Last time I was in El Paso the traffic was fierce, even on I-10. This time wasn't much different although I was able to maintain a high average and even the stretch of Interstate they had closed only cost around ten minutes of Front Road. My scheduled stop was Anthony. At intersection zero on I-10 (Anthony) is a Loves gas station that sells great coffee, useable gasoline, and gives the required receipt. I was there around 8.30pm. Today has been one of contrasts, but overall has been fast and productive. The sane among us would choose now to get some sleep. I duly point the bike east and head off into the Guadalupe Mountains.
Mountain roads are usually bad news at night. They can be very slow, winding affairs with the ever-present worry of seeing a deer in the headlights and not being able to stop before you bury your motorcycle into one. However, I've been on this road before, and it is superb. You still have to keep an eye out for the forest rats, but the road is wide, has a good surface and with the lights I have is great for night-riding. It seems to be no time before I am at the Guadalupe Mountains National Park:
The data on that picture shows it was taken at twenty minutes past midnight. I am feeling great. The weather is cool but the jacket takes care of that, and I have more miles to go. The average speed has crept up to something more reasonable, and it's all conspiring to make me want to ride on. At this point I think long and hard about simply "riding through". Not stopping again until I either get to Paris, or am forced to stop through fatigue.
I let my brain take over and think it through. The point of this journey is preparation for the IBR. On that Rally I am not going to ride a first leg on six hours sleep, making it to the checkpoint baked. Not smart, not going to happen. Also, while it is possible I could safely ride through, the chances are I might not make it. That would have me stopping for rest in the daylight. Again, not a smart approach. At least one part of me is pleased that I can still think like this even after all the miles today. The other part is that when I was back in Anthony, I was feeling pretty bad. I still thought the seventy hour target might be a bit much, and I was aching just about everywhere. Nothing specific that I could address with ergonomic changes, merely a reaction to two long, hard days.
Looking at the GPS, the overall average is up around 47 mph. The longer you go into a ride, the slower this number changes as it is built over an increasing time and distance, so even my tired mind is confirming I can afford a good three hours of sleep. Maximising daylight riding time means I should be looking to stop around three am. I get the required receipt in Kermit at 2.30am and head up the 115 towards Andrews. This entire area is one big natural gas field. Apart from anything else, it stinks. Even at this time of day, heavy trucks are thundering along fairly modest roads. The roads are lined with gas installations. They make their compounds with road stone. As a result, the air is filled with a white fog of stone dust, thick, cloying and at times almost difficult to breathe through. This is not the Texas of Big Bend, and you are made well aware of it.
In Andrews I found a nice quiet church and decided to test out my upgraded camping gear. For a stop of around four hours or less, this is the most efficient way to get some sleep. I can be in my sleeping bag within ten minutes of pulling up in a suitable location, and packing up is just as quick. I managed a good three hours sleep and left shortly before dawn, feeling relaxed and ready for whatever day three was going to throw at me.
Again running the numbers I found I had 960 miles to go, the GPS was playing nicely and allowing for normal stops I had about three hours to play with to make it back to Paris under the seventy hour mark. When I'm in this situation, I normally allow the ride to fill the time available while leaving a good safety margin. I find this to be the least stressful way to ride, and relaxing a little is a great way to go the distance safely. Knowing I had the time, I stopped for a quick breakfast in Hereford. I don't know why I keep stopping in that town, it too stinks. It's the center of the beef processing industry, and boy can you tell. At least one imagines that the burgers stand a chance of being fresh! For the first time, I was feeling confident that barring mishaps I was going to make it. I texted Jodie "I got this", and hoped I hadn't just jinxed myself. But the numbers don't lie and the confidence was justified.
The ride around the Pan Handle is notable for one thing. It's fast. Three hundred miles up to Texoma, 175 across the top to Follet then about 125 miles due south to Childress. It goes by in a blur. Open roads, many of which are four-lane divided highways. A 75mph speed limit and not much traffic in clear and dry conditions. Stick the cruise control on 80mph, and steer. It's done in a flash. When you read these reports, and when I read them back, one thing I notice is that I very rarely talk about the totality of the distance. Even for long distance riders, the miles we ride can be a bit daunting if you dwell on the totality. In this instance, the ride is 3094 miles. That's too much for me to get my head around, so I think only about the distance to the next stop and the times I need to adhere to. 100 miles, 75 miles, 200 miles ... these are all easily managable. They are not even a full load of gas which in my case will take me at least 400 miles. What I know is that if I string these small distances together, and keep the wheels turning, then I will manage the 3000 miles, and do it in a timely manner.
I play games with my GPS to pass the time. Okay ... The Montana is telling me it is 890 miles to the end of the current route, and the Garmin 660 is saying 255 miles to the next stop. So I play "Let's get the 660 under 200 miles then work on reducing the Montana to under 800". I invent games like this to pass the time. Anything under 40 miles is simply a trip to the doctor's office to collect my wife's prescriptions ... easy. Doing this also reduces the enormity of the overall mountain that needs to be climbed. I've never really talked to other riders about how they cope, but I'm sure they have all developed their own little games.
By the time I reached Childress it was dark again. This was a different "dark" though. This time it indicated a closeness to the end that was very welcome. It was 7.00pm and I now had over 8 hours to complete the final 280 miles. I would need no more gas and the roads are good. I only needed around 4 1/2 hours to ride that distance, even at a modest 60 mph. On a Rally this is the point you are looking to see if there are any other bonus locations you can add to the route, to increase your points haul. On this ride, however, there is only one objective, and that is to bring the ride home, safely. If a steady 60 mph will do it, then that is all I need to do.
Accordingly, after a relaxed and happy ride I pulled into the gas station in Paris that I had left nearly three days earlier, and filled the tanks. The receipt was timed at 00.10, some 66 hours and 55 mins after I had left in the rain.
The Ride Around Texas Insanity Gold, was now just a memory.
Route as detailed by tracking:
