Saint-Anne-Des-Monts QC – Greenville SC
Thur June 27 – Fri June 28, 2019
(~1670 miles)

My non-bonus rest gave me several hours of much-needed sleep. I made coffee in the room and opened the laptop to see what’s what. My straight route to the Greenville Marriott had me back-tracking past Montreal and catching I-87 down into New Jersey, then over to I-81. I identified a few bonuses to pick up along the way depending on time, for another 4200 points.

Then I looked hard at the time-limited bonus on the summit of Mount Washington in NH, which added over a hundred miles but was worth 7577 points just by itself. I’d ridden the auto road to the top in the Butt Lite rally and knew what to expect, roughly an hour round trip. Heading there would put me squarely into the penalty points period at the finish. Looking at the auto road’s website, there was a notice that it was open to most regular vehicles but motorcycles were on “weather hold” due to high winds. I decided to put the mountain option in my back pocket, get on the road and make a decision before reaching the turn for New Hampshire.

I got packed up and rode around the front of the hotel. I brought my thermos in to fill up with ice and grabbed a croissant from the (true) continental breakfast they had laid out in the dining area. The friendly staff kept asking if I wanted to stay for breakfast, but I told them I had a long way to ride today. The croissant was good!

I left the hotel around 07:55, just before my rest bonus would have been maxxed out if I hadn’t screwed the pooch last night. Now it was time to ride hard, stay fed and hydrated, and get myself safely back to the barn in  24 hours, give or take. Charlotte was flying to Greenville today, to meet me at the finish, and I couldn’t wait to see her. This was actually the longest we’d been apart since we met eighteen years ago.

Most of the twistier parts of the coastal road were now behind me, to the east of Saint-Anne-Des-Monts. I had comparatively straight and fast roads ahead of me riding back west off the Gaspe, giving me more time to think about my missed rest bonus and whether there was any way at all to salvage it. The hotel had handed me a receipt upon checking out this morning, giving me a valid ending rest receipt, so I started wondering if the gas station might somehow be able to retrieve evidence of the cancelled fuel transaction from 23:58 last night. If I could only get that proof emailed or otherwise sent to Charlotte once she arrived at the hotel…

I got the phone number of the gas station, and gave them a call from the bike once I was back on the divided highway AUT-20. Unfortunately, the woman who answered the phone (and apparently the other staff there) only spoke French with a basic understanding of English. Still, she really did her best to understand what I was asking for, got me to describe what pump I’d used, and i finally got across what I was asking for. She agreed to fax a copy of the receipt to the Greenville Marriot and my hopes soared that I may get my REST3 points after all! By now Charlotte had arrived in Greenville and I asked her to call the station with the hotel’s fax number.

In the meantime, I’d also been monitoring the website for the Mt Washington Auto Road status, which continued to show a weather hold for bikes. I was thinking that bonus would therefore be unavailable for me today. Then it struck me how I was thinking about it all wrong. I called Lisa again and identified myself.

“Lisa, I have a rules question. I’m currently headed to a mountaintop bonus that might be closed to motorcycles today. Does that count under the Road Closed rule?”

After confirming where exactly I was going, she said, “I’ve been up there in bad weather before, it usually takes a lot for them to close the road. Why do you think it’s closed to motorcycles?”

I explained about the MC-specific alert on the website due to high winds and she said, “Well, you’d better document the closure REALLY well.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I said, and we ended the call.

Excellent! I couldn’t believe my luck – I might be able to collect some mega-points without even having to ride up the mountain! Either way, for better or worse, there were no further obstacles besides the added mileage and time, so I set both GPSes for Mount Washington. My final ETA was now just into the penalty points, not including the time it would take to run up and down the mountain. I picked up the AUT-55 in Drummondville and rode southeast, making a quick pit stop in Ritchmond for fuel and restroom.

While waiting for the receipts from the gas station to come through, I decided to try attacking the rest receipt problem from another angle. I got on the phone with Bank of America, who provides the credit card I use for fuel purchases, to see if they would have any type of electronic record of the pre-authorization for the cancelled gas transaction. Well you know how that goes – after identifying myself six different ways and explaining everything, they transferred me to another department that wanted to go through the same rigmarole. I lost patience and hung up, hoping that the gas station folks would come through.

The weather was beautiful and sunny over the rural landscape, as I focused on the road and the various irons I had in the fire. 🙂  I skirted the town of Sherbrooke on Highway 410, then continued south on two-lane routes 147 to 141 which brought me down to the border. I crossed back into the US via the tiny back road border station heading into Canaan NH. There was no wait and the border agent was friendly and curious, asking about my aux tank and how it worked. Also, some people from my hometown had apparently passed through the gate earlier today and she wondered if I had met with them in Canada or knew them. I told her I didn’t know any other motorcyclists in my town, and she revealed they’d been in a car and let me on my way. Small world.

I picked up US-3 in Canaan NH, now on familiar roads, and followed that down to US-2 in Lancaster. The weather was just absolutely stunning, clear blue skies and bright sunshine in all directions. It was a perfect riding day in New Hampshire, and I had trouble believing the auto road was going to remain closed all day. Sure enough, I refreshed the website at one point and the motorcycle notice was gone – the road was now open to all motor vehicles! I thought, Gosh darn it (or something to that effect), looks like I’m heading to the summit after all!

Char updated me at some point somewhere along this stretch about the REST bonus situation. The gas station folks did, in fact, send along a copy of two receipts – but from two earlier fuel transactions at the same pump just past 23:00. Aargh! I told Char I would have to deal with it later, once I was done with Mt Washington and back on interstate.

I rode down through Gorham NH and took a right on NH-16 south to the Mt Washington Auto Road entrance. It was late afternoon, and I’d (correctly) hoped there would be little traffic heading up at this time of day. I paid my toll, told the attendant I already had the bumper sticker, and verified with him exactly where the Tip Top House would be situated once I climbed the stairs at the top. The summit area is pretty broad and I didn’t want to waste time wandering around.

While very twisty, this narrow road is one you don’t mess around on. It is not well banked and there are lots of areas with steep drop-offs and no guard rails. Plenty of blind corners as well. I stuck to the middle of the road, seeing just a few oncoming cars while going up the mountain.

I parked near the staircase to the summit, stuffed my phone in my pants pocket, grabbed my rally gear and hiked up the stairs. The bonus required a photo of the Tip Top House, oldest building on the summit area, and it was pretty easy to find across the clearing at the top. Because the stairway looked a bit different than what I could see in the rally book photo, I walked a bit further than necessary to check out the angle from the other end of the building, but then realized I’d been in the correct spot the first time.

I turned back to the stairway and could see for miles and miles, which is somewhat a rarity atop Washington, with the summit clouded in more often than not. I reached for my phone to snap a couple quick shots – it wasn’t there! I must have stuffed my phone into the leg vent rather than my pocket! After thoroughly patting my entire leg and no phone, I figured it must have fallen out while I was walking around to get the photo.

I began retracing my steps, looking at the ground, when a boy on the way to the stairs saw me and asked if I was looking for a phone? He had just returned one to the information counter inside. THANK YOU! I couldn’t imagine having to ride the rest of the miles I needed to go tonight without some way to stay in touch with Char and my support system of remote friends and family. I jogged over and retrieved my phone, then got back down to my bike lickety-split…no stopping for extra photos now!

I made it back down the mountain safely, yet quickly, going around a couple cars near the top that were inching along to take in the wonderful views. At the bottom, I did a quick time check and the total round trip had taken about 50 minutes, not too bad considering. Garmin tried to lead me north on 16, back towards Gorham, which didn’t seem right to me at the time. It may have indeed been a quicker route to go up and around to pick up I-93 for the trek south through the Granite State, but my brain was screaming south and I went right, following NH-16 through North Conway (not overly congested on a Thursday evening) and on down through the rest of the state, eventually picking up I-95 by the coast.

Along the way, I called the gas station back, getting a different employee this time and had to explain again what I was asking for. The language barrier became a real problem and then a man (the boss?) came on the line. They seemed to be saying they couldn’t find any other transactions. I was persistent, even offering to pay them if they would please look again, but eventually they just kept saying “No, no.” softly and then hung up on me. What’s a rally rider in need of a translator to do? I called Lisa.

After identifying myself, I asked the Rallymaster if anyone on her crack team of experts could speak French. I explained the situation and after considering a moment, she said she couldn’t help. – I would have to figure this one out for myself, since I had cut the timing so close for the rest bonus. OK, fair enough. She suggested trying Google Translate, and I thanked her and rang off.

There was no way I had the brainpower to learn a new app while riding my motorcycle down the highway, nor did I have the time to stop to do so. So I racked my brain to think of anyone I knew that might speak French or knew someone that could speak the language. Someone suggested my good friends Bob and Cheryl Woodsom might know someone, and by incredible coincidence they happened to be staying in the town of Gaspe, right near Cap-des-Rosiers, that night, after their trans-Labrador bike trip went bust. What a coincidence!

It turned out they did not know any French-speaking resources, but they offered to actually ride to the gas station and use their phone translation software in person to try and get the evidence I needed. Wow! I was staggered by their generosity and willingness to go out of their way on their vacation to help me out! Nor was I too proud to refuse at this point. They made plans to ride the two hours to Saint-Anne-Des-Monts first thing in the morning, and try to get the receipt faxed before my arrival at the finish.

I was now on very familiar turf, as I zipped through Massachusetts on interstates to the Mass Turnpike. This is the same I-90 I’d covered hundreds of miles on out west, but hereabouts it is a limited access toll road. I was chatting with someone while zooming west, darkness falling, and suddenly realized that I had missed my exit for I-84 to cut southwest through Connecticut. The next exit was several miles away!

My route updated to take me through Springfield and my ETA jumped up by a full half hour, only about 10 minutes from a DNF at the finish, shit! What’s more, Waze was showing lots of construction on the route ahead and red colored backup. I turned around as soon as I could and got myself back to I-84, though the damage to my ETA was already done. I lost some time and miles, but I felt more comfortable with this route and knew the way would be clear on 84 through Connecticut, having just come through several days ago.

I skipped the exit for I-684, thinking to avoid any possible traffic down on I-287 crossing the Hudson River, and took I-87 south at Newburgh NY, to I-78 across Pennsylvania to I-81, which would take me most of the way to the barn. I kept my wrist twisted, using my glitchy cruise control as much as I could to maintain a steady pace, especially going through Virginia. Fuel/restroom stops were as quick and efficient as I could make them.

Along the way, I decided to try Bank of America one more time, since I had time to kill while making miles. This time I put up with the transfers and repeated requests for the same information and got to someone who could actually check on what I was asking. He saw the pre-authorizations in the system, but it showed the first one as coming it at 00:00:58 on 6/27/19, rather than at 23:58 on 6/28/19. Shit. There was no further point in pursuing it now – apparently there was a discrepancy of a minute or two between my clock time and the time used by their systems, which could be why the gas station couldn’t find the receipt for 23:58. I called the Woodsoms back and let them know there was no need to ride to Saint-Anne-Des-Monts on my behalf after all, and thanked them profusely for being willing to do so. I’d given it my best shot, but could now kiss that rest bonus goodbye.

I continued to speak frequently with my remote support network of friends and family. They encouraged me throughout the evening hours, though I started to prepare myself mentally for the likelihood of a DNF. I knew that any type of delay: traffic, construction, bike problem, etc. would end my hopes of finishing. There was no safety net left. They helped keep me going, expressing nothing but faith and encouragement that I would make it on time.

Charlotte called numerous times throughout the night to help keep me focused and distracted. She caught me up on all the daily reports from Scribe Harrison. She told me about hanging out with other wives, staffers and supporters gathered in Greenville. They had taken her in, making her feel very welcome, and all gone out for a nice dinner and a few drinks.

A bunch of those supporters stood out at the finish line most of the night, holding hand-made congratulations signs and cheering the riders as they trickled in to the hotel.

I got word when Roy arrived sometime in the evening. Ken was back in the US since yesterday after his trek to the north, and was also riding through the night to get back in. He finally arrived in the wee hours after stopping for a quick roadside nap to get him the rest of the way back, a relief to all of us.

Char finally had to get some sleep around 03:00, and I was left alone now in my own head for a few hours.

I had nobody left to talk to, so I talked to myself. Sang to myself. Even yelled at myself (a tip I’d gotten once from a big dog rider), getting purposely mad at all the mistakes I’d made to keep my blood pressure up. Listened to music.  I kept drinking water and snacking a little, even when not really hungry. I polished off several Atomic Fireballs. Whatever it took to maintain the internal conversation and keep alert and focused on the road.

All of this somehow worked and kept me going. If I had felt unsafe at any point or experienced a microsleep, I would have pulled over immediately for 10 minutes or so, but my riding felt steady. I kept waiting for the first signs of dawn to appear in the sky, which inevitably did happen while traversing Virginia. The rising sun eventually did away with any further concerns about sleepiness, and I had managed to make up several minutes towards my ETA overnight. Charlotte called me after she got up and it was good to have someone to talk to again. I told her to expect me around 09:30, a full 90 minutes into the penalty period. There wasn’t much chance of improving that arrival time this late into the ride.

I turned on I-77 south and crossed into North Carolina, now realizing that I’d be hitting the Charlotte area around the 08:00 rush hour. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now – there was no time for re-routing and I was afraid of making a critical mistake by overthinking it on the fly. I simply need to keep that throttle twisted and deal with whatever came, as it came. Luckily the express toll lanes were relatively clear around the metro area’s loop highway, and I didn’t run into much slowdown. When I did, I lane filtered a bit to always keep moving, squeezing through whatever gaps in the traffic I could find.

Traffic opened up again when I hit I-85, moving away from the city and into South Carolina. This was the final stretch of interstate taking me to the hotel, and I knew there were a few long construction zones up ahead. I suddenly remembered Jerry Anderson’s little shortcut on the “business loop” to beat us in to Greenville en route to the start. I decided I would take that road when I saw it, and I peeled to the left at a major split onto the I-85 Business Loop. There was no construction and cars were moving VERY quickly. I had a couple of good rabbits to follow for several miles until it rejoined with I-85. I’m not completely sure if that little detour saved much time, but I know some other riders got hung up in construction traffic on their way in to the finish.

As for me, I pulled off the hotel exit at 09:27 according to my GPS and up to the hotel front door at exactly 09:30, just a half hour from a DNF, grinning ear to ear after seeing my wife waiting for me there in a sea of familiar faces. People were cheering and clapping and what a humbling and friggin AWESOME feeling it all was.

credit: Stan Moore