Prologue:
Since
sometime last winter, the Minnesota LD Riders group had been planning
a group run from the Canadian Border to the Mexican Border to earn the
record for the largest group to complete the Iron Butt Association's
Border to Border ride. The ride was scheduled to start in Morris, Manitoba,
and end in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico - about 1650. Finishing in under 36
hours was required to gain B2B certification. 24 hours gained you B2B
Insanity certification.Team Newbie (Ron and Carrie Hanson, myself, and
now Paul Sundet) was going to try for 24 of course. I outfitted my bike
with a 4 gallon fuel cell, XM radio, heated grips and a new CB in preparation
for the ride. I was ready to go. In addition, Lisa was going to fly
down to Austin and meet up with me on the way back, where we could stay
with my aunt Diane and uncle Mark for a few days of vacation.
I left
for Morris at about 8 am on Thursday, stopping to have lunch with a
friend in Fargo. It was a cold ride, never going much above 50 degrees.
I was starting to rethink not having heated clothes (this comes back
to haunt me later…) I reached the Canadian border at Emerson about 3:30.
Of course just my luck - I get pulled off for a random search. Never
mind that the border guys knew exactly what I was there for, since 40
other bikes had already gone through that day with fuel cells and luggage.
Oh well, they were just doing their jobs, and the inspectors were pretty
cool, joking with me and stuff.
After
that it was on to Morris. I had stopped at Pembina, ND to get out my
passport etc., and the bike started really hard, like it was flooded.
Hmm - wonder what that's about. Same thing happened at the border, and
when I filled up with gas in Morris, a lot of gray smoke popped out
of the tailpipe. That's not good. When I got to the motel I noticed
a small amount of gas dripping out of the air filter box. Arrgh! I didn't
need this! Norm Grills, a long distance veteran, came over to lend some
advice. He thought it was probably something stuck in one of the carbs.
I started the bike again, and it ran fine, so whatever it was must have
cleared itself out. I felt somewhat relieved at that point and we figured
that it would probably be okay.
It's
always fun to look at all the bikes decked out in rally mode for these
things, and this was no exception. There were about 80 riders in the
rally with bikes ranging from a little Honda Shadow to the biggest Goldwings
and even a Victory, all with fuel cells and GPS systems and lots of
other doodads. I think there were three other Concours' in the rally.
After the milling around, we all went to dinner, and then to bed, to
prepare for the next day.
Five-sixths
and a DNF:
We
got up around 4:30 as we had to be at the border to sign out around
5:30. It was COLD out. Around 38 degrees (though it was supposed to
be 26, so I guess that 38 is a slight blessing). Oh well, I figured
it would warm up eventually - we were going south after all. Boy was
I wrong.
Our
sign out time was 5:31 am. I made note that my mileage was 17666. (666
- THAT can't be good…) and we were off. Our first fuel stop was Sisseton,
SD and we were making great time through the Dakotas. The weather was
clear, though still a little cold. I wasn't feeling too bad - the heated
grips helped, but not having heated clothes made it a little rough.Our
second fuel stop was Onawa, IA. It had started to cloud up at that point,
and we lost Paul coming out of the gas station there - his VFR is chain
drive, so I think he had to oil his chain. Ron and Carrie and I continued
on toward the Kansas turnpike, winding through a stretch of two lane
in Nebraska - the only non-interstate on the route.
We
had all signed up for K-tags, so we could zip right through the toll
plazas on the KS Turnpike. When we got to the entrance around Topeka,
while looking for the K-tag lane, Ron and Carrie took a wrong turn,
and ended up going in the wrong direction. Ron got on the CB and told
me to take a right, and I went on in the right direction, alone. The
next fuel stop was the service plaza at Emporia, KS. About 15 miles
before that, it started to rain pretty hard, and it was pouring when
I hit Emporia. I filled both tanks, and was going to go inside to pee,
when an idiot in an RV pulls up wanting me to move the bike so he can
fill up. Doesn't this assclown see that it's pouring rain out, and I'm
on a motorcycle? I move the bike out in the rain and go inside to take
care of natures call, and to put on my "waterproof" gloves. When I got
out, Paul was at the gas pump filling up - he had caught up, so I decided
to wait for him to finish before I left. A few minutes later we were
pulling out when Ron and Carrie pulled in. We figured they'd catch up
eventually.
Paul
and I continued on, and the rain kept coming. It cleared up for about
15 minutes near Wichita (resulting in a really great rainbow), but then
we were delayed by a big accident that took the interstate down to one
lane. Of course as soon as we passed that, it started pouring again.
We reached the KS-Oklahoma border, and neither of our K-tags worked
at the toll plaza. We had to wheel the bikes around to a screaming attendant
who I think thought we were trying to skip the toll.
About
ten minutes later, Ron and Carrie caught up to us and the weather started
to get worse. Over every hill, it got darker and darker. The weather
channel on XM was talking about severe storms with high winds and hail
near Dallas. Not good, since we were supposed to be in the area in about
two hours. Finally the rain was coming down in sheets, and there was
lightning everywhere, so we pulled off the road near Oklahoma City.
I was soaking wet and miserably cold when we went to eat at an IHOP,
and we had to ride through about 2-3 inches of water to get back to
our hotel. This was bad. Water had seeped into my "waterproof" boots,
my "waterproof" gloves, and through my jacket. At least everything in
my saddlebags was dry, and the hotel had laundry, so we could dry our
other things, so that was a plus.
At
this point, I started to do the math and realized that if we left as
planned at around 6 am to make it to the border in around 35 hours total,
I wouldn't get back to Austin until 11 pm or so if I could even make
it at all that night. I didn't feel right about not seeing Lisa and
Diane and Mark when I was supposed to, since Lisa flew all that way,
and I don't see Diane and Mark very often. I called Lisa and told her
I was probably going to bail on the Border to Border and stop in Austin.
We
left at 6 am and the weather was still drizzling and cold - around 50
degrees. My jacket and pants were still wet, and once again, with no
heated clothes, I was miserable. Traffic in Texas was a nightmare from
Dallas-Ft. Worth southward, with lots of trucks and idiots who don't
signal. I dropped back from the other three, as I couldn't keep up their
speeds, and I stopped about 30 miles out of Austin to call Lisa and
tell her where I was. Then I had to call the LD Riders number to tell
them I was going to be a DNF (did not finish). That was a tough call
to make only four hours from the border. I sat down on the curb at the
gas station with my head in my hands - I was completely physically and
mentally spent at this point, and probably had a touch of hypothermia.
I got to the house in Austin about an hour later after getting lost
once and dealing with some weird wind gusts, traffic and road construction
- just what I needed at that point. I was done, 5/6 of the way to the
end. The others made it with about an hour and a half to spare - good
job guys!
Wheels
start turning:
Austin
was great - it's a really cool city, and we had a fun time, boating,
drinking beer, eating BBQ and Mexican food, and just generally relaxing.
But I was really unhappy that all the time and money I spent preparing
for the ride was essentially wasted, since I wouldn't get my Border
to Border certification.
I
had planned on doing a Bun Burner 1500 home, through Arkansas, Tennessee
and Illinois, riding up the Mississippi River valley. I started to think
about another plan instead. I was still only 300 miles from the Mexican
border - what if I did the ride from south to north? I made a few calls,
and talked to Lisa about my plans. She understood how important this
was to me (thanks Lisa!), so I made plans to go to Laredo Monday night
and leave Tuesday morning for Canada.
Redemption!
The
more I thought about it, I didn't want to stay in Laredo, and I probably
wouldn't have been able to sleep well anyway, so I decided to start
my ride in the middle of the day. I had Lisa and Diane sign my IBA witness
form, and at 11 am, I left for the border. About 20 miles from Laredo,
my XM radio quit on me. The antenna jack shorted out. That was fine,
since there was a recall on it anyway, and I was sending it back for
replacement when I got home. But what to do for the ride - I didn't
want to go for 30 hours just listening to NOAA weather radio and truckers
telling dirty stories. I had a hunch that proved correct - that I could
get a new XM radio at a truck stop since XM is big among truckers. Sure
enough, the Pilot truck stop just north of Laredo stocked XM Roadys.
I just called to have the new radio added to my account, and I was off
to the border.
I had
talked to Ron the day before to tell him what I was doing, and he gave
me some good instructions as to where to go to cross the border and
get out quick. No need to drive in Mexico any more than I have to! I
followed the signs to International Bridge 2, paid my toll, got the
receipt and crossed the bridge. Mexican customs pulled me over (what,
do I look like a criminal - I'm a customs agent magnet!) They asked
me the usual questions, and let me go right away.
I had
to take a left, go two blocks, and take another left, and then I came
to the toll booth to enter into the US. This was important, because
this was the receipt that proved I'd entered Mexico, and signified my
start time. Start time was 3:35 pm. I then got in line for US Customs.
The line was really long with about eight lanes of cars about 15 deep
in each lane. It was really hot too, as the thermometer on my bike read
116 degrees (it was probably around 95 - the thermometer is right under
my windshield). A hispanic guy on a Shadow with Nebraska plates was
lane splitting to the front, but I didn't dare with the saddlebags on,
so I sat. The temperature gauge on the bike kept rising. No big deal
- it always goes up like that in traffic in heat. I kept looking at
it though, and it kept going up, into the red zone. Uh oh - it never
did THAT before - I was getting nervous. Some guys in an old pickup
were joking "aren't you hot with all that stuff on?" Yeah, but it was
better than how I felt on the way down. Then a Mexican guy in a station
wagon yells over "Hey buddy, you're losing water!" I look back to see
coolant spewing out the overflow tube.
Oh
shit! This is REALLY bad now. I was still about six cars back from the
customs booth. I didn't want to turn off the bike, for fear that it
wouldn't start again. I creeped over the line on the bridge that signified
the border - at least now I was technically on US soil if I broke down.
Finally some nice people let me cut in front of the line, and I pulled
up to customs.
Customs
guy: "Where are you going?"
Me: "Canada"
Customs guy: "How long have you been in Mexico?"
Me: "About ten minutes - to get a toll receipt, and I'm overheating.
I need to get somewhere quick!"
Customs guy: "What's in the bags?"
Me (frantic now): "clothes in the left, tools in the right!"
Customs guy: "What's that thing?"
Me: "Auxiliary fuel tank - can I go?"
Customs guy: "You're leaking coolant." (no shit Sherlock - I told you
that before!)
Me: "I know - I need to get out of this line"
Customs guy: "Go ahead then."
I pulled
into a gas station a couple blocks away to assess the situation. No
more leak when I shut the bike off, so it must have just boiled out
of the overflow. At least I hadn't blown a radiator hose, which was
my main fear. I got on I-35, and the bike cooled down to normal, so
everything seemed okay. I was on my way!
Because
of the heat, I wasn't using my fuel cell. In that kind of heat the fuel
will expand and go out the vent hose (which I learned the day before
the trip when it hit 95 back home). Plus riding alone and starting at
an odd time, I knew I'd need to stop more often. I wasn't planning to
go for 24 hours, as I was already behind for that. I'd just take it
at my own leisurely pace.
The
weather was great and I cruised through with stops in San Antonio and
Waco for gas. My third stop was Denton, TX (home of the famous and tragic
Von Erich family of pro wrestling fame) where I noticed something pouring
all over the ground under my bike. NOW what could it be? Turns out it
was just water from my Camelback which I'd nudged open when I pulled
up to the gas pump. I put on some warmer clothes and took off.
I was
really starting to get tired when I hit Pauls Valley, OK, and I was
considering getting a cheap room for a few hours sleep. I was afraid
I wouldn't wake up early enough though, so I pulled into a Denny's and
decided to eat instead. I was the only one there, so it didn't take
long to get breakfast, and I was on my way again, feeling a lot better.
I
stopped for gas at the same exit we stopped at on the way down in the
storm, and kept going. I started to see animals in the ditch - mostly
fox and raccoons, but still, I didn't want to impale myself on a deer
like Eddie James did on the Iron Butt, so I stopped in northern OK around
4:30 am for a little sleep at the Iron Butt motel. I got out the Screaming
Meanie to set it for 40 minutes. Nuts - the battery is dead. I went
into the store to get a new one, set the timer, and laid down on the
curb to sleep, 40 minutes later, I woke up just as all the truckers
who were sleeping there were also leaving. It's amazing what 40 minutes
of sleep will do.
The
sun was now coming up as I hit the KS Turnpike (stupid K-tag still didn't
work). I stopped at a service plaza for gas and food and called home
as it was about 7 am now.) It started to rain a little on the Kansas-Nebraska
border, and my contacts were bothering me. I bought some eye drops for
the outrageous sum of $7.00 at a store next to a casino. I stopped again
for gas on the Iowa - Nebraska border, where it had just rained enough
to make the roads slick. That's always nice… I continued on through
Council Bluffs - Omaha (there's more casinos there than Vegas!) and
Sioux City (the worst smelling place on earth, with a rendering plant
right next to the freeway) before stopping at a rest stop to change
my contacts as my eyes were killing me.
My
next gas stop was Elk Point, SD, just over the border with Iowa. This
was the only place without pay at the pump, so I had to go in to get
a receipt. Nuts - the time was wrong on the receipt. That's no good.
Fortunately, my credit card carbon had the correct time - I'll just
use that. It was here that I decided to fill the fuel cell again. Gas
is kind of sparse along I-29 in the Dakotas - best not to run out. The
wind was really bad in South Dakota north of Sioux Falls, and I took
a short break at a rest stop before stopping at Hankinson, ND for my
final gas stop. I called Ron from there to see if I had to go back to
Morris (Carrie left her purse there) - he said no, and off I went, straight
through for 215 miles to the border.
I reached
Canadian customs approximately 8:50 pm, 29 hours and 15 minutes from
the time I paid my toll in Nuevo Laredo. I had no witness though, and
was hoping the duty free shop in Emerson was open. I pulled up to the
customs window again and got the usual round of questions. I was the
only person at the border:
Customs
guy: "ID please - how long will you be in Canada?"
Me: "Hopefully not more than an hour - I just need to get my form signed
and get a receipt to prove I crossed both the Canadian and Mexican border
for a motorcycling award."
Customs guy: "An award hmm? Sounds important. Pull over under that canopy
and come inside. I'll get an immigration officer to help you." Me: "You'd
do that - thanks!"
I
went inside and met with the officer and explained my need, saying that
as a government official, he probably had better things to do than help
me, but that the guy at the window said he might be able to help. He
couldn't have been nicer. He asked me a few simple questions, and filled
out my form, complete with badge number and offical customs stamp. He
even stamped my passport, which rarely happens when going to Canada.
The kindness of the Canadian immigration people really lifted my spirits
after being on the road for 35 hours (counting the time from Austin
to Laredo).
I then
went to the duty-free shop to buy a Canadian Flag decal and a bottle
of water to get my receipt. The duty free people were quite amused with
me. I just stood there alone in the parking lot after that staring up
at the sky. It took a lot longer overall, but I finished my border to
border ride. US Customs thought I was weird (they pretty much knew I
was from the original group). I explained about the weather etc. They
just let me go without anything else, after which I rode back to Grand
Forks, found a hotel, showered and slept.
Two
days later, I still can't believe I did it. I sat up last night filling
out my IBA logs and forms and mailed them out today. The B2B is one
of the rarer IBA sanctioned rides - few people attempt it. I'd already
done a SaddleSore 1000 and a Bun Burner Gold 1500, but I'm most proud
of this one because of what let up to it and how I pushed myself to
do it after I didn't think I could. Most people think distance endurance
riding is nuts, but the sense of accomplishment when you finish is like
nothing else. Why do something so crazy? Why not? What did you do last
weekend?
Time:
29:15
Miles (odometer): 1685
Miles (GPS): 1643
Moving average speed: 69.4 mph (GPS)
Total average speed: 56.17 mph (GPS)
