The
prologue:
Last winter, we received word that Team Strange was going
to put on a fourth Butt Lite rally. The Butt Lite is just
as it sounds, a "lite" version of the famed Iron Butt Rally.
Instead of the IBR's 11 day, 11,000 mile format, the BL
is a 7-day, 7000 mile format. After clearing it with my
wife and work (in that order), I sent in my application.
For
many of us in the distance riding community, this is as
close to the IBR as we'll ever get, since the IBR has a
complex drawing system to get in and only 75 or so get in
from over 1000 applications. There were 75 spots in the
BL, and it was a first-come, first-serve, basis, so by getting
my payment in early, I was guaranteed a spot.
I spent
the next several months getting the bike ready, including
a new auxiliary fuel tank, and the usual maintenance needed
for the bike. I did a warm-up ride in July, doing a 1000
mile, 18 hour loop of Wisconsin. I was ready, or as ready
as I was going to be. On a lot of my distance rides, I've
ridden with my friends and neighbors, Ron and Carrie Hanson.
The three of us had designated ourselves "Team Newbie" several
years ago, and decided to use it again, seeing as this would
the first multi-day rally for all of us, and we agreed to
ride together.
Team
Strange didn't release any of the route information in advance,
except to announce the start as being in Niobrara, NE, home
of legendary distance rider Arlene Liska, and the site of
many Team Strange events. We left home the Sunday before
the rally, which was to begin on Tuesday. After a quick
stop at Zanz in Mankato for Chilitos to kiss up to the rallymasters,
we arrived in Niobrara. There were a lot of pre-rally meetings
and formalities, including photos, legal matters to attend
to, tech inspection, and the pre-rally banquet.
At the
banquet, they handed out one of the rally bonus sheets,
including the location of the first checkpoint - Tombstone,
AZ. We were required to check in at Tombstone on Thursday
night, where a hotel room paid for from our rally fee would
be waiting. The first sheet included large bonuses in Gerlach,
NV, a location in the Black Rock desert well-known to distance
riders, and Boise, ID, as well as stops in Winslow, AZ (from
the Eagles song "Take it Easy) and the Grand Canyon. We
plotted a preliminary route and went to bed.
Day
one:
The next morning, we woke to a pouring rainstorm - did they
plan this? We arrived at the Two Rivers Saloon in Niobrara
for the final meeting before the rally start. At that point
they handed out three more bonus sheets. After looking over
the new sheets, and plotting routes, we realized that the
best route was the one from the night before - Gerlach,
NV. I was kind of disappointed, because one bonus on one
of the new route sheets was aimed towards me personally.
Eddie James, one of the rallymasters knew I was a big Beach
Boys fan, as is he, and one of the bonuses was the drive-in
in Hawthorne, CA, where Brian Wilson was inspired to write
"Fun Fun Fun." I'd have loved to go there, but we felt the
LA route would be a time-eater, so Gerlach it was.
We left
as the rain was subsiding, and headed to the first bonus,
which involved getting a stamp on our route sheet from Team
Strange staffer Keith Collins at a park in Springview, NE.
Our friend Paul Sundet had also decided to ride with us,
making it a four-some. The next stop was a lighthouse near
Scotts Bluff, NE. I'm not sure why there's a lighthouse
there, but we took our photos and went on our way.
Initially,
we'd thought that Boise would be too far out of the way,
but on the road, we started plotting the possibility of
going there - all that was needed was a gas receipt from
Boise. We decided to go for it, and turned north when we
got to the Utah border with Wyoming. After our fuel stop
in Twin Falls, ID, the wind picked up, which resulted in
an odd, and at first, scary, occurrence. If you've never
experienced hundreds of tumbleweeds rolling across the freeway,
late at night, while riding a motorcycle, it's an unreal
experience. All of us agreed that it wasn't unlike a video
game, trying to dodge them at freeway speeds. We quickly
realized that tumbleweeds don't actually weigh much, so
hitting one wasn't a hazard. One then lodged itself on my
crash bar, and rode with me all the way to Tombstone, AZ.
I kept it in my tank bag as good luck, and still have part
of it.
We rolled
into Boise late that night, got our fuel receipt for the
bonus, and then got a motel room for our rest bonus. Nothing
too interesting or fancy, we set our alarms for about 4
hours sleep, and off we went the next morning.
Day
two:
Day two was my favorite day of the entire trip. After leaving
Boise, we headed for SE Oregon on the way to Winnemucca,
NV. This part of Oregon was beautiful, riding in the high
desert in the early morning. The only drawback was the speed
limit was 55! Why so slow in an empty rural area? We didn't
push it, as I'd read before that this stretch of road was
notorious for speed traps. I can see why - compared to the
surrounding states with their 65, 70, and 75 mph speed limits,
55 was a snail's pace.
Soon
we crossed into Nevada with it's faster speeds, but then
we hit construction north of Winnemucca. Traffic was stopped
by a woman with a sign, as they were painting the road,
and only one lane was open. It was a 20 minute delay, so
we took that time to call home and check in. Oddly enough,
in rural northern Nevada, we all had excellent cell service,
unlike Niobrara, where you have to climb a hill and stand
on your head to get a signal. After the delay, we headed
for the freeway, where we stopped for gas. Gas stations
in Nevada, or at least the ones we hit, were a time killer
on an LD ride. All gas in NV is pre-pay, and pay at the
pump isn't as common as it is everywhere else. We stopped
at a large truck stop, only to be delayed while everyone
dropped credit cards at the desk to get them to turn on
the pumps. What a convoluted system.
After
that, we headed north to Gerlach (no way we were going to
take the overland Jungo Rd, which has taken down some of
the best distance riders). Gerlach is a remote small town
in the Black Rock Desert, legendary for being a stop on
almost every Iron Butt Rally, and the home of the IBA riders
memorial, which honors fallen distance riders. The bonus
was Bruno's Country Club, a bar, casino, motel, and store,
and just about the only business in town. We encountered
at least a dozen other BL riders coming in, going out, or
at Gerlach. It was clear that a lot of people took the same
route we did.
After
a short break, we headed south again, and took off through
the deserts of Northern NV on our way to Williams, AZ near
the Grand Canyon, by way of Las Vegas and Hoover Dam. This
was a beautiful ride through a very empty area of the US.
We passed a massive US Army arms storage area (which looked
like something out of the X files), and were stuck in yet
another 20 minute construction stop near Tonopah. After
a stop for gas and eye drops (my eyes were burning from
the dry heat) in Beatty, passing two legal brothels (one
of which was for sale!) we headed for Vegas. The temp was
still close to 100 degrees at 9:30 at night. I'd driven
in Vegas about 5-10 years ago, but it's just exploded since
then.
Traffic
was insane and the construction was confusing as could be.
We took a wrong turn and had to get off a block from the
Strip. If you've ever heard the Chris Rock bit where he
says "Dr. King was a great man, but if you ever find yourself
in a strange city on Martin Luther King Blvd….RUN - they
always put it in a bad part of town, you'll think it funny
that when I looked up at the intersection, the sign said
"ML King Blvd." It didn't look too bad, but the heat was
miserable. We made it back to the freeway, and headed for
Hoover Dam.
Since
9-11, I guess they've had to station security checkpoints
on the dam, and I wonder how long they're going to even
allow people to drive across it. The officer did question
my fuel cell, but it was no big deal (my guess is that he'd
seen a number of them already), and we passed quickly. We
stopped quickly for gas in Kingman, and headed for Williams.
It had dropped to 55 degrees at this point, and I was COLD.
I wanted nothing more than to get to the motel and sleep.
That would have been too easy.
When
we arrived in Williams, the police were at the motel. Six
cars worth. The place had been robbed about ten minutes
before, so we couldn't check in. Who robs a motel - nobody
pays cash for motels, at least not at major chains. Seemed
stupid to us, but good thing that the construction stopped
us, or we might have arrived at the wrong time. After a
short delay to take fingerprints from the desk, they let
us in. Only two more stops before Tombstone, making this
an easy day.
Day
three:
We got up early, but then Carrie's bike wouldn't start.
Not good. They told Paul and I to go ahead, so we headed
for the Grand Canyon. I'd never seen it, so I was looking
forward to going. We went up and took the required photo,
as well as a few more, and then went to Winslow to take
a picture of the statue "standing on the corner." We ran
into John Coons there, as well as a nasty gas station that
didn't have a working bathroom. Ron and Carrie showed up,
but couldn't talk because they couldn't shut off Carrie's
bike.
We
debated on how to get to Tombstone, and decided take the
freeway from Flagstaff to Phoenix to Tucson to Tombstone,
thinking it was the quickest way. A quick rain cooled us
off in the mountains, but then it got HOT. About 110 degrees
HOT. In heavy urban traffic. Uggh - who wants to live here?
At least we could skate through in the HOV lane. We stopped
earlier than needed for gas, just to cool off - the heat
was unbearable. After one last bonus at a monument outside
Tombstone, which resulted in a lot of riders dumping bikes
in the sand, we checked in at the first checkpoint, over
an hour before the checkpoint closed at 6 pm Pacific time.
(Arizona doesn't observe Daylight Saving Time).
After
checking in, eating, and sitting through a monsoon rain,
we received the route sheets for leg two. The destination…Atlanta,
GA. Wow! To make matters worse, is that to get to Atlanta,
you lose three hours in time zone changes. Yikes. We retired
to our rooms to plan leg two. There were two route options.
Both of them had a large bonus in Phoenix that opened at
9 am the next day, but Phoenix was several hours west. The
bonus was cool - you got to get your bike pinstriped by
a noted artist, Ed Kafka. It seemed to us though that going
in the opposite direction in morning rush hour would be
a time-eater though. The best thing to do would have been
to leave immediately that night, sleep in Phoenix, and wake
up close to the bonus location. The notion of leaving a
paid for room in Tombstone was too much for us - we stayed
and left early the next morning, heading east.
Day four:
The ride
through southern Arizona into New Mexico (what do you mean
Marge, there's a NEW Mexico?) was nice. I'd never been in
New Mexico, and it was a lot greener than I'd thought. We
headed for Alamogordo to buy some pistachios for a big bonus
(more on this later), but were delayed AGAIN on the road.
This time for a missile launch test on White Sands missile
range. We ran into some other BL riders there, as well as
a local motorcyclist whom we talked to for a while. The
launch was delayed however, and they let us through. Too
bad - for all that waiting, we could have at least seen
a launch!
After
getting the pistachios, we headed for a little town called
Yeso, which is in the middle of nowhere, to get a photo
of the post office. In a bit of a trick, the first thing
you see in this ghost town is a run down building that says
YESO POST OFFICE. We weren't fooled, and across the street
is the new post office building. Nobody appeared to live
in the town, so I doubt they get much mail.
After
Yeso, we headed north to Cadillac Ranch, near Amarillo.
This was cool for me, as I'm a huge Route 66 buff, and Cadillac
Ranch is an old 66 icon that I'd always wanted to see. We
hit some nasty wind and rain near the Texas-NM border, but
it passed and we hit Cadillac Ranch just before sunset.
I think we were the only people not to bring a can of spray
paint out there to graffiti the cars. On a side note (as
if this isn't long-winded enough), just past the Cadillac
Ranch is another Route 66 icon, the Big Texan steak house.
This is the place that serves the 72 oz. Steak, and if you
eat the whole thing, and the sides, it's free, and you get
a t-shirt. If you don't, you have to pay $80 or so. I've
always wanted to try it (hey rallymasters, make THIS a bonus!)
but not this time.
The
rest of the ride through Amarillo and Wichita Falls was
uneventful, and we pulled into Dallas that night for another
few hours of sleep. The long days were taking their toll
on me at this point.
Day
five:
We
left Dallas early and headed for Jasper to take a picture
of a small chapel. This part of the ride was difficult,
as it was all stoplights, two-lane and it was getting extremely
hot. We were losing time, and we needed to make Atlanta
by 4 am the next day. At this point we also realized we
mis-timed a bonus at Hot Coffee, MS that had a time limit.
This was a big point total, and we wanted to make it. The
GPS had us arriving over 30 minutes late and that's a lot
of time to make up.
We hit
the Louisiana border, and we had made up some time, but
it wasn't to be. On one of the worst paved roads any of
us had ever seen, with basketball-sized potholes and reverse
potholes, Carrie hit a bump and lost a saddlebag. I was
riding behind her, and watched it bounce into the ditch
like a football. To make things worse, it was in a makeshift
construction zone, so when I pulled over to what looked
like a hard packed shoulder, my bike fell over into the
sandy mush. I was pissed at this point. Paul and a passing
motorist helped me pick up the bike, which had a bent crash
bar (those things have saved my butt so many times…). It
was hot and miserable, and we were all really irritable.
We decided not to go for the Hot Coffee bonus.
Even
worse, when we stopped for gas next, we found out that Chevron
had cut off our pay at the pump privileges. It seems that
after three transactions a day, their bank makes you go
inside due to fraud concerns. Now we had to avoid Chevron
stations too. Things were not going well. The heat and humidity
were unbelievable - at least out west, 100+ degrees was
dry - this was like being in a steam room. You know it's
bad when you drink 9 quarts of water, two bottles of Gatorade
and a Diet Coke, and you don't have to pee all day. (I'm
not kidding either).
Our
next bonus was near Natchez, MS, where we had to photograph
a restaurant in the shape of Aunt Jemima. (it didn't look
that much like her), and we ran into Peter Behm, another
BL rider, there. I think my bike boiled over a bit there
when I had to make a quick U-turn, but all seemed okay.
After that, we had lost a lot of time on two-lane roads
and with the bag/bike dropping incident we had to decide
whether we wanted to pick up more points, or make it to
Atlanta and get a few hours sleep before check-in closed
at 6 am.
After
much discussion, we decided to get the sleep, so we'd be
more fresh to plan in the morning when other riders might
be more tired. We picked up one final bonus, about a mile
from the checkpoint, and went to the hotel. We checked into
the hotel and got up about 4 am, to head over to the checkpoint.
The second leg really took its toll on me and I was very
mentally fried when we got to the BMW dealership to check
in.
Most
of the riders were in at that point, many of them sleeping
on the floor of the dealership. We had to buy a t-shirt
at the dealership to get another bonus, which was fine,
and they had a nice spread of food for us as well. Did I
mention that I was mentally fried? For the first time in
a Team Strange event, I lost points at the scoring table,
and it was a big one. After almost losing ALL my points
for the leg, because I couldn't find my route sheet at the
scoring table - you have to turn in EVERYTHING they give
you when you get scored, otherwise you get no points. (it
was in my box with everything else, sitting right in front
of me when I sat at the table, so I did have it), I then
left my pistachios from Alamogordo back on the floor. While
I didn't lose all my points, I did lose 1377 points for
not turning in the pistachios. D'oh! That was a big hit,
both scoring-wise and mentally for me.
Soon
after, a couple of fellow Concours riders came up to me
to chat about my bike. The Connie has a pretty dedicated
following, though there aren't as many of them doing serious
endurance riding anymore, as new bikes like the FJR have
passed it by. I chatted for a while, but I apologize if
I seemed rude or disinterested. Days of little sleep and
food don't give one a cheery disposition. One of the guys
made the comment that the bike seemed to be missing on one
cylinder. I'd noticed it had been starting a bit rough,
but I didn't think much of it. This is what is known as
"foreshadowing."
Day
six:
After scoring was complete, Ron, Carrie and Paul were in
20th place, and I was in 28th. A lot of ground to be made
up. We received the final route sheet back to Niobrara and
went back to the hotel to plan. I had checked the day before
the mileage from Atlanta to Niobrara. The distance via the
shortest route according to the GPS, was about 1550 miles.
It seemed to me, that the best route planning would look
at that route, and then figure out how to zig-zag on and
off the route to pick up the maximum amount of points in
the shortest time. It would allow the most bail-outs in
case of problems, and leave time at the end if there were
bonuses near to, or past the finish checkpoint. In other
words, run an efficient route - something we didn't do on
leg 2.
I plotted
that route on the map, while Ron, Carrie and Paul entered
the points into the computer. The direct route I'd thought
of in my head ended up being the one we chose. The route,
if run perfectly, would net over 10,000 points for leg 3
alone. We packed up and went to pick up a few quick bonuses
around Atlanta. A receipt from a Waffle House, a receipt
from the Varsity Drive-in, and a picture of Stone Mountain,
and we headed north.
We stopped
in Nashville to pick up some BBQ sauce at Jacks. It was
torture to stop at a BBQ joint and not be able to stop and
eat, but we had to keep moving. A quick stop in Scale, KY
to record the mile marker in the town for more points, and
then to Metropolis, IL for a picture with Superman. (A drunken
local was volunteering to hold riders flags for them - Victor
Wanchena was only too glad to let her do it). At this point,
it was getting dark, and we had one more bonus before hitting
St. Louis for the night.The
last bonus for the day was in a tiny town called Reno, IL
to get a picture of a church sign. On the dark country road
out there, we came across a sidecar rig, driven by a guy
in a Hi-vis yellow Aerostich suit. It was Bart Bakker, picking
up the bonus as well. It's always cool to see other riders
at weird places at weird times.
Day
seven:
We got to our hotel just outside St. Louis really late that
night, scheduled for four hours sleep. When we woke up the
next morning, it was pouring rain. This put me in a really
foul mood. To make matters worse, when I went to put on
my riding pants, the zipper that runs all the way up the
right leg broke, along with any sense of sanity I had remaining.
I lost it at that point and threw a fit. I told the others
to go on without me, and that I'd see them at the finish.
I went back up to the room, called my wife Lisa, and slept
for three more hours. When I woke up, the rain had passed,
and I was in a much better mood. I still had to duct tape
my pants shut as best I could, but I was ready to ride.
I'd
been to the first bonus, Chain of Rocks bridge before, as
it's a famous Route 66 landmark. Unfortunately I didn't
read the bonus information correctly, and took the wrong
photo at first. Even worse, I was out of Polaroid film,
so I had to walk the half mile to the middle of the bridge
twice in the 90 degree heat. Uggh.
As I
was leaving Chain of Rocks, I could tell that my bike seemed
to be running differently. It seemed sluggish, but I couldn't
put my finger on it. I went west out of St. Louis toward
Columbia, and the bike still seemed to be running rough.
I stopped at a Sonic for lunch (I love Sonic, and we don't
have them in Minnesota, and even if it cost me rally points,
I was going to eat there.) As I was heading north out of
Columbia, I realized I was heading into a storm. It started
to pour, and with my duct taped pants leaking all over,
I decided it was a good time to stop for gas.
To my
surprise, I'd used 9 gallons, but only traveled 240 miles,
instead of the usual 320 or so. The bike was running poorly,
and it appeared to be that one of the cylinders wasn't firing
(remember that guy in Atlanta and the foreshadowing?) Not
wanting to tear into the motor too much on the road, I made
the choice to forego any bonuses not specifically on the
direct route to Niobrara, and try and limp my bike to the
finish. Better to finish with fewer points, than not finish
at all by pushing a broken bike too hard on the last day.
There
were two bonuses on my route in Iowa so I decided to get
them both. The first one was only a few miles off the main
road I was on - take a picture of the church in Monterey,
IA. Easy enough. Or not. The route I took there involved
about four miles of gravel (I hate gravel), but I wasn't
going to completely give up on the rally. I went out and
found the church fairly easily. The way out was another
story. I tried a different route out, hoping to end up farther
north on the main highway. I also made the mistake of blindly
following the GPS. The GPS led me to a ten-foot deep rocky
ditch. "What the hell" I thought - if John Coons could ride
the back roads to Gerlach on his BMW RS, I could take the
Connie through the ditch! I did it, albeit slowly, and was
feeling really proud of myself, until I looked left to where
the GPS wanted to go next. A muddy bog with a sign that
said "flooded area ahead." I decided I'd been lucky enough
for one day, and found another way back to the main road.
Realizing
I couldn't make the Buddy Holly memorial in Clear Lake in
daylight, I planned my last bonus of the day for Des Moines,
where rallymaster Eddie James had us visiting his father's
gravesite. Since his dad never got to take part in a Team
Strange event, Eddie had us take the event to him. The cemetery
closed at six however and the GPS had me getting there at
6:05. Uh oh. I made good time though, and was able to make
the cemetery with ten minutes to spare.
I stopped
again for gas and to decide where I wanted to stay that
night. I could have made Niobrara by midnight, but it's
a very small town, and I wasn't sure if there would be anywhere
to stay. I thought about Sioux City, but that was 90 miles
out from the finish, and I'd rather ride less the next day.
I chose to go to Vermillion, SD, only about 40 miles out
from the end -I looked up the number for the Super 8 in
the GPS and called for a reservation. The woman at the motel
seemed pretty rude on the phone, but they had a room, so
I reserved one and said I'd be in around 11 pm.
I headed
out through NW Iowa - a nice ride, if one's bike was running
well, but I was a bit nervous running alone at night with
a suspect bike. To make matters worse, about 40 miles south
of Sioux City I noticed my cruise control was on. Figuring
I'd just bumped it with my tank bag, I went to shut it off.
It didn't shut off. Uh oh. That's not good. I thought about
pulling the wire, but I was able to coast into a small co-op
gas station in a tiny town and shut the bike off. I pulled
the fuse and went back on the way.
I pulled
into Vermillion about 11, filled up with gas, and grabbed
some food. When I went to check in at the motel, there was
nobody around. I dialed zero on the phone like the sign
said, and a very irritated woman came out of the back.
"You must be Chris!"
"Yes."
"You're Late!" (It was 11:20)
"Uh, okay - can I have my room?"
After
that pleasant exchange, I got to my room. This was one of
the WORST places I've ever stayed. The whole place smelled
like cat piss. There were water stains on the ceiling, and
this was on the bottom floor! I opened the window to air
out the room, and next door, the building must have flooded,
because an extremely loud pump was running at the front
door. That wasn't going to work. I shut the window again
and went to sleep. Apparently,
I wasn't the only one with problems with that motel. A few
other riders had checked in at about 3 am, and had an even
more amusing exchange with the desk clerk.
Epilogue:
I woke up around 7 and after picking up one last bonus,
I arrived in Niobrara. I had finished the Butt Lite. I went
through scoring, not losing any points this time, and ordered
a Fat Tire Beer and a cheeseburger. Man was that good. Ron
and Carrie and Paul came in about an hour later, after picking
up all the bonuses on the original route. At the banquet
that night, Ron and Carrie tied for tenth, and Paul took
14th, having lost a few points at the table on the final
leg. Excellent job guys! I
came in 28th of 60 riders. At least I finished in the top
50%, and I was happy with that.
Without
question, the Butt Lite was the hardest thing I've ever
done, mentally and physically. I lost 12 pounds, made a
mess of my bike, and I couldn't write my name for about
a week. The funny thing is, we all asked ourselves at the
end "would you do it again?" While it's a lot of money and
a lot of vacation time, and lot of the time spent not having
fun, the sense of accomplishment is like nothing else. It
will be a while before I have to make that decision, but
I can't say I wouldn't do it again - in hindsight it was
one of the best experiences of my life. Thanks to Eddie
and Adam and of course all the volunteers who made the rally
happen. As always, it was a first class operation - I always
recommend that people run Team Strange events if they can
- it's always a good time (even if you're not always having
a good time!)
