Iron Butt Association Membership # 8613
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The Bike |
Sometime in the Spring of 2001, I read a post on the Shadow Riders Forum (SRF) by Bill Rich, the SRF Host. The post talked about the Iron Butt Association's Saddlesore 1000, 1000 miles in 24 hours. I had just began riding in May, 2000 and a ride of that means was beyond my comprehension. As May 2001 approached I began planning a vacation in Florida. The post regarding the SS1000 kept coming to my mind and I began to plan my first Iron Butt ride, rationalizing that it would be a good way to get some extra vacation time. It was obviously more than the extra vacation time, as I planned an out of the way route that would allow me to not only do the SS1000 but also a Bun Burner 1500, 1500 miles in 36 hours. I successfully completed both rides, May 5-6, 2001 on a 2000 Honda VT1100C Spirit. From that point forward normal cruising just did not seem to be enough.
I needed a different tool and purchased a 2001 Honda GL1800 Gold Wing, July 9, 2001. Soon after, there was a discussion on the SRF about the need for a forum for touring. I hesitantly opened a forum which was named the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum, not really appreciating what was involved. The forum was non-bike specific and had a folder for Endurance Riding. I soon learned that even though my friends thought my riding was excessive that there were other riders across the country that actually made me feel normal. In October, 2001, I started planning a Bun Burner 1500 Gold, 1500 miles in 24 hours. I knew this was an extreme ride, particularly given that I would be doing it in the Midwest where the Interstate speed limits are 65 and 70 mph. The temperatures dropped into the 30's and I was ill prepared; however, the ride was a success and I was now officially addicted to Endurance Riding.
The BB1500G was followed by a Bun Burner 3000 Gold (Back to back BB1500 Golds) January 2-3, 2002 in what would be consider extreme weather. The average temperature was below freezing and I hit snow in Atlanta. The BB3000G is considered one of the more demanding IBA rides. I had completed it much to my surprise and under some pretty extreme conditions. My gear did not work as I had hoped and posted a preliminary report which reflected on some dissatisfaction with some of my electric gear. I didn't mean it to be negative, as I believed the conditions to be very extreme. Not really sure how, but somehow I got an email intended for someone else from Warchild, Dale Wilson. In true Warchild form he told me that I was a F**kstick and that it was completely amateurish to complete such a ride being so ill prepared. I didn't know who Warchild was at the time and could not believe what I was reading. It was somewhat disheartening. However, I soon learned that he was exactly right. Thanks Dale for the "rude" (pun intended) awakening.
It was about this point that I started dreaming about the possibility of participating in the Iron Butt Rally (IBR). I felt that I was too inexperienced to get in the 2003 Rally, so I focused on taking Warchild's advise to heart, and getting some more experience. I completed a 50CC (Jacksonville to San Diego in under 50 hours) with the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum May 18-20, 2002 followed by a Great Lake Gold the following weekend as part of the Team Strange Great Lakes Challenge. This was really a personal test to see if I could put together several back to back long days. I felt that I passed the test and the desire to compete in the IBR became even stronger.
In September, 2002 I completed the Northstar 1500 Group Bun Buner Gold Ride and then in March 2003 the 100CCC Insanity (Back to Back 50CC's).
Ok, I could ride the miles but what about the RALLY part? In March 2002, I competed in the Palmetto Ramble. This was my first Rally Experience and a positive one. The Palmetto Ramble issued the bonuses ahead of time, so the route could be preplanned. Additionally, it was only a 12 hour rally. I was given some good advise that suggested that I should try a 24 hour rally. I didn't think my schedule would allow it but I was hooked. So in July 2002, I participated in the Buckeye. Wow did I learn a lot in that rally. I seriously thought that I would be time barred and had made several navigation errors. Recognizing the need for more experience I decided to participate in the Feast in the East in October, 2002. More mistakes, more learning, but I had done well in a very experience field. The hook had been set. I really enjoyed the rallies. In 2003, I participated in the Palmetto Ramble and the Minnesota 1000, with successful experiences in both.
While I was out doing my thing and dreaming about the Iron Butt Rally, a fellow MTF member was following his own path to the same dream. I soon learned that Jason Jonas also dreamed of participating in the Iron Butt Rally. Jason and I both felt that we were too inexperienced to get a shot at the 2003 Rally and soon our singular dreams became a common dream of jointly participating in the 2005 Iron Butt Rally. Jason and I seemed to have a common bond and he soon became one of my favorites. He just seemed to get it.
Both Jason and I decided to apply for the 2003 Iron Butt Rally. We both felt that even though we had done some significant IBA rides that we were too inexperienced to be considered for the 2003 Rally. However, we had heard of others with less experience that were applying and it was a lottery and we might get lucky.
Then one day my wife calls and said I got an email from Mike Kneebone. She read it to me over the phone.
Congratulations! Your application was drawn for entry in the 2003
Iron Butt Rally - The World's Toughest Motorcycle Competition! At the time
of the drawing we received over 2,100 applications and they are still coming in.
Notifying those riders that did not win the luck of the draw is always one of
the toughest jobs of my life. Of course, many rally veterans will tell you that
I have earned my nickname as "Evil Lord Kneebone" (don'tbelieve the
World's Nicest Guy stuff floating around the Internet) by brutally punishing
those of you that find a spot on the start line. If you are new to the
Iron Butt, you can expect to ride through blistering desert heat, numbing cold,
pounding rain, painful hail and blinding snow on the worst roads North America
can offer. Ask any rally veteran and they can give you some idea of what
is to come. If you really want to stir them up a bit, ask how "the
good dirt road" up to the Prudhoe Bay, Alaska was. On the other hand, the
pain you inflict on yourself will soon be forgotten -at least this is the only
logical explanation I can offer as to why an average of 70% of veteran riders
choose to return for a second lap of America!
The 2003 Iron Butt Rally will take off on Monday, August 11, 2003 from Missoula,
Montana. The rally will run counterclockwise with checkpoints in California,
Florida and Maine. It will return to Missoula 11 days later on Friday, August
22. Please note, the rally is running two weeks earlier in the year than
our tradition of targeting the middle of the Iron Butt to be over the Labor Day
weekend.
While those of you who have secured a position obviously have some good news to
announce, I do ask that you consider the feelings of those other 2,023 rides
that were not drawn. This year, more than ever, the number of veterans and
past volunteers, not to mention other exceptional riders, that could not secure
a position is staggering. Please consider their feelings when posting to
an internet list or bulletin board. Right now, a lot of very good riders
are shell-shocked that they do not have a position on the start line.
Please give them some time to let the idea sink in. I sincerely appreciate
your consideration on this important point.
While those not in the rally might be crying today, in August, you will nodoubt
be questioning your sanity and perhaps wishing you did not make the cut either.
Welcome aboard and so the insanity begins!
Michael Kneebone
2003 Iron Butt Rally Chairman
When I arrived home that night my wife had pasted the following sign to my computer. It was nice to see support from the home front.
I was in shock. Part of the dream seemed to be coming true. Mike's warning, "While those of you who have secured a position obviously have some good news to announce, I do ask that you consider the feelings of those other 2,023 rides that were not drawn." was obviously taken to heart. There were very few announcements on the LDRiders list regarding who was in. In fact, most reports were second handed. On the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum several of my friends announced their disappointment. The silence must have been deafening. Soon my mailbox was full of emails asking if I got in. I was in a dilemma. If I responded to the email positively, the information would surely get passed on second handed. If I didn't respond the anxiety would simply rise. I finally decided to post a simple message on the MTF announcing that I got in. I was dying to know if Jason got in. That was as important to me as getting in myself. Soon I learned that he too had gotten in. What a surprise for both of us. It seemed surreal. As time passed, I also learned that some of my other friends from the MTF would be joining in on the fun:
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Joe Colquitt |
Ken Morton |
Jason Jonas |
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Jim Frens |
Juli Davis |
Patrick Jacobson |
There were also a lot of other friends that I had met over the last couple years at other rallies. I was excited. But I was also thrilled about sharing the experience with my friends.
Folks continually asked what I was doing to prepare for the IBR. I was so dumb, I really had no idea what to expect, so I didn't really see any way to prepare. So I concentrated on getting my equipment ready. My bike had nearly 100K miles on it and I expected to turn 100Kon the way to the rally. So I decided that I would give it a complete overhaul. $1700 later my dealer had my bike running like a new one. Anything that might be subject to failure was replaced. My brother-in-law had recently bought a Gamin SPIII+ GPS. This was the same as mine, so I figured I would run two. I had no idea what I would do with two GPS's but figured it would be nice to have one as a backup. I also purchased a small laptop that I fit in the trunk. I had experimented with it and I could leave it running all the time. I felt that a quick look would be a good security blanket. Maybe that really meant I was not all that comfortable with my GPS skills. The biggest decision was clothing. After much debate I decided that I would take my electric jacket liner and gloves and would wear my heavier riding jacket and pants. I knew I could be really hot but figured that was better than being really cold and didn't have room to carry multiple jackets and pants. I also spent a fair amount of time practicing riding on some gravel roads. I knew that in rallies past gravel had been part of the equation. I wanted to be prepared.
Soon it was time to head off for the start. I was filled with anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. On the way to Missoula I decided to take the Badland's loop. This was the first time that I had been in this area and the loop was only a short detour and I got a great picture out of it.
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This was the week of Sturgis. I really had no concept of how big Sturgis was. I had no hotel reservation and there seemed to be none available. I found myself in Spearfish, South Dakota with no room in sight. Looking at the map, it looked like I could save several miles by taking 212 North instead of continuing on the Interstate. It was now about 9:00 p.m. and dark so I stopped at a service station to ask for advise. I got the standard "deer warning" but was told that it was used by a lot of trucks and should be no problem. Good thing, I had partaken of that gravel practice. I hit several stretches of construction that were in pretty poor shape. The standard "deer warning" was an understatement. I was seeing a lot of very large deer grazing near the highway. I counted 19 deer in 5 miles and finally decided that I would take the dust from an 18 wheeler as opposed to target practice on deer. After what seemed like an eternity I arrived in Broadus. I missed the turn on 212 and went straight through town. As I was turning around I see two deer grazing in a back yard. Why was I not surprised? I see a couple of guy standing outside a bar and decide to ask about a hotel. They had partaken of a few too many beverages and wanted to trade a ride on a horse for a ride on a Wing. I decided maybe I better truck on down the road. They did tell me that I was about to head into the Indian reservation and should see fewer deer. Thank goodness they were right about that.
I found a motel at Ashland but it was full as well. There were some bikers setting out front of their rooms putting away a few and invited me to sleep on the floor but I decided to push on. I finally found a room in Billings. I don't remember what time it was, but it was very early in the morning. So much for taking it easy on the way to Missoula.
I'm not sure but I think it was in Bozeman, Montana where I was about to hit the 100,000 mark on the Wing. There were a lot of memories in those miles. I really wanted a picture to remember it so I searched for a spot and found one behind the building of a Window Dealer. I searched around and was able to get the owner to take my picture.
Click to Enlarge
The going-ons at Missoula are just flashes of memory. Jim Frens was one of the first folks that I saw. It was nice to see a familiar face. I was surprised at how many folks were working on their bikes. What was that tip on the IBA website about doing something right before a ride? Eventually their was an informal dinner at a local restaurant and a few of the MTF folks walked to join in on the fun. We were late arrivers so we had dinner by ourselves downstairs. It was loud and crowded but we were able to share some conversation.
At the banquet, they called our names and we approached a table where we were given our rally numbers. Jason and I shared a table. He was number 101 and I was number 24. The numbers had no significance except the first numbers and the last numbers. The latter going to those that had been the biggest pain in the backside for Lisa Landry, the Rallymaster.
This picture courtesy of Tony Higgins
Click on below pictures to enlarge to Enlarge
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Ardys Kellerman |
Patrick Jacobson |
Ken Morton |
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Alan Leduc |
Juli Davis |
Mike Kneebone & Lisa Landry |
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Riders Meeting |
The Start |
Joe Colquitt |
After we were given the bonus locations, we retired to our rooms to prepare our routes. I was surprised that the bonuses were somewhat in order. I began my process of inputting the bonus locations into to Microsoft Streets and Trips. Jason called and ask how things were going and had already had decided on a route. Damn he is fast I thought. I had not decided on a route yet but I had done enough to know that we would be heading to the Northeast. I think I asked Jason if it would be ok if I tagged along during the first few bonus locations. Jason and I shared some information about a week before the ride (this will be discussed at the end of the report). Except for some very unusual circumstances, I could not conceive of this situation. Jason and I wanted to participate in the rally together, but as competitors, not as companions. Jason understood and agreed that we would share the road a bit. I continued planning my route but was having difficulty focusing. I finally decided to just try to get some sleep and deal with it in the morning. A good nights sleep seemed imperative. Unfortunately, a good nights sleep was not in the offering.
The next morning Jason and I ended up at different ends of the parking lot. I was first out and waited until he exited. We proceeded to work our way through the traffic on the way out of Missoula. At one light, I was setting on the right side of Jason and he reached over his right hand. I then reached my left hand to his right and as they touched I remember a tear rolling down my cheek. There was a lot going on in my mind as you will soon discover. But this tear was a tear of joy and unbelief that a dream had come true.
I had arrived early in Missoula and several folks had recommended a ride through Lolo Pass. I wanted to just chill out decided against it. It ended up that our first bonus location was Orofino, Idaho which would take us through Lolo. There were reports at the start that Lolo was closed due to forest fires. Fortunately we did not find that to be true. There were several bikes that elected this route. I would say most were much better riders than me. We were hitting the pass pretty hard. It seemed that it was important to enjoy the rally and to have some mementos. Since Jason was in the lead I took the opportunity to take a few pics from my bike. (Click on Images to Enlarge)
Not really sure where the following picture was taken, but we got stopped for construction. There was a flagman, so it looked to be a bit of a wait. A fellow in the pickup in front of us got out to get something out of the bed of the truck. I asked if he would take a picture of Jason and I. I now have this picture hanging on my bedroom wall courtesy of a gift from Jason and it is quite cherished.
At Orifino, Idaho our first bonus, we were to get a gas receipt. We stopped at the Sunset Mart, which seemed to be the only available gas. No address or town on the receipt. The receipt did have a telephone number but we are not sure that is enough. We go inside and ask for a business card. No gotta. Finally, we realized that they had an old credit card machine that had the address. They only had one black ticket. We had them run that and Jason, myself, and another rider each took a part. Don't know what those behind us did.
The next stop was Palouse Falls State Park. This bonus did not open until 4:00 p.m. We got there and had a lot of time to kill. I tried to sleep but it was the middle of the day and it just wasn't working. There were several riders hanging around waiting and watching. I was bored and starting messing with the route. This turned out to be a big mistake. We knew that our next stop would be Sunnyside Motorcycle Company in Sunnyside, Washington. But it looked like we could easily go to Winnemucca, Nevada after that on the way to Gerlach. I mentioned this to Jason and really didn't get much of a comment. What I had forgotten about was this warning that was clearly printed on the bonus sheet: "NOTE: The road east out of the Gerlach area, NV-49, is not recommended for large street motorcycles." I don't know that we made a decision about Winnemucca, but the seed was planted. More waiting here at Palouse Falls. Hmmm. Wonder how the heck they are checking to make sure that we don't get the bonus before 4:00 p.m. After all it is only a picture bonus. Turns out there was a fellow there with binoculars taking license plate numbers. No problem. There were several of us there and we were not about to jeopardize our ride by cheating. As the time neared, we hung our flags on the fence, and one of the riders counted down from the GPS: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 4:00 p.m. Cameras were snapping pictures left and right. Jason and I were now off to Sunnyside.
Sunnyside was another picture bonus. We stopped to get gas in Sunnyside and then went the few blocks to the Sunnyside Motorcycle Company. The road had a funny crown and it felt like I had a flat tire. I ask if they would check the pressure and they did. I'm sure Jason was wondering what in the hell was going on as I pulled into the shop. All is well, the flat was only in my mind. We got our pictures and were off.
Somewhere in Oregon, I decided that I should try to contact my wife. It was now early evening and I had not talked to her since the start. I had my cell phone hooked up through my headsets and hit the speed dial. I just expect to tell her that I was in Oregon and doing well. I had ear plugs in so it was difficult to hear but I heard in a panicked voice, "I need to talk to you." I motioned to Jason to pull off at the next exit. I told him that I would be ok from this point forward (you will understand what I meant about that when you read the end of the report) and that I needed to talk to my wife. I ask him to go ahead and he rode on. At the end of this report, I have provided a recording of a call my wife received. You will understand why she was in a panic. I promised her that I would try to catch Jason and finish the first leg to Las Vegas with him.
I had taken several minutes for the phone call. Well you know when someone is doing highway speed and you are stopped that it is very difficult to catch up. I rode for quite sometimes at speeds that were not wise. I didn't feel that I was being unsafe, but Jason had warned me that Oregon ran X-band radar. I really didn't care. I felt that I should try to catch Jason since I had made that promise to my wife. I was just about to give up and head straight to Las Vegas, when I saw a motorcycle tail light. Sure enough it was Jason. It so happened that we were approaching a rest park. I relayed to him the conversation with my wife and ask if it would be ok if I rode with him to Las Vegas. Of course he agreed. My plan was to finish the first leg and make a decision in Las Vegas regarding the rest of the rally.
Somewhere around midnight I hit a wall. Wow, I had done several 24 hour rallies as well as several IBA rides and had never had an issue with sleep. But I simply was done and we were only 14 hours or so into the rally. The poor nights sleep the night before had taken its toll. I motioned for Jason to stop and ask that he go on. He wouldn't do it. I ask again, but he insisted that he stop as well. I set the screaming meanie at one hour and we laid on the ground at an abandoned weigh station to take a nap. This was far from a restful sleep but I felt good enough to continue. We eventually found ourselves in Winnemucca. Remember that warning, "NOTE: The road east out of the Gerlach area, NV-49, is not recommended for large street motorcycles." This was the road that went west out of Winnemucca to Gerlach. We were about to unknowingly fail to render appropriate note of that warning.
From this point it is best to simply provides Jason's account of the ride from from his website: http://www.jasonjonas.com/motorcycling/rides-rallies/ibr-2003.jsp Jason's comments are in red italics. I have intermingled my comments.
We arrived in Winnemucca around 3a, gassed up and looked at the map. Here's where the casualty of my route planning technique occurred. (Jason can't take full responsibility for poor route planning. I too was ignorant of what we were about to experience and I was the one who had planted the seed of riding to Winnemucca during our stop at Palouse Falls.) When I plan a route I visualize the entire route among all the locations. I don't over-analyze it. Exact mileages and specific roads mean nothing to me at that time. I see it and I ride. At each location I take a detailed look at how to get to the next location. And here's the casualty. When I punched in Gerlach and saw that it was 110 miles from Winnemucca all I could think was, "What the fucka we doing here?!?!?!" Two freakin' points and well beyond the 30-40 miles from Gerlach I had mentally calculated the night before. Had I realized it was 110 miles I would never have gone to Winnemucca. I would have went straight to Gerlach from Sunnyside. To top it all off, that 110 miles is the shortest route and covers some 100 miles of dirt road - Jungo Road. A road that was explicitly mentioned in the bonus list as not recommended for riders on large touring rigs.
This would not be the last time I thought, "What the fucka!"
I told Alan about Jungo Road and we decided to go to the start of it and get a taste. We traveled about the first mile and stopped. I wasn't too concerned about the road itself. There were some nice big rocks that looked a little jagged in the moonlight, but I had seen my share of dirt and rocks this summer with the ride up to Prudhoe Bay and various stretches of treachery in British Columbia, Saskatoon, Colorado, Utah and various other regions of North America. I was more concerned with Alan and him being on his wing. I wasn't too concerned about Alan's ability to handle the road, but didn't know if he was willing to put his wing through the torture of the next 100 miles. I knew what the answer would be when I asked him, "There's 100 miles of this shit. Do you want to continue?" (I did not have the experience that Jason had on gravel but I knew going-in that there was likely to be some gravel on the IBA. For this reason, I had done quite a bit of riding on gravel during the summer leading up to the rally. I was not concerned about my bike. This in fact was one of the reasons I decided to ride a bike with 100,000 miles on it -- I could simply throw it away at the end of the ride.)
There were some wheel ruts to keep in, but even the ruts were covered in little jagged rocks. Getting out of these ruts typically meant you were either in more rocks or a dirt/gravel/sand mixture that was anywhere from one to four inches deep. (I would agree with Jason's description of the road. Basically, your best route was to ride in the tire tracks. Even at that, there were a couple of spots, must have been washouts or spots where the sand had blown across, that the texture of the road changed radically. I remember hitting one such spot and getting a tank slapper. Woah. That will make ya pucker. That got my attention and I started to be a bit more cautious). We carried on for about five or six more miles and I stopped again. I thought Alan has gotten a good taste of what the next 90 miles would be like and I wanted to see if he changed his mind. "There's 90 more miles of this shit. Are you sure?" The expected answer came and we were off.
The ride was going extremely well. While we weren't in a huge hurry, we were keeping a pretty good clip. I reckon I was running steadily between 30 and 40 MPH. I'd occasionally lose Alan's headlights and stop and wait to see them coming over the next hill or around the last corner. We weren't riding close to each other, but I never lost sight of his headlights for too long. I figured he was just back there chillin' and taking the road at a comfortable pace for himself and his wing.
At one point I stopped to wait on Alan's headlight, but it never came. I decided to turn around and head back to check on him. I went about a mile or two back and found his headlights. The sun was just starting to come up. The eastern sky was turning a dark purple and the western sky was still bathed in bright, white moonlight as the full moon began to set over the desert mountains. Alan said he was taking some pictures and we sat there and talked about the glory we were witness to that evening. Another special moment shared with a special friend. (What Jason didn't know at the time was that I simply could not resist this old road sign in the early morning purple haze. I stopped and parked my bike so that I would be sure to get it in the picture. I got off the bike and took pictures of the sign from several angles. It seemed that only a few hours ago I had been exhausted and now I found myself wide awake experiencing a surreal moment in the middle of the desert. I was glad that I had stopped for that rest. I felt bad, that Jason had turned around looking for me. I told him that I had to stop for a picture. I didn't tell him that I had probably taken 5 minutes or more taking them. Later in his report, Jason acknowledges that I was off my bike. But I don't really think he knew that until after the ride. As by the time he got back, I was on my bike again and ready to roll. In hindsight, these are some pictures that I am glad I took the time to take.)
Not more than fifteen to twenty minutes later I lost Alan's headlights again. I stopped and waited a few minutes, but again his headlights never appeared. I thought to myself, "I better not catch him taking more pictures! And if I catch him taking pictures off his bike I'm going to kill him!" I left my camera in Missoula. I figured if I had time to snap a few pictures, I have time to ride. In retrospect, I wish I had brought it for those two or three moments I wish I had one. I'm digressing though because what happens next is one of the worst feelings I've had in a long, long time.
The sun is beginning to brighten the sky to a point where headlights are of no use. As I crest a hill I see Alan's wing on the side of the road and he's off the bike. As I get closer I realize that his bike is laying on its side. I hoped Alan stopped to take some pictures and his bike fell over, but as I got closer and closer it was obvious that this wasn't a typical tipover and that's when I thought, "What the fucka?!?!". As the horror set in I almost threw down my bike, but I managed to get the sidestand down. Alan was walking around. He already had his jacket and helmet off. We still don't know how that happened, but I assume he took them off himself. I got off the bike and asked Alan what happened and if he's alright. He looked OK until he spoke.
"Jason, where are we and what are we doing?"
"We're about 20 miles from Gerlach and we're running the IBR," I replied.
Alan laid down in the ditch near his bike while I inspected it. The bike was fucked. The windshield was shattered, the side mirrors were destroyed, the saddlebags and trunk were hanging there, the bars looked bent and I could smell gas from a leaky fuel cell. Despite the destruction, there was a brief moment in time where I thought if the bike will start, we can ride into Gerlach and put all of this behind us. No one the wiser.
You'd be laughing as hard as I am right now if you had seen the bike.
Then Alan spoke again. "Jason, where are we and what are we doing?"
"We're about 20 miles from Gerlach and we're running the IBR," I replied again while mentally repeating "what the fucka, what the fucka." And that's when reality set in. Alan's bike isn't going anywhere. He has obviously sustained a major blow to the melon and has a concussion. He wanted to get up on his feet and I walked over to give him a hand. He reached up to grab my arm and was in major pain. More reality. Possible broken shoulder, bruised ribs, broken toes and a blistering desert sun on the immediate rise. I didn't know what to do at that moment.
Alan spoke again. "Jason, where are we and what are we doing?"
"We're about 20 miles from Gerlach and we're running the IBR," I replied again while internally racing through the different scenarios of getting help to my friend. Do I strap his ass to my bike and haul ass into Gerlach? Surely I can't leave him here in the desert with a concussion and absolutely no protection of any kind. After a few minutes of absolute mental torture I decided the bottom line is that I can't do anything for him here and the likelihood of someone driving by is practically nil. So I marked the coordinates in my GPS and hauled ass into Gerlach.
Immediately before the crash, I remember a small hill. As Jason said, the early morning haze made the headlights of minimal use. There were shadows in the tire tracks so I was just trying to target the center of the track the best I could. I remember misjudging the tire track. I was in the soft stuff. I remember thinking I had control and coming back into the tire track only to hit some washboard and remember a jerk on the handlebar. There is probably a good reason why that is the last thing that I remember until Jason arrived. I remember asking Jason if he had taken my helmet and jacket off as I saw it laying at the side of the road. No, he said. Turns out I had a broken collarbone and ribs. Glad I was out of it when I took that helmet off. It sure as hell had to hurt. Before Jason left I asked him to help me stand the bike up. We pulled it up and I set it on the side stand. I tried to start it but no luck. Like Jason, I'm thinking it is only about 20 miles to Gerlach. I was still in shock so the pain really hadn't hit that hard. I obviously was in no shape to ride. Jason helped me lay down and he was off. Can you imagine the difficulty of his decision? I can't and I was there.
Soon after Jason left, I must have passed out. I woke up a bit later and the sun was starting to rise. I started wondering how long Jason had been gone and how long it might be before someone got back. Hmmm. If I could get that bike started, I still think I could make to Gerlach. I looked at the bike and something did not seem right. It seemed like it was pointed the wrong direction. I walked up the hill the direction the bike was pointed and I noticed a sign. I walked a quarter of a mile or so to the sign. I don't remember what it was but it did not help me figure out the direction. I walked back to the bike and about a quarter of a mile the other way. In hindsight, I was really incoherent, and was just wandering. But I think I figured out that the bike was actually pointed the wrong direction. I decided that I would try to get the bike started. I checked the obvious, kill switch, neutral, and the reverse button. All were in order. I remember getting down on the ground to check the kickstand switch. I straddled the bike hitting start with every combination of settings. Nothing. Someone was looking out for me. Even after I got the bike home, it wouldn't start. It ended up being a loose wire end.
Well so much for riding to Gerlach. As Jason said, my bike was a mess so this whole scenario is just downright laughable. Here is a link to pictures of the bike upon it's return home: http://web.bsu.edu/00amleduc/wing/oldred.htm Again I am wondering how long it has been since Jason left and wondering when he might return. I decided that I might as well unload my luggage out of the bike. I removed my GPS's and luggage and set it beside my helmet and coat. I decided that I better find a spot that was shaded and I walked up away from the bike a bit and found a shaded area. I remember when I laid down wondering about rattlesnakes. Soon I was out again. This decision to hunt shade would soon cause Jason even more anguish.
And I was hauling ass! I almost lost it once and decided the absolute worst scenario is getting myself hurt and stranding us both. I made it to Gerlach in about twenty minutes and saw my good friend, Patrick. My brain was still freaked out by everything and I needed someone else to calm me down and help make some temporary sense of all this. Thankfully, Patrick went to the phone and dialed 911 for me. I spoke to the operator and told her the situation. She asked me where Alan was located and I told her on Jungo Road about 20 miles east of Gerlach. She was trying to locate the road on her map and then I asked if GPS coordinates would help. She said yes and I ran to the bike to get the GPS and give her the coordinates. I was on the verge of tears at this point. Thoughts of friends and family past who have lost their lives or were in need of emergency help filled my thoughts. I didn't want to think this was happening again. Dreams that just came true not more than 24 hours ago were shattered before our eyes. I asked Patrick to let Joe Denton know what's going on and to call Lisa Landry to let her know what's happening. I hauled ass back out to Alan to take care of him until Care Flight arrived.
When I got back to the accident site Alan wasn't anywhere to be seen. All I could think was that he was out wandering the fuckin' desert with a major concussion, no water and with the sun on the rise. My heart sank. Did I do the right thing when I left him in the desert? Thankfully, I found Alan a few hundred feet from his bike. He was laying in the ditch in the shade and I thought to myself, "At least he's well enough to find some shade."
Alan was coming around then too. I told him I went in to Gerlach and Care Flight was on its way. He wanted to get up and walk around. As I was helping him up my eyes began to tear as thoughts of past tragedies filled my mind again. All I could tell Alan is that, "This just ain't right." He got to his feet and he seemed much more lucid than before. About ten minutes later Care Flight flew straight over us and began a circular descent. The pilot told me the GPS coordinates were indispensable in finding us quickly. At least I got that one right. They put Alan on a stretcher and loaded him up. (Actually, they ask me to lay down as I was standing when they arrived. I was now in too much pain to get to the ground. The shock was over and the real pain was in full force. They wanted to check me over and were about to cut my clothes off. I told them they had zippers, so with my help, I was able to get out of the rest of my riding clothes. Rather than laying down, they put the board to my back in the standing position and strapped me down. Then they laid the board with me strapped to it on the ground.) It wasn't too long after that when he was pumped up on some good drugs and in a lot less pain. He called me over before they departed and said, "I love ya, man." Seeing my friend there was such an emotionally crushing moment. I could only reply, "I love you too, Alan" before losing it all together. (I may have been on drugs but this is moment that I will never forget. I remember asking Jason several times to continue with his ride. But he just ignored me. I had the help that I needed. There was really nothing that he good do. But as you might imagine, this tragedy had taken it's toll on him as well. He really was in no condition to ride. I remember as they were loading me onto the helicopter asking for Jason to come over. Again, I told him, I love ya man. I knew that our dream had ended in a way that neither of us could ever have imagined. The drugs were kicking in and he was a mere blur. But I knew that blur was heart broken and my heart was breaking for him. As the helicopter lifted off I remember one of the EMT's looking over me and then I was out.)
I watched Care Flight whisk Alan away over the horizon. All that was left was mental, physical emptiness. I stood there in disbelief for about twenty minutes before walking over to Alan's bike and clearing some of the debris from the road. In looking at the road and trying to determine the sequence of events it appeared Alan crested a hill, ran into three to four inches of dirt/gravel/sand and lost the front end. Other than Alan's injuries and the bike damage, everything else is pure speculation.
When I arrived in Primm... After scoring I went to the room, showered away Jungo Road and fell into a deep sleep. So deep that I over slept the rider's meeting by an hour. I quickly put on some clothes and ran down to the meeting not knowing if anyone would still be around or what the ramifications would be of arriving late. As I entered the room Mike said, "Get up here Jason and decide what pill you want. People are ready to leave." That's nice. What pill do I want? I missed the first hour and, likely, the most important part of the meeting. And that's when I looked straight into Lisa's eyes and said, "I'll take the blue pill." With the blue pill I knew the rest of the rally would be like a typical rally - route sheets, route planning and riding. I had no idea what the red pill would entail other than Mike and Lisa sending folks through hell. I wasn't ready for hell. I had been through hell and back on Jungo Road.
While Jason was dealing with the anguish of what had happened and finding his way to Las Vegas. I was being transported to REMSA (Regional Emergency Medical Services Authority) in Reno. I had good drugs so I really don't remember anything about the helicopter ride nor the battery of tests that I went through that early August 12, 2003 morning. In hindsight, I know it must have been good. The helicopter ride was over $10,000 and the tests were over $20,000. At some point I remember waking up and was told that I had a broken collarbone, some broken ribs, some broken toes, and a concussion. I was also told that there was really no care necessary for any of those injuries and that I would be released. Soon a social worker showed up and I was able to tell her that my emergency information was in my cell phone. This was to the best of my recollection about 9:30 in the morning. I really wasn't very coherent at that point. I do remember telling her that I had a death threat made to me (more about that later) and the she should explain to my wife that this had nothing to do with that. My wife thought that the call was another harassment call and really gave them a hard time. She then called back to find that unfortunately this was the real thing. She tried to talk to me but I was out of it. It would be several hours later until we were able to communicate.
The social worker ask regarding my plans to get home. I told her that I would fly and she said she would try to make arrangements. She came in later and told me that the best rate she could get was $975. I told here that when I talked my wife that I would have her check on a flight. I was out of it but I was cognizant enough to know that $975 was outrageous. I was in and out of consciousness, presumably due to the drugs, for the next several hours. I remember getting a call from Don Braziel. Don will tell you that it was not much of a conversation. At some point the social worker came back with a reasonable flight plan and I told her to use my credit card to make the reservations. She also booked me a hotel room near the airport. The plan was that they were going to release me from the hospital that afternoon. I was barely coherent at this point and just went right along. Around 2:30 p.m., I was released (Note: my hospital bill was over $20K and they didn't even keep me overnight). They gave me a prescription for pain pills. I asked how I would get it filled since I had no transportation. They finally agreed to let me use the hospital pharmacy. They wheeled me to the door and loaded me in a cab which was directed to take me to the hotel.
I could barely walk and was in a lot of pain. I was also still barely coherent. I finally talked the clerk at the hotel into giving me a room near the lobby and hobbled to my room, leaving instructions for an early morning wake up call. I had not eaten. The restaurant in the hotel was closed between lunch and dinner, so I ordered a pizza. I forgot to order anything to drink and called the front desk. They wouldn't send anybody to get me something out of the machine. Finally, the clerk recognizing who I was said she would take care of it and brought me a six pack of sodas. I tried to eat; I called my wife; and, immediately went to bed. I was in and out all night. I'm not much into medication so I had not taken any of the pain pills. Wow, when I woke up the next morning, I was hurting big time. One thing about broken ribs is that they only hurt when you breathe. I had the desk clerk call a cab and proceeded to the airport. I can assure you that those take offs and landing were no fun. A side note: several weeks later I found my receipt from the hotel. I had two movie charges. Hope someone enjoyed them. LOL
Well at least it was significantly postponed. I'm sure anybody that has DNF'ed in the Iron Butt Rally would tell you that in a word, it SUCKS. Many people ask, if I was disappointed. To be quite honest, I had so much going on, that I did not really have time to be disappointed. Further, I recognized that the impact of this ride and the accident had impacted others maybe as much or more than it had impacted me so I never really had any real disappointment. But did I say that not finishing SUCKS?
I continued trying to get information about Jason and my other friends as the ride progressed during the next several days. As those that you follow this event know, information was hard to come by. That was as frustrating as anything else. In the end, all of my MTF friends completed their rides, a personal accomplishment for each and every one. Thank goodness that I was the only MTF casualty.
I had cancer several years ago and lost a kidney. I dealt with depression during that time. After my crash, I soon found myself dealing with the symptoms of depression again. All I could really do was set at home and try to heal. This gives you a lot of time to think. What I was thinking mostly was what my wife had gone through during this ride. All she wanted to do was support me. Instead she had what was likely one of the most stressful times of her life. I was also thinking about how my crash had impacted Jason's dream. As Jason said, "This ain't right." Realizing how my participation in this ride had impacted others was more difficult to deal with than the injuries and the fact that I had not completed the ride. I worked my way through all that. In part that is why this report has been so long coming.
I can't say enough about the support that my wife gave me before, during, and after this event. She is special. I also can't say enough about what Jason did for me. He was put in a situation where he had to make decisions that I hope none of the rest of us every has to make. Can you imagine finding your friend and then having to abandon him to go get help. Jason and I had a special relationship before the ride. His willingness to ride with me for reasons you are soon to learn and for his care and concern for me has made our relationship even more special. How do you repay someone that likely saved your life? I don't know. But I will continue to work on it the rest of my life.
In addition to my wife and Jason, there are some other people that I owe a great deal of gratitude. Before the ride I had arranged for Bob Moore and Pam to be my wife's link to the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum. Pam particularly was a huge support during this time and whether she wants it or not has garnered a lifetime friend in Brenda. Mike Kneebone went above an beyond by staying in touch with my wife and providing moral support. There were many others but these folks really went way beyond.
So how would I evaluate my experience in the 2003 Iron Butt Rally. Stressful, Short, Exhilarating. Even with all of the negatives, I would not trade this experience for anything. I have a shirt, a hat, and a pin. They will remain unworn and unused. I participated. I did not finish. I hope to rectify that in a future rally.
I wanted my report to reflect the positive aspects of the Rally, hopefully I have done that. I can't really even communicate how great an experience that it was even though it did not end as I intended. However, as hinted throughout the report there was something else going on before and during the rally. I have been postponing the writing of this report as I was not sure how to deal with this issue. Do I just pretend that this never happened and let the perpetrator go on to hassle others, which still might be done, or do I expose my experience so that others might recognize the perpetrator. I decided that I should expose the perpetrator and deal with whatever ramifications that come with that decision.
August 4, 2003, one week before the Iron Butt Rally, my wife comes into my room white as a sheet. You aren't going to believe the call I received. I will not go into the details of this first message, but I will tell you that the caller provided very specific personal details to add credibility to the call and threatened my life in the event that I participated it the 2003 Iron Butt Rally. I informed Mike Kneebone of the call, and took action to have my phone tapped, etc.
Note that this person claimed to be a member of the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum. Brenda pointed out that they knew all of this personal information. I told her immediately that I knew exactly who it was. It was not a member of the MTF, but another person that I had some dealings with in relation to one of the MTF Events. This person had obviously been monitoring the forum for awhile and had collected tidbits of personal information from several posts specifically for the purposes of making this call. This should give you an indication of how sick this guy really is. This was not something done spontaneously. This was something that was carefully planned.
The goal of this person was to cause me to abandon the ride. That was not going to happen. So two days later, I left for Missoula with this death threat lurking over my head. I have dealt with things of this nature before during a labor dispute. But those folks had the courage to threaten me directly. This coward decided instead to hassle me through my wife. Imagine the anguish and stress that she must have been dealing with. Was this an idle threat? Maybe. But this person is a psycho. So one could never really be sure.
Something happened the night before the ride to cause some additional concern. I will not go into the details but it was for this reason that Jason and I decided to ride together for the beginning of the first leg. I did not tell my wife that night when I called as I did not want her to have to worry even more.
I reported above that I called Brenda from Oregon and she was in a panic. She was in a panic because she had received a second call about 45 minutes before the start of the rally. The perpetrator did not know that we had a recorder on the line, which is legal in Indiana. You can listen to the call by clicking here: THREAT CALL This is an mp3 file and should play on most machines. If you have trouble you might have to right click and Save Target As.
Can you imagine receiving a call like that with regard to your spouse? Can you imagine how Brenda must have felt?
What kind of slime would do something like this? All I can say is that several people have listened to the tape and all of those people have identified the perpetrator as the same person. This is not the first time he has been a harassment. I have provided the link to this call so that others who think that comments regarding this person are an exaggeration might recognize that they are not. Hopefully, those people too will recognize his voice and will realize that this person is a low life coward and slime.
