Today was the day I had been thinking about for several years: the day I actually attempt an Iron Butt Asscociation (IBA) ride. The ride I was planning was their entry-level ride called the Saddlesore 1000. Basically, it amounts to riding a minimum of 1000 documented miles in a 24-hour period.
These endurance rides can be very challenging. If attempting one as part of a larger motorcycle trip, it is better to do the IBA ride during the first portion of the trip while you are still fresh. Of course, I can't do anything the conventional way...
My alarm went off at 4:00 AM. Colorado Springs was dark and quite. I got up, showered, dressed, packed and prepared everything. I had all of my ride documentation information ready to go and set aside. I went into the garage where the bike was waiting and loaded up my luggage. After triple checking everything, I was ready to go.
My uncle Ames who was going to be my starting witness was still sleeping. I crept up to his room and waked him. He groggily came out, and we said our goodbyes. He signed my witness form and I was off.
About a half mile away I stopped for a fill-up and got my starting receipt at 5:01 AM. As I reached the edge of town I snacked on one of the granola bars my aunt had given me the night before, hoping that this would tie me over until I made my first stop in Limon, CO.
I headed out of Colorado Springs on highway 24. The road was dark and quiet. As I rode along, I realized that I had dressed too lightly. The day's high was supposed to be pushing the upper '90s. However, right now it was in the low 50s, and while I had a jacket on, after about 30 miles I was still too chilly to be comfortable.
I decided to try and tough it out until Limon, where highway 24 meets interstate 70. South of Limon, I started to run into dense fog. In addition to the cool weather, the humdidty of the fog really made the chill go right through me. In addition, I was starting to get really hungry so when I pulled into a McDonalds in Limon, I felt a wave of relief come over me.
I planned a meal stop in Limon because I needed breakfast, and because according to the IBA rules I must have a receipt at each "corner" of my route. While directionally this wasn't a "corner", I was going to switch from highway to interstate riding, so I decided to play it safe and get a receipt.
After a Egg McMuffin and a stack of hotcakes, I was ready to hit the road again. I put on my chaps and an additional sweatshirt. The sun was coming up, so I knew it would be getting warmer soon. The fog was still thick though.
As I got onto interstate 70 heading east, the fog grew even thicker. Thankfully I was now on the interstate where the chance of meeting somebody head-on was much less. Still, it was dense enough that I had to ride slowly because you never know what's going to pop out of the fog and greet you. It was great for my gas milage, but poor for my schedule.
About a half an hour down the road, the fog lifted and the sun came out. The fog was starting to wear on me mentally so it was a welcome change. The constant staring into the grey mist watching for the unknown appearance of who-knows-what was really starting to put me into a trance-like state. I might have been better equipped to handle the situation earlier in my trip, but on the fifth high-mile day in a row it was taxing.
Right before the Colorado border, I made a gas stop at Birlington. I talked with another biker from Arkansas that was heading west. He'd just ridden through three days of rain and was hoping that today was going to be clear. I echoed his sentiments, but the forcast looked good. I grabbed myself a soda for the road, made sure my gas receipt was in my documentation envelope and headed east.
As I crossed the border into Kansas, I suddenly felt the wind start gusting on my right side. I thought it strange that the wind would instantly pick up like that, but didn't give it much more thought until about five miles later I glanced down and noticed that my right lower had snapped off. Apparently it caught a rock or some other object, but all that was left was the chrome mounting bracket and a bit of the plexiglas at the top. That explained the suddent change in wind on that side. Unfortunately, that also meant that I would be "enjoying" that wind gust the rest of the day. Whatever hit the lower to snap it like that, I'm glad it didn't catch me in the face.
After yesterday's low mileage day to recuperate, my left shoulder was doing better. Still, I didn't want to aggravate the problem any further, so I rode most of this day's ride with my left hand resting in my lap, and my shoulder relaxed. I was worried that my right arm would then get sore as well, but thankfully it held up pretty well all day. My Clever-Lever (throttle lock) and my throttle-rocker were much to credit for this.
At Wakeeney, KS I was ready for my third tank of gas. For whatever reason, the gas pump wouldn't accept my Visa card. At first I thought that my card company had disabled it via their theft-tracking methods (i.e. too many uses across too much distance in too short of time) but I used it without problem at every gas stop after this one. Thankfully I also had my Discover card with me, so I put the gas on that one.
Continuing across Kansas was utterly unremarkable. The miles trickled by slowly. Not much to see. The hum of the engine and the muffled wind noise that came through my ear plugs made it almost a surreal experience. I thought about a lot, yet thought about nothing.
I passed around the upper end of Salina, KS which turned out to be a much larger town that I was expecting, and stopped on the other side in Abilene. I had now passed into the CST time zone, which meant that I lost an hour. I filled up on gas, then made a stop at a Burger King for lunch. I know the IBA guidelines recommend avoiding fast food, but I was hungry and Burger King was all that was available. I had water instead of a soda and didn't gorge myself.
East of Abilene, I hit the portion of I-70 that's a toll road. While waiting in line, I snapped one of the few pictures of the day. There's nothing remarkable about this photo, but then again there's nothing remarkable about the scenery along I-70, which is why this page is so light on pictures.
Once through the toll booth, I noticed that traffic speed picked up substantially. The close I got to Kansas City, the more cars there were on the road and the faster they were moving. I kept my speed at a reasonable rate to where I wasn't getting run over, but I wasn't passing anyone either.
On in to Kansas City I got to play the fun game of trying to keep my eye on what the cagers are doing while trying to read the signs to get me from I-70 onto I-35 north. Of course, it was right at 5:00, the height of rush hour. Once I made it onto the correct ramp, the gridlock started. We crept along at 5 mph for a couple of miles.
Although I was doing fine gas-wise, I needed a receipt for my route "corner" (I-70 to I-35). I figured that not moving for a few minutes isn't much worse than going 5 mph, so I took an off-ramp and found a gas station. I was hoping that stopping now would allow the traffic to lighten slightly once I was back on the road.
After filling up, grabbing an iced tea and then driving over to a restaraunt for a bathroom stop (the gas station didn't have one) I headed back onto I-35 north.
My plan had worked. Although traffic was still very thick, it was at least moving around 40 mph now. It got lighter and lighter as I reached the north edge of town and finally we were back up to 70 mph.
This next stretch of the trip from Kansas City to Des Moines, proved to be the most challenging stretch of the day. I was getting very tired and my body was aching. I was running out of spots to position my feet, as they were all getting uncomfortable. I would ride and ride for what seemed like hours, and then look at my odometer to realize I had only gone five miles. My head was starting to hurt. Although I really wasn't hungry, I ate my remaining granola bars, primarily out of boredom.
According to Google, from Kansas City to Des Moines was 194 miles. I had originally planned for a gas/supper stop halfway between the two cities, but I was running behind schedule and the granola bars had satisfied me, so I decided to press on to Des Moines. I was hoping that I could make it all the way there, but I knew it would be pushing it fuel wise as I usually hit reserve around 150 miles.
The way I was feeling I knew if I stopped I would have a hard time getting back on the bike, so I decided to gamble. South of Des Moines, my main tank went dry and I had to flip the petcock over to reserve. As I made it to Des Moines city limits, I was starting to sweat. Unfortunately, I didn't find much for gas on the south side of the city. I made it to I-80 and headed west. About three miles down the road I pulled of on an exit I was familiar with and got gas.
Next to the gas station was an Arby's. Although I really wasn't that hungry (from all the granola bars), I decided my body needed a break and that eating would at least force me to rest for a few minutes. I sat in my booth and felt like death on a cracker. I wasn't sure how I was going to finish the 300 miles that remained until home. There were hotels right across the street, and I could hear the siren's call of an air-conditioned room and a bed. I sipped on my Jamocha shake and realized that I would regret it if I gave up now.
I decided to press on, rationalizing that there are more hotels available down the road should I decide I need one. I wasn't feeling drowsy so much as achey and bored.
Then, a few miles west of Des Moines, I suddenly broke through the barrier. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but my aches and pains calmed somewhat, and my brain came out of the boredom induced fog it was in. Suddenly the miles started ticking away at a good clip. Although I wasn't physically travelling any faster, the time was passing much faster. The next 150 miles to the I-29 corner zipped right by.
After turning onto I-29 north, I took the first exit and stopped at a gas station for my last on-road gas stop. It was dark now, and I put my sweatshirt back on. I never had taken my chaps off since breakfast, even though the temps had gotten into the upper 90s. For some reason, I wasn't too warm with them on, so I never removed them.
Back on the road, it was 150 miles until home, with Sioux City, IA being the next landmark and roughly the halfway point between here and there. As I rode, I could see a lot of thunderstorm activity happening to the west. The closer I got to Sioux City, the closer it got to me. I realized we were probably on a collision course. About 10 miles south of Sioux City, the sprinkles started. This was the first rain I had hit the entire trip.
I pulled off on and exit ramp, and put my rain gear on. Back on the road, it rained moderately for about two miles, then quit. I realized that I had gotten ahead of the storm. Had I not stopped to put my rain gear on, I probably wouldn't have even hit anything more than the sprinkles.
North of Sioux City, I stopped on another exit ramp and removed my rain gear. Back on the road and in South Dakota, the speed limit was at 75 mph. The last hour passed fairly quickly and as I approached Sioux Falls, I almost felt like I could keep going. Perhaps another day I will.
I stopped for my last gas receipt at 12:30 AM, the 4th of July. I rode home with both a sense of relief, and a sense of accomplishment. My wife was waiting up for me as I arrived. As tired as I was, I had to sit for a little while before I attempted to go to bed, as my brain was going a million miles an hour thinking, "I did it! I did it!"
Now that the aches and pains have subsided, I'm plotting my next long distance ride...
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This page last updated on 06/28/2018