Lexington KY – Fayetteville AR
July 8, 2018
(~949 miles)

I was up at 06:00 and packed up in minutes. I filled my hydration thermos with ice and made my first trip outside to the bike. Several other riders were out and about, prepping for departure. Staffer John Pedrow was starting ODO checks at 06:15 and I nabbed his attention as he was walking by to get mine out of the way.

Rally riders usually find a way to make things work. However, I think Lynne needs to get in touch with Russell Day Long…

Buffet breakfast was being served in a function room close to the door. I got myself a plate and sat with Roy and some of the rally staff. The winning route was not accidentally revealed, darn it, but it’s nice to take a moment to meet these guys and thank them for all the time/effort they put into give us riders a great vacation.

By the time I returned to the lot with the rest of my gear, just about all bikes were uncovered and ready to go.

As I walked back inside for something, I passed by David and Bart, looking ominous and pleased with themselves by the doorway.

“Evil…pure evil…” I muttered as I walked by.

Big dawg Greg Rice (above) put in a surprise appearance at the start to say hello. He was quickly called over to assist someone with a Goldwing tech question.

I think many of us did too good a job prepping for the start – as we were ready to go but standing around for what seemed like forever waiting for the 07:30 rider’s meeting (and then again later for the signal to leave). It seems like we could have easily squeezed in another half hour of sleep. To my surprise, nothing new to affect routing was introduced at the rider meeting. Sweet, looks like I have my route to follow for the day!

We were told that there would be no choreographed exit procedure for the start. We’d basically be trusted to be courteous (!) and not kill each other in an attempt to get out of the parking lot first as each lot section was allowed to leave one at a time. Despite the fever of rally mode settling into our pores, it seems the start went off without a hitch.

There was an effort underway, coordinated by Justin of Long Riders Radio, to live-stream the start of the event by using a few volunteers recording video with cell phones. We were asked not to run into them or any tripods set up for this purpose. 🙂

The very first college stadium bonus in our packs was right here in Lexington – Kroger Field, home of the Wildcats. There was a steady stream of LD bikes and hi-viz gear across the city to get to the university for our first bonus photo.

After arriving, I recorded the time/ODO and confidently pulled out my flag, attached to Hammy-stick. The wind was up a bit and causing trouble for my flag such that I had a difficult time getting the numbers visible at the same time as the complete names of the field and team. For illustrative purposes, I’ve included a few of the shots I took for this bonus. Only the last photo here was what I deemed acceptable. I know I needed to add some weight to the bottom of the flag, but the adrenaline of the the rally start was still coursing through me and I was SURE that the next photo would be the ONE! 🙂  Little things matter when out on a rally!

OK, so shaky start, felt like I spent 15 minutes there, when in actuality it was probably about five. Ready to leave, my new primary 595 GPS seemed to freak out on me a bit in terms of how to get out of the university. It had reset itself en route to the first bonus and, as I was to learn, it seemed to only remember the next waypoint on the route after a reset. After making two U-turns, I pulled over in frustration and ensured that both GPS units were finally in agreement.

I followed their advice straight through downtown Lexington for some reason, feeling more and more like I was in some sort of twilight zone (no not naval twilight!). With only one other rally rider in sight, I wondered where they’d all vanished to and whether Garmin was playing a mean trick on me right at the start of the rally. It was a vast relief to finally hit interstate and start putting on some miles toward the next bonus.

I had a good couple hours to settle in on the way to the town square of Paoli IN, via I-64 and US-150. I ignored the two low-point bonuses in Louisville (though I so dreadfully DID want to see both giant bats of TeamStrange legend!). I did pass a couple riders on the highway while en route and there were a few more at the bonus location just finishing up when I arrived. This is the Indiana Initial Point Memorial, a landmark for our country’s land surveying system as we expanded west.

Another 100 miles on US-150 and US-50 got me to Olney, Illinois. These were fast secondary highways with lots of passing lanes and I made good time heading west. I caught up to and passed by my buddy Rick, who fell in behind me. A bit further on we went by Roy who also jumped on the train. OK, this time I’m the rabbit I guess!

We all arrived at Olney City Park together, to photograph the sign. Apparently, the town is famous for their population of white squirrels.

Here’s more than you need to know about Olney’s white squirrels, if you’ve got 13 minutes to kill. Kind of a neat backstory.

I finished up at the Olney bonus quickly and got moving within a couple minutes, heading northwest to re-join the interstate system on I-70 in Effingham. Rick caught back up to me along the way, though we split up when our GPS units took us on different paths through that town. I made my first fuel stop of the rally (love the new aux tank!) off the I-270 loop near St. Louis, and then proceeded to exit for a detour through Ferguson for a photo of these cabooses.

I continued south to pick up I-70 once more for several miles and then headed southwest on MO-94 and then Route “D” (yes, they apparently have lettered routes out here!). At some point, I turned a corner and was faced with a small back road with corn looming on both sides. Toto, we’re in Kansas now (or close enough to it), so I stopped for a quick snap.

Just outside the small village of Marthasburg, I pulled in to a roadside gravel cutout with another rally rider and climbed a small hill on the opposite side of the road to the grave of Daniel Boone and his wife.

I spotted Rick zipping by on MO-47 as I approached it through the small town streets. I caught up to him and rode for several miles behind a few slow pokes until I found a spot and got past. That would have been a nice little stretch of roadway to enjoy if it hadn’t been for the Sunday drivers. He caught me again on I-70 and this time I called him up to chat for a bit as we rode along.

We got to the University of Missouri in Columbia and it was just a bit tricky figuring out how to get to the waypoint, as it involved riding through a short tunnel under the road to get next to the stadium. I had some more trouble with the wind, so Rick graciously held my flag for a clear shot of the statue of former coach Don Faurot.

At this point, Rick and I parted ways for the remainder of the leg, as his route was taking him south for some daylight-only bonuses (I think he knew what that meant by now) while I was continuing west. We bid each other safe riding and set about our individual plans. I rode another 2+ hours, hanging a sharp left south just before Kansas City to get down to Harrisonville for a photo of the Burnt District Monument. This is apparently in honor of all the local homes that were burnt by Union troops during the Civil War, leaving only the chimneys standing, a piece of the history I was not familiar with. You can see I’d finally attached some clips to the bottom of the flag to help steady it in the wind.

There were only 45 miles to go down I-49 to one of my primary milestones for the day, a daylight-only bonus just over the border into Kansas on a short gravel road. I was doing fine on time and stopped for fuel after exiting the highway.  Then I headed west for several miles on MO-52 until reaching a 90 degree curve in the road where it seemed unclear for a moment on where to go. After going straight through past the curve for a few yards, my untrusty new 595 GPS suddenly recalculated and told me “Sure! It’s fine to proceed straight on ahead! Just go like you been going lil buddy!”

Well, after crossing Route J and onto what is apparently NW County Road 3002, I found myself teetering through a true 6+ inches of loose gravel. I mean it was like a dump truck had just spread the stuff and there were no tire tracks compressing any of it down. My arms shook and I grew nervous as I tried to keep the 700+ pound bike upright. I’ve done my share of dirt roads during rallies, but this was something else entirely. I didn’t think it would be something I could just power through and stopped after 100 yards or so. The rally book had mentioned only three miles of gravel road, whereas I was still a good six miles from the bonus. I zoomed in on the GPS and saw that 52 did in fact turn just back there at the intersection and seemed to curve back around toward where the GPS wanted to take me in a straight line. Screw this, I’m going back! Somehow I managed to do a 10-point turn on that gravel surface, slowing massaging the ST back and forth, trying not to lose my footing and dump the machine, break an ankle, or both.

Note: By now, you may have read other accounts online or in person from Butt Lite riders this year having issues with Garmin’s routing choices. I had noticed a few oddities on pavement since my “upgrade”, but this was my first more concerning encounter off pavement with “bad Garmin advice”. It would not be my last, read on.

I made it without going into the weeds and waved off another rider who was contemplating taking that route when he saw me coming out. “We need to go around!” I shouted, and sped off on the pavement with him in tow, circling through the small village of Amoret back to the gravel roads, which were packed down a bit more at this point and definitely doable, though there were plenty of marble-sized gravel pieces ready to throw out your tire if you lost attention. I spotted Billy C coming out of the road in and continued in without further incident to the obscure Marais Des Cygnes Memorial Park in the middle of nowhere where a massacre of several black freemen took place in 1858 during a border dispute.

Darkness (lack of daylight, are we clear yet?) fell as I motored south back on I-49. I detoured east of Joplin on MO-37 to Pierce City, for a snap of their historical marker.

I continued on 37 south towards Arkansas to the town of Seligman, where both Basecamp and my GPS had me routed on what is apparently “Farm Road 2285” through the Mark Twain National Forest. It was quite dark out by now and the trees closed in quickly on this small lane of a road, which soon went from bad pavement to packed gravel, and then to double-track. My GPS showed approx 10 miles until the next turn, but I saw the occasional mailbox and house alongside the road and figured it must just be a rough section before turning back to pavement.

So I continued on, my lights on 100% high illuminating the vine-draped shadowy trees along the route, trying to stay within one of the tire tracks at all times, while avoiding large rocks and encroaching vegetation. Looking up, I could see bats swooping through my light pattern, overjoyed at the bugs it attracted.  I realized I had somehow ended up in Mirkwood, and should have taken that left turn back at Albuquerque. “I really need to stop and get a photo of this, I won’t do it justice with words.” I thought, but I just didn’t want to stop the wheels turning. I actually did face one oncoming car/SUV at one point, but I was more concerned with letting them by and hoping they wouldn’t stop to inquire as to what the HELL I was doing way out here on a street bike.

Watching up ahead, I spotted the reflectivity of animal eyes down low – I tried not to think about how likely I was to be eaten by a grue.  As I came closer, a mother raccoon and her kits stared at me from the side of the path as I rode slowly by, as if to say “Whatchoo doin’ here boy?” At one point, I believe I crossed right through a dry rocky creek bed, at least that’s what my lights seemed to show as the woods opened up around me very briefly. I just kept steady throttle pressure and focused on picking the line of least resistance through the rocks.

After probably the longest 10 miles of my experience on this bike, (with of course a huge mud puddle blocking the last 100 yards!) I was dumped back onto pavement a couple miles from the bridge I sought for my next bonus. It was this point where I suspected that perhaps the route I’d just taken hadn’t been entirely necessary. Beaver Bridge (aka “the Little Golden Gate Bridge of Arkansas”) was obscured in the darkness, but luckily the bonus instructions allowed for a photo of the historical plaque at one end instead.

Taking the paved road back out to US-62, I was passing through the town of Gateway within minutes. I realized at this point how foolish a chase Garmin had just led me on, but I had a story to tell and was none worse for the wear. Several miles and a few towns later, I rejoined I-49 in Bentonville, and another several miles had me exiting in Fayetteville for my final bonus of the day at Razorback Stadium at the University of Arkansas, a statue of former coach Frank Broyles. It was close to midnight local time. Another rider was packing up to go as I rode up and pointed out the way in the darkness, since the statue was not illuminated.

I checked into the Econolodge just a mile or so away, after filling the tanks up and grabbing a packaged sandwich to eat in the room. I broke out the laptop and looked my route over for the next day’s ride. I had an option to head a bit east and then south through Hot Springs, nabbing a line of bonuses that way, or continue south directly on my current line with more points. I decided to continue on my southerly course along Oklahoma and Texas borders. Looking ahead I saw that my original idea of spending the next night in Tuscaloosa AL might be too aggressive, so I found a hotel in Hattiesburg MS, where I could again re-assess my timing and make some choices for the key third day’s route over to the checkpoint. Having used up a couple hours tweaking the route and booking the next hotel, I set my alarm for just over two hours sleep, to be on the road after a 4+ hour total stop.
Leg 1, Day 1