+ a bazillion kudos to skyway for all his planning, processing, leadership, guidance and general all around super goodguyness. Too, let's not forget the help of his luverly missus Kristi, for her efforts and support for Ian to help us complete the goal, too. What a gal! :good:
Orangie, killer photos as usual! I gotta learn how to click and ride at the same time. Damn, I missed a lot of shots!
As for the two that dropped out? I fear they had a rather primitive medical procedure at mile 130 that forced them to drop out. Oh well, at least the ladies department at Nordstrom's has a couple of new customers! :lol: (Just kidding you two. I know you prolly had a good reason, like runs in your hosiery or sumpin'.)
I'm not going to post a separate ride report as I think that Andrew has pretty much nailed it. I will, however add my own personal experience here:
Leaving Jamestown Saturday morning, I truly had my doubts as to whether or not this is something I could accomplish. I'm convinced that Ian's route planning made the ride for me by establishing some nifty points of interest: Sonora Pass? Feckin' killer. Hwy 120 east of Lee Vining? Love Roller-coaster (Ohio Players)! Area 51 - priceless including having armed to kill eyes trained on us. Oh, and taking a piss in front of said eyes? That was friggin' hilarious! Screw The Man!
Ian constantly gave encouragement by keeping us posted to how well we were doing. Again, he did all of the thinking and calculating for us. ***. Just one big cake walk, for sure.
Anyway, we arrived at were we started, way ahead of the 24 hour limit. No bad juju befell us on our quest and I was quite pumped to the point of not requiring a stay to sleep some. "Heck with it, I may as well head for home.", I thought. So I did. Only problem is that I didn't zip up my tail bag, which is where I stowed my SS1K records - insert "You Dumb ***" here. Just 1/4 mile outta Jamestown, where the speed limit jumps from 45 to 55, I caught a flash of something reflected in my right mirror. "WTF wazzat?" Something made me reach behind to my tail bag for a check... **** me! I didn't zip it closed! Hard on the brakes, pull over and check for contents. Oh, shoot me dead right the **** now! All my efforts for the last 20 hours plus, were gone, including some soiled unmentionables!
I jumped back on the bike and spun a tire burning Uey in an attempt to locate the lost ZipLok bag. I cruised the route slowly and found nothing, so I doubled back to the Chevron where bluestreak was still getting ready to depart. I half thought to ask him for his help, but I was simply too embarrassed and pissed at myself for doing what I did. So, I spun around and recovered my route. As I approached the speed change area, I saw some white, folded papers on the right shoulder and stopped to investigate. Sure as ****, it was the ride log, but how did it exit from the ZipLok? Yeah, bonehead here, didn't zip it. A quick look around revealed 3 of the 8 gas receipts within 10 or so feet of the log. In the middle of the road, 50' further south, laid 3 more. 2 to go... As several cars had passed through, I figger'd that the wind blast may have carried them further south along the roadway and indeed it did. I found #7 waaaaaaaay down the road, hugging the grassy edge of the road. Now for the last. I looked for about 10 or 15 minutes further on down the road, but found nothing. I was way, way, way bummed as I scuffed and cussed my way back to the bike. ****. Wada let down. At least I got my dirty socks and undies back if nothing else...
That's when I heard the stream... Hmmmm, just maybe... As I crossed the center of the little culvert overpass, I shined my flashlight over and into the darkness only to see what appeared to be receipt #8 hanging onto the grassy edge of a small, shallow stream. Eureka! I scrambbled over the abutment, reached the stream and stretched over it's width for the paper. Well, the footing was not cooperating and in I went with my right foot, into a foot of friggin' cold water. ****. Anyway, it at least made the reach possible, but as I picked up the sliver of paper and flipped it over, it became clear that it was merely the paper tray for some Ho Ho's or sumpin'. "Just let a Peterbuilt come by and end it all now!", I thought. This sucks big time. As I scrambled back up to the roadway, I saw something in the periphery of my flashlight's beam, tucked under the ARMCO barrier where it joined the abutment. Swinging the beam of light further right, I saw it. Could it be? Held my breath and reached for the little sliver of paper and brought it to the light. Then I saw the "#5" in the top right corner that I had written on it at stop five and let out a joyous "HOOOOO-RAAAAH!" On the way back to the bike, I saw the ZipLok bag laying on the other side of the road and retrieved it, stuffed back in the errant contents, zipped it shut and buried it deep in the bowels of the tail trunk. I pulled some dry socks out of the trunk, emptied the water form my boot, changed socks and stuffed the wet one into the dry one then plopped that mess into the side bag, then zipped the trunk closed, checking not only once, but twice and yet a third time prior to departing the scene.
Well, you can imagine that the adrenalin was pumping PDG and I was off for home. I made it to Tulare when I started the dreaded head bob that occurs when sleep is needed, so I pulled into a Motel 6 for some much needed sleep. I secured a room and went for a quick S/S/S before tucking under the covers at 8:00 AM for the last S - Sleep. At 11:00, the maid starting her rounds at my door, "Hoosekeepin', joos wan rum cleen, jees?"
"Go away, please! I'm sleeping!" Oy! Just as I began to fall back into the REM-zone, the phone rings. "Hello?"
"Yes, hello Mr. TWN, this is the front desk."
"Yeah?"
"Check-out time is at 11:00 AM."
"Huh? I just checked in at 7:30!"
"Yes, I know, but that falls under last night's stay period. If you want to stay longer, I'll have to charge you another night's stay. Is that okay?"
"Why you.... Nah, forget it. I'll be gone in 10 minutes."
So I dressed, packed and loaded the bike for the rest of the trip home. At my first gas stop, I hit the 'Print Receipt' button on the pump and thought, 'Why did I do that? No point in saving receipts anymore, I have my 1k handled.' So I stuffed it in my jacket pocket and zoomed on. By the time I reached my turn-off at HWY 154, I found myself curious as to the day's mileage and toggled through Greta's screens to the Trip Computer page and boy, did my eyes pop! It read, 1,422 miles and I was still 50 miles from home and 5 1/2 hours away from the 36 hour mark! Well, shoot fire, Mildred, if I ride to Oxnard and back to Carp, I'm in with the BB! So, I did and had my step-son sign off on the time and mileage. Cool.
So, again, a hearty thanks to skyway and Kristi, to orangevale and bluestreek for their companionship and camaraderie - not to mention some good laughs thrown in for good measure. You guys are the tops in my book.
So, what's next on the list, eh?
