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               Iron Butt (Endurance) Rides

A "Saddle Sore 1000" is an entry level motorcycle ride into the Iron Butt Association. It consists of a well documented and witnesses ride of 1000 miles in a 24-hour time frame.
This is an account of my 1st SS100. It began in a literal and figurative fog 6am Monday September 14th. It ended at the same gas station in Burlington Washington midnight in the weather kind of fog only, 1100 miles and 18 hours latter.
Every aspect of the ride must be witnessed and documented.
Full rules are available on the IBA web site.    IBA SS1000 Rules

In preparation for the ride I hyper hydrated myself the day before, thoroughly checked the bike, double-checked my inventory and had Roddy Martin, a local IBA member who also rides a Concours witness for me .
I couldn't get to sleep the night before and slept in well past my 4am wake up time, I had dreamed I wouldn't finish the ride. It was very foggy and as I hurried to ready my bike I broke a strap on my tank bag. After my late wake up, bad dream, fog, and now this I was tempted to scrap the ride. I took a deep breath and calmed down until I figured out a makeshift strap. According to the weatherman this might be the last window of opportunity for a dry ride for some time. I knew I could endure 1000 miles but had doubts if I could remember to get all the receipts with the pertinent information, not get a speeding ticket, and keep a positive attitude
After stopping at an ATM machine to get a dated and time stamped receipt I headed down the road. My late departure put me in Seattle for the rush down I-405 but after I turned east on I-90 the fog gave way to the sun and elevations rose in both feet and spirit. I had rarely traveled over Snoqualmie pass on a weekday morning and found it rather pleasant for a change. My 1st gas stop in Ellensburg resulted in a gas receipt without the city printed on it. I had hoped not to get a witness form signed by a clerk but as I reluctantly entered the store I saw an ATM and was able to get a receipt from it with all the pertinent data.
Half way to Spokane it began to warm up and I stopped at a rest area to shed some clothes and drink some coffee. Continuing on I intentionally avoided stopping in Spokane to avoid the time delays of city traffic and made it into Post Falls Idaho for a quick fill up before beginning the fun part of this route- Lookout Pass. Fun mountain twisties leading into Montana's "reasonable and prudent zones".
Having came this way a few weeks earlier at triple digits, I knew from my poor gas mileage I would have to slow down in order to make it to Missoula without having to stop for gas, a time loss the high speeds would not make up for.
Arriving in Missoula I felt great having made it this far. Now I knew I would make it home and my dream of not finishing was just a dream. Again the gas pump didn't identify the town so I had to go into the Montana style gas station/grocery store/restaurant/casino to get an ATM receipt. I sucked down a Gatorade and ate one of my Balance bars before turning around and heading west again on the same route I arrived on.
After crossing the Clark Fork River about 17 more times I was in the Lookout pass twisties again blowing past semis. Again I stopped in Post Falls for gas, ran through Spokane's afternoon rush hour and rode across central Washington into a beautiful sunset burning my retinas all the way. Radar Love started playing in my head and the few lines I could remember played over and over and over again .I stopped again in Ellensburg, this time avoiding the gas station without the city printed on the receipt and headed back up over Snoqualmie in the pitch-black night stopping. Funny when still miles and sometimes hours from home it seems like you're already there almost. The cold kept me sharp and I came over the top and dropped into Seattle looking forward to the warmth of sea level that never came, it was just more fog. I finally pulled over and put on a long sleeve shirt under my jacket. After getting my final receipt I headed into Sedro-Woolley to get a sign in from the local police. I was kind of dreading this and the explanation I thought would be required but found an officer who had witnessed before (probably for Roddy) and was actually happy to do it for me. When I pulled the bike around the back of the house I saw a sign on the back door "Welcome home our Iron Butt hero-love, your girls".   ( I even took a picture of it)