1500 in 24 or Hot Cross Buns
June 20, 1996
I received the monthly COG
rally schedule postcard from Sam Ellington a couple of weeks ago, and
was trying to figure a way to attend one of the California rides and participate
in an Iron Butt event. The Kings Canyon ride looked good, the rally host
Don Simone said this would be a scenic as Yosemite, but without the traffic.
That was enough of a reason for me!
Lawrence Dee, who was riding solo from Walnut Creek, made arrangements
for a room in Fresno, and would split the room fee with me.
The Tuesday before the ride, I brought the rear drive unit from my Concours to Kelly's Kawasaki to have a leaky pinion seal replaced under warranty. George assured me the parts were in stock, and I'd have the unit back in time for the ride. It was close . . . The parts were in stock, but in another state. Come on George, don't let me down!
During the next two days, I planned for my first Iron Butt ride, the Bun Burner. This ride would be an ideal time to test my own endurance, as well as dispel the notion that the Concours buzzes. I poured over the Rand McNally, and tested several routes with MS AutoMap. Yeah sure, I could do one thousand miles to Fresno via the freeway, but that was it. . . via the freeway. No problem, lesee, umm, Mesa to Klamath Falls to Fresno, works out to 1580 miles, and the longest stretch of freeway is in California, from Weed to Fresno. . . . I can do this!
There are several individual rides you can make for an Iron Butt event, one of which is the Bun Burner Gold. Travel 1500 miles in under 24 hours. I figured if choked within the 24 hour timeframe, I'd have 12 additional hours to gain the extra miles, and garner a Bun Burner instead.
I got the rear drive unit back from Kelly's on Thursday morning, and had a new Macadam mounted on the rear, as I didn't think I'd be able to squeeze an additional 2500 miles on the ME-Z2. I fired off an e-mail to Don Moses, who lives in the Tahoe area, saying I'd be around for breakfast on Friday morning if he was available, and e-mail notes to those attending the Kings Canyon ride saying I might be a teensy bit fatigued upon arriving. That done, I hit the sack for a couple of hours of shut eye.
Four o'clock in the afternoon, and I'm up and loading the bike. Same
stuff as always, toothbrush, money, extra gloves, money, socks, money.
. . . I pulled into Kelly's Kawasaki around 5:10 PM, and got the parts
manager, and service manager to witness me and the bike according to IBA
rules. Scoot on down the road for a date and time stamped fuel receipt,
and I'm on my way heading west into the setting sun at 5:49 PM, Thursday
the 27th of June. 
Travel through Phoenix was fast, the HOV lanes are seldom used, even during rush hour, and they extended from east of Tempe, to the west side of Phoenix, where I took the 99th street exit, north toward 'Sin' City.
US 60, a.k.a. Grand avenue, is a pain. Lights every half mile, and they're timed to be red from whatever direction you travel. Thank goodness it's only for four or so miles. It was starting to get dark, and I had to be on the lookout for potential road kill, coyotes have a nasty habit of not crossing in the crosswalks. The road to Wickenberg droned on, as I've been this way a couple of hundred times in the past. One of the few nice thing about driving this way at this time is the sunset. Arizona has some of the most beautiful sunsets in the world, and tonight was no exception. It has something to do with all the dust in the air, and the sunlight refracting off the particles. Whatever, the sky was ablaze in shades of reds purples and oranges.
At Wickenberg, it was a quick stop for gas. Grab a travel size box of
wheat thins and a bite sized pack of Oreo's, stuff them in the tank bag.
The Shoei Duo-Tec helmet worked out well for this ride, with the flip
up chin bar it was easy to eat and drink while riding. After I log the
mileage and stow the fuel receipt, I'm off towards Kingman. Total time:
less than you'd think. I had been thinking about what to do before I stopped
for gas, to minimize the time wasted not riding. I found this is a critical
skill to master.
North west on US 93 towards Kingman, munching a few wheat thins along the way, where I stopped for gas again. Here I grabbed a pint of milk to wash down the crackers. Tip: don't eat wheat thins in the dry desert air with little water to drink. I didn't remember passing a Mustang II along the road, but he arrived at the station just as I finished gassing the bike. We talked about riding, and my Iron Butt attempt came up in conversation. He seemed intrigued about the whole concept of 1500 in 24, and wished me the best of luck. It's really true, you do meet the friendliest people on a motorcycle.
I'm finding out my choice of leather jackets last year was a good one.
I use a First Gear Scout jacket which has lots of easily usable and accessable
pockets, as well as an almost empty tank bag. Plenty of room for on board
munchies and beverages, tools, papers, and most importantly a little penlight
(more on this later). I kept the log entries in a three ring binder with
a pen clipped to the correct page in my right saddlebag, so the paperwork
would go fast. I'm outta here, heading NW towards 'Lost Wages'.
Driving toward the Hoover dam is about as plain (or is it plane) as it gets. Four lanes, and flat as a pancake until a few miles from the dam. I met up with an 18 wheeler in the switch backs just before the dam, and a good thing too. Just around the next corner, the Federalies were in the process of stopping a 'large car'. I'm sure if I had been zipping along, they would have picked on me too. The dam looks really cool at night, with the penstocks all lit up. But there was still that problem with the 18 wheeler in front of me. There was a passing lane on the Nevada side, and the driver graciously pulled over for me to pass. There are two casinos on the road before you see the lights of Las Vegas, both testaments to the inventive skills of Thomas Edison. The casino lights are so bright, Nevada has placed flashing warning signs advising of a stoplight ahead. It would be very easy to miss them, the stoplights are easily shadowed by the flashing neon of the casinos.
I crested a hill just west of Boulder City, and the entire Las Vegas valley spread out in front of me. Man what a sight! Lights in every direction, and downtown was 15 miles away! What little traffic there was moved along at a fairly good clip, so I drafted behind a Chevy and snaked along the freeway toward my intersection with US 95 on the east side of town.
The road from Las Vegas to Beatty is flatland country. No trees, a few mountains and hills off in the distance, and an occasional pair of rusty orange eyes reflecting back from the side of the road reminded me to watch for critters. Traffic is still hauling butt, so I'm all too happy to keep up. By now, the temps are starting to drop enough to be chilling, and I consider putting the liner in my jacket and donning the lowers at my next gas stop in Beatty
There is only one gas station open in Beatty at this time of night,
so my choice for fuel was limited. I was glad I could get a receipt that
showed everything, time, location, date, gallons, and amount. At 1:15
in the morning, I thought my first cup of coffee would be last nights
left overs, but it was really quite good. I don't know if it was the long
ride, or the fact that most of the semi's stopped there, but it was pleasant
after the cooling ride. I put the liner in my jacket then slipped the
leather pants on between sips of coffee. This was to be my longest stop
of the journey, but I still managed to do it all before I saw the bottom
of the coffee cup.
I continued on US 95 toward Tonopah, passed the Cottontail Ranch and
Shady Ladies Ranch on my way to fuel and a burrito in Tonopah. On the
outskirts of Tonopah, the 'funny' names of the ranches clicked. I guess
I was too occupied with the riding to take notice. I flipped the attendant
a twenty, stuffed a refrigerated burrito in the nuclear accelerator, twisted
the dial to 90 seconds and headed across what seemed to be a football
field to fuel the bike. Man that was a hike to the pumps! As the bike
was filling, I cleaned out the wrappers and crumbs from my tank bag, did
the log entries, then walked around the island a couple of times. I made
a mental note to plan on some simple stretching exercises or walking around
for my next stop. I coasted down to the store from the fuel island, collected
my change then stuffed the steaming burrito, change, and receipt into
my jacket pocket.
By the time I hit the outskirts of Tonopah, the burrito is cool enough to eat. That throttle lock is nice! On the way to Fallon, I noticed what I assumed to be inflatable city patrol cars at the border of almost every small town. I was decelerating to the posted speed limit when I passed all of them, so maybe they gave me a break, or they really were full of (hot) air. Either way, none pursued.
By this time, I was getting quite accustomed to reading the map on my
tank bag with a little key chain penlight I had clipped to the elastic
cord from the chest pocket of my jacket. I was wondering what it was for
when I bought the jacket. I still am, but this seem to be one of the uses.
I didn't have to worry about dropping it, just held it in my mouth and
pointed it toward the map. This is a neat feature for those that have
to ride at night, and don't want to mount a gooseneck map light like many
of the Iron Butt Rally participants do. Next gas stop is at the junction
of US Alt 50 and I 80.
A few miles into freeway driving, and the road narrowed down to one lane each way for road construction. I was following a semi, whose driver was extremely tired or somewhat drunk, as his rig was all over the road. When the construction ended, I opted to stay behind him, as he was already moving along at a pretty good clip, and "they can't hit you if they're in front of you" as my father always said. It was along this stretch of road I'd hoped to meet with Don Moses of the ST list for breakfast, but I found out later he had participated in the Utah 1088 that week. Maybe next time Don. Just outside of Reno, I connected up with US 395 toward Susanville, CA.
I knew that even though the road changed, and according to IBA rules I should get a dated receipt, I figured that by using logic my next receipt would show this was the only way I could of gone . . . well that was my thinking anyway. At Susanville, I almost missed the turn to CA 139 and Adin, CA. Here's a tip: If you think you made a wrong turn, STOP THE BIKE! If you have to drive to the other end of town before you turn around, you've lost precious time, not to mention the possible psychological effect of having to make up for the lost time!
The road toward Adin was choice! At the city limit of Susanville, the
road twisted and curved up the side of a hill to a beautiful view of the
valley below. It was pure pleasure driving the twisties after so long
on the flats. After ten miles of curves and dips, I entered a fog bank
caused by the high humidity from a recent rain. This was a very pleasant
change of pace from the hot and dry desert I had been riding through.
The road was devoid of traffic, and I felt comfortable watching the scenery
instead of the road as I had been. Gas was in Adin, at the only gas station
in town. No electronic register here, unless you considered the calculator
on the countertop one. "Kopps Corner" was a throwback to the
general stores I remembered while growing up in the Midwest (yeah, I'm
dating myself). Shotgun shells and reloading supplies along one wall,
hardware and automotive along the other, and a chest type soda cooler
at the far end of the counter.
I continued on CA 139 through hills, twists and dips, until the mailboxes large enough to hold a small pony and the freshly painted white three rail fences indicated I was approaching Klamath Falls. I had planned on doing a loop to the south of town, but figured I'd stand a better chance of finding a bona fide IBA receipt in Klamath Falls. A BP station on the left had my name on pump #1, so I pulled in. I had the nozzle out and inserted in the tank when the gas jockey came out to, what I thought, wish me happy motoring. Apparently Oregon requires the station operator to dispense the gas. He was really cool, and said he got lots of motorcycles there, and he preferred letting the biker pump his own gas. If I didn't know better, I'd say he rode too. Gas receipt with date, time and location, and I'm on my way after asking for the 'long' cut to US 97.
"Is there a shortcut to US 97" I ask.
"Oh sure, it's easy." he says, "Take this here street to about the end, and turn right. Can't miss it."
Well, I did, and lost 10 minutes driving around town. No biggie, the
rest of the way is interstate.
The road to my next gas stop was typical super slab, it's still a state highway, but four lanes wide and well maintained. No scenery up close, but you can see Mt. Shasta off in the distance so the road is marked a scenic route on the map. I didn't expect the marsh-like landscape though, as if there was ledge a few inches under the top soil.
I connected with I 5 at Weed, and after driving the "Slab"
for a few miles I noticed most of the cars I approached pulled over to
the right to let me pass. I found out later that the Concours looks similar
to a C.H.P. moto cop from a distance, and people were just being 'nice'.
For whatever reason, it worked. I made good time driving down the hill
past Shasta Lake to Williams, my next gas stop. The stop in Williams saw
the pants and jacket liner being stowed in the bags. The temperature was
approaching 90, and I imagine the locals thought I was loco for riding
in full gear. The AZ license plates helped explain it though.
Continuing south on I-5, I thought a jog over to CA 99 at Lodi would
be fast. Big mistake, traffic in California is heavy. I understand why
lane splitting is popular with bikers here. Traffic down 99 moved along
at a fairly good clip at times. There was a huge lumber wagon of a Buick
way in front of me, parting the waters so to speak. I hit reserve further
from Fresno than I had wanted, so I stopped for fuel in Madera, where
I got both a IBA approved receipt, and several comments from fellow bikers
(caging it) on local conditions and routes. I went back to the freeway
for the final few miles to Fresno.
I made my final exit off the freeway, with better than an hour to spare and more than 1500 miles on the odometer, onto CA 41 which I thought was the correct exit for Wilson's Motorcycles. It didn't take me long to figure out I'd never find Broadway, much less Wilson's. By now, I had a pocket full of quarters, so I bellied up to the pay phone and tried to find them in "The Book". No luck, but I still had a trump card. Call Anne Simone, whose phone number I did know.
"Hello, Anne, this is Rick. I'm in town and need to find Wilson's in the worst way."
Anne in her best voice tried to guide me, but I only had the bus route
map from "The Book" to navigate with. I knew I was getting nowhere,
frustration and lack of sleep was adversely affecting my telephone manners.
I thanked Anne profusely, apologized for my behavior, and struck out on
my own. Using the little snippets I gleaned from our conversation, I found
Wilson's, with Don, a couple of customers, and the owner, all standing
in the parking lot. Anne had called Wilson's, and told them to stick around,
some crazed biker from Mesa was lost, and might be appearing shortly.
Two signatures later, and I'm on my way up the road to the Travelers Inn for a shower and a few winks before dinner. I checked into my room at 24 hours, unloaded my bike, and considered a shower. While sitting on the bed removing my boots, I leaned back . . . .
Rick Hall 1994 ZG 1000 "Sam" It's not a sport
COG #1914 SW AAD DOD #2040 1kQSPT 14.16 if it can't kill you.
The COG page at: <http://www.concours.org/> --WL
The Concours ran like a top, no problems in 23 hours 30 minutes, and 1580 miles (according to Automap). At 42 years old, I know I have the stamina, and with 28,000 miles on 'Sam', I know she does too. From Thursday evening to Sunday night, I logged over 3,000 miles from the twisties of Kings Canyon, through the heat of the Mojave desert. As to the 'buzz'? What do you think :)