Act II
I awoke fairly refreshed shortly before 4:00 AM. At 4:00 AM sharp the Rider meeting started with the announcement of the top 10 riders. I was comfortably sitting in 7th place, the lost fuel receipt costing me a couple of places. More importantly the scoring differential between the leader, David Derrick and me was only 3%. In 2005, I had dug myself a 24% scoring differential hole. The top seven riders this year were separated by just a little over 3,000 points. Barring some major catastrophes, I was fairly confident, the winner would be one of the top seven.
The group contained some of the best riders in the field including Jim Owen, Alex Schmitt, Marty Leir, Mike Evans, Greg Burger and of course the leader David Derrick. Lurking just a little further back was another group of strong riders including Jeff Earls and Eric Jewell, who I was sure were aiming to move up.
The bonus listing for the second leg was, as expected, extremely large and complex. It contained well over a 100 bonuses covered in 38 pages of descriptions. After a quick examination, the breakdown fell into a general southwest direction and some more pronounced northwest directions. It was clear I would not be going anywhere anytime soon. This was going to take some time. I retired to my room and began the tedious task of inputting the bonuses into the laptop. I moved even slower than the bonuses in the first leg, trying to make sure I did not make any mistakes.
As before, people drifted in and out of the room, but with less fan fare. I finally finished with the bonus locations and began working on routes. The largest and most extreme bonuses were in the far northwest and included Homer, Alaska, Hyder Alaska and Prudhoe Bay. Though I was doubtful these bonuses would be part of a winning route, I ran them anyway. They were quickly discarded. What did seem appealing was a route built along the southwest that included the Grand Canyon and then into California and into the Northwest.
I ran a few routes and was beginning to feel pretty good about the choices when I promptly deleted every bonus from the computer. What had taken me hours to do, was now gone. “I’ve just lost the Iron Butt Rally”, I said to whoever was in the room at the time. I was physically nauseous. I could not believe what I had just done. Every bonus, every route. They were all gone. Vicki Johnston was in the room running her own routes and tried to come to my rescue. We tried everything to get them back, but it was useless.
The morning had been flying past and in my mind I could hear every bike starting and the riders heading out. I had nothing. My hands were shaking I was so upset. I tried to clear my head and come up with a plan of action. Before deleting all the bonuses, I had a pretty good idea of where to go. I started putting in bonuses again. I ignored anything in Canada or Alaska. I also ignored the Texas bonuses and those in the extreme northwest of the US. Though there were still a lot of bonuses to input, it was faster the second time around.
The urge to get on the bike and ride was overwhelming. But with no place to go, there was no point. After I put everything back in, the route materialized again. The large bonuses were day bonuses and included the Grand Canyon and two groups in central California. I grouped them by day, planning on riding between the groups at night. I was not sure it was a perfect route, but I thought given the complexity of the bonuses, it could be a winning route, especially if some of the riders in front of me went for the Alaska bonuses.
Bob Woolridge had joined the room along with Paul and Vicki. One of the traits of the Iron Butt Rally, is the tendency for the Rally to repeat bonus locations. Many of the bonuses on the second leg had been bonuses on prior rallies, including Shiprock, New Mexico, the Ancient Bristlecone Forest, Mono Hot Springs, Death Valley, Dinosaur National Park and Gerlach, Nevada. We discussed the difficulties of the bonuses, but nothing sounded all that bad. The roads to Mono Hot Springs and the Bristlecone Forest were not great, but how bad could they really be? The route focused on arriving at a large bonus at the Lick Observatory in California early Tuesday morning. If I made the bonus on time, I thought I would be in great shape.
With a plan in place, I headed down to the bike. I ran into Bob Higdon and Tom Austin in the parking lot. They asked me what I thought about the bonuses in Los Angeles. I told them I was not a big fan of Los Angeles. What about San Francisco then? I thought San Francisco was a great city and would be well worth visiting in the near future, concealing just the slightest smile. And with that, I was off, heading to Ship Rock, New Mexico, planning on making it there early Sunday morning.
I took the most direct route to Ship Rock, with the only detours being for bonuses that were directly along my route. If I could swing a dead cat and hit the bonus, I would stop. Otherwise, it was “Go West Young Man”. My oscillating defunct feline would strike a small bonus in Tulsa and then one in Oklahoma City. The latter was the Survivor Tree at the site of the Oklahoma City bombing. I had always wanted to visit the memorial, but had never had the opportunity. When I arrived there was some type of ceremony going on at the site of the tree. Though such sites are common bonuses for endurance rallies, I often find myself uncomfortable with such locations. It is difficult to show the appropriate reverence for the victims of these horrific events and still get in and get out quickly. I really wish I could have spent more time here.
Driller Man in Tulsa, Oklahoma
Survivor Tree
Better View
Objects left by Visitors
To the Right, an Empty Chair for Each Victim
After Oklahoma City it was on to New Mexico. I rode on through the night, hoping to get to Ship Rock at dawn. Along the way there was a good size bonus in Mancos, Colorado that I wanted to grab. Once again, my progress would slow at night. One of the vagaries of using a GPS is that it frequently will take you along a quite unexpected route. I spent much of the night on two lane roads with no towns in site, when I had anticipated interstate much of the way. No matter, as there was ne’er a car in sight. I stopped for an hour and took a nap on a picnic table outside a small hospital.
Refreshed, I was off again before dawn. Dawn broke before I arrived in Mancos. I had seen deer everywhere throughout the night, but they had respectfully granted me the right of way and stayed off the road. Riding toward Mancos, yet another deer crossed in front of me. I slowed, anticipating his buddy would be right behind. It didn’t matter. The deer ran out of the woods and slammed into the left side of the bike, striking my left leg and the left Jesse bag in the process. I swerved briefly, but kept the bike upright and braked to a stop to assess the damage to myself and to the bike.
Both appeared to be relatively unharmed. I had a large bruise on my left shin and a lot of blood on the Jesse. Other than being shaken up, no real damage had been done. The deer was dead in the road, the Jesse bag apparently breaking her neck. I climbed back on the bike and road off, more awake than ever before. I called Nancy to fill her in and let her know where I was. I did not know if the tracker was working well in the Colorado Mountains.
A few miles after striking the deer, two rally riders zipped past me. I guess I was still a little shaken and had been putting along at a pitiful pace. The two bikes in front were dual FJR’s, but I wasn’t really sure who it was. I was a little surprised to see any riders this far out. I figured this far into the Rally nearly all the riders would have stopped for more rest. Apparently, as I so often am, I was wrong.
I fell in behind the riders as we arrived in Mancos for the giant arrows. I would follow them all the way to Ship Rock, sometimes falling back, sometimes keeping up. It passed the miles away.
Big Arrows in Mancos
The three of us arrived in Ship Rock a while later. The Rock is visible from miles away. I pulled into a gas station and confirmed that the large Rock in the middle of the desert was in fact Ship Rock. The other two riders continued on ahead. The directions for the bonus routed the rider toward the Rock along a dirt road off the highway. Along the highway, I found a marker that identified the landmark as Ship Rock. I called Paul Taylor who told me that a picture with the sign and the landmark had been acceptable in previous Rallies. He did not think I needed to go all the way to the Rock. Not wanting to lose the bonus, I also called Lisa Landry for a final clarification. She assured me that a photo of the Rock and the sign would be sufficient. I snapped the photo and quickly headed toward the Grand Canyon.
Rockin’ in the Desert
Riding across the Navajo Indian Reservation into Arizona, signs of poverty were everywhere. It was a depressing sight. The oppressive heat made everything seem worse. It seemed to be an impossible environment in which to live, yet I am sure the residents would probably say the same about living in Maryland. Trailers dotted the landscape every few miles or so. I could not help but be amazed and bothered by these sites. Though I am sure there are many tribes that are very prosperous, I have often found traveling through reservations to be a sobering and somber experience.
Continue to Chapter 8
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