“The answer could be, in this most sublimely solitary of sports, ironically a question of companionship. The riders rarely see each other, dancing as they do across the country in chaotic, Brownian motion.”

snip

“But think of the end. Think how glorious it will be to get off the bike and not have to count the minutes until you have to strap yourself onto it again. When you turn off the key for the last time, there aren’t 100 people on earth who can seriously appreciate what you have undergone. About 40 of them will show up at a motel west of Salt Lake City, looking as pounded as you do. The rest of us can only guess. You ride this endless ride to be one of them.”

Bob wrote those words in reference to the 1995 IBR. At the time, Bob had not yet completed his own IBR. He would eventually become “one of them” by finishing his first IBR in 2001, along with Lisa the RallyMom and your current scribe. These days, a 1, 2, or 3-digit IBA number and $8 might get you a fancy coffee with additives and a swirl in the cream, but being “one of them” has little meaning outside of a very small community of LD riders. It is, however, a point of respect among serious riders. IYKYK.

The 1995 IBR was the first IBR start I attended. After the riders departed, I was riding east on I-80, to continue my vacation trip, in the company of “one of them”. As we shared a lane with an IBR rider heading for their first bonus of the rally, I spoke to my wife through the intercom. I simply said, “I have to do that one day.” Her response was equally simple, “Why?” Some folks understand, but some never do.

I became a member of the Iron Butt Association in 1996, completing a Saddlesore 1000 (1000 miles in 24 hours), a BB1500 (1500 miles in 36 hours), a 50CC (Coast to Coast in under 50 hours – Jacksonville Beach, FL to San Diego, CA), and a 10/10ths (10 consecutive 1000 mile days) during that year. I did not have the words to give an answer at that moment back in SLC, nor did I have them after doing all those certificate rides in 1996. But when I read Bob’s comments in Ron’s book in 1997, I realized he had finally put into words much of what I felt back in 1995. I would go on to become friends with Bob, as well as enjoy BBQ picnics at Ron’s home in Plano, Texas. I would do more certificate rides and even convince Mike Kneebone to allow me to enter the 11 Day 11,000 mile Iron Butt Rally, which I would go on to finish with gold status, twice.

While I have never been one of the elite ‘Big Dogs’ of the IBR, I have certainly pushed my personal limits in the rally. I have never been content to just ride around and finish. Each time, I have reached into the deepest depths of my being, searching for the fortitude to continue. I have stared down that fierce inner voice clawing at me to give up, relentlessly pounding inside my brain, attempting to coerce me into admitting that my goals for Day 8 or 9 might simply be beyond my tired (and no doubt odorous) reach.

Some call it luck, but I do not believe in luck. Through an unexplainable granting of grace and strength, I was somehow able to overcome the deep, lonely depths of darkness to actually “ride that endless ride to be one of them”. I persevered to the finish line. Becoming a finisher, no matter what position, and knowing deep down in your soul that you gave it everything you had for 11 days, is something very special. Something shared by those few riders who have become “one of them”.

Mike, Bob, Ron, Lisa, and countless others have had a hand in many riders achieving finisher status, yet the total number remains very small in the world of motorcycling. There are a number of rookies out there on the last leg of the 2023 IBR, entering a realm of effort few have attempted and fewer still have completed. There are also a few riders with the proverbial “monkey on their back”, trying once again to become a finisher. They are all trying to see their way through the depths of darkness to become “one of them”. There are also vets pushing through the night who cannot get enough of this pressure cooker and believe they can catch lightning in a bottle once again.

If you are so inclined, say a prayer, or send some good thoughts their way tonight. We hope they all make it safely to the finish to reach their goals. We hope the rookies have what it takes to withstand the heat and finally become “one of them”.

In the months leading up to the 2017 rally, I accepted the task of being the rally scribe for the first time. While contemplating riding a staff keyboard for two weeks, instead of my rally bike, it became clear that composing daily reports about the IBR would be quite different from the enjoyment of reading the talented musings of my predecessors. Some very gifted writers have applied their talents to relate the details of the Iron Butt Rally, as well as entertain the long distance enthusiasts who follow this epic event every two years. I am the first to acknowledge that I do not type in the rarified air occupied by prior scribes. Perhaps the thing I most have in common with them is that I have loved being a small part of the IBR for the last couple of decades.

Each scribe has brought their own style and unique perspective to this task. Each one has also struggled through the fog of limited information to cover the riders and events for posterity. Or if not posterity, at least for an LD community who wants every possible detail, preferably as it happens. It might also be fair to say that pouring perspective through a keyboard while riding in the middle seat of a crowded staff van at 75mph on the slab in a thunderstorm, when encountering turbulence at 30,000 feet with the fasten seat belt sign on, or when there is almost no information coming into rally central about the condition of the riders, has never been an easy task.

No pity party here though. One only needs to think about the tired and lonely rally riders who may be suffering in damp boots, fighting soggy spirits, and struggling to properly prioritize conflicting issues on Day 9. As precious minutes evaporate from the clock, riders may have to choose between adjusting their route for the most remaining bonus opportunities or getting the sleep that their body and mind is craving. Either way, the relentless clock needs to be stopped before the checkpoint window closes… not to mention the challenges of avoiding large critters, riding through bad weather and/or heavy traffic, or nursing a failing bike through the last 600 miles.

Smart riders know that they need rest to ride safely. They have learned to recognize the signals that make it clear when their priority needs to be rest. Whether they have to stop and rest, or find themselves able to get an extra bonus or two, IBR vets would probably agree that riding in the rally with soggy boots would still be preferable to riding a keyboard! There really is nothing else like the privilege of participating in “the big dance”.

Nevertheless, we are trying to bring you as much information as we can process about the riders and events of the 2023 IBR, without giving away information which could potentially affect the outcome of the rally. I use “we” because getting the story of the rally out is a cooperative effort. The riders, staff, volunteers, and spectators all make contributions to the 11 days of details which stream through the scribe’s keyboard.

For those of you who do not know me, a somewhat late introduction might be in order. I was on the editorial staff for the IBA Magazine from the beginning, but I am not a writer by trade or training. I am a Senior Engineer for a civil consulting firm in Alabama. I am pretty sure that I am the first IBR scribe to type with a strong southern accent. Hopefully, all y’all have been able to follow along without an interpreter.

I served as the scribe again during the 2019 rally. While I managed to volunteer at a couple of locations in 2021, I was not able to commit enough time to serve as the scribe. I am thankful that a good friend of mine was able to step up and handle the scribe duties in my place. I am honored to return for the 2023 rally. We are striving to bring the rally experience to all of you who are following your friends and family members as they chase their dreams.

When I am not consulting on large scale civil projects, helping out with IBA functions, or riding dirt bikes, racing mountain bikes, riding centuries on road bikes, or rock crawling Moab in my Jeep, I host the Annual Last Ride of the Year at the Stagecoach Café in Stockton, Alabama (which has been going strong for 26 years), guide tours as a docent at the Barber Museum, and serve as the Director and Head Coach of the OMHS Mountain Bike Team, which won the Alabama Division 1 State Championship for 2023.

I have been a member of the IBA since 1996. I have worked as a volunteer during every IBR since 1997, except for 2001 and 2011, when I was fortunate enough to compete. As a rookie, I managed a gold medal 18^th place in 2001 with a ride to Denali in Alaska on Leg 3. I finished 12^th in 2011, which was an improvement over my attempt 10 years earlier, but still somewhat disappointing after making it into the top 10 standings at the last checkpoint. Watching the trials and tribulations of the current riders brings back a lot of memories of what it is like to be a competitor in the IBR.

During the 2015 rally, in addition to sharing rally van driving duties with Sergeant Hobart as we chauffeured the RallyMom and crew across the country, I also managed the newly revised scoring process. It was redesigned for that rally by Tom Austin to be more rider focused. We were successful in getting most of the riders processed much more efficiently, which allowed them to allocate more time for rest. The riders are our priority and rest is a valuable commodity during the IBR.

OK, enough about your scribe. As much as we need the generous volunteers and appreciate the enthusiastic spectators, the IBR is all about the riders. These folks typically commit almost two years of preparation for the event of a lifetime. The entry fee may seem steep, but it pales in comparison to the cost in time required for a rider to properly prepare for 11,000 miles in 11 days on a motorcycle.

Those who take their prep seriously tend to do well, sometimes even better than they expect. Those who fail to take their prep time seriously may find the wheels coming off their big adventure in a variety of less-than-pleasant ways. And those who fail to listen to the wisdom, directions, and advice of the RallyMom, do so at their own peril.

We hope all of the remaining 2023 riders and pillions have a successful adventure, returning safely as finishers of the 2023 Iron Butt Rally.

Our remaining riders are all following little pink lines on their GPS units, a digital representation of their best-effort routes for bonus collecting on a very long Leg 3. They are all hoping to gather as many points as possible before the finish this Friday in Pittsburgh, PA. We wish them well, but what does it feel like to ride the last few days of the 11-day IBR?

I am usually more of a Johnny Cash fan, but ever since Mike Kneebone made the Johnny Nash song “I Can See Clearly” the theme song for my first IBR competition, way back in 2001, the words resonate in my mind every two years, at about this time. 

This evening, riders on Leg 3 have passed the 200-hour mark in their epic 11-day journey. Many of them are currently in a metaphorical dark cloud as their tired brains and sore bodies strive to function efficiently despite the stress. Some may feel like they have jumped from the frying pan into the fire, some may feel like they are simmering in a crock pot, and some may feel like they are in a pressure cooker. No matter what, they are about to be served up on a plate in a few days for all to see.

They are struggling to organize the bonus options and combo possibilities, calculate the miles remaining to Pittsburgh, count down the time remaining to the start of the penalty window, evaluate the condition of their bug-encrusted, road-weary metallic steeds, wondering if they have enough tread life remaining in their rear tires when there may not be enough time to change tires, stewing over whether they have enough water on board to hydrate them in the record heat, and perhaps … even struggling to remember today’s calendar date as all the days on the road begin to run together. It is June 27, by the way.

Heck, some of them are experiencing all these mental gymnastics while riding nearly blind through a real bank of dark clouds and pouring rain. Seeing clearly may elude them for the next few days, as gnawing doubt and the weight of the unknown tries desperately to crush their weary spirits.

But much like an airliner ascending through an ominous dark cloud and breaking into the clear air space above a turbulent storm system, giving the pilot a view of the big picture of brilliant sunshine illuminating the tops of the storm clouds, making the storm a thing of beauty instead of something ominous and dreadful, perhaps even catching a glimpse of a promising rainbow, these riders will soon feel the relief of arriving at the finish hotel. 

For most, the burdens they have carried for 11 days, or perhaps even for a couple of years, will be lifted. The unknowns will become known. The relief experienced will feel like the dawn of a bright, bright, sunshiny day. The obstacles, or most of them, will have been overcome and will no longer be in their way. 

At the finish, fierce competitors will hug and congratulate each other as friends for life, because they have been in the storm together and ridden through it all …. into the sunshiny day at the end. It is truly a life-changing experience for most who complete the rally.

There will be some who did not reach their altitude targets, but time and reflection can provide some perspective and revelation, such as realizing that becoming a finisher should be a bright spot for every rider who overcomes their personal challenges to complete the rally. Most motorcycle riders will never know, or even appreciate, what it feels like to become a finisher of the IBR.

All IBR finishers, regardless of placement, will have had the opportunity to look deep inside themselves during these 11 intense days. Eleven days of challenging themselves in ways most people will never attempt, nor comprehend, nor even try to understand. 

They will have found a strength and self-reliance in themselves that they might not have expected to uncover. They will have experienced highs and lows of epic proportions. They will have confronted inner demons and shoved them aside, if not completely obliterated them. 

They will have found remote and interesting locations which will become future vacation trips with family and friends. Destinations to be enjoyed without the pressure of the clock limiting the time for in-depth exploration. They will have become one of the very small number of individuals on earth who have done what is required to earn an IBR finish, joining the few riders who have overcome the obstacles and earned that rare and coveted 1-, 2-, or 3-digit IBA number.

So, if you are of a mind to do it… send some love to those riders surrounded by the dark storm clouds, those who may be temporarily blinded by the obstacles between them and the finish. They have less than 64 hours to get back to Pittsburgh, but 60+ hours is still a long time to sit in a pressure cooker and it is still a lot of miles.

Here’s to hoping that on Friday, every one of them will be able to say:

“Yes, it is gonna be a bright, bright, sunshiny day!”

Even collecting a jumbo-sized serving of the bonuses along a route including the Farm Discovery Center in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, worth 12,334 points, did not yield as many points as just sampling small bites from the Santa Monica loop. Lew Ballard was one of the few who took a heaping helping of the points available on the Wisconsin loop, moving from 16^th to 12^th. However, many riders lost significant places as a result of skipping the grande meal available on the west coast.

Some riders dropped 40 places or more on Leg 2 from their Leg 1 position, with some dropping over 70 places. Route choice was part of that tumble. However, covering too many miles on Leg 1 may have played a role in frying up some of the meat-on-a-stick conditions seen at the Leg 2 checkpoint. Some of the highest miles logged on Leg 1 correlated with some of the largest placement drops at the end of Leg 2.

Excitement and exuberance can tempt riders to bite off too much too early. The euphoria of finally starting the rally can overshadow the reality of higher value points on subsequent legs. Turning up the heat too early can, and often does, leave riders too stewed (or cooked?) to plan and/or ride Leg 2 effectively.

The Leg 3 recipes some of the top riders are cooking up appear very interesting. We will allow our thoughts about what we see developing to simmer, as there are still too many unknown ingredients to draw meaningful conclusions. The proof will be in the pudding on Friday, for all to see.

Sharing information is great, but there is more involved. A camaraderie is developed among the participants and the forum facilitates this, months before everyone gathers for the event. Many lasting friendships are created. Beyond the latest farkles, riders share thoughts and feelings, along with the anticipation, stress, elation, disappointment, goals, and pressure involved in rally preparation. Hopefully, the rookies will also share in the tranquility, satisfaction, and celebration of successfully attaining a finish in the World’s Toughest Rally.

Rookies who utilize the forum become better informed and better prepared for success in the rally. As always, there are several IBR veterans willing to share their knowledge and experience with rookies. It has always been an interesting exchange with good information and revealing insights provided by the participants. The 2023 participants continued that tradition.

This group of riders has widely varying careers and interests, but their reasons for competing in the rally are similar. Their riding histories are usually somewhat similar. Their rally skills self-assessments are similar. Their humility, at least for the most part, is similar. There are some amazingly interesting people, who have done some amazing things, although most seem to feel they are not interesting or exceptional at all.

“Big Dogs” is a term used in this sport to denote those who have demonstrated the ability to successfully push for the edge of the envelope, to explore what could be done at the edge, develop a plan to do it successfully, and most importantly, return safely from that accomplishment. The term is not to be applied to oneself, it is an honor conferred on those deserving of it by their competitors.

One of the traits I have frequently discussed is the quiet humility of those who reach the top of this sport. Typically, they will not be heard pounding their chest about what they have done. They will share stories, if you have the time and interest to pull the details out of them, but they are not in the parking lot telling everyone who will listen about all their great rides or their expertise with routing.

Completing a few interstate certificate rides, reading about the successful exploits of other riders until convinced being a top finisher is a walk in the park, having all the latest and greatest farkles on a motorcycle, these things do not a Big Dog make. Neither does being a rookie boasting to anyone listening the evening before your first IBR.

Before the start of every rally, it is not uncommon for a few rookie riders to fail to understand the culture of the Iron Butt Rally. For those who have never rallied at their best effort for 11 consecutive days, the rally will be quite a learning experience. Of those who fail to understand the IBR culture, or perhaps fail to respect the challenge they have signed up to attempt, a few may find some way to become finishers. Putting in the best effort possible for 11 days on a motorcycle can be a humbling experience. If the past is any indication, not many, if any, of the riders who achieve finisher status will have the same outlook on life at the finisher banquet as they had while sitting at the start banquet. It is often a life changing experience.  

Riders who have won the rally, as well as many of the top finishers, have set great examples of what it takes to be a Big Dog in this sport. Riders like Tom Loftus and Peter Behm, who were both quiet and unassuming, but always set a high bar for effort, integrity, kindness, and humility. They were both great examples for less experienced riders when competing in the IBR and other rallies. Both were also quintessential Big Dogs, but neither would have claimed that moniker. They are both fondly remembered and missed by many – cancer sucks.

There are some Big Dogs competing in this rally. There may be a few others who will earn it and perhaps have Big Dog status conferred upon them during this rally. But they will not be the ones telling everyone how great they are. Their results and demeanor will speak for them.

Chris Comly is well known for successfully riding his FrankenSporster in the IBR, against all odds. He is back for 2023 and his prep for this rally was reportedly similar to his prior adventures. The bike was apart, scattered all over the garage, just before the start of the rally. Of course, Chris got it all back together and ready to ride on time.

However, he sent the pictures you see here to let me know about the condition of his beloved Sportster at Checkpoint 1. The teeth in one area on the clutch basket ring gear are worn away to nubs. The starter Bendix can no longer engage to start the engine when the gear is in that position. Which means that the starter will only crank the engine if the clutch happens to stop rotating where there are still teeth for the starter Bendix to engage. If not, Chris would need to put the bike in gear and roll it forward to get past the worn out teeth on the gear. Or just push start the loaded bike every time he turns it off. Or, he could just never shut off the engine and leave the air-cooled V-twin running for the entire leg of the rally.

Chris has a new clutch basket and gear being shipped to Checkpoint 2 in Denver. We are sure he is calmly anticipating another parking lot repair session to get the Sportster back on the road and haul him to another finish.

Unchained Memory

Update: Unfortunately, rally staff received word from Chris about another failure on the FrankenSportster, on I-15 north of exit 239, about 90 minutes from Vegas. The primary chain let go and exited the aluminum case. The chain is not in the photos because it is resting about a 1/2 mile back on I-15. Chris is OK and waiting for Harley’s roadside assistance to arrive and get the wounded Sporty transported. He is obviously disappointed to be out of the running, but plans to be at the finish to see his family, friends and supporters.

Herakles Boardman is the youngest rider in the rally. He has an aux fuel tank on his Yamaha 9 triple and somewhere along Leg 1, the too-thin aluminum plate it was mounted on cracked at all four mounting points. He applied JB Weld epoxy to hold it until the checkpoint. When he showed the condition of the mount to your scribe, Herakles said he was already lining up a welder to attempt to fix the problem.

It was suggested that welding the plate would be difficult, costly, and time consuming, not to mention it was likely to crack again. It was then suggested that spending time trying to weld it was not the most productive way to use time on the rally clock the next morning. It was also suggested that two ratchet straps could be easily applied and would hold the tank just fine for the rest of the rally. The last report we had was of Herakles sending photos from the welding shop and enjoying spending his first morning of Leg 2 having the very nice welder attempt a repair. He noted that “this is what the rally is all about”. We hope the chosen solution works well and gets him to the finish.

As if that minor get-off wasn’t enough, Robert had another incident while turning around in a parking lot near the IAAM bonus in Ames, Iowa. Something which should not generate any drama, right? Who strings a steel cable across a parking lot without putting up any signs or flagging, or anything to avoid decapitating a rider or damaging a vehicle, or both? Robert did not see the unmarked cable until it had sheared the windscreen off the bike, hit all the accessories mounted on the bars, and scraped his new Klim jacket. Fortunately, he got the bike stopped before the cable cut into him, or sheared him off the bike, or cut his head off his body. Unmarked steel cables across accessible lots! Really?

Robert recovered himself and made some temporary repairs. He rode about 1500 miles to Checkpoint 1 without a windscreen and without a few other missing bits and pieces. He had his youngest son Blake, daughter-in-law, and three of his grandsons load up one of his many spare Victory motorcycles and haul it to the checkpoint, along with the necessary tools. They pulled the damaged parts off the bike in the parking lot of the hotel, scavenged replacement parts from the spare bike, and got the Victory back into riding condition, complete with a working power windscreen and some zip-tied plastic body panels. The grandkids had set up camp in the grass in front of the hotel and were having a grand time. Robert and Blake got the bike fixed and oil changed, so Robert was good to go after getting some rest and the Leg 2 bonus pack.

Dennis Bitner and John Ferber rode from Pittsburgh to the photo bonus at a mural in Coffeyville, KS. They were waiting on the riders to arrive and sign in by 15:00. However, riders who arrived later would not be allowed in the photo and would not collect the photo bonus. There were 68 flags in the photo bonus. It was not far from Checkpoint 1 in Tulsa, so it made sense for a lot of riders to schedule the bonus in their route for Leg 1.

Riders gathered at a McDonald’s near the photo bonus location for a less-than-healthy bite to eat.