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2005 Iron Butt Rally Ride Report
It was the summer of 2001 – the summer that I had started riding street motorcycle – that I had my first exposure to the world of LD motorcycle riding. A new friend at the time, Tim Giese, and I decided to make a weekend run down to Duluth, MN and then catch State Highway 1 on the way back to Roseau. When we were stopped in the little town of Ely, MN to grab a sandwich, we saw a bike in the parking lot with an “Iron Butt Association” license plate frame. Tim had heard of this group, but didn’t know much about them other than they ride a pile of miles. It peaked my interest, but I didn’t investigate further until a couple of years later when I was convinced by a good friend of mine, Grady Dunham, to compete in the Minnesota 1000. This would be my first long distance motorcycle rally experience, and I enjoyed it very much. From there I went on to compete in a few more LD rallies before deciding to apply for the 2005 Iron Butt Rally.
The 2005 Iron Butt Rally was essentially broken into three mini rallies: 105 hours, 58 hours, and 95 hours. In between those check points it was up to us to decide where we wanted to ride based upon bonus locations we were given for that particular leg; it's essentially a scavenger hunt and North America (everywhere north of Mexico) is our playground. For example in the first 105 hours you could touch places like Key West, FL or Yellowknife, North West Territories of Canada! No leeway is given to riders for mechanicals, weather, or road construction. All said and done the top riders would travel anywhere between 10,000 and 13,000+ miles in the 11 days.
The first leg of the Iron Butt Rally (IBR) started in Denver, CO and ended back in Denver. There were four basic route choices offered in the bonuses for the first leg - one for each respective corner of North America. I chose a southeast route to pick up the big points in Key West, Florida. Riding with some of Minnesota's finest riders - Mark Kiecker, Marty Leir, Brett Donahue, and Tim Conway - we headed for Key West by way of the Fontana Dam in northwestern North Carolina. Right away, I could tell that Brett and I would be good riding partners as we cruised towards the east coast. Brett’s upbeat and sometimes comedian like personality reminded me of one of my best friends, and I always enjoy the company of such people. My first time riding with Brett was on the return from the IBA National Meet in Omaha, Nebraska in May. I was glad to hear that Brett would be riding in the IBR. The ride to Fontana was mostly super slab or as most people call it, interstate highway, but the last fifty miles to and from the dam are some of North America’s finest motorcycle roads including the well known Deal’s Gap highway. With 318 curves in an eleven mile stretch, it is a real treat after spending almost 1400 miles on the interstate. Somewhere along the way, we had parted ways with Tim and Brett due to their slightly limited fuel range, but as Marty, Mark and I reached the base of Deal’s Gap we were a bit ahead of schedule. Marty had just tangled with a bumble bee a few miles back, so we decided to take a break and get a good breakfast at the small diner there on the side of highway 129. With full bellies and renewed enthusiasm, we carved our way up and over the Gap and to the top of the Fontana Dam. We wheeled in right as they opened the gates, and we found many of our fellow IBR riders there waiting to complete this bonus. This was not flower sniffing adventure. We promptly snapped the required photograph and were on our way back over the Gap and on to Key West for the big points.
On the way through Georgia Marty, Mark and I met up with Brett again, and the four of us cruised straight through to the tip of the Keys.
This next bit I will borrow from an email that I received from Mark Kiecker one year later:
“One year and a day ago I was waking up in Key West, FL in a hotel that should have had mirrors on the ceiling (it was that shaded) just a matter of days before one of the largest hurricanes was going to land shore; Katrina. It is day 3 of 11 in the 2005 Ironbutt Rally. Marty and I have packed our motorcycles and are about ready to leave when we realize our rookie rallyists (Brett and Andy) haven’t come out yet. We walk over to the door; BANG BANG BANG. Shit is yelled from the inside as the rookies have overslept. Marty and I ride off to snap of photo of a lighthouse for of our largest point bonus on this leg. The four of us then trek off towards Chicago some 1561 miles away. I’m not exactly sure where but the 4 of us grabbed another room in route.
Chicago. I love Chicago. Riding in Chicago is an acquired taste, a taste I’ve come to like. We had two small bonuses to pickup in downtown; a disaster plaque at LaSalle and Wacker, and the Water Tower by Michigan Ave. Having lived there I knew where I was going and it was going to be easy. We hit Chicago sometime mid morning during part of the gridlock. Marty the next time you do that I want my 748 has learned that sticking to my wheel proves time saving in the city. I tried picking lines through the traffic to see if I can’t loose my followers and the rookies fell behind, again, albeit Andy was close. Snap snap and we were off and heading towards Scottsbluff, NE.
There’s a lot of time between bonuses and we travel on some pretty empty stretches of road. Marty and I have ridden so many miles together we can pretty much talk to each other all by gestures, however some conversations require a quick pass of a note. On this particular day we have the lovely task of riding down I-80, yeah not much there. Brett pulls up side of me and hands me a note. I stuff it into my map case and see that he’s drawn me a cake with candles and all three of them signed it wishing me a happy birthday. Many of my birthdays over the last 8 years or so have been me crisscrossing the country while riding my motorcycle in one rally or another. This day was fun because I was with a few friends doing what we love. We eventually came across one of the largest thunderstorms and tornadoes shows I have ever encountered while riding the bike. It had been beautiful watching the sky shake and thunder upon us all with a majestic green glow, however the winds and rain were coming hard enough that we decided to end the days ride early for some shelter.”
The next morning it was on to Scottsbluff, Nebraska before returning to Denver for a first leg total of around 5,200 miles. This ride put us in the top 20 at the end of the first leg, but some 10,000 points out of first place.
The second leg of the rally took us to Buxton, Maine. Our route took us through the twisty back roads to Beaver, Arkansas to look at a one lane bridge in the middle of no-where then on to St. Louis for another bridge. Somewhere on the way to St. Louis Brett and I caught some sleep on some rest stop picnic tables and Brett we lost Marty and Mark. We arrive at the bonus to find Marty and Mark already there. The bonus was to snap a photo of the Route 66 sign in the middle of the old Route 66 Bridge across the Mississippi. The bridge is nearly two miles long and the required sign is right in the middle. Oh yeah, and the bridge is now a walking path, so no bikes allowed. Marty and Mark waited for Brett and I and then the four of us headed off to Virginia. On the way east, Brett had a small accident that involved him sliding down the road in front of me and his bike cart wheeling down the median next to me. Luckily Brett was unharmed and his bike was still in running condition, so after a brief 15 minute duct tape and bungee cord session we were all back on the road again. At the next gas stop Brett ended up finding that he had a flat tire, so Marty, Mark and I continued on to Virginia. That night it was really foggy and hard to see, but we pressed on to the bonus location – an old canal lock near the Blue Ridge Parkway. I arrived there first and took a nap on the cobblestone sidewalk while waited for daylight and my fellow riders to come. Photos taken and we were on our way north to Washington D.C. to take another picture of a lighthouse at Jones Point Park. Next stop was the Francis Scott Key Memorial Bridge in Baltimore and then to Washington Crossing, PA for some more points. It was at this point in the rally that I realized my folly in not getting an EZ-Pass for the toll roads on the east coast. Marty and Mark had this taken care of and I fell behind each time as I had to stop and pay at the toll booth. I call my brother Chad who lives just north New York City – he has an EZ-Pass. We arrange an in-route hand off on the side of the interstate just east of the Tappan Zee Bridge. I was stopped for less than a minute and off to the checkpoint in Maine. We had a pretty good ride and I ended up tied for 8th place at the end of this leg.
The third and final leg of the rally would bring us back to Denver, or at least some of us (more on that later). Again there were multiple options for routes back to Denver. We choose to go after the big points on the west coast of Washington, Oregon and California, which meant big miles on this last leg. We immediately headed west picking up bonuses in Chicago, and Sioux Falls, SD before riding to the big points in Washington. The Washington bonus was a lighthouse on Cape Disappointment near Ilwaco. It was a 1.5 mile round trip hike to take the required picture and get the points. From there I headed south - I was no longer riding with the group - to pick up the big points on the coast of California in Crescent City and Trinidad. Next stop was the Lava Beds National Monument in northeastern California before heading back across Nevada and Wyoming for the finish in Denver. Just seven miles from the last gas stop and last bonus of the rally - a mere 350 miles from the finish in Denver - I was taken down by a stray truck tire carcass at 2:10 am. A couple of passing truck drivers stopped to help me move my bike off the road and called the highway patrol. When the ambulance arrived, they insisted on strapping me to a backboard even though I had spent the last 15 minutes walking around looking for all of my scattered bike parts and luggage. I was taken to Sweetwater County Memorial Hospital where they treated the road rash on my left knee and lower back before promptly kicking me out the door. Maybe it had something to do with me asking each of the staff if they knew where I might find a bike to borrow and ride to Denver by 10 am. I didn't find a bike. My rally was over. DNF. Up to this point I had put on just over 13,000 miles in 10 1/2 days. Had I made it to Denver I would have tied for 6th place.
Now here I stood in Rock Springs with no bike, and no cell phone - like the bike, the phone did not survive the tumble down the tarmac. My new base of operations would be the Holiday Inn just down the street. After informing a few individuals of my whereabouts and status, I got some much needed rest before tackling my next task - getting my truck from Denver, my bike from Green River, Wyoming and myself from Rock Springs home to Minnesota. A rally volunteer, H. Mark Lewis came through with a huge favor by loading his bike in the back of my truck in Denver and driving to Rock Springs. We unloaded his BMW GS and loaded my battered and beaten carcass of an FJR in the back of my truck. Now at this point I thought the worst was behind me, but I had severely underestimated how painful it would be sitting in a truck seat for 1200 miles with most of the skin missing from my lower back.
I made it back to Roseau just fine, luckily only missing one running motorcycle and a few other gadgets and gizmos. They don't call it the "World's Toughest Motorcycle Rally" for nothing.
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