As I sit here, safe at home following my early exit from the 2017 Iron Butt Rally, should I write about the crushing sense of defeat, or the wonderful highs I experienced simply by taking part in this amazing event? I guess both, but I would hate for my re-telling of this story to simply be a tale of one man's disappointment. Many people, via contributions of cash, equipment and simple support, helped me to the start line, so I'd like this tale to do much more. I would like it to go as far as I can take it, to help ensure that other novices do not end up making that 7.00 am phone call to Lisa Landry, informing her that they are not going to make a checkpoint.
So as the title says, if you want to finish the Iron Butt Rally, read on ... and if you just want to hear my story, you too are very welcome.
There should be no one entering the Iron Butt Rally (IBR), on a whim. In the world of safe, long-distance motorcycling, especially to those interested in rallies, the IBR is the pinnacle, an ambition, something to prepare for and work towards. While novices can only imagine the things they might experience during the rally, there should have been a steady progression to that event. In my case that was six years as part of this big family. Multiple 1000 and 1500-mile rides. Some multi-day rides and about twenty LD Rallies including multi-day rallies. Of those rallies I had DNF'd three for various reasons, won one and only once finished outside the top ten. I felt that was a resume reasonable enough to enter the draw for the 2017 IBR.
When I received the "Congratulations" email from Lisa Landry (Rally Master) I took a moment to wonder what the heck I has just done, then spent the next eighteen months preparing to make it happen. Here is the first contentious bit for novices. It consumes you. It takes all your waking moments, and some of your sleep. Everything you will do will be aimed at one objective, finishing the IBR. Your weekends, your vacation time and yes, your wallet are going to be stretched as far as your budget will allow, and then some. To some extent you will neglect your other responsibilities in your one desire to prepare for the adventure of a lifetime. Well at least I did ... sorry Jodie and kids ...
I knew I would need help to prepare properly, so I asked the community. People were extremely generous and they have my heartfelt thanks and appreciation. I can't name you all because I don't even know who many of you are, but the wonderful messages were as helpful as the time or money you gave. I am going to single out three people who helped beyond reason. Del Brand, Kevin Campbell and Jim Orr. None of you had to do what you did, but you did it anyway and I thank you deeply.
So all of my motorcyling was examined, and a plan put in place to make me as ready as possible. The gear I would wear was replaced by clothing better fit for purpose. The ride program was a steady build-up to eleven days in the seat .... the seat was replaced. The bike, a 2005 Yamaha FJR1300 spent the entire winter on the lift table. Every system on it was checked, replaced, serviced or lubed as appropriate. I was starting the rally with around 129000 miles on the odometer and I wasn't prepared to have anything fail that I could have attended to, but didn't. In the event the motorcycle ran flawlessly. They say "it's the rider, not the bike", well that applies quite often to failure, as well as success. It's a machine and sometimes they break. You can't really anticipate that, but you can ensure that it isn't due to neglect.
I read the Iron Butt Rally Rules. There are only two rules:
1. Don't be rude to anyone
2. Obey all the rules
It takes twenty four pages to explain those two rules, and I read them. Then I printed them and read them again. Then I put them on my Google Drive so I could read them anytime, and before I was tempted to ask Lisa any question that might provoke "That Look". We all were, and you will be politely asked to read the rules before you ask a question, that is answered by the rules. Frequent transgressors of this guideline are a small list of people. Make it an ambition to not be on that list! My questions are, of course, extremely important to me. In fact, little is more important at that time ... but there are over 100 of me, and only one Lisa. You will be invited to join a private forum where people line up to answer all the questions you have. When we reached an impasse, one brave soul volunteered to ask Lisa. It seemed to work quite well and playing in the forum was fun. The way I approached this was just my way. It worked for me. If it works for you then great, but we all need to do some things in our own way.
While all of this is going on, I dreamed. We all dream, it's the human condition. We dream of glory, of medals, of finishing. Whatever our ambitions are, we dream of their fulfillment. My advice to anyone foolhardy enough to try this event is simple ... Do not let your dreams become your ambition. When your dreams are allowed to take charge of your rational thinking, they will, or at least can, become an obstacle to the clear decision-making that will get you to a finish. Another truth I learned is simply that the IBR is not a test of your riding. We can all ride motorcycles well, were that not the case we wouldn't be here at all. No, the IBR is a test of your decision-making ability under extreme pressure. Make the right call and you pass Go and collect $200. Make the wrong call and your ride might not be retrievable. Seriously, the margin between achieving a realistic objective, and failing to achieve it, is paper thin. You will walk that fine line every day for eleven days. I have concluded that the word "Tough" in the motto "The World's Toughest Riders", is very much a mental, not a physical thing. It's not enough to be able to safely pilot a bike for the duration, you have to do that while keeping alive your mental processing skills. In the end it could be a seemingly inconsequential decision, at a critical moment, that makes or breaks a ride. There are no inconsequential decisions. All of your decisions have some consequences. Get enough right and you are golden.
Eventually I found myself standing in the parking lot of the Marriott West, Minneapolis, amid a sea of motorcycles. Every one of them looked nicer, better prepared and ready for action, than mine ... or at least it looked that way. That was the first reality check. Any lingering ambitions I may have had were reduce to "let's just get through this in one piece". Everyone else looked like they had arrived prepared to do business, and they were loaded for bear! I scurried off to find friends, because some of these guys were scary. It's worth noting here that I probably looked to them, much as they looked to me. Hold on to that. You are prepared. You got this!
Jerry White was making a nuisance of himself with a video camera:
The three days of "hurry up and wait" are a mixture of social time with old friends, making new ones and getting processed. On Saturday Lisa had arranged what I think she called a "Meet and Greet". This comprised of lots of checking stations where bits of paperwork and other stuff were done. Yeah, we weren't fooled, it was lines. So the staff have to process over 100 riders, some with partners and one family group. This can't be done quickly and I found it best simply to do it, smile and chat with those around me. Try not to take three goes at the odometer check because that takes up time and gives cruel people something amusing to write about. If it does take three attempts, don't sweat it. No one really minds. I had a preliminary look at the course then went back to the hotel for another go. About 30 riders were careful enough to take this wise approach. Measure twice, cut once.
Then came a blur of Rider Meetings and the Start Banquet. By this time I was allowing myself to be swept along by events, but when Mike stood up to start the business meeting, it was all business and I was paying attention. This is why we were here. Now is where we find out what we have to do. Eighteen months of planning, and the 2017 Iron Butt Rally just started.
Okay, Leg 1. Make strings, multiply the 3rd bonus, get to Dallas in 58 hours. Got it. Don't mess up the Call-In bonus people will laugh.
I'm not completely up to date with merging text or .csv files and that's a skill I will have well developed if I am granted a second chance. So after a bunch of manual data entry I could start planning. Also, neither BaseCamp or the GPS copes well with five themes, at three points levels with other qualifiers such as "Daylight Only". This is fixable as both BC and the Garmin Montana will accept custom waypoint symbols. Before the next rally season I will have developed some, as Jeff Earls (Route Master) is not the only one who has taken to designing puzzles. Nonetheless, It was done and a modest route with about 50% over minimum points was quickly found. I knew where the big points were, (New York for anyone paying attention) and I wasn't going there, not this time. GPS loaded and I managed an early night.
The excitement was palpable next morning. About two hours of faffing around in the parking lot saw odo's checked and all the bikes lined up ready to go. Warchild was going to do his thing, and the Boge family were leading us all out through a fiendish slalom after a lap of honor. Concentrate, watch for the signal, don't drop your bike. Well I didn't ... drop my bike. Not until Mark Crane decided that there was not enough excitement and dropped his bike on me ... just as Dale raised a "one minute to go" finger. Moments later he looked fit to raise that same finger somewhere painful up Mark's anatomy but the issue was quickly resolved and all was well. We set a new standard here. The famous "Higdon Three-Veiner" was supplanted by the Five Veins of Warchild.
Then we were off and thousands of watchers of the Spot page finally saw moving motorcycles. Two or three minutes through a bunch of closed intersections, and I was on the Interstate heading for my first IBR bonus location. It was one of three that formed a string including the first Group Photo and a large mosquito just North of Winnipeg. It felt good to be moving. This is why I was here, the point of all the preparation. The Rally had started and finally we were riding. I was looking at a modest route for around 15k points. Easily doable and a solid start.
Ninety miles later I score my first bonus. In every rally that is always a relief, in this one even more so. Everything about this rally is "even more so". Never fall into the trap of thinking that the IBR is "just another rally, but longer". If you do that, the reality of the size and scope of this event could be overwhelming.
Back on the bike and arrive in good time for the Group Photo. Helmet can come off and you can chat about the start with friends as there is about a 45 minute wait.
At my first gas stop I needed to use the restroom. Not an uncommon experience but with the layers of clothing we wear it can be quite a process just finding the required part of the anatomy. Mario Winkleman (LDComfort) makes great underwear, and we use his stuff almost exclusively. The LD Pants are perfectly designed for the required groping around .... unless you are Steve and have them on back-to-front. No, don't laugh, it's not funny. The effort required to change them around is significant, so they remained that way for the duration of the 1st Leg. It is a tribute to Mario that they are perfectly comfortable like that, even if scratching your butt becomes easier than pee-ing. Knowing what I know now, I had a good 1st Leg. Maybe I should have left them that way!
Now it was time to head into Canada for a bonus worth over 900 points, that would be doubled if we did it correctly. I was completely unconcerned about my passage into Canada, but I had serious concerns about returning to the United States five hours later. In the event the Canadian border guard was nice. He asked me if there was an event that he should know about because I was the third person who had mentioned a giant mosquito. At times like this I find it useful to be friendly and offer a brief explanation. He wanted to chat for a couple of minutes, and that should make it a bit easier for any riders following me through. Time well spent in my humble opinion.
Travel through to the North side of Winnipeg was slow but easy. Photo location was indeed a mosquito in a pretty location, and I was soon heading South again. On track, on time. When I arrived at a different crossing point to enter the US I ran into the expected delay. It was a small outpost and I was there 30 minutes before closing time. The Officer was rude, unhelpful and I was clearly a problem child for arriving late and needing extra-processing. She demanded to know why I chose THAT crossing (I didn't, my GPS did). Where I had been and why, where I was going and why ... and by the way I need to search all your stuff and it's time for me to go home. It took about 30 minutes to endure that and then, as they always do, they let me in. She suggested I chose a different crossing next time, and I thought ... no lady, I'll chose yours and next time I'll arrive at 9.45pm.
Now was a drive to Denver via another string, before a third string would see me in Dallas in good time. The ride across the Dakotas and Wyoming should have been routine. The wind made it anything but. Rarely have I encountered wind of this ferocity, and it went on, and on, and on for hundreds of miles. As I crossed into South Dakota there was a large gust and I was left wondering where the hell my windshield had disappeared to. This wasn't good. I found the escaped item and replaced it. I thought maybe I hadn't tightened the screws down enough into the wellnuts that were all brand new (prep). So I tightened them down and carried on. A couple of hours later the screen went again. This time I saw what was happening, but the screen was hiding in some thick undergrowth and I had to hunt it down. The wind was hitting the broad top part of the screen and using the top bolts to lever the lower wellnuts right out of their housings. I replaced the two lower outer bolts with double cable ties and the problem went away.
The only sour note of the entire rally happened while I was doing this. I was parked at the side of the road, in a wild area, clearly in some kind of trouble. While I was there, another IBR rider swept past and didn't even slow down. I don't know who it was, and I don't want to know, but if it was you and you are reading this ... Dude, that is not the way we do this. Please don't do it again!
Okay, on to Denver and grab the two bonuses. One was on the outskirts, the other downtown. For a downtown bonus, the bear was easy to get to. A quick word about pictures. Unless stated otherwise, your Rally Flag and all of it's number must be clearly visible in all your pictures.
This picture will cause you heartbreak at the scoring table ...
... fortunately, this one will get you the points you crave.
Pay very close attention to picture quality. Once you leave a bonus you do not want to be getting bad news about points you worked very hard to get. The IBR almost always has far fewer stops per leg than most other rallies. You can take that extra minute to ensure a good picture, and accurate logging before you leave the location, with little impact on your overall plan. Fail to do this and there may well be tears. Clearly this is advice for novices like me. On my 1st Leg I had only ten pictures needed. If you are a novice and ten minutes compromises a fifty eight hour leg, then you may want to reconsider your plan.
After Denver, a quick hop down to Limon, CO found me holed up in a comfortable EconoLodge for an eight hour rest bonus, and seven hours of sleep ... or so I thought. At eight am I got a phone call that woke me up. On the other end of the phone was Jodie, my wife, wanting to know if I was planning on doing any riding today. Oh hell! I had woken at five am, as planned then I seem to have switched off the alarm instead of the single "snooze" I like, and gone back to sleep for a ten hour rest bonus. This was not good and it now meant a rush to be in Dallas on time instead of a leisurely ride collecting three bonuses on the way. I have no explanation for this. I have never done it before. I have never failed to set two alarms before either. Was the stress of all that riding in the wind a contributing factor? Maybe. Was my failure to take my own advice about proper sleep on night one a factor? Probably. Two mistakes on the 1st Leg that were now going to combine to compromise the 2nd Leg, and there was no one, and nothing to blame except me. Thank heavens Jodie woke me up. It remained a fairly routine ride to Dallas, but now I have lost maybe 1500 points and have put myself under wholly needless pressure. It's the little things. You have to watch the little things because they are actually monsters waiting to eat your ass for the breakfast I now didn't have time for.
It's still a decent ride in. I am expecting to be at the Checkpoint by 7 pm, a good hour before it opens. I have lost some points, but it's a long rally. Then, on I-70 I moved out to pass a truck and the front of the bike starts to wander ... Hmm! It shouldn't be doing that and there is usually only one culprit. The tire pressure monitor calmly informs me there is only 14 lbs of pressure in the rear tire. That took 45 minutes to resolve and may have involved some swearing. The guy who stopped to help, and the two Kansas State Troopers who set up a secure zone around the bike deserve many thanks. Thanks guys. Time was now tight. I made the Checkpoint with a few minutes to spare, and that was not in my plan. I was tired, hungry and thirsty and I brought nearly all of that on myself. Food and drink helped enormously. I was scored efficiently by Brian Roberts who granted all the points I asked for ... Then I went to bed. I was in bed and asleep by ten, which at least limited the damage.
Up and about in good time for the 4.00 am Rider's Meeting. There we learn the metric for the next leg, and have the points emailed to us. So it's a bit more data entry and then a quest for a route. Now as well as distance, I like to look at riding hours for a route I put into BaseCamp. It has the benefit of 20 rallies and other rides and I find the timings are generally accurate, even a little conservative. I looked for a big anchor bonus that I could build a string to, and found one in Key West. Traditionally, and notwithstanding Josh Mountain, Key West has always been a bit of a sucker bonus in the IBR, but Jeff Earls planned this one brilliantly, and Jeff is a sick, sick man. It would be just like him to make Key West perfectly doable, and put big points there. He had already overturned convention by introducing multipliers to the IBR, intorducing Key West as a rational choice would be logical.
BaseCamp gave me a riding time estimate of a straight shot to KW and back, collecting the required bonuses on the way in and one on the way out, of 43 hours 50 minutes, in a 64-hour Leg. That's not even a tough ask. It's 20 hours off the bike, almost a third of the Leg, and there should be time to build another string(s) on the run back. Even without that there were 19000 points on the plan with a guide requirement of 15k. Bring that home with nothing else and I go into the 3rd Leg at least 8000 up on whatever is required to be a finisher. I was out of the hotel and on my way at 7.20 am. There was a very large number of motorcycles still in the parking lot when I pulled out. I had noted some likely rain on I-10, but nothing severe, and not really anything to be overly concerned about. Oh boy did I get that wrong!
There were two bonuses fairly close together in Pensacola. Both worked for my string and the first was 700 miles from the Checkpoint. All went smoothly until the approach to New Orleans. When the rain came, it was Biblical. I swear, there were guys building boats at the side of the road, and animals lining up to climb aboard. By now there wasn't much of an option but to go cautiously and hope that it was manageable. Well it was manageable, for the most part, but only by reducing speed to a crawl. The clock, on the other hand, refused to crawl along with me and it kept up its own relentless pace. Fifty miles per hour when you should be pushing closer to eighty, for 300 miles, has a way of unraveling even the best laid plans. The rain didn't even begin to clear until the North side of Mobile. There was one period where I was getting ankle-deep water running across I-10, visibility was down to maybe 50 feet and cloud to ground lightning was hitting both sides of the road. If I said I wasn't scared I would be lying. There is really no option at that point. The road isn't safe, so get off the road. I left the Interstate and took refuge at a gas station for about an hour.
By now I was concerned that my first bonus was the only daylight bonus in my string, and it was getting later and the storms were making it harder to see. I called Lisa for a clarification on the "Daylight" rules. I thought I knew, and I was correct, but it was a call worth making. We chatted about the weather for a moment, which was still being brutal. I was still quite enjoying myself once the fear had subsided. It's the IBR. What is an Iron Butt Rally without this kind of extreme?
The next bit is where I made the mistakes.
I collected the two bonuses in decent light. The rain had eased a lot and the pace could be picked up. I rode to Jax and turned South on I-95. Just South of Jax I stopped to take a break. My instinct was that I was now riding a seriously compromised route. I sent a text to another rider simply saying that I was thinking of abandoning Key West and looking for something else. That got the ever-so-sympathetic "Why would you want to do that?" response. Gotta love your friends. Well I wanted to look elsewhere because I was becoming concerned that I needed rest. The ride so far had been exhausting, and I was beginning to worry about timings. So I looked for alternates and found none. I was now out of position for other decent anchors and I could still get more points riding to Miami than I could get elsewhere. I should have rested for longer, but I was still in decent shape for a good, long sleep later. I'm pretty sure my thinking wasn't quite as clear as it should have been, and I think there were two contributing factors. The storms were clearly the most of it, but I also later discovered that I had not entered the route correctly into the Montana, and it was showing at least 170 miles fewer to ride than I actually had. So I was under the impression that I had more time than in reality. If I had been able to ride the original plan, that routing error would have been a minor thing. As I said earlier, it's the little things. They are man traps with jaws of steel, just waiting to be stepped in because it was about to get worse.
I made my way down the Florida coast and collected the bonus I needed before heading into the Keys. Even at this point I could have rescued a decent ride had I skipped Key West and used the 1550 point bonus on Islamadora as my anchor. That would have saved me between five and six hours of riding in intense heat, allowed a great rest bonus and left me with an easy SaddleSore to the finish. I didn't take that option. My original plan had me arriving at the Keys well before breakfast. a round trip from Miami should have been maybe 5 hours, in modest temperatures and with little traffic. Instead I committed to a ride that became 8 hours of brutal temperatures and humidity, with solid traffic almost the whole way. Ice down the jacket is great, but it can only do so much. There is a lesson here for me, should there be another time, and for you if this is to be your first attempt.
Listen to yourself. Listen carefully and check thoroughly before you blithely ignore the inner warnings you are being given. Even as I entered the Keys I could have rescued my ride. What I didn't find out until later was that by the time I reached Key West, I was past the point where I had the reserves to save it, even though the distances would normally have been doable. You cannot finish the Iron Butt Rally if you miss a checkpoint. It's the cardinal rule (along with wearing a helmet and being polite). Do not, ever, miss a checkpoint. Miss one, and all the high-point goodness of Leg 3 is now only available to the other guys and gals.
As I turned for home, from Key West High School, I had the required photograph but I was feeling very uneasy that I had missed something important.
Here I am going to insert a Facebook post I made. Most of you have read it but it belongs here. I think it explains things very well. I tidied up the grammar a bit, but it is verbatim. I said a couple of things in that post that might lead some to think I was blaming equipment for my failure. I was not, and I do not. In the end, the tools we use, imperfectly or otherwise are just that, tools. There is only one person making the decisions and in this case that was me, the rider. I made some poor decisions at critical times and the only way I will learn from that, and hopefully help others learn, is by accepting the responsibility, and owning it:
I want to explain something to those who enjoy this event but have yet to participate. This is in response to the discussions about how to approach, or not approach riders.
As many of you are aware, I failed to make Checkpoint 2 and have had a two day ride home to reflect on that. To fully appreciate what goes through a rider's mind I am going to tell you about the moment I realized that I couldn't make it.
I was in Marathon Key, Fl, when I became suspicious that my GPS had been lying to me. I was at a point where I had spent nearly 8 hours in 100+F temps and stop-go traffic fighting my way to Key West High School. Now I was riding out.
The GPS had been tellling me that when I got back to Miami I would have approximately 1000 miles to the Checkpoint, and plenty of time to get there. I had yet to take a long rest stop, but I had time for that too. So I was looking forward to six hours of sleep then an easy SaddlSore back.
I pulled into a gas station and dragged out the laptop to cross check the Montana. BaseCamp politely informed me that it was not 1000 miles, it was 1460 miles, and I had 25 hours to get there.
I was utterly crushed. I needed sleep and I thought I had time. I was now faced with a BBG back to Dallas and I knew it couldn't be done. I called my wife and told her. She burst into tears on the phone, as did I on the garage forecourt.
One thousand seven hundred miles separated us, yet through those tears and that crushing disappointment I felt we were joined at the hip, and at the heart, and I hope to remain that way forever.
When I got off the phone I had a rethink. I fired up BaseCamp again and plotted the route. BC said it was a 19 hour run. Maybe, just maybe if I could get 4 hours of good sleep I could make it.
It's the Iron Butt Rally. I was not prepared to spend the next two years wondering "What if". I got a $170 room at the Holiday Inn Express next door and grabbed an ATM receipt "just in case". I slept solidly for 4 1/2 hours and woke up feeling refreshed, and ready to face the world, and a BBG.
I grabbed another ATM receipt "just in case".
When I left, the GPS was giving me an arrival time of 9.59 pm in Dallas. Someone had a sense of humor.
Over the next 200 miles that time crept down to 9.27 pm. I stopped for gas and only lost 4 minutes. This was on. If I could keep it up not only could I get there, but I could make it without penalty. I was still a long way out and I just knew a lot of folk were watching and wondering. They might not have known which rider it was, but they had my back.
400 miles in, and somewhere north of Tampa I hit the wall. Not the physical wall, but the one where your head says "Go" and your body says "Fuck You!"
I was getting all the signs that I needed to stop. The past 36 hours had taken a terrible toll and to stay on the road would have been irresponsible and dangerous. I had given all I could give, left everything on the road. There would be no need to wonder any more. The tank was empty. Stopping wasn't a hard decision, it was the only decision. I pulled into a Rest Stop and switched off the bike. This time it was the end, and I knew it. Again I called Jodie and had her hold off posting anything until I could call Lisa, which wasn't going to happen at 4.30 am.
A few hours later I did call, and as she can read a Spot page as well as anyone, she already knew. Lisa was all the great things you have heard about her. Kind, compassionate and supportive. It just made me feel worse but I thank her anyway.
This is a very tough thing we try to do. When we are doing it we could be feeling on top of the world, or we could be in the depths of despair. You have no way of knowing which, so by all means talk to people, but don't get in the way. Understand if they are a bit short, or a bit grumpy. We know you mean well, and generally we do appreciate your kindness and concern
Sorry that was long
Thanks.
So there you have it. A tale of glorious defeat. Eighteen months in the preparation, several years in the anticipation, and a missed checkpoint brought the wonderful adventure to an ignominious end. That said, here is the final lesson.
You have to know when to stop.
Throughout, I am pleased that the fundamental capacity to know when to stop riding, either for rest or to withdraw never left me. I might have delayed rest too long. Not too long that I was unsafe on the road, but too long to retain the capacity to finish an eleven day event. When you teach your kids to drive, the first thing you show them is how to make the vehicle stop ... making it go comes after that.
Lisa carries a red folder tucked under her arm for the entire time we are out riding. In that folder is the emergency contact information for every rider. When we crash, the cops are spared the awful phone calls, because Lisa makes them. I plead with you all not to make her open that folder. Let the single most useless information you give her, be your emergency contact info. Let her carry that deadweight around, unopened and un-needed.
Which brings me to the Staffing of this event.
Jeff told us that 30 volunteers scouted bonuses. Many others were involved in preparatory work. Technical details, registration, scoring, etc ... all work undertaken by volunteers who give up their time so that we may enjoy our vacation. There are no words that can thank them enough. And while we are on it, let's also take a moment to remember all the volunteers who verify your certificate rides, and perform other services that fly below the radar of the thing we call the Iron Butt Association.
We owe them all a debt of gratitude, and a vote of thanks.
Lest anyone is in any doubt whatsoever, I thouroughly enjoyed my time in this event. It has taught me a great deal, and they are lessons I am determined to take on board. I dunno about "World's Toughest Riders", but whatever that means to you, I will be tougher should I be graced with an opportunity to resolve the "Unfinished Business".