Iron Butt 1000/24

     During the summer of 2007, a fellow came into the store talking about riding an Iron Butt run that required a rider to travel 1000 miles in 24 hours. He and a friend were planning to go and the more he talked about it, the more that I thought that I might like to go. When he intended to go, I couldn’t, but later that year, I found an opportunity and the time. 
     I was only familiar with the rally called the Iron Butt that is held annually. When I worked for Yamaha Motor Corp, a fellow (who also worked for Yamaha) by the name of Kim Davis had ridden and won the original rally on a 1984 Yamaha Venture. He spoke of riding at night, riding fast, being sleep deprived, and having to replace tires along the way. He told of riding with a fellow from American Honda who rode a Sabre with extra lighting on it. Kim had tried to ride with this fellow, but somewhere in Yosemite (or perhaps Yellowstone, after all, this was 20 years ago when I heard the story) National Park, the Honda guy started falling down regularly with Kim stopping to help, until he realized that this guy had vertigo from being tired and simply couldn’t keep his balance. Kim was forced to make the decision to carry on alone, or lose any chance of winning the event. 
     Kim also mentioned a fellow on a flame painted Harley with ape hangers and limited luggage capacity that continually appeared along the way at checkpoints and bike shops, with Kim struggling to understand how this guy could possibly be ahead of him with the bike that he was riding. In the end, this guy wasn’t riding the full route, just direct to the checkpoints. Kim spoke of how the basic idea was to average speeds slightly below the speed limit, which would allow time for fuel stops and food, but then one had to chase the “extra’s” to score bonus points. It appeared to Kim that simply riding the route would not suffice, as extra bonus points would be required to outscore the other competitors. Kim explained that they would regard a fuel receipt from a specific fuel station that was 100 miles off the basic route. Or a restaurant napkin from a restaurant that was 150 miles off the route. As a competitor, one had to determine what things were possible and worth going for, and what things were not. There would be checkpoints along the route and those checkpoints would only be open during certain hours. If you arrived at a checkpoint after it closed, you were done. As I understood the run, it was essentially a four corners run of the USA in approx a week. 
     Based on the confirmation letter that I received from the IBA acknowledging my completion of the mileage in the required time, this might have changed a bit. In fact, it appears that the current Iron Butt group was not in charge of the event when Kim won it. They took the event over at a later time. 
     Until the fellow had come into the store discussing this, I had no knowledge of any other type of Iron Butt event and had filed it in the very back of my mind. I knew that I could not go for days without sleep as Kim apparently had and still function on a motorcycle, so had not given it another thought. 
     Karen had planned to attend a friend’s wedding in October, over the date of our anniversary. She had frequent flyer miles and intended to fly down. I hate flying and as things progressed, realized that I could ride the bike instead. Researching the Iron Butt website, I became familiar that the Iron Butt Association sanctions many, many more rides than just the annual rally. The lowest bar is 1000 miles in 24 hours, followed by 1500 miles in 36 hours, 1500 in 24 hours, 3,000 in 3 days, and 5,000 in 5 days. Plus the 50cc which is coast to coast in 50 hours. Even though this is short of a complete list, you get the idea. The lesser challenges require a start witness and a finish witness who can be anyone who is willing to sign the witness form and respond to a letter from the Iron Butt Association verifying the information, then it quickly increases to a fireman, or fellow Iron Butt member is required to witness the start and finish of the longer challenges. 
     Researching the Iron Butt Association and getting a feel for what they expect reveals that even though things are done in a competitive spirit, long distance riding is to be taken seriously, planning is tantamount, and speeding is not something they approve of. They have even pulled one fellows award due to him later bragging about how risky the ride was in a National magazine article. In fact, as they went back through his fuel receipts checking times, it was clear that at least some of the things that he claimed could not have happened in the manner by which he described. The Iron Butt website offers a list of things to consider when planning one of these rides. They discourage group rides, as you, or someone else, may respond to peer pressure to continue even after you should have stopped in order not to let everyone else down. Being a loner, I don’t generally ride with groups anyway, so that works perfectly for me, and I understand the logic. 
     Racing dirt bikes all my life had taught me that preparedness was critical to any successful endeavor and that when riding a motorcycle, comfort is a huge issue. Getting cold and wet at a dirt bike event makes it harder to continue and harder to maintain the drive required to keep a competitive pace, or even finish. Getting tired on a ride like this and making a mistake could be life or death. If one could AVERAGE 70mph (impossible over the routes that I would be traveling what with stopping for fuel/food) it would require in excess of 14 hours to complete. Add a couple of hours for fuel stops, factor in that 70 is the limit for speed, or at least, not much more, and it didn’t take a lot of time to do the math to realize that staying on major Interstates would be the easiest method of accomplishing the goal. In fact, heading West instead of East might have been a bit easier, as the roads generally have less traffic and higher speed limits. 
I spent a lot of time with an electronic map program checking and rechecking my route. For example, it would be quicker, according to the map program, to travel by Interstate to Paducah, KY by going through St Louis, instead of traveling Hwy 60 through Willow Springs, MO, Charleston, etc… I decided that the map program did not know that 60 highway was divided 4 lane now from Van Burean to Cape Girardeau, MO and made the decision to follow my gut, instead of the program. I further made the decision, after calculating approx. arrival time, to go straight through downtown Atlanta on I-75, instead of around on I-285, as I would get there after the rush hour was closing down and by going through, the distance would be shorter. I neglected to check with any of the various state DOT websites to find out where and when road construction might be an issue. The Iron Butt Association does not honor odometer mileage, but map mileage. They provide strong warnings against riding 1,010 miles and stopping, as most bikes read optimistic on odometer readings. My distance to reach the wife would be approx 1160 map miles. Karen would be my finish witness and it would be critical to reach her before I quit. 
     It is generally accepted by people who ride street bikes a lot that a figure of 500 miles per day is generally a target for travel. That defines the 1,000/24 challenge a bit better. I had never before ever ridden more than 750 miles in one day. With the KLR, even though it carries me nearly everywhere, 750 miles was the very most that I could ever imagine sitting on the bike for a day, and don’t expect to get up the next day and do more. I can handle 500-600 miles per day on the highway with it, but this challenge would require greater speed for a longer time with greater comfort. 
     I had a junk 1983 Yamaha Venture that I had traded for during the summer and had resurrected as a “roach bike”. I had nearly all the mechanical systems functioning perfectly, though the bike had no fairing body work, two saddlebags of different colors, no trunk, no side body panels covering the motor. I must say, growing up with steel motorcycles, that these plastic bikes don’t pass the test of time well, though the motor was strong and the electrical system all worked. 
I loaded the bike two days prior to departure so that I could get the load settled and secured before hitting to road, as it was clear, that I didn’t want to stop extra for anything, nor could I afford to lose anything. The weather looked like 45 degrees and possible rain for my departure, with typical Florida weather of 90 degrees and rain/humid/sun for my arrival. I strapped Karen’s helmet on the rear so that we could ride around together in Florida. 
     I filled with fuel at Cowan’s Conoco in Strafford, MO on the morning of October 17th, 2007 at 5:30 am exactly and headed out in the dark with sprinkling rainfall headed for Hwy 60 in approx 45 degree temperatures. After passing through Rogersville, the sprinkle turned to rain and then to extremely heavy rain. I don’t see well in the dark and with the temperature and humidity, my face shield was fogging badly (I had not considered using antifog on the shield or my glasses). I was forced to leave it slightly more than cracked open, which resulted in my glasses getting soaked with water. While my jacket proved to be waterproof, the snowmobile bibs that were advertised as “water resistant” became wet quickly in the downpour. What was that I had stated earlier regarding planning being critical? It was seeming like I had not prepared at all! Here I am some 25 miles into the trip and am already cold, wet, can’t see and am wondering “what the hell was I thinking?” I had rain pants in my gear bag, but it was pointless now that I was already wet. 
     Not being much of a quitter, I kept going until I nearly shot off the outside of a corner, as I could not really see where the road went. I pulled over and got a grip, realized that I could do this some other time, wrestled with whether I should stop or continue, until a car passed me. I decided to pull out behind the car and follow it, as at least I would be able to follow the road by following the car until daylight came. Some of this might have simply been nerves, as once I calmed down and found a rhythm, things flowed smoothly and I didn‘t need the car anymore. Of course, the rain also let up and that didn’t hurt anything, either. At approx 79 miles I chose to fill with fuel, as the Venture would only go 120-140 on a tank and doesn’t have a reserve. Between Willow Springs and Cape Girardeau, I wasn’t certain of a lot of refueling choices. It is clear that a bike that would cover 200-250 miles per tank would cut the refueling/pit stop time in half (The IBA doesn‘t accept rides with greater than 250 miles between fill up‘s as they want the rider to take a break at least that often). By now it wasn’t raining. Though I was riding in and out of drizzle and the sky was overcast. 
I stopped in Dexter, MO for the next fill up and pulled next door to a McDonald’s for breakfast. McDonald’s was a mistake. 7 people behind the counter, only 1 that appeared to be doing anything to process the customers that stood in line. I lost a good 10 minutes here just getting food. This seems consistent with the service at McDonalds across the land. I wonder that they are reeling from a poor reputation for “fast” food and are trying to slow it down a little? I stopped at Waffle Houses the remainder of the trip. I found that they provide personal service and I can eat and be on my way in about the same time that my experience at McDonalds for the past few years indicates. Food might even be better. 
     I removed the liner from my jacket in Calvert City, KY during a fill up with the sun shining. I was out of the rain and would remain so the remainder of the day. I had lost Karen’s helmet off the back of the bike somewhere between Dexter and here, with no idea where. This goes back to the planning issue…. Shot through Nashville and through road construction in Ringold, GA that has been ongoing since I traveled the route regularly in 1987. I stayed with traffic which didn’t seem to slow much for the road construction in this area. On to Atlanta heading downtown at 6:30pm, expecting rush hour to largely be over. There was still stop and go traffic, leaving me to wonder as I sat with both feet down stopped in the Interstate, if going through instead of around had been the better choice. No time to second guess this decision now. Working out the south end of town we hit a lengthy section of road construction that, according to the signs, had began at 7:00pm the same day (i.e., just as I reached this point). Traffic was packed and everyone slowed. We even came to a complete stop a few times. Traveling with a GPS that keeps track of average speed, I can verify that it only takes a short distance of this to drastically reduce your speed average, while a long distance of riding above average doesn’t seem to raise the speed average much at all. The trick, obviously, is to not lose the time to begin with. This road construction seemed to last for maybe 20 miles. By now it is dark. At Valdosta, GA I became momentarily confused regarding the bypass and the “through the town” and ended up going through town at a reduced speed, rather than around town as I had planned. For approx the last 20 miles of Georgia there was road construction with 50mph speeds posted, and for this rare instance, the people traveling seemed to regard this limit highly. Once across the Florida line, road construction continued. Each construction beginning was marked by a Highway Patrol car with lights flashing, but the speed limit remained at 70mph (as opposed to Georgia with 50mph construction speeds), with the difference being double fines for traveling in excess. I appreciated this! 
     By now, I am getting really tired and thinking that I might not make it the distance. I stopped for fuel in Lake City, FL, grabbed a bite and some coffee at the next door Waffle House, and figured that I would be good for the one more tank that would be required to reach the mileage and have a little extra for padding, even though that would not get me to Karen, my finish witness. Back on the road for one last tank, and at the end of it, I was very, very tired and no amount of coffee would have kept me awake to complete the entire 1160 miles to where Karen was, so now I had to find a finish witness, fill with fuel for a final time (fuel receipt), and locate a motel room. Pulling off a sparsely populated exit (at least it appeared this way at 1:10am Eastern time. 
     Filled at a Sunoco station. Pulled the receipt from the pump, then pulled to the front curb and went inside. While this was a full scale convenience store, the attendant was locked in a small cage in the corner, making me wonder what type of neighborhood I had stumbled into. I must have been a sight, road weary and tired as hell, riding a junk motorcycle that would have looked far better served in a salvage yard, explaining to him about the Iron Butt Association and how they sanctioned various rides. How I had been on the road since Missouri and “would he be willing to sign my finish witness form and respond to a letter from them verifying my being there at that time, that night?” He came out of the cage and walked out to the bike, recorded the tag number and signed the form for me. He recommended a motel ½ mile down the road and I went there. I noticed that the guy at the station only provided the 1-800-Sunoco number, not the specific station phone number for real contact. So now I didn’t feel totally good about the guy at the station, as my entire trip relied on him responding, and I was unsure of my read on him, so after checking into the motel, I asked the kid (judging by the uniform he wore, he doubled as security) if he would sign a second form for me. He was nice and we talked bikes for a bit but he refused to sign anything until the day manager arrived and gave him permission. He said that she would arrive at 10:00am. I intended to leave before that, but left a form for him just in case and unloaded and hit the bed. I was asleep in seconds. I woke at 9:50am, showered and went downstairs to check out. The kid was nowhere in sight and I asked the lady if he was still there, and she said “no.” I asked if, by chance, he had signed the form for me. She replied that “he did and I almost gave it to another man instead.” Thank God for small things! 
     I ate breakfast across the street at a Waffle House, then headed across the street to the Sunoco station. When I walked in the people were no longer in the cage and now there were two girls working. I asked “what is the phone number here” and one asked the other until I got it. I wrote that on the form instead of the 1-800 Sunoco number, just in case. You never know what might be important. It would suck incredibly to not have a finish witness hold up after all that effort!
I then headed on for Long Boat Key where Karen and I spent the weekend and after I bought another helmet, we rode around a bit. Went to a neat old car museum, ate at a neat restaurant on Anna Marie Island, and attended her friend’s wedding which went very well. The night after I had arrived in Florida, a tornado hit Kentucky (not sure where, maybe not relevant) and high winds had caused damage in Georgia and northern Florida. I hadn’t considered any weather beyond rain and temperature. Traveling this far, there are more variables, especially due to the time frame allowed to complete the task. The Iron Butt Association recognition was for 1,081 miles. The 1500/36 attempt is in a separate article.