SaddleSore 1000 = 1,000 miles in 24 hours

"Ray, as I have said before, you are an inspiration to all of us!" -Michael Kneebone, President and Founder: Iron Butt Association - "World's Toughest Motorcycle Riders"

Ray's Iron Butt Rides

A Big Success!

Map of actual GPS log

Opening Thoughts

For the Iron Butt SS-1000 (SaddleSore 1000) challenge, a person rides a motorcycle a thousand miles in under 24 hours, and then submits documentation to the Iron Butt Association (www.ironbutt.org) for certification.

Winter Solstice this year, 2019, was on a Sunday, December 22. And that's the day I chose for my Iron Butt SS-1000 ride. The Winter Solstice date was more of a happenstance. I was aiming for the first Sunday in December that I could get my motorcycle out of the driveway. We live in the sticks - our house is a few miles from the pavement, and the dirt road leading to it becomes muddy in wintertime and often covered in snow. So too, I was aiming for a Sunday morning in hopes of encountering the least traffic in Phoenix. Why December? The Iron Butt ride had become a project with me, and I didn't want to put it off, waiting for the warmer weather of Spring. So as the calender drew near Sunday, December 22, the driveway was dry and snow-free, and the weather was looking good - with no rain or snow forecast, and only light winds.

Even in good weather, the Winter Solstice presents a few problems - namely the lack of daylight and the frigid nights. This day is the shortest of the year, meaning that I would ride many hours at night. And the cold temperatures would only add to the challenge.

To this end I replaced the stock headlight bulbs on my bike with brighter LED's, and added a small pair of LED driving lights. And then I wired a fused relay to power my heated jacket and gloves. In retrospect I could have used heated pants and socks as well, but I'm quite used to riding in the cold, as long as my torso and hands are sufficiently warm.

On the night before the ride, I was planning to awaken at 2:15 AM. So I needed to get to bed early - in order to get several hours of sleep. But I was a bit nervous (in a good way) with anticipation of riding that far in a single day, so I couldn't get to sleep. I laid there until 11:30 PM, at which point I decided to call off the ride. I wouldn't have been able to ride for that many hours the next day, with no sleep the night before. And I couldn't get to sleep. So I wakened Jenny and asked her to turn off her alarm. She expressed disappointment because she, too, had put a lot of work into the ride preparations.

With the pressure off, I returned to bed and fell straight to sleep.

I woke up at 2:15 AM thinking of a certain famous Iron Butt rider, John Ryan, and what he had said in an interview. He asserted that he has no circadian rhythm, and needed only a few hours of REM sleep for the next day's riding. I don't have much of a circadian rhythm either, and now with three hours of good sleep behind me, and with John's encouragement, I was feeling good to go. The ride was back on.

Jenny hastened to make egg-salad sandwiches (we have chickens) then packed my motorcycle panniers and tail box with drinks and snacks - so that I wouldn't have to go into the c-stores to buy them - thus saving precious time. I needed to carry a few liters of drinking water, but the water would likely freeze in the cold temps. So we warmed the water and used our insulated cozies that we had made for our Ski-to-the-South-Pole trip.

About to leave home in the wee hours of morning, Jenny signing me in.

Departing from home, I headed for the first fuel stop at Springerville, AZ. This first leg will not count for the SS-1000. Iron Butt riding requires fuel receipts at each gas station, and our nearest gas station is in Springerville. So the Iron Butt clock will start there, at SS-1000 mile zero. Then the ride itself, a big loop from Springerville and back again, will be 1,010 miles.

Riding the gravel road leading to the pavement, I had a long day ahead - but I felt confident. The motorcycle felt heavy on the soft surface, wagging this way and that slightly, but it also seemed eager to go. These bikes are built to lap up the miles. And over the recent few months I had done a lot of maintenance, and also had gone on a number of long training rides. So maybe I was the one who was eager.

We reached the paved highway, myself and the big bike, and soon were bowling along in the pitch dark, man and machine headed for the great unknown. The cold night air buffed my shoulders, but the soft rumbling of the powerful engine was wholly reassuring.

And it was during this part of the ride that I shed my apprehensions about being too old for this kind of adventure. With that, I settled into my seat with resolve.

Fuel Stop 1: Springerville

3:44 AM, 38126 mi

Photographing the gas receipt against the bike's odometer. The receipt shows the address of the gas station, the date and time (Dec 22, 2019, 3:48 AM), and the gallons. The dash display shows that the bike is in 2nd gear, the time is 3:50 AM, the fuel tank has 206 miles worth of gas in it, the tank is about 3/4 full, and the bike has 38,126 total miles on it. (I removed the radio from the bike, but have yet to clear the "Radio" legacy setting on the dash.)

After fueling the bike at Springerville, and photographing the gas receipt against the bike's odometer - to meet a requirement for certification - I set a course for the 2nd fuel stop at St Johns, another 30 miles further on.

I was quite used to riding at night, but never at night on this bike. The low/high beam headlight switch on this handlebar felt clumsy in my thick gloves. In fact, I could hardly work it. So for the first few hours I rode with one finger on the switch so that I could quickly dim the headlights for the occasional oncoming car or truck.

My other hand was on the throttle grip, but didn't have much to do - thanks to the bike's cruise control. This feature provided a welcome relief from the cramped right hand syndrome that I had experienced while riding my other motorcycles for long distances. With this bike, I could occasionally let go of the throttle, and stretch the arm out to different positions. Alternating with the left hand, this exercise aided blood circulation and helped combat fatigue.

The road to St Johns was a two-lane affair, but unrefined and far below the standards of a bona fide highway. The posted speed limit was 65 mph, but in places I had to proceed much slower. At least the slower speed helped me watch for deer more carefully.

Fuel Stop 2: St Johns

4:21 AM, 38156 mi

I didn't waste any time fueling the bike at St Johns. Put gas in the tank, write the data in my log book, take photos of the gas receipt against the bike's odometer, and get back on the bike. The whole thing cost me less than five minutes. Soon I was motoring along the road leading out of town, following the thin red line on my GPS and headed for the next fuel stop at Holbrook, 57 miles away.

I don't like to spend money on expensive GPS units. I buy cheap used ones on eBay for around $25, and then modify them for use on my motorcycles. I take them apart and apply sealant to guard against moisture intrusion, then program them to act like expensive units. These cheap ones can't handle tracks and routes too well, but I don't use tracks and routes. I program my course into the GPS itself. It shows up as a red line to follow, and it's an order of magnitude more accurate. This accuracy can be very helpful sometimes.

I'm also adept at route planning. I program my spreadsheets for the most advantageous itinerary. This itinerary took me a lot of time to get just right, and I'm sharing it in this story for anyone who wants to follow suit.

The paved two-lane road leading to Holbrook was again posted at 65 mph, but the pavement was much smoother - so I could ride at speed more at ease. The night was still pitch dark, and the air whizzing by had a cold bite to it. But that's the thing about riding a motorcycle - a person accepts a bit of discomfort for a whole lot of enjoyment.

Sometimes I encountered a car or truck coming from the opposite direction, with their blinding headlights, but most of the time I was alone on the dark and peaceful highway. Peaceful, thanks to ear plugs I was wearing,

Fuel Stop 3: Holbrook

5:31 AM, 38213 mi

I fueled the bike at Holbrook using the same economy of time, only doing what was needed and no more. On my spreadsheet itinerary I had given myself twelve minutes of off-the-bike time for each riding hour. And my itinerary listed each gas stop and what time I needed to arrive there. This told me whether I was ahead or behind my schedule. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a problem. Ordinarily I don't even ride on a schedule. But this ride is different because I have never ridden such distances in so little time.

Leaving the Holbrook gas station, I was 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

Within minutes of leaving the gas station, I found myself on the interstate, zipping along at 75+ in the close company of big 18-wheelers - one after the other - all careening down the highway in the darkness of night. And this is where I started losing body warmth. The difference between traveling at 65 mph and 75 mph might not seem like much, but while motorcycling on a cold night, the difference is immense. The bike was designed to block the wind as much as possible, and thank heavens for the large windshield. But even so, a lot of cold air was being forced around the front part of the bike, and bathing me in a frigid stream.

My heated gloves and heated grips were keeping my hands toasty warm, and the heated jacket was at least keeping my torso from being too uncomfortable. My legs were getting cold, so I squeezed them closer to the bike for what little warmth it provided. My feet were positively cold, even though wearing thick wool socks inside my boots.

But never mind the cold, I was used to riding in the cold.

However, this night riding along the interstate, rubbing shoulders with the endless progression of high-speed 18-wheel trucks, made me a little nervous. Not because of the trucks, so much, but because of the threat of a deer running across the highway. I couldn't see very well because the headlight glare of the oncoming traffic. If I ever repeat this same trip, I think it would be safer to ride this stretch between Holbrook to Flagstaff in the daylight.

Fuel Stop 4: Flagstaff

6:55 AM, 38302 mi

Getting gas at 7:00 AM in Flagstaff. Not worried, just a bit cold.

The temperature in Flagstaff was off the chart. So cold! While getting gas, my breath was clouds of vapor.

A mile out of Flagstaff I hit a pothole that jarred off one of the side view mirrors. Fortunately I had the mirror tied on, so I didn't lose it. And my GPS mount became loose. So I had to stop and adjust everything.

By and by, the glimmer of dawn greeted me while riding south. And because the land was gradually descending in altitude, slowly I began to warm. The jagged mountains surrounding Sedona were so beautiful, washed by first glowing light.

The endless stream of 18-wheelers had kept going west, so there were very few on this part of the trip going south. The highway leading to Phoenix was somewhat curvy, but also smooth and high speed, and the car and pickup traffic was increasing. But daylight and the warming temps made it feel like a different ride.

Fuel Stop 5: Anthem

8:46 AM 38418 mi

The fuel stop in Anthem was quick, once again, and within minutes I was back on the highway. And before long I reached the outskirts of Phoenix. The traffic wasn't too bad on this Sunday morning, and I had no trouble getting through the big city.

Once south of Phoenix I was in familiar territory. Jenny and I had driven this part of the highway many times en route to the airport. We lived in Arizona City for fifteen years, and one of our preferred gas stations is where I was headed next.

Fuel Stop 6: AZ City

10:15 AM, 38502 mi

The highway from Flagstaff to this gas station near AZ City had dropped over a mile in altitude, to only 1500 feet above sea level. So taking advantage of the warmth of the day, after gassing up I rode over to an empty parking lot and indulged in a 15-minute break - drinking a small cup of hot coffee and eating a few snacks. I know this region like the back of my hand, because I had spent a lot of time dirt-biking in the desert around here. This knowledge saved me a quick trip to the men's restroom, back at the gas station.

The gas station near AZ City.

The I-10 Interstate was busy with 18-wheelers, as usual, and I have learned to stay away from them. These truck drivers are often half-asleep, and the accident rate is woefully prodigious. I tend to blame the trucking companies for making the drivers work such long hours.

The highway led past Picacho Peak, where we have spent a great many enjoyable hours - climbing it hundreds of times. I plan to write a book about that. We were training for our South Pole trek by climbing Picacho Peak three or four times a week, when one day I suffered a stroke. In the following months Jenny taught me how to walk again, and we eventually resumed climbing Picacho. In fact, we climbed it so many times that we eventually set the record for the fastest climb and decent. That peak was pivotal in my recovery; and pivotal in our subsequent trip to Antarctica where we spent 55 days skiing to the South Pole. So I always admire Picacho when I ride past.

The next section of highway lead past Tangerine Rd, north of Tucson, and brought back more wonderful memories. This was my turn-off to Mt Lemmon where I trained For my solo thru-hikes of the Appalachian Trail - by hiking the Romero Trail, sometimes all the way to the summit. I hiked this trail a few hundred times, and each day was a long one and full of adventure and pretty sights.

The traffic was light in Tucson and I made it through with no problems.

Fuel Stop 7: Benson

12:03 PM, 38608 mi

Next stop was in Benson for gas; and this was a familiar stop also - not for gas but to visit the donut shop. However, today I was interested only in gas. The day was warm and partly sunny, so after gassing up, I took another break for a few sips of coffee and little snacks from my tail box.

Soon I was back on the Interstate headed for Lordsburg, with the big bike rumbling along encouragingly.

We motorcyclists usually wave to each other, in fact we almost always wave. Today the lanes were divided by some distance but still I got some waves. That's one of the big advantages of traveling by motorcycle - you have so many friends. Mostly un-met, but friends nonetheless. Whenever someone on a bike waves, it brings me into the moment and makes life golden.

This stretch of interstate to Lordsburg I have ridden many times, usually on my way to start the Great Divide Route, which I have done fifteen times (and counting) on my dual-sport Dakar. That bike is the best, I think, for riding the GDR. But it's not so great on the highway. It will go fast, and keep going fast all day long. But it doesn't have much of a windshield, and also doesn't ride smooth like this K-bike.

This K1200LT is so smooth and comfortable - almost like riding in a car but ten-thousand times as much fun. The only things I lack are a few tunes and a beverage holder - but you can't win them all.

Fuel Stop 8: Lordsburg

1:57 PM, 38721 mi

Back on the interstate, headed this time for Las Cruces, in good weather and on a warm afternoon. Basting along, one part of my mind thinks that I should be done riding for the day, and its time to find a place to camp or a book motel room. The other part of my mind is focused on the joy of riding, and thinks that I should just keep riding. Then my logical mind steps in. I keep riding and the miles begin to blend.

I notice different types of motorcyclists. One kind is full on, go fast, and they usually force their way into a knot of traffic. Most cars and truck drivers are like that. I think that tailgating a knot of traffic is chancy and dangerous. I used to live near this interstate and saw horrendous wrecks often. There is no safety in this world, but tailgating a knot of traffic is really pushing one's luck. I like to ride the K-bike fast, but when I come to a knot of traffic, I cancel the cruise control by twisting the grip ever-so-slightly, and then I throttle back to a safer distance.

The stretch of highway leading to Las Cruces was full of such traffic knots, each one spaced by some distance. I would let one knot get ahead, then soon come upon another. So I was glad when at last reaching the exit, and turning on to a different highway.

Fuel Stop 9: Las Cruces

3:55 PM, 38844 mi

I fueled the bike in Las Cruces, then moved to the parking lot for a short break. Throughout the day I had been advising Jenny of my whereabouts, by phone or message. It was like: "Hi, I'm in such and such a place and everything is going fine; how are things there? - Thanks for being there, love you, bye. But this time we had a nice talk. She is so supportive, and seems thrilled that I'm actually doing the Iron Butt.

The ride from Las Cruces to Socorro was a dream. Warm, still light, and very little traffic. Slipping along the highway on cruise control, my mind became one with the bike. As if the bike could read my mind, and required very little input from me. I wasn't tired, and was enjoying this ride to the max.

Pit stop in the late afternoon, on the way to Socorro.

Fuel Stop 10: Socorro

6:22 PM, 38992 mi

The 153 miles from Socorro to Springerville were slow-going in the dark, because I had to watch for deer, elk and rabbits. I had ridden this stretch many times and always enjoyed it. But tonight it was something extra special: the Iron Butt ride. I wasn't tired or sleepy, or too cold. Mostly my mind was occupied with watching for deer.

Fuel Stop 11: Springerville

9:24 PM, 39146 mi

My spreadsheet itinerary had me arriving back at Springerville at 9:57 PM. I was ahead of the game by 33 minutes.

I went into the store to pay for gas, and remarked to the cashier that it was strange that my card worked at the gas pumps this morning, but now this evening the card didn't work. She said she saw me getting gas this morning and hoped I had heated clothes, because it was so cold. I affirmed I did have heated gear, and said I had ridden all day, over a thousand miles. She looked astounded, then said "And now you have to ride home."

I arrive back home, late at night.

Jenny signing me off.

x

For this ride, I had cobbled a few fused relays together to power the GPS, the driving lights, a voltage meter, and the heated jacket and gloves. These wires are temporary, so I left them loose like this, and simply covered them with the fuel tank cover. (In this photo, I'm not finished with the electrical work, hence the bare wires.)