LDRydr
A Homeless Nomad
Note: cross-posted to the LDRider list.
When I saw the announcement for the WORD! Rally my first thought was, cool, here’s the chance I’ve been looking for to run a Cognoscente Group rally. Then that little voice of reason popped up, saying “are you nuts, you’d be in way over your head”. Tales of White Pine Fever and Blister came to mind, and world records for miles traveled in 24 hours. I let the opportunity pass me by, and when I found out my friend Eric Vaillancourt was going to attend I decided I’d ride down with him and just “hang out” and visit with fellow LD riders. Even after hearing that a couple of spots had opened up due to cancellations, and maybe being able to ride if I wanted to, I elected to just “observe” and offer to help out if needed. I figured I’d do some sightseeing, maybe visit Great Basin National Park, or see how the Hwy 50 shoe tree had grown since my last visit.
Three weeks before the rally a fellow rider on the FJRForum helped me with some major wiring work on my ’06 FJR that I’d been putting off. After having my previous Harley’s torn apart numerous times to add various farkles I’d decided I’d wait until I had everything gathered that needs electrical juice before starting the project. My GPSMap 376c, V-1 radar detector, and Soltek Fuego HID driving lamps were on the bike but needed wiring cleanup. Sitting in a pile on my workbench were a Motorcycle Cruise Control, SmarTire monitor, Datel voltmeter, Warm-N-Safe dual mounted Heatroller, Starcom1 Digital with a Bluetooth cell phone interface, iPod Nano with an iJet remote, Motolights, and a Harley Road-Tech XM radio receiver. I also wanted to run a lead for a Littlite map light that would be purchased later. Power would be distributed to farkles via both a Centech fuseblock with relay and a FuzeBlock (thanks Curt!). One week of evenings and a weekend later the wiring was done. A quick one-day ride picking up pictures of dams for the DamTour.com ride was good for a shakedown. An organized SaddleSore 1000 ride put on by Matt Watkins the weekend before WORD! proved we’d done a good job on the wiring, as all systems were working as they should, with the exception of the cruise since I’d not yet had time to finish the final calibration.
The ride to WORD! started off poorly. Everything was working fine a few days before, but at 4am when I jumped on the FJR to go meet Eric I only had audio in one ear. My custom earmold speakers had never let me down, so I figured something must have come loose on the Starcom. At the gas station where we met up I took the seat off and looked for loose wires, finding nothing wrong. Oh well, guess I’ll just listen in mono. Half an hour later we were on our way, heading towards heavy rain in eastern Oregon. We passed a state trooper sitting in the median near La Grande, and although we were exceeding the limit we figured he didn’t want to stop us since it was raining so hard. Maybe he thought we were crazy, or he just didn’t want to get out of his cozy OSP cruiser.
The weather was much improved as we approached Ely Nevada in time for dinner, and after arriving we quickly started saying hello to our friends and checking out the other bikes. It was really great to put faces with FJR Forum names. We’d arrived one day earlier than Eric had originally planned so they managed to find him a room, but with only one bed, so Doug Chapman became my roommate for the weekend. We learned others had similar negative issues with the hotel staff.
Friday morning riders started checking in for registration, tech inspection and odometer checks. I searched out Warchild and offered my help if needed. He asked if I had my bike there, yes, is it ready to go, yes. Thoughts of manning a checkpoint danced in my head. His next question tripped me up, why aren’t you riding the rally? D-oh! Wait, I know, I don’t have a camera. Brian Roberts quickly offered to lend me his small Canon digital. I don’t have the required maps, a Trojan Magnum XL condom, or a crisp one dollar bill. Eric V. said he had extras of each. I even had my laptop and GPS sync cable, bringing them along just in case I wanted to plot a route to visit dams on the way home. Being the smart fellow I am I quickly looked into my future, seeing Warchild and his band of merry pranksters forever talking about the ex-Harley rider wannabe that shows up at rallies on a rally-ready bike but never rides. I’d never live it down. Two seconds later I was filling out registration forms and telling them what size t-shirt I wanted. Too late to turn back now. At least I didn’t have to ask if I could join the crowd at the banquets. However, I did have to call my wife and try to explain it to her after I’d told her I wasn’t going to ride the rally. She’s very supportive, and I told her I’d ride well within my abilities. As during the SaddleSore ride the previous weekend, having the Bluetooth cell phone setup allowing her to call and check in with me would also help ease her concerns. My friend and fellow LD rider Lloyd Gardner happened to call me while I was in the registration line and also learned I’d be riding instead of watching. Lloyd would check in with me via cell phone a few times during the rally to offer words of encouragement, and the chatter helped in my effort to stay awake late Saturday night.
After the registration process was complete I set about fixing the Starcom issue. With help from Matt, who also uses a Starcom, we determined the unit was working properly and it was my ear speakers that had gone bad. Doug offered his spare pair of Skullcandy Ink’d Smoking Buds earbuds (gotta love that name) and the problem was solved. But another issue I’d had on the ride down was wind noise setting off my microphone VOX and muting the sound for 10 seconds each time it happened. Some more adjustments to the Starcom seemed to take care of it, but I’d learn later I should not have messed with the sidetone feature. Next up was the calibration for the cruise control, which took a few minutes. It wasn’t perfect but I got it working well enough to at least be able to give my wrist an occasional rest.
We were instructed to bring to dinner all required rally items, and everything we’d need to plot our rally routes. I was patting myself on the back for bringing my laptop and GPS sync cable. I’d quickly found a drugstore and picked up some highlighter pens and a small notebook, and carried all my gear over to the historic old Ely post office that had been nicely renovated into a small community convention center. After greetings by the Cognoscente Group staff, and instructions to line up for food AFTER the rally staff had gone first, we were feasting on a fabulous Italian buffet. It was the second time in one day I’d been amazed at the quality of food being served in such a small town, except for the suspected ham gravy from breakfast that would haunt me and my innards the whole weekend (and ditto for Doug Chapman).
After dinner, with tiramisu and spumoni ice cream for dessert, the real fun began. Rider numbers were called (I was last at #47, easy for me to remember since it’s my age) and one by one we received our rally instructions and began to read about what we’d be doing over the next couple of days. My face wasn’t the only one with a questioning look on it. We’d be playing a type of Scrabble, building words with letters we’d acquire from cities and states we’d visit. The words would be provided to us in a list and had to be chosen only from this list. Words were from 2 to 8 characters in length. As in Scrabble, letters had different values, and longer words had higher values. We’d prove we visited cities and states by taking a picture of our bike with a municipal sign or building, such as a “Welcome to Ely, Population 800” sign frequently seen at the city limits, or a picture of a fire station, post office, or school. Each city or state sign could only be used once and our bike had to be uniquely identifiable in the picture. For night shots we were provided with a stylish ball cap originally only given to attendees of the 2006 Western FJR Owner’s (WFO) gathering held in Reno. If we couldn’t get our bike into position for a shot with a sign we could use the cap. How we’d secure the cap to a sign was up to us. We were also instructed to bring to the finish one of three required items: a cow-pie (preferably not steaming, but with good shape and swirling form), a horseshoe (real, not a souvenir or one used to toss in a game), or a garter, red or black only, no extra points for a perfumed or nasty stretched-out used one. Later I would pack the garbage can liner from our room just in case I did end up picking up a cow-pie along the way. We were also instructed we would have two other requirements. We would need to check in at a checkpoint, identified by GPS coordinates, between 5pm and 8pm, where we would perform “manly” activities in an attempt to gather extra letters or spaces that we could use in building words. We also had to make a required check-in phone call between midnight and 2am, leaving detailed information to include our name, rider number, current location, location last visited and next location we were attempting. I’d have to make sure I was somewhere in cell range during this timeframe.
We were instructed to get out all our routing gear, and place laptops and internet-capable devices (if we had them) on the table. A few folks started to boot up their laptops but were quickly told to shut them down. The next announcement would rock the room, all devices would be secured with serialized evidence tampering tape and we would be banned from using them during the rally. Devices appearing to be opened or tampered with would result in immediate rider disqualification and physical abuse by the rally staff. Ditto for any outside routing assistance. I was very thankful for the extra maps Eric had given me. And I knew my GPS could help with routing what-if’s. Unfortunately, I’d left my GPS on earlier and my battery was almost depleted, and I had not brought along the A/C cord for it (knowing it would charge while riding). I found out after getting home the battery has a problem and is only charging to about 10%. Garmin has a new one on the way to me, but this would cause problems later at the checkpoint when I attempted to build my 2nd leg route.
After reading over the packet (again) we started choosing our words and building routes. We were locked in the room, able to leave only after turning in our list of words we’d be attempting. People started staking out space on the floor or on tables, and spreading out maps and Gazetteer’s. I noticed Ken Meese, sitting beside me, highlighting words with high-value letters and I quickly followed suit, choosing one color for words with a Z or Q (150 points) and another color for a J or X (120 points), or a K (75 points). Some words had combinations of these letters so they got a special two-color highlight treatment. It was obvious if you wanted to place well in this rally you’d have to find cities with a Z or Q in the name. I read through every city name in the index on the maps I had for NV, CA and UT and wrote the cities and their locations down. I quickly started tossing out locations in SoCal, then the CA coast, then the Sacramento and central valley locations, knowing they’d likely be impossible to visit and still make the checkpoint. It turned out it was located in Westgate NV, about midway between Fallon and Austin on Hwy 50, advertised as The Loneliest Highway in the US, but also known to motorcycle riders as one of the fastest.
I came up with my eight required words, then remembered we’d be responsible for acquiring some minimum of them, and tossed a couple of them and replaced them with easier words, just in case. I found cities with Z’s and with a Q and formed a route to take me to them, allowing for time to stop in many other spots to get more letters. My chosen words were: zizzle, zigzag, quixotic, dekko, joke, galyak, inkjets, and jackpots. We’d learn the next morning that we would be required to use at least five of our original words, but the remaining three could be tossed out and new words picked from the list. This was a good thing, as I failed to make it to a couple of spots I’d need. After using all the time allowed I turned in my word list and headed back to the motel about 10pm with rally-thoughts dancing in my head. Doug informed me he snored, so I put in my earplugs and tried to get some sleep. I usually have trouble sleeping before a big ride and this time was no different. I may have got three or four hours of good sleep before getting up to prepare the bike for riding.
Saturday morning riders were released in one minute intervals based on rider number. Being last at #47 I had a little extra time to get ready, and the sun helped warm up the cool Nevada landscape. My anticipation built as I saw other riders depart and head in different directions, all sure they had picked a route with winning high-value cities. Some riders paired up and I wondered why I hadn’t thought to team up with another rally newbie. Oh well, nobody to slow me down, I thought (but nobody to help me stay awake later, either). As I moved to the starting line (duct tape on the ground) Gatekeeper Chuck Hickey jotted down my beginning odometer reading, and Benevolent Overload Warchild came up to pose beside me for a picture taken by Shootist Steve Hobart. Warchild asked if I knew what I was doing to which I replied “sure thing”, and I was off in the direction of Hwy 6 and my first picture of a sign (Ely). But as I pulled away from the Four 7’s Hotel I realized I’d already made a mistake. The day before, while I changing settings on my Starcom unit, I’d asked Doug about the sidetone setting, which feeds sounds from the microphone back in the speakers, like it does on a telephone. He said he has to have it on, as it allows him to hear himself singing or talking when he gets sleepy. That sounded good to me so I enabled it, but I never took it for a test-drive. Bad move, now I’d get to hear my engine and wind noise feeding back into my speakers the whole rally. I intended to fix it at the midway checkpoint but forgot. And for some unknown reason my XM on both my radio and my GPS (for weather) wouldn’t receive a signal for a good portion of the daylight ride, but then worked fine later. Hmmm.
My initial route would be a fast ride headed southwest on Hwy 6 towards Tonopah. Picture stops became routine: position bike by sign beside road, turn on flashers, leave bike running, put in neutral, unplug helmet audio cable, hop off, get camera out, check for traffic, move into road for picture, put camera away, jot down city name for later word-building use at the finish, plug in audio cable, head for next town. Outside Tonopah I had my first taste of nonexistent places showing up on my GPS when I went 12 miles off my route in an attempt to secure an extra Z for “Montezuma”. Not even a wide-spot marked where it should be. I wasn’t fooled by “Montezuma Wells” when I saw it on my GPS about 15 miles out of Tonopah when I was back on my route. No more chasing rabbits down holes that didn’t exist, I’d stick to my route (plan your ride, ride your plan became my mantra). My first high spot was nabbing a Z for stopping in Schurz. The next was scoring an extra Z when I found that Topaz Lake and Topaz were two separate places, as identified not only by my GPS but by town signs. Bisecting Topaz Lake was the Nevada-California border on Hwy 395, a 2-for-1 picture opportunity with only one stop. The highlight of my whole rally was riding Hwy 89 along and over the east flank of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Crystal clear weather, winding roads and minimal traffic made for some spirited riding and spectacular views. I only wished I’d had time to stop and take some scenic photos. I guess I’ll have to return for that. After a couple of quick stops in Markleeville (another K) and Woodfords Hwy 89 joined in to Hwy 50 near Lake Tahoe and Saturday afternoon traffic. Heading west towards Sacramento I picked up more cities in route to Kyburz for my fourth Z. A quick U-turn and I was headed back towards Lake Tahoe and Zephyr Cove, frequently slowed down by boats on trailers and sightseers, but the FJR has power in reserve and passing came naturally and quickly when needed.
My first near-mishap came as I neared the bottom of Hwy 50 as it joins Hwy 395 in Carson City. A nice big turnoff was a great place to take a picture of the large Carson City sign so I pulled over. True to my routine I left the bike running, in neutral. As I was removing the camera from my tankbag the bike started to roll forward off the side-stand and down the hill, and tip away from me. Being careful not to drop Brian’s camera I managed to grab the bike just in time before it toppled over or headed down the hill without me. Then two miles down the road I made the left turn onto 395, surrounded by cars, and I saw a white paper sail out of my tankbag that I’d forgot to close. I thought for sure it was my list of cities visited and started to panic, thinking a car would surely run over and destroy it. After parking the bike (and shutting it off) I ran back and found my rally instructions beside the road, including the checkpoint location and phone number required for the check-in call later that night. Two near-disasters averted, the last mishap almost happened minutes later while I searched for a McDonalds to use the restroom (damn ham gravy).
Being ahead of schedule for the checkpoint I stopped in at a Big R farm store in Fallon and purchased a nice pair of new horseshoes as required for the finish. No steaming cow-pie for Warchild (not to worry, Greg Marbach brought him one he found near a machine that picks them up…who knew?). 670 miles after pulling out of Ely I arrived at the checkpoint with plenty of time to spare, and I began my “manly” games to gain extra letters. Brian Roberts, aka Dart Vader, dropped by to see how things were going. I could either toss horseshoes or darts. Choosing horseshoes I tossed a few practice throws then went for the real points, and got zilch, zip, nada. Not one stinking ringer or leaner, not even close. I got the consolation prize of a space, which it turned out I didn’t use. I sulked off to see where I stood on my words, formulated a plan for my next route, and ordered some dinner, which took way too long to get. With almost all the other riders already headed off I departed for Quincy CA and points along the way.
On my way to Nixon NV I happened upon the Post Office for Wadsworth and had my first challenge in getting a night shot, and couldn’t get the bike in the photo. I’d use the WFO hat but had to find a way to get it up at eye level since the name on the Post Office was high up on the building. My folding knife came in handy as I stabbed it through the hat and then into the building siding for a quick picture, much faster than unrolling duct tape. Next stop was Nixon, where I avoided the radar gauntlet that would snare a fellow rider that same night. Another bike was strategically positioned in front of the sign but I made do and got my shot. Then I spotted Maura G. sleeping in the parking lot. After a quick conversation I wondered if I might want to continue north to Gerlach and Cedarville CA before making the turn and going south to Susanville and Quincy. I decided I didn’t really need any of the extra letters I may get and took the shorter route I’d planned through Reno and then up 395 to 70, thinking I may need some rest at some point. My second “skunk” of the rally came when I rode the extra 10 miles into the blackness of very curvy roads beyond Quincy in search of Paxton and it’s valuable X. It either didn’t exist or I didn’t find it, but I almost didn’t make it back to Quincy (and cell range) in time for my check-in call by 2am. I overheard somebody later asking why they didn’t get East Quincy when they passed though it on the way to Quincy and I cringed because I’d missed it, too. Thankfully, the restroom at the closed Chevron station in Quincy was open, as the ham gravy was still working it’s black-magic. From now on it’s sausage gravy only for this rider.
The long hours without sleep started to take its toll as I began my return to Nevada. My Soltek HID driving lamps can turn night into day, but I have to remember to dim them for oncoming traffic, which seemed to be a difficult task to remember when running low on sleep. I was hoping the gas station at Hallelujah Junction would be open so I could stop for a break (and maybe pick up two J’s) but I had my doubts. Nothing was open all along Hwy 70 and I thought I may have to check into the Iron Butt Motel. As I was considering this I breezed through Chilcoot and spotted a firehouse (reminding me of the raucous Chilcoot Charlie’s bar I’d visited in Anchorage years ago). A quick U-turn and I was staring at another high-placed sign prominently displaying the town name. Been there, got the picture, and I munched on a candy bar and was soon feeling revived. My next need for rest came in Fernley, where I pulled into a truck-stop/Wendy’s and spotted another LD bike. Going inside I found Charles Lindeberg, another rally newbie, as he was wrapping up a rest period. He’d been there a couple of hours but didn’t seem to be able to sleep. He said goodbye and headed out just as two more riders came in, looking like death warmed over, bloodshot eyes and all. I hoped they’d stick around for a chat, but they said they were headed east in search of a rest-area (guess a truck stop didn’t fit the bill for them). With the cobwebs cleared for the time being I headed east to look for the Hazen sign which I’d missed earlier because a car was right on my ass as I putted through the construction zone where it was located on Hwy 50. It was easy to find this time as Maura’s ST 1300 was parked right beside it, but Maura was nowhere in sight. Figuring she was off in the bushes sleeping or doing her business I headed for the finish. I learned later she’d overslept in Nixon after I saw her earlier, then her bike was dead when I saw it in Hazen, and she’d gone for help. I’d also considered stopping to sleep but didn’t want to oversleep and risk not finishing, which did happen to a few other riders. I decided to sleep after I was done with scoring.
Being the last rider out I was also allowed to be the last rider in, but I’d done all the city-searching and photo-taking I was to do on this rally, so I breezed into the finish in warm sunshine about 10:30am. No deer-strikes, no performance awards, no time-penalties, and I had lots of Z’s and a Q, so I was feeling pretty good. I was sleepy and feeling rummy but I went to our room and set about the task of building my words. Zizzle for 495 points, zigzag for 390, quixotic for 390, dekko for 210, and galyak for 180 counted for my five required words. I’d failed to secure a G I needed for galyak so had to substitute a blank for a loss of 30 points, and one position in the finish. I tossed out the words joke, jackpots, and inkjets since I didn’t have enough J’s. Looking over my remaining unused cities I found the highest letter values and went searching for words that I could use to take advantage of them. My extra Z and some K’s got me the word kolkhoz for a whopping 405 points, and I made note of which cities were used to build each word, and I was off to the scoring table.
At the first stage of scoring Chuck perused my digital photos taken by Brian’s excellent little Canon camera, and my notes let me quickly tell him which letter I wanted to use for each photo. All my photos were allowed, and I headed out to meet Chief ScoreKeeper Don Moses for the first time. Again, with “all my shit in one sock” as Warchild would later graphically describe it, scoring was painless and a couple minutes later I was returning to my room for an adult beverage and nap. Having already totaled up my words, and knowing I’d ridden more than the required mileage, I felt pretty good about my standing. At least I’d be “a finisher”. According to my GPS, I’d ridden 1325 miles in 28 hours. Official adjusted rally mileage was 1331.7 miles.
I was pretty wiped out and slept right through the 5-6pm happy-hour, and lie-telling session preceding the finisher’s dinner, and woke up with five minutes to spare before heading to the Ely Convention Center. Dinner was a fine meal of BBQ and assorted fixings, with the CG rally staff again leading off the line. Our table, in what seemed like the far corner of the room, saw no point in standing in line on weary feet like at a wedding reception so we lined up last. Not a problem though, there was plenty for all. My anticipation built as Warchild said a number of riders didn’t finish for various reasons, and he began reading finishers names, lowest scores first. Mario Winkleman, of LDComfort clothing fame, achieved some unfathomable negative number due to arriving late, but said he still had a blast riding his first rally. The rest of the riders were in positive numbers. I had a pretty good idea of my point number but I didn’t have any idea how good it was until a number of very good riders names were called out before mine. With little fanfare Warchild described how this next rider had showed up in Ely claiming to just want to “observe” the rally, was talked into riding, planned his route wearing a Harley (Hardly?) shirt, and then somehow managed to ride himself into a top-ten finish at position #10. I was certainly as surprised as everybody else. I’d had a blast riding, saw even more of one of my favorite states, hadn’t done any damage to either myself of my bike (except wearing out a rear tire) and finished in a very respectable 10th position. After crystal trophies were awarded to the very deserving top three finishers we mingled about the room hearing stories of things seen, obstacles overcome, naps that lasted too long, and tales of encounters with law enforcement, both good and bad. Slaps on the back and handshakes of congratulations were given and received, and slowly we tired riders headed for our rooms.
My adventure would continue the next day after sleeping though the 4am departure time that Eric and I had planned (I swear I said wakeup at 4am, not leave at 4am). After finally fixing my Starcom, at 4:30am I set out on my own in search of dams for the DamTour.com challenge and made a beeline for Rye Patch Dam just off Hwy 80 outside Winnemucca NV. On the way I spied the now infamous Puckerbrush NV sign and had a good chuckle. I stopped for a bit, took the required dam pictures, ate a snack and headed north towards home and the next dam in Oregon. Arriving at Antelope Dam off Hwy 95 near Jordon City I positioned the bike for a photo but my digital camera was nowhere to be found. I must have lost it at Rye Patch. No big deal, it was old and slow, had lousy zoom vision, and wouldn’t hold a charge very long. Sounds like me and some other people I know. I used my cell phone camera, hoping it would capture the essence of my visit (or at least my rider number) and headed towards Burns for fuel.
Remembering the tread on my rear tire was thinning (I knew it would get me to/from Ely but I hadn’t planned on riding the rally, really!) I remembered Doug’s advice that I check it at each fuel stop. In Burns I lifted the FJR onto the center stand and inspected the tire. Hmm, funny pattern there in the middle, wonder what the other side looks like. Spinning the tire I found what I didn’t want to see, steel bands showing through the rubber. With no dealer in sight (checked in the phonebook) I called my dad at his place near Bend and had him check to see what time the dealer closed, then call me back (Bluetooth to the rescue). I started riding in his direction and waited for the call. After riding at rally speeds for two days the reduced speed I did heading towards Bend had me thinking I should put my emergency flashers on and ride on the shoulder, but it was more of an illusion than anything else. Sammy Hagar’s song came to mind, “I can’t drive 55!”. Damned Oregon speed limits. Soon dad called me back and said the dealer would wait up to 6:15pm for me, which was the exact time the GPS said I’d be there. He relayed them the info and I arrived on time and left the bike with them until morning. After some confusion the next morning about whether they could get to it THAT WEEK, they got things cleared up and a new BT021 mounted. Kudo’s to the new Bend Yamaha dealer, Pro Caliber Motorsports, for taking care of me. Soon I was pulling out onto a wet Hwy 97 on a virgin, unscrubbed tire, with thoughts of the IBA motto of “World’s Toughest Riders” in my head. A few hours later I was home with no mishaps.
To the Cognoscente Group of Dale, Don, Brian, Chuck, Steve and Tom, I thank you for truly putting not only my riding skills but also my grey matter to a real test. It wasn’t until the midway checkpoint that I realized just how complex and multifaceted this rally was. It would have been possible to ride big miles, take over a hundred photos, and still not finish well if you had picked bad (low point value) words or couldn’t build the ones you’d picked after you arrived at the finish. You truly outdid yourselves with this one. I’ll always remember my first Cognoscente rally and I now look forward to participating in the next one (no more observing for me).
Thanks also go out to Eric V. for putting up with my Starcom issue and all my fuel stops on the way (no fuel cell yet), to Doug C. for putting up with his new roommate and lending me his spare earbuds, and lastly to the washroom attendants who clean up toilets. It’s a dirty job and I’m really glad it’s not mine.
When I saw the announcement for the WORD! Rally my first thought was, cool, here’s the chance I’ve been looking for to run a Cognoscente Group rally. Then that little voice of reason popped up, saying “are you nuts, you’d be in way over your head”. Tales of White Pine Fever and Blister came to mind, and world records for miles traveled in 24 hours. I let the opportunity pass me by, and when I found out my friend Eric Vaillancourt was going to attend I decided I’d ride down with him and just “hang out” and visit with fellow LD riders. Even after hearing that a couple of spots had opened up due to cancellations, and maybe being able to ride if I wanted to, I elected to just “observe” and offer to help out if needed. I figured I’d do some sightseeing, maybe visit Great Basin National Park, or see how the Hwy 50 shoe tree had grown since my last visit.
Three weeks before the rally a fellow rider on the FJRForum helped me with some major wiring work on my ’06 FJR that I’d been putting off. After having my previous Harley’s torn apart numerous times to add various farkles I’d decided I’d wait until I had everything gathered that needs electrical juice before starting the project. My GPSMap 376c, V-1 radar detector, and Soltek Fuego HID driving lamps were on the bike but needed wiring cleanup. Sitting in a pile on my workbench were a Motorcycle Cruise Control, SmarTire monitor, Datel voltmeter, Warm-N-Safe dual mounted Heatroller, Starcom1 Digital with a Bluetooth cell phone interface, iPod Nano with an iJet remote, Motolights, and a Harley Road-Tech XM radio receiver. I also wanted to run a lead for a Littlite map light that would be purchased later. Power would be distributed to farkles via both a Centech fuseblock with relay and a FuzeBlock (thanks Curt!). One week of evenings and a weekend later the wiring was done. A quick one-day ride picking up pictures of dams for the DamTour.com ride was good for a shakedown. An organized SaddleSore 1000 ride put on by Matt Watkins the weekend before WORD! proved we’d done a good job on the wiring, as all systems were working as they should, with the exception of the cruise since I’d not yet had time to finish the final calibration.
The ride to WORD! started off poorly. Everything was working fine a few days before, but at 4am when I jumped on the FJR to go meet Eric I only had audio in one ear. My custom earmold speakers had never let me down, so I figured something must have come loose on the Starcom. At the gas station where we met up I took the seat off and looked for loose wires, finding nothing wrong. Oh well, guess I’ll just listen in mono. Half an hour later we were on our way, heading towards heavy rain in eastern Oregon. We passed a state trooper sitting in the median near La Grande, and although we were exceeding the limit we figured he didn’t want to stop us since it was raining so hard. Maybe he thought we were crazy, or he just didn’t want to get out of his cozy OSP cruiser.
The weather was much improved as we approached Ely Nevada in time for dinner, and after arriving we quickly started saying hello to our friends and checking out the other bikes. It was really great to put faces with FJR Forum names. We’d arrived one day earlier than Eric had originally planned so they managed to find him a room, but with only one bed, so Doug Chapman became my roommate for the weekend. We learned others had similar negative issues with the hotel staff.
Friday morning riders started checking in for registration, tech inspection and odometer checks. I searched out Warchild and offered my help if needed. He asked if I had my bike there, yes, is it ready to go, yes. Thoughts of manning a checkpoint danced in my head. His next question tripped me up, why aren’t you riding the rally? D-oh! Wait, I know, I don’t have a camera. Brian Roberts quickly offered to lend me his small Canon digital. I don’t have the required maps, a Trojan Magnum XL condom, or a crisp one dollar bill. Eric V. said he had extras of each. I even had my laptop and GPS sync cable, bringing them along just in case I wanted to plot a route to visit dams on the way home. Being the smart fellow I am I quickly looked into my future, seeing Warchild and his band of merry pranksters forever talking about the ex-Harley rider wannabe that shows up at rallies on a rally-ready bike but never rides. I’d never live it down. Two seconds later I was filling out registration forms and telling them what size t-shirt I wanted. Too late to turn back now. At least I didn’t have to ask if I could join the crowd at the banquets. However, I did have to call my wife and try to explain it to her after I’d told her I wasn’t going to ride the rally. She’s very supportive, and I told her I’d ride well within my abilities. As during the SaddleSore ride the previous weekend, having the Bluetooth cell phone setup allowing her to call and check in with me would also help ease her concerns. My friend and fellow LD rider Lloyd Gardner happened to call me while I was in the registration line and also learned I’d be riding instead of watching. Lloyd would check in with me via cell phone a few times during the rally to offer words of encouragement, and the chatter helped in my effort to stay awake late Saturday night.
After the registration process was complete I set about fixing the Starcom issue. With help from Matt, who also uses a Starcom, we determined the unit was working properly and it was my ear speakers that had gone bad. Doug offered his spare pair of Skullcandy Ink’d Smoking Buds earbuds (gotta love that name) and the problem was solved. But another issue I’d had on the ride down was wind noise setting off my microphone VOX and muting the sound for 10 seconds each time it happened. Some more adjustments to the Starcom seemed to take care of it, but I’d learn later I should not have messed with the sidetone feature. Next up was the calibration for the cruise control, which took a few minutes. It wasn’t perfect but I got it working well enough to at least be able to give my wrist an occasional rest.
We were instructed to bring to dinner all required rally items, and everything we’d need to plot our rally routes. I was patting myself on the back for bringing my laptop and GPS sync cable. I’d quickly found a drugstore and picked up some highlighter pens and a small notebook, and carried all my gear over to the historic old Ely post office that had been nicely renovated into a small community convention center. After greetings by the Cognoscente Group staff, and instructions to line up for food AFTER the rally staff had gone first, we were feasting on a fabulous Italian buffet. It was the second time in one day I’d been amazed at the quality of food being served in such a small town, except for the suspected ham gravy from breakfast that would haunt me and my innards the whole weekend (and ditto for Doug Chapman).
After dinner, with tiramisu and spumoni ice cream for dessert, the real fun began. Rider numbers were called (I was last at #47, easy for me to remember since it’s my age) and one by one we received our rally instructions and began to read about what we’d be doing over the next couple of days. My face wasn’t the only one with a questioning look on it. We’d be playing a type of Scrabble, building words with letters we’d acquire from cities and states we’d visit. The words would be provided to us in a list and had to be chosen only from this list. Words were from 2 to 8 characters in length. As in Scrabble, letters had different values, and longer words had higher values. We’d prove we visited cities and states by taking a picture of our bike with a municipal sign or building, such as a “Welcome to Ely, Population 800” sign frequently seen at the city limits, or a picture of a fire station, post office, or school. Each city or state sign could only be used once and our bike had to be uniquely identifiable in the picture. For night shots we were provided with a stylish ball cap originally only given to attendees of the 2006 Western FJR Owner’s (WFO) gathering held in Reno. If we couldn’t get our bike into position for a shot with a sign we could use the cap. How we’d secure the cap to a sign was up to us. We were also instructed to bring to the finish one of three required items: a cow-pie (preferably not steaming, but with good shape and swirling form), a horseshoe (real, not a souvenir or one used to toss in a game), or a garter, red or black only, no extra points for a perfumed or nasty stretched-out used one. Later I would pack the garbage can liner from our room just in case I did end up picking up a cow-pie along the way. We were also instructed we would have two other requirements. We would need to check in at a checkpoint, identified by GPS coordinates, between 5pm and 8pm, where we would perform “manly” activities in an attempt to gather extra letters or spaces that we could use in building words. We also had to make a required check-in phone call between midnight and 2am, leaving detailed information to include our name, rider number, current location, location last visited and next location we were attempting. I’d have to make sure I was somewhere in cell range during this timeframe.
We were instructed to get out all our routing gear, and place laptops and internet-capable devices (if we had them) on the table. A few folks started to boot up their laptops but were quickly told to shut them down. The next announcement would rock the room, all devices would be secured with serialized evidence tampering tape and we would be banned from using them during the rally. Devices appearing to be opened or tampered with would result in immediate rider disqualification and physical abuse by the rally staff. Ditto for any outside routing assistance. I was very thankful for the extra maps Eric had given me. And I knew my GPS could help with routing what-if’s. Unfortunately, I’d left my GPS on earlier and my battery was almost depleted, and I had not brought along the A/C cord for it (knowing it would charge while riding). I found out after getting home the battery has a problem and is only charging to about 10%. Garmin has a new one on the way to me, but this would cause problems later at the checkpoint when I attempted to build my 2nd leg route.
After reading over the packet (again) we started choosing our words and building routes. We were locked in the room, able to leave only after turning in our list of words we’d be attempting. People started staking out space on the floor or on tables, and spreading out maps and Gazetteer’s. I noticed Ken Meese, sitting beside me, highlighting words with high-value letters and I quickly followed suit, choosing one color for words with a Z or Q (150 points) and another color for a J or X (120 points), or a K (75 points). Some words had combinations of these letters so they got a special two-color highlight treatment. It was obvious if you wanted to place well in this rally you’d have to find cities with a Z or Q in the name. I read through every city name in the index on the maps I had for NV, CA and UT and wrote the cities and their locations down. I quickly started tossing out locations in SoCal, then the CA coast, then the Sacramento and central valley locations, knowing they’d likely be impossible to visit and still make the checkpoint. It turned out it was located in Westgate NV, about midway between Fallon and Austin on Hwy 50, advertised as The Loneliest Highway in the US, but also known to motorcycle riders as one of the fastest.
I came up with my eight required words, then remembered we’d be responsible for acquiring some minimum of them, and tossed a couple of them and replaced them with easier words, just in case. I found cities with Z’s and with a Q and formed a route to take me to them, allowing for time to stop in many other spots to get more letters. My chosen words were: zizzle, zigzag, quixotic, dekko, joke, galyak, inkjets, and jackpots. We’d learn the next morning that we would be required to use at least five of our original words, but the remaining three could be tossed out and new words picked from the list. This was a good thing, as I failed to make it to a couple of spots I’d need. After using all the time allowed I turned in my word list and headed back to the motel about 10pm with rally-thoughts dancing in my head. Doug informed me he snored, so I put in my earplugs and tried to get some sleep. I usually have trouble sleeping before a big ride and this time was no different. I may have got three or four hours of good sleep before getting up to prepare the bike for riding.
Saturday morning riders were released in one minute intervals based on rider number. Being last at #47 I had a little extra time to get ready, and the sun helped warm up the cool Nevada landscape. My anticipation built as I saw other riders depart and head in different directions, all sure they had picked a route with winning high-value cities. Some riders paired up and I wondered why I hadn’t thought to team up with another rally newbie. Oh well, nobody to slow me down, I thought (but nobody to help me stay awake later, either). As I moved to the starting line (duct tape on the ground) Gatekeeper Chuck Hickey jotted down my beginning odometer reading, and Benevolent Overload Warchild came up to pose beside me for a picture taken by Shootist Steve Hobart. Warchild asked if I knew what I was doing to which I replied “sure thing”, and I was off in the direction of Hwy 6 and my first picture of a sign (Ely). But as I pulled away from the Four 7’s Hotel I realized I’d already made a mistake. The day before, while I changing settings on my Starcom unit, I’d asked Doug about the sidetone setting, which feeds sounds from the microphone back in the speakers, like it does on a telephone. He said he has to have it on, as it allows him to hear himself singing or talking when he gets sleepy. That sounded good to me so I enabled it, but I never took it for a test-drive. Bad move, now I’d get to hear my engine and wind noise feeding back into my speakers the whole rally. I intended to fix it at the midway checkpoint but forgot. And for some unknown reason my XM on both my radio and my GPS (for weather) wouldn’t receive a signal for a good portion of the daylight ride, but then worked fine later. Hmmm.
My initial route would be a fast ride headed southwest on Hwy 6 towards Tonopah. Picture stops became routine: position bike by sign beside road, turn on flashers, leave bike running, put in neutral, unplug helmet audio cable, hop off, get camera out, check for traffic, move into road for picture, put camera away, jot down city name for later word-building use at the finish, plug in audio cable, head for next town. Outside Tonopah I had my first taste of nonexistent places showing up on my GPS when I went 12 miles off my route in an attempt to secure an extra Z for “Montezuma”. Not even a wide-spot marked where it should be. I wasn’t fooled by “Montezuma Wells” when I saw it on my GPS about 15 miles out of Tonopah when I was back on my route. No more chasing rabbits down holes that didn’t exist, I’d stick to my route (plan your ride, ride your plan became my mantra). My first high spot was nabbing a Z for stopping in Schurz. The next was scoring an extra Z when I found that Topaz Lake and Topaz were two separate places, as identified not only by my GPS but by town signs. Bisecting Topaz Lake was the Nevada-California border on Hwy 395, a 2-for-1 picture opportunity with only one stop. The highlight of my whole rally was riding Hwy 89 along and over the east flank of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Crystal clear weather, winding roads and minimal traffic made for some spirited riding and spectacular views. I only wished I’d had time to stop and take some scenic photos. I guess I’ll have to return for that. After a couple of quick stops in Markleeville (another K) and Woodfords Hwy 89 joined in to Hwy 50 near Lake Tahoe and Saturday afternoon traffic. Heading west towards Sacramento I picked up more cities in route to Kyburz for my fourth Z. A quick U-turn and I was headed back towards Lake Tahoe and Zephyr Cove, frequently slowed down by boats on trailers and sightseers, but the FJR has power in reserve and passing came naturally and quickly when needed.
My first near-mishap came as I neared the bottom of Hwy 50 as it joins Hwy 395 in Carson City. A nice big turnoff was a great place to take a picture of the large Carson City sign so I pulled over. True to my routine I left the bike running, in neutral. As I was removing the camera from my tankbag the bike started to roll forward off the side-stand and down the hill, and tip away from me. Being careful not to drop Brian’s camera I managed to grab the bike just in time before it toppled over or headed down the hill without me. Then two miles down the road I made the left turn onto 395, surrounded by cars, and I saw a white paper sail out of my tankbag that I’d forgot to close. I thought for sure it was my list of cities visited and started to panic, thinking a car would surely run over and destroy it. After parking the bike (and shutting it off) I ran back and found my rally instructions beside the road, including the checkpoint location and phone number required for the check-in call later that night. Two near-disasters averted, the last mishap almost happened minutes later while I searched for a McDonalds to use the restroom (damn ham gravy).
Being ahead of schedule for the checkpoint I stopped in at a Big R farm store in Fallon and purchased a nice pair of new horseshoes as required for the finish. No steaming cow-pie for Warchild (not to worry, Greg Marbach brought him one he found near a machine that picks them up…who knew?). 670 miles after pulling out of Ely I arrived at the checkpoint with plenty of time to spare, and I began my “manly” games to gain extra letters. Brian Roberts, aka Dart Vader, dropped by to see how things were going. I could either toss horseshoes or darts. Choosing horseshoes I tossed a few practice throws then went for the real points, and got zilch, zip, nada. Not one stinking ringer or leaner, not even close. I got the consolation prize of a space, which it turned out I didn’t use. I sulked off to see where I stood on my words, formulated a plan for my next route, and ordered some dinner, which took way too long to get. With almost all the other riders already headed off I departed for Quincy CA and points along the way.
On my way to Nixon NV I happened upon the Post Office for Wadsworth and had my first challenge in getting a night shot, and couldn’t get the bike in the photo. I’d use the WFO hat but had to find a way to get it up at eye level since the name on the Post Office was high up on the building. My folding knife came in handy as I stabbed it through the hat and then into the building siding for a quick picture, much faster than unrolling duct tape. Next stop was Nixon, where I avoided the radar gauntlet that would snare a fellow rider that same night. Another bike was strategically positioned in front of the sign but I made do and got my shot. Then I spotted Maura G. sleeping in the parking lot. After a quick conversation I wondered if I might want to continue north to Gerlach and Cedarville CA before making the turn and going south to Susanville and Quincy. I decided I didn’t really need any of the extra letters I may get and took the shorter route I’d planned through Reno and then up 395 to 70, thinking I may need some rest at some point. My second “skunk” of the rally came when I rode the extra 10 miles into the blackness of very curvy roads beyond Quincy in search of Paxton and it’s valuable X. It either didn’t exist or I didn’t find it, but I almost didn’t make it back to Quincy (and cell range) in time for my check-in call by 2am. I overheard somebody later asking why they didn’t get East Quincy when they passed though it on the way to Quincy and I cringed because I’d missed it, too. Thankfully, the restroom at the closed Chevron station in Quincy was open, as the ham gravy was still working it’s black-magic. From now on it’s sausage gravy only for this rider.
The long hours without sleep started to take its toll as I began my return to Nevada. My Soltek HID driving lamps can turn night into day, but I have to remember to dim them for oncoming traffic, which seemed to be a difficult task to remember when running low on sleep. I was hoping the gas station at Hallelujah Junction would be open so I could stop for a break (and maybe pick up two J’s) but I had my doubts. Nothing was open all along Hwy 70 and I thought I may have to check into the Iron Butt Motel. As I was considering this I breezed through Chilcoot and spotted a firehouse (reminding me of the raucous Chilcoot Charlie’s bar I’d visited in Anchorage years ago). A quick U-turn and I was staring at another high-placed sign prominently displaying the town name. Been there, got the picture, and I munched on a candy bar and was soon feeling revived. My next need for rest came in Fernley, where I pulled into a truck-stop/Wendy’s and spotted another LD bike. Going inside I found Charles Lindeberg, another rally newbie, as he was wrapping up a rest period. He’d been there a couple of hours but didn’t seem to be able to sleep. He said goodbye and headed out just as two more riders came in, looking like death warmed over, bloodshot eyes and all. I hoped they’d stick around for a chat, but they said they were headed east in search of a rest-area (guess a truck stop didn’t fit the bill for them). With the cobwebs cleared for the time being I headed east to look for the Hazen sign which I’d missed earlier because a car was right on my ass as I putted through the construction zone where it was located on Hwy 50. It was easy to find this time as Maura’s ST 1300 was parked right beside it, but Maura was nowhere in sight. Figuring she was off in the bushes sleeping or doing her business I headed for the finish. I learned later she’d overslept in Nixon after I saw her earlier, then her bike was dead when I saw it in Hazen, and she’d gone for help. I’d also considered stopping to sleep but didn’t want to oversleep and risk not finishing, which did happen to a few other riders. I decided to sleep after I was done with scoring.
Being the last rider out I was also allowed to be the last rider in, but I’d done all the city-searching and photo-taking I was to do on this rally, so I breezed into the finish in warm sunshine about 10:30am. No deer-strikes, no performance awards, no time-penalties, and I had lots of Z’s and a Q, so I was feeling pretty good. I was sleepy and feeling rummy but I went to our room and set about the task of building my words. Zizzle for 495 points, zigzag for 390, quixotic for 390, dekko for 210, and galyak for 180 counted for my five required words. I’d failed to secure a G I needed for galyak so had to substitute a blank for a loss of 30 points, and one position in the finish. I tossed out the words joke, jackpots, and inkjets since I didn’t have enough J’s. Looking over my remaining unused cities I found the highest letter values and went searching for words that I could use to take advantage of them. My extra Z and some K’s got me the word kolkhoz for a whopping 405 points, and I made note of which cities were used to build each word, and I was off to the scoring table.
At the first stage of scoring Chuck perused my digital photos taken by Brian’s excellent little Canon camera, and my notes let me quickly tell him which letter I wanted to use for each photo. All my photos were allowed, and I headed out to meet Chief ScoreKeeper Don Moses for the first time. Again, with “all my shit in one sock” as Warchild would later graphically describe it, scoring was painless and a couple minutes later I was returning to my room for an adult beverage and nap. Having already totaled up my words, and knowing I’d ridden more than the required mileage, I felt pretty good about my standing. At least I’d be “a finisher”. According to my GPS, I’d ridden 1325 miles in 28 hours. Official adjusted rally mileage was 1331.7 miles.
I was pretty wiped out and slept right through the 5-6pm happy-hour, and lie-telling session preceding the finisher’s dinner, and woke up with five minutes to spare before heading to the Ely Convention Center. Dinner was a fine meal of BBQ and assorted fixings, with the CG rally staff again leading off the line. Our table, in what seemed like the far corner of the room, saw no point in standing in line on weary feet like at a wedding reception so we lined up last. Not a problem though, there was plenty for all. My anticipation built as Warchild said a number of riders didn’t finish for various reasons, and he began reading finishers names, lowest scores first. Mario Winkleman, of LDComfort clothing fame, achieved some unfathomable negative number due to arriving late, but said he still had a blast riding his first rally. The rest of the riders were in positive numbers. I had a pretty good idea of my point number but I didn’t have any idea how good it was until a number of very good riders names were called out before mine. With little fanfare Warchild described how this next rider had showed up in Ely claiming to just want to “observe” the rally, was talked into riding, planned his route wearing a Harley (Hardly?) shirt, and then somehow managed to ride himself into a top-ten finish at position #10. I was certainly as surprised as everybody else. I’d had a blast riding, saw even more of one of my favorite states, hadn’t done any damage to either myself of my bike (except wearing out a rear tire) and finished in a very respectable 10th position. After crystal trophies were awarded to the very deserving top three finishers we mingled about the room hearing stories of things seen, obstacles overcome, naps that lasted too long, and tales of encounters with law enforcement, both good and bad. Slaps on the back and handshakes of congratulations were given and received, and slowly we tired riders headed for our rooms.
My adventure would continue the next day after sleeping though the 4am departure time that Eric and I had planned (I swear I said wakeup at 4am, not leave at 4am). After finally fixing my Starcom, at 4:30am I set out on my own in search of dams for the DamTour.com challenge and made a beeline for Rye Patch Dam just off Hwy 80 outside Winnemucca NV. On the way I spied the now infamous Puckerbrush NV sign and had a good chuckle. I stopped for a bit, took the required dam pictures, ate a snack and headed north towards home and the next dam in Oregon. Arriving at Antelope Dam off Hwy 95 near Jordon City I positioned the bike for a photo but my digital camera was nowhere to be found. I must have lost it at Rye Patch. No big deal, it was old and slow, had lousy zoom vision, and wouldn’t hold a charge very long. Sounds like me and some other people I know. I used my cell phone camera, hoping it would capture the essence of my visit (or at least my rider number) and headed towards Burns for fuel.
Remembering the tread on my rear tire was thinning (I knew it would get me to/from Ely but I hadn’t planned on riding the rally, really!) I remembered Doug’s advice that I check it at each fuel stop. In Burns I lifted the FJR onto the center stand and inspected the tire. Hmm, funny pattern there in the middle, wonder what the other side looks like. Spinning the tire I found what I didn’t want to see, steel bands showing through the rubber. With no dealer in sight (checked in the phonebook) I called my dad at his place near Bend and had him check to see what time the dealer closed, then call me back (Bluetooth to the rescue). I started riding in his direction and waited for the call. After riding at rally speeds for two days the reduced speed I did heading towards Bend had me thinking I should put my emergency flashers on and ride on the shoulder, but it was more of an illusion than anything else. Sammy Hagar’s song came to mind, “I can’t drive 55!”. Damned Oregon speed limits. Soon dad called me back and said the dealer would wait up to 6:15pm for me, which was the exact time the GPS said I’d be there. He relayed them the info and I arrived on time and left the bike with them until morning. After some confusion the next morning about whether they could get to it THAT WEEK, they got things cleared up and a new BT021 mounted. Kudo’s to the new Bend Yamaha dealer, Pro Caliber Motorsports, for taking care of me. Soon I was pulling out onto a wet Hwy 97 on a virgin, unscrubbed tire, with thoughts of the IBA motto of “World’s Toughest Riders” in my head. A few hours later I was home with no mishaps.
To the Cognoscente Group of Dale, Don, Brian, Chuck, Steve and Tom, I thank you for truly putting not only my riding skills but also my grey matter to a real test. It wasn’t until the midway checkpoint that I realized just how complex and multifaceted this rally was. It would have been possible to ride big miles, take over a hundred photos, and still not finish well if you had picked bad (low point value) words or couldn’t build the ones you’d picked after you arrived at the finish. You truly outdid yourselves with this one. I’ll always remember my first Cognoscente rally and I now look forward to participating in the next one (no more observing for me).
Thanks also go out to Eric V. for putting up with my Starcom issue and all my fuel stops on the way (no fuel cell yet), to Doug C. for putting up with his new roommate and lending me his spare earbuds, and lastly to the washroom attendants who clean up toilets. It’s a dirty job and I’m really glad it’s not mine.
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