Bun Burner Gold and Subsequent Wanderings

[Sharif]

As mentioned in this thread, I knocked out a BBG over the past weekend. So begins the task of writing up a ride report.

Part One: The Preparation

For a long time, I’ve had an itch to do something more demanding than the Saddle Sore 1000 and Bun Burner I have already completed. Looking over the list of rides at https://www.ironbutt.com, the Bun Burner Gold looked challenging but doable.

I was planning on going on a 4 day adventure with my brother, but the plans fell through and he had to cancel. That left me with a 4 day window I had reserved for the brother trip.

Monday of last week, I spent about fifteen minutes constructing a pair of potential BBG routes - one leaving South Bend, looping through New Orleans, and ending north of Atlanta at a friend’s house:

The other left South Bend, hit Indianapolis, then St. Louis, Kansas City, Council Bluffs, Sioux Falls, and Fargo before ending close to Minneapolis at my cousin’s place:

The weather looked really good along both routes, but I was a little nervous about hitting the deep south late into my ride and dealing with heat and fatigue.

I decided on a Friday night departure, somewhere around 23:00. I felt like the northern route would allow me to cut out if I didn’t think I could do it. Quite honestly, I was not sure if I could complete the 1500+ miles in 24 hours. I just simply did not know if I could do it.

During the day on Tuesday, my cousin who also rides, said, “Hey, how about you get here on Friday so we can go riding on Saturday?” Sounds good to me - instead of taking Monday and Tuesday off, I slid my schedule to take Friday and Monday instead. That meant I had to slide up my departure to Thursday, still planning on 23:00. No big deal.

Tuesday night, I performed my pre-trip oil change. I really enjoy changing the oil on the FJR - it is so simple and satisfying. As the oil was draining, I decided to inspect the Michelin PR2s that I put on about 10,000 miles ago. The tread was looking good, but as I rotated the rear, I found:

Debris straight into the tire, slightly left of center.

Not good.

I didn't want to take any chances, so I called around, and the wonderful folks at North End Cycle in Elkhart had a front Michelin PR4 in stock and were able to get a rear PR4 overnighted. They were able to juggle things and work in a tire change on Thursday afternoon - my departure day:

Nothing like last minute chaos to add a bit of pre-departures stress. First lesson learned - do the maintenance and inspection earlier.

I packed my bags:

Loaded the bike:

At 20:00, I set my alarm for 23:15, and tried to sack out. My mind was spinning. Would the fresh tires be good? Would the weather change? Was my route OK? Would I find construction or delay? Could I accomplish this challenge, physically? More important, mentally? I flitted in and out of sleep before waking up at 22:15. "Heck with it," I said, grabbed a quick shower, loaded my toiletries, Builder Bars, beef jerky, and water, suited up, strapped on my Hydrapak, and headed out into the dark.

More to come.

 

[bgross]

Great "hook"!

Looking forward to the next installment.

 

[escapefjrtist]

Great "hook"!
Looking forward to the next installment.

Count me in too!

...where's the popcorn ?!?

--G

 

[dcarver]

Lucky for you, the nail in the PR2..

That tire had not enough life for the ride..

 

[Sharif]

Lucky for you, the nail in the PR2..
That tire had not enough life for the ride..

I wasn't sure, but thank goodness for the protection afforded both fools and children - I think I qualify as both. Ended up that it was a sliver of rock that didn't go all the way through the carcass. Either way, I am considering myself very lucky that I checked, noticed, and was able to get it taken care of. It ended up being a 2700 mile weekend, so you're right - a 13-14K PR2 by journey's end simply wouldn't have worked. And I'm really glad I didn't have to learn that in a more painful way.

 

[Sharif]

Part Two: Into the Night

New things on this trip for me included my iPhone mounted on a Ram Bone:

and a pair of LDComfort undergarments (no photo necessary or appreciated). I was curious to see how they would work out.

I didn’t have a separate GPS unit, and I didn’t do point to point routing as I was using the Waze app for navigation and road intelligence. That’s right, no radar detector either. I knew roughly how far apart the population centers were, and figured I would just lock the next one into the Waze app to give me an idea of how I was getting along.

I slowly and quietly slipped out of my neighborhood, winding my way to the gas stop where I had lined up a pair of witnesses. I fueled up, and encountered the first bump in the road. Looking over the receipt, I realized that the timestamp was wrong:

The printed timestamp said 22:03, when in reality, it was 22:53. I had no idea if I could even do this ride, and I certainly didn't want to squander an hour just because the timestamp was wrong. I went in and spoke to the Tanya, the clerk. I explained what I was up to, and she willingly initialed and signed the receipt, including the phone number of the station. Minor bump in the road overcome, and feeling like I had wasted a few precious moments, I went back to the bike, ensured all my vents were closed, and idled out of the lot. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I also made my second mistake - I didn’t mark a fuel stop on SWConnect. I chalk that up to having downloaded the app on Wednesday and not really playing with it very much before the quest.

Working my way onto I-80 westbound, I fired up my fork-mounted LEDs, set my throttle lock, and got into a steady pace. The weather was perfect, the air temperature reading 64. A mile or two into the trip, I see Bambi materialize and freeze by the side of the road. Already amped up for the adventure, Bambi’s presence gave me an extra shot of adrenaline and served as a reminder to be hyper-vigilant.

I travel back and forth to Chicago with some frequency, so this was home turf. I was comfortable, and I was settling into the feeling of operating such a fine machine.

The strangest thing to get used to was the carcasses of blown semi tires lining the shoulder. They would appear as shadows in the tractor beam of my lights before disappearing into the darkness behind me. Slightly disconcerting at first, I quickly got used to it.

I love riding at night. There is just something about being out there in the dark, auxiliary lights burning a tunnel into the night, the inky blackness all around you. I find it strangely peaceful.

The trip to I-65 passed quickly, and soon I was heading southeast towards Indianapolis. I’m not sure where I was along the I-65 corridor when I happened upon the strangest, most eerie thing I have ever seen. After climbing a long, gradual ascent, I crested to be met by what seemed like hundreds of red lights, pulsing in the distance, filling the horizon from east to west. It spooked me a bit. One light near the center would flash first, then all the others would answer.

Was it something creepy from Bladerunner? Had Skynet arrived? No, it was just a wind turbine farm. As I got closer and closer, I could see a slice of turbine blade in every pulse. It was a strange effect, like a stop-motion animation. It was curiously unnerving, and I was glad to put them behind me.

The rest of the trip towards I-65 was uneventful. I was in the zone, in a slight tuck, torso on the tank, putting miles in the mirror. My tractor beam lights drew the tractor trailers towards me, and I ensured to give them a respectfully wide berth both when swinging out to pass and before pulling back in. Once, entering a construction zone, a truck had to merge into my lane. Instead of zooming past and cutting him off, I respectfully rolled off and flashed my lights. He merged and flashed his running lights in appreciation. That’s how I roll - thank goodness for all the truckers out there helping put food on our shelves, items in our stores, and enabling us to enjoy a quality of life far superior than that enjoyed by the kinds of old.

Ready to recycle some of the water I’d been sipping and needing fuel, I pulled in just northwest of Indianapolis. It was a brisk stop as I went through my routine:

1. Gloves off, placed on pillion.
2. Helmet off, placed on saddle.
3. Earplugs out, placed on gloves.
4. Gas up, get receipt, write mileage with pen from right thigh pocket, put finished receipt into left thigh pocket, reset trip odometer.
5. Open trunk, retrieve Builder Bar (20g protein each!), start devouring it while I walk in and offload fluid.
6. Return to bike, clean bugs off face shield with mini spray bottle filled with water and a microfiber cloth.
7. Re-lubricate ear plugs, slip them in.
8. Helmet on, gloves on.
9. Ignition, departure.

Since the SWConnect was new on this trip, I made my second error - I did not send a Gas Stop message. I would not forget to do that again, but it was not to be my last error.

More to come.

 

[Shane]

Ohhhhh, yeahhhhh....

Great stuff so far!

Shane

 

[BkerChuck]

More! More!

 

[bgross]

Darn, now I want to go for a ride and empty the tank so I can find out what happens at the next stop!

Good stuff - keep it coming.

 

[Sharif]

Part Three: Joys of the Night

Few things compare to the joy of driving along the road tunnel created by your lights at night. The horizon and peripheral distractions simply fade to black, and I feel incredibly energized and alive. Rising over my shoulder was a half moon, and it made me smile. I’ve given each of my kids a phase of the moon corresponding to the moon’s state on the day of their birth. Turns out the rising moon was my oldest daughter’s, and I thought of her watching over my shoulder. I loved the idea that she was sleeping peacefully as I explored the midwest on this adventure.

Do you sing in your helmet? I do. This time of introspection gets me to a state of what I call passive thinking. The daily concerns fade like the scenery into blackness, and thoughts flow in and out as I focus on operating the bike. A thought that drifted in was the recent exhibit I was fortunate enough to take in with the family at the Smithsonian Museum of American History: The Star-Spangled Banner: The Flag That Inspired the National Anthem. It’s an amazing exhibit, with the actual flag that flew over Fort McHenry after the Battle of Baltimore. This led me to our national anthem...which led to, you guessed it, singing in my helmet.

It started softly. With each iteration, the volume grew. And grew. And grew - until I was belting out the Star-Spangled Banner at full volume, drowning out the persistent wind noise and hum of that amazing inline 4, spinning along between 4 and 5,000 rpm. I deafened myself as belted it out, time after time. It was a stirring sensation, filling me with joy and amazement at this country that we are so incredibly fortunate to live in, and all of the events that have gone into its creation.

It also served to stave off the yawns and hint of sleepiness which had started to roll in around the edges of the brain. It’s always darkest just before dawn, so the saying goes. For times like this, I keep a couple Tic Tac boxes in my glove box. I raised up the stock windshield to full height, ducked behind it, flipped up the Schuberth, and loaded up on a mouthful of Tic Tacs.

The explosion of mint in my mouth brightened my brain as well as my breath. It also gave my tongue something to roll around, and made every sip from the Hydrapak that much more invigorating. Feeling refreshed, I pressed on across Illinois.

One of the most beautiful things I saw was Saint Louis - not the Arch, but the Stan Musial Veterans Memorial Bridge (not my photo - I was riding!):

It is simply gorgeous, lit up at night, brilliantly white, with no traffic as I crossed it around 04:00 CST. In contrast with the eeriness of the blinking wind turbine farm, the magnificence of the bridge is magnified at night. Just another reason why I love the darker hours - they cloak the distractions and irrelevance in darkness, allowing new perspectives into the beauty of the world around us.

As I rolled west of Saint Louis, I was now on an unfamiliar road - a place where I had yet to put wheels. These are my favorite moments, filling me with delight, a sense of discovery and exploration, and heightening the flame of wanderlust. I glanced over my shoulder - yes, my daughter’s moon was still there, much higher in the sky, still watching over me. West into Missouri, with darkness’ time and my fuel state running out.

More to come.

 

[Tanker]

Lovin' It, great RR

Great stuff Sharif... Part 4?

 

[Sharif]

Part Four: Into the Light

Over six hours of riding in the dark had me ready for the warmth of the sun. When I gassed up near Indianapolis, I switched from my summer to winter gloves and fired up my heated grips. Saint Louis brought not only a gorgeous bridge to look at, but a bit of warmth I associate with urban areas, confirmed by an uptick in displayed air temperature. Leaving Saint Louis behind also left those couple degrees of warmth in the mirror, and I found myself saying out loud, “Come on up sun, I need a little bit of your warmth.”

Darkness was starting to yield to Earth’s inexorable revolution, with woods and fields starting to appear as smudges in a monochromatically gray landscape. As dawn overtook me despite my best efforts at outrunning it, color returned to my world. I had no idea how beautiful and rolling Missouri is.

Descending the towards the bridge that spans the Missouri River, fog rolled up from below. Mist hung from the trees, clung to fields. It is for moments like this that I ride. This is why the same section of road holds untold mysteries, for temperature, time, mist, fog, clouds, rain, sunlight, and moonlight combine in a variety of ways to create an untold number of visions.

Just west of Columbia, I pull it and go through my routine, which has been modified to include “Send Gas Stop message in SWConnect” with one hand while fueling with the other. It is here that I made the most grave error of my ride - the collection of the receipt. For some reason, I have no idea why, I tuned out the details of the receipt, focusing on writing mileage, marking the spot, and getting on down the road. So, I did get a receipt:

Anyone notice anything wrong?

More to come

 

[dudeckp]

Where's the location?

 

[Sharif]

Where's the location?

Ah yes, that didn't take long. Where is the location indeed?

Part Five: A Pair of Mistakes

The receipt in and of itself is fine - it’s just that it shows no location data. Rats! This is something I only came to realize after my ride was over, as I was reviewing paperwork this past Sunday. I do have location information from my credit card statement:

And the associated SpotWalla trace.

I am hoping that this is sufficient proof and that the IBA Powers That Be prove understanding when I submit my paperwork, and that my chances for this attempt are not scuppered on account of this lapse in execution - only time will tell.

Blissfully unaware of my mistake, I punched Kansas City into the Waze app and forge on to the west. Missouri was really lovely to ride through as the sun came up and returned heat to my body. Humming along, getting closer to Kansas City, traffic starts to build as I start to realize that I am going to get caught in rush hour traffic.

Double Rats!

Given the limited amount of planning associated with this ride, I hadn’t given any thought to when I would be transiting population centers. Traffic was building and I couldn't even see the city yet. Originally, I thought I would ride through KC to put wheels in Kansas before jogging north, back into Missouri, and on up to Iowa.’

I pulled to the side of the road and thought quickly. I didn’t have the technical ability to forecast an end time, and had yet to get to the halfway point in my ride. I did some quick mental math, and concluded I had built up a bit of a time cushion, but the road ahead was still long. Physically, I was feeling great. Mentally? Great. But what would the morning bring? I simply did not know - this was the great unknown, and part of my initial uncertainty at the start.

Concluding that it was not worth jeapordizing my ride in order to put wheels in another state, I decided to take 435 around KC in order to pick up I-29 heading north. So I punched Fargo into Waze, dropped into first gear, and headed north.

More to come.

 

[Sharif]

Part Six: North to Fargo

Kansas City to Fargo is a bit over 600 miles. Heading north, the sun shining, the weather was cooperating beautifully with temperatures in the low 70s. As the second trip meter flipped to 750, I let out a little whoop of joy – halfway to 1500! A quick pit for gas near Saint Joseph saw me eat some jerky to break the Builder Bar monotony, as well as a bit of trail mix.

Onward.

As I approached the Council Bluffs/Omaha metro area, I once again gave thought to crossing the Missouri River to put wheels into Nebraska. The GPS was giving me an arrival time in Fargo just after 16:00 CST, maintaining a cushion of two hours for my arrival in Eagan. Even though it was a Friday and people typically escape the Twin Cities on the weekend to head for lake country, I didn’t want to risk it and decided to keep rolling north.

The road led me on, and the miles evaporated as I was in the zone:

Dust would blow across the road in Iowa. Ah yes, I had forgotten how many of the county and frontage roads are gravel. I got into the habit of flipping my chin vent closed to limit the amount that would get into my helmet.

On this stretch, my thoughts wandered to the smells of the trip. My travels through Indiana smelled of horse, proceeded by cow in Illinois, with overtones of corn in Iowa. It brought back memories of detasseling corn as a teenager. Now that is some good, hard work.

I rolled past Sioux Falls, determined not to pit for gas until I had rolled through passed 1,000 miles. Fuel light flashing, I fueled up just outside Vermillion. The wind was wicked fierce, to the point I thought about not leaving my helmet on the saddle so it wouldn't blow off. It didn't occur to me that this was a sign of things to come. I was simply feeling good, with an SS1K in the bag:

But my goal wasn't an SS1K, it was a BBG, so back to work, heading north, as the view of the world around expanded to the horizon. The land became taut, like a freshly made bed. Fields stretching on forever in all directions. I looked off to the east, and saw a guy riding an ATV across a field. No buildings in sight - where did he come from? Where was he going? No idea.

Time and space took on different dimensions. The air temperature rose into the 80s, and the wind made beautiful, swirling patterns in the tall grasses. It must have been an incredible sight when it was all unsettled, grasses over 6 feet tall, as far as the eye can see. I could only imagine what it’s like to see a storm come rolling across the prairie, or even more terrifying - a fire.

Seemingly infinite sight lines combined with the knowledge I would have to stop and document the turn at Fargo, so I put the FJR into supercruise without worrying about the commensurate impact on fuel economy, settled in, and headed for Fargo.

Mentally, this was the most difficult part of the trip thus far. Progress seemed slow due to the expansive sightlines, despite a good pace. I was getting to the point of “ready to be done.”

After an uneventful run, I pitted for gas to document the turn. 240 miles to the barn - an easy tank of gas. Or so I thought - I had no idea that I was entering the most difficult, demanding portion of the ride.

More to come.

 

[Sharif]

Part Six: The Hardest Miles

After what I thought was my final gas stop, I saddled up and headed southeast towards Minneapolis. Suddenly, I felt like someone whacked the right side of my head with a bat and the bike jumped a third of a lane to the left.

Wind. Unrelenting, gust, strong, powerful, disruptive wind. The strongest sustained oblique wind I have ever ridden through. The level of focus required went through the roof. I became even more aware of my lane position and surrounding traffic, maximizing the buffer zone of space around my bike.

The wind was beating on me, buffeting me, tossing me around. “Please stop pummeling me, I’m just trying to get done,” I said aloud in my helmet. It was hard, hard riding.
Physical issues started to manifest. I developed a helmet pressure ridge around my forehead, driving me insane. I would tuck in behind the screen and push up on my helmet with my left hand to relieve the pressure, but I wasn’t comfortable doing that for long because of that unceasing wind.

I flicked over to instant average fuel economy and saw that it was holding pretty steady in the mid-thirties. That meant another stop was in my future, and I made it not long after the turn for Saint Cloud. Although I hadn’t planned on it, it felt so good to simply get off the bike and get out of the wind.

It’s amazing how refreshing it is to simply get out of the wind for 10 minutes. Not having that constant buffeting and just walking in to use the bathroom provides full body relief.

The temptation to linger wasn’t there for me, I was looking forward to getting done. I was feeling very good still, focused, looking forward to getting done, and wary of getting complacent at the end of a long ride, approaching a metro area notorious for a crazy highway system.

I don’t have a clear memory as to the moment when the oblique pummeling stopped. I do remember that I was so incredibly thankful that it did. Light was starting to fade a bit, so I slid up my sun visor and kept moving:

The ride into Eagan was uneventful, with only one navigational error. I made the final gas stop, got the receipt, met my cousin and his wife who served as my end witnesses, and felt an elated wave of accomplishment flow through me. The odometer said 1577, which I got done in just under 22 hours. Thank you Yamaha for making such an amazing motorcycle which let me accomplish this!

A five minute ride transported me off the bike to my cousin’s house where their kids were still awake and really happy to see me. I was still feeling great - we feasted, talked, laughed, put the kids to bed, grabbed a beer, and sat outside by a fire pit.

A couple minutes later, the wave of exhaustion hit me. I said goodnight, brushed my teeth, lay down, and didn’t move for ten, blissful hours.

Equipment reflections to come.

 

[Shane]

Great writing!

Shane

 

[Tanker]

Great writing!
Shane

+1. Really enjoying your RR

 

[Sharif]

Part Seven: So...how was it?

I feel good about completing the BBG. My FJR is stock (including the seat!), with the following mods:

• Ram Bone + X-Grip + iPhone
  
• BatteryTender USB Charger
  
• Throttle lock
  
• Auxiliary lights
  

All of the above proved beneficial and borderline necessary for the ride. The Bone with a short arm kept my phone steady as a rock and out of my line of sight, exactly as I wanted. Not distracting, and not in the way. The USB charger I plugged into my Battery Tender tail, which is zip-tied to the cables running to the throttle. I simply wrapped the charging cable around the cable loom a couple times and it was perfect. Kept the phone charged the entire time, even with the ignition off.

The phone itself was useful for figuring out ETA to the next route waypoint and general communication needs.

Throttle lock - nothing needs to be said. Poor man’s cruise control, and completely necessary to avoid cramping. I did my initial SS1K/BB with a bone-stock bike - no aux lights, no throttle lock, no nothing. That taught me that a throttle lock is a good thing.

Aux lights - to me, a safety issue. The “light triangle” effect for traffic with just the fork-mounted lights keeps me visible, and the uppers help make a tunnel of light when there are no cars. Towards the end of the ride, my upper-right light gave in the the constant wind pressure and aimed skyward - a reminder to myself to tighten up before departure and keep a screwdriver/tiny socket on board, possibly in my top case.

Schuberth C3 worked great, except for the awful pressure on the final leg - I’m chalking that up to wind.

LDComfort shorts - awesome! Can’t say enough about them. I wore a long-sleeve t-shirt, the shorts, and socks under my riding suit and was all-day comfortable.

Seat - well, I wasn’t overly uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t mind trying out a different one just to see what it’s like.

Route planning - I did the most rudimentary planning, not looking for gas stops. I had a rough idea of the distance between cities, and beyond that, trusted to find gas as appropriate. I can see where making this type of effort out west, where fuel can be sparse, would require a more diligent effort.

Time of day - I really, really like the late evening departure. That meant I got to ride through the night, have the sun rise at my back, and have the sun set at my back after the Fargo turn. At no point was I riding directly into the sun. A small point, and one I found slightly distracting when I did my original Bun Burner. This also meant that I finished my ride while there was still a bit of daylight as opposed to having to light up the night twice on the same ride. It makes for a mental victory.

Me - well, I did it! I never felt exhausted to the point where I had to stop to nap, though I did have a sleep mask in my left pocket in case I was feeling overwhelmed. I never needed to use it. The two times I felt an energy lull, I popped in some Tic Tacs and just kept riding. Now I know a little bit more about myself, and that I can do 1500+ in a day if I ever need to.

What does the future hold? Unknown. Follow the road.

OK, the Iron Butt portion of this RR is over - more relaxed exploratory riding to come.