Tucumcari NM – Richland MS
Wed June 28, 2023
(~982 miles)

I am the way into the city of woe,
I am the way into eternal pain,
I am the way to go among the lost.

–  Dante Alighieri, Inferno

Not a lot of photos today. Today was about making miles and survival.

After 20 minutes asleep in that big empty travel center parking lot, I awoke a little past 04:00 and felt ready to go again. I counted on making it through to dawn with no further need for naps, so I methodically mowed down a few Fig Newtons to get something in my stomach in anticipation of chugging a 5-Hour once I made it down the road a bit. Back on I-40, I rang up Steve Giffin again for a short chat, but one of us had a bad connection, so we agreed to try again later. He was only running 60 miles or so behind me now, after my struggles to maintain pace and two nap stops.

I concentrated on my pace for a while, eyes on the eastern horizon just willing daylight to arrive. I skipped forward an hour when crossing into Texas and the central time zone, but it helped bring dawn all the sooner. Phone calls with Char and my buddy Jeff while scooting across the Texas panhandle helped keep me alert in those early hours. Soon I could feel that I’d be able to continue riding on for the rest of the day.

With daylight bringing more wakefulness, I turned my attention to a few routing decisions still to consider for later today. I spent some time running a few scenarios on the GPS in between the phone calls. There was a rather small bonus available in southern Oklahoma for which I’d been on the fence about keeping in my route. Nabbing it would only add about 45 minutes or so to the route, but my finishing ETA, including a full rest bonus tonight was cutting things very close to penalties, so I figured it would be a game-time decision.

The other major decision involved where to go after getting through Dallas-Fort Worth. My original route would lead me down to a mid-size bonus in New Orleans after crossing Texas into Louisiana. From there, I’d take the coastal route over to the next Roadkill combo bonus in southern Alabama. However, I was a bit concerned with hitting traffic and slowdowns around the Big Easy, and I also needed to consider where to bed down for the night. During my short routing session at the Arizona rest stop yesterday, I’d plotted a slightly more northern option to pick up a smaller bonus near Jackson, Mississippi before dipping down to the Alabama coast. The two route options were comparable in calculated time, so I wasn’t yet sure which way to head.

At Amarillo, I veered southeast onto US 287 once again, then stopped for fuel about an hour later in Memphis TX, putting just over 10 gallons into both tanks – whew that was close! Under a bright morning sun and rapidly increasing heat, I spoke with Giffin again while shooting across the same flats of north Texas I’d covered going the opposite direction on Leg 2.  I was glad to hear he’d taken a couple of nap breaks as well, since last we’d spoke, to make it through to daylight. We were both feeling the effort of this push across the country, with long miles between bonus stops and nothing much to keep your brain occupied over those dark hours at night.

As the exit at Oklaunion approached, I had to make my decision about the Oklahoma bonus. Now that I knew that Giffin and Owen were likely both on the winning route, I felt that dropping any bonuses at this point would only put me further behind the eight ball, so I went ahead and took the exit.

I was so happy to be on smaller roads for this little detour! Retracing my Leg 2 track up US 183, across the Red River, I picked up US 70 heading east for 35 miles to I-44. Continuing past the interstate for two miles, I banged a left at the tiny village of Randlett, heading north on US 277 now. In a few more miles, around 09:00 central I pulled to the side of the road at the sign indicating that I was now in Cookietown, bonus OKCO. Who doesn’t want to visit a place called Cookietown?!

Cookietown was named for a mercantile at the crossroads. The storeowner was noted for giving cookies to children.

Seeing as I had cell service and was within the appropriate time frame, there was no time like the present to make my fourth and final call-in bonus for the rally, CALL4. I called in and left the required information while standing there by the bike on the shoulder, stretching my leg muscles. I ate a few more Fig Newtons for second breakfast.

With that final “gimme” bonus checked off my list, I reversed direction and rode the miles back to I-44 south, then quickly crossed into Texas again. There was a bit more traffic and lower speed limits getting through Wichita Falls, but no backups. Once again on US 287, it was open road interspersed with those occasional small lonely towns straddling the highway like speed bumps. In one of these named Alvord, I pulled in to restock my water supply. I realized I was going through my jug more quickly than before, which was good to stay hydrated – the temperature was climbing and climbing.

Before hitting the DFW metro area, I’d had no idea that a heat index advisory had been issued all across the southern US, including Texas. But I could tell that this was not the normal hot day down here before Char even mentioned that newsflash. The temperature was slightly into the triple digits and the air extremely humid. I was soaked with sweat inside my riding gear and just trying to stay comfortable any way I could. The cooling vest (and evaporative cooling in general) was really not effective in these conditions.

Shortly before hitting I-35W north of Fort Worth at high noon, I became geographically confused after realizing that my route would be taking me right through the middle of Dallas. While my memories of living in this area are fuzzy, I felt that somehow I should have ended up taking a big loop north of the cities. Apparently, Google decided straight through would be quickest at this time of day, so I gave myself up to those smarty-pants engineers and shot into the belly of the beast.

Interchanges in Texas, and especially around DFW, can be imposing and confusing, with all the ramps, access roads, and signage. Feeling woozy and talking with Char, I barely managed to not miss my exit onto I-820. The heat was bearing down, and also up – reflecting off all the concrete. It felt like my head was cooking inside my helmet. Opening the visor did not offer any cooling effect in this thick heavy air, but I occasionally cracked it open just to feel like I could breathe.

While going through the more heavily trafficked airport zone, I asked Char to remain on the line talking with me until I cleared safely out of the urban areas. She was happy to do it as, for some reason, she remains concerned about my well-being and I was probably speaking a lot of nonsense at the time. As I got to I-35E and the stop-and-go traffic backup began, I started feeling nauseous and almost faint. It was truly hard to breathe in this stagnant atmosphere. The four lanes of solid traffic around me, pumping exhaust over the breezeless roadway were only making things worse.

If there had been any kind of shoulder to safely pull over, I might have done so, but then again there was no shade either, so it wouldn’t have helped much. No, I needed to remove myself from this situation before things turned ugly. I asked Char to just keep talking until I could get myself out of this mess and find someplace safe to take a break. Without a doubt, this was the worst I had ever felt riding a motorcycle. For a period of 10 minutes or so, I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the rally or any other other damn thing on the planet. I just wanted to cool down, close my eyes, and breathe deeply of some fresh air.

Somehow I got through the sauna of downtown Dallas concrete without toppling over, taking I-35 to I-30 then east out into the suburb of Mesquite. Just after exiting on US 80, I spotted a sign for a big travel center called Fuel City, advertising AC and cold drinks. I was their huckleberry. Like a moth to flame, I was drawn straight off the exit and into the parking lot of the huge modern convenience store. Once I was safely off the highway and in a parking spot, I crawled off the bike while telling Char I was taking a break and would call back once I got moving again. It was downright nasty outside!

I peeled off my helmet and jacket, put them at one of the small outdoor tables in the shade of the front overhang, then headed inside where I was immediately greeted by a mighty blast of cold air conditioned air. These people are really used to dealing with the heat! This place has probably dozens of glass cooler doors filled with cold drinks of every type, as well as all the standard food and other stuff found at big truck stops. Best of all, there more tables and chairs as well as a high-top counter with stools lining the front windows looking out to where my bike was. It was a shining oasis of humming cooler machinery and fluorescent lighting!

I bought a lemon Vitamin Water, and claimed one of the stools by the window. Then went out to retrieve my helmet and jacket so they could cool off inside as well. After using the washroom to splash water on my face, arms, and neck, and pounding most of the Vitamin Water, I lay my head down on the countertop , closed my eyes and dozed off for a good 10 minutes.

It wasn’t much, but this stop was enough to lower my core body temperature down a bit so that I wasn’t feeling sick any more. After gearing back up, I moved the bike over to the pumps and filled the tanks.  Less than 30 minutes after pulling in, I was back on the motorcycle re-joining US 80 eastbound. Riding outbound from the city now, traffic moved steadily, so at least I didn’t feel like I was just frying in a pan like while stopped in the middle of those simmering Dallas highway structures. Several miles later, in Terrell, I cut down to I-20 and soon was back on wide open interstate.

That run through DFW had just about taken everything out of me. I couldn’t envision dealing with what would likely be even more humidity down on the coast, chasing the bonus in New Orleans. I just wanted to get to a hotel now and take my final rest bonus of the rally, so I made my routing decision to continue straight out to the Jackson MI area. I asked Char to book me a hotel south of Jackson, so I’d be past the city already tomorrow morning after my rest. She managed to find a Hampton Inn in Richland, right along my proposed route that would fit the bill nicely, so I had her book it. Knowing I had a comfortable air-conditioned room now booked and waiting for me in a few hours did wonders for my morale, despite the boredom of riding the decidedly non-scenic I-20 straight across Louisiana.

I remember speaking or texting with Giffin again after clearing the big metroplex, and he seemed to be having an even tougher time getting through the city than I had, having missed a critical exit somewhere in the labyrinth of highways. I sympathized and couldn’t imaging having spent even one unnecessary minute more in Dallas than absolutely required. I offered some encouragement and told him about Fuel City in case he found himself along the same route.

The afternoon hours and miles passed by with no additional delay. I made one stop for fuel, water and some Tic Tacs in West Monroe. By the time I got into Mississippi and cleared Vicksburg, it was almost 18:00. I was feeling much better after the uninterrupted air flow and the sun being lower in the sky. I decided to grab the small bonus just north, to make up for giving up New Orleans, and took the next exit on US 61 north. It was maybe a 50 mile run up to Yazoo City via 61 and MS 3, through quiet rural countryside of farms and woods.

Yazoo City seemed no great shakes – more of a run-down small town feel in the section I rode through. I picked my way wearily through the gridded street layout of depressed-looking neighborhood. The few residents I saw outside stopped what they were doing to eye me strangely and watch me pass. At one residential intersection just a half-mile or so from the bonus, Garmin wanted me to proceed straight ahead through what was clearly a dead-end, with the road ending at a fenced railroad track. What the hell? Zooming out the map to improvise another way, I jogged right one block and found another street to get me across the tracks that run right next to all those homes. I got back on route, the houses around me looking more and more desperate, the pavement severely buckled and full of potholes. And I was just so damn tired!

Then there it was, right in the middle of this residential neighborhood of ramshackle houses, a smallish and nondescript brick commercial building, with a narrow and currently empty parking lot in front. In the window beside the main entrance, I spotted the signage for the Mississippi Cheese Straw Factory, bonus MSYC. I’d never heard of cheese straws, but hey it must be a thing. The things you learn on the Iron Butt Rally!

These crisp cheesy cookies are a southern tradition.

 

Whew, bonus documented! Please please just let me get to my hotel safely now! After one wrong turn, I managed to find my way out of this neighborhood and out to US 49. This turns out to be a nice divided four-laner that mostly moved quickly with some lights and intersections, which took me the 50 miles back south into Jackson. I followed the I-220 loop down to I20, then exited to rejoin US 49 south out of the city.

About a half mile before the Hampton Inn, I pulled into a gas station in case there was nothing closer on this side of the median. I splashed some gas in the tank for a receipt and clocked in to my REST4 bonus at 19:26 CDT. A few minutes later, I was lugging my bags into the hotel. Check-in was efficient and I got to my room quickly. After the normal room chores and catching up my bonus claim form, I needed to spend some time looking closely at my route for the final 24 hours of the rally.

I was now running around 1 – 1.5 hours behind my last calculated ETA schedule and needed to know how much I would need to curtail my rest bonus in order get back on track. I decided a seven hour stop was all I could afford, to ensure I had at least some sleep. Disappointingly, I would also have to skip a mid-size bonus in southern Alabama tomorrow, so I was already regretting my last little run today up to Yazoo City for the smaller Cheese Straw bonus. I also rearranged the order of final bonuses I planned to pick up in Pennsylvania and New York to make that part of my run a bit more efficient.

Finally, since I was passing through the Atlanta area, I did a quick search on the Varsity restaurant chain, which I knew was based around there. If I could bag one of those, I’d might also be able to find a Biscuitville along the way and complete another Bingo row on the card. But in the end, I decided that I absolutely could not afford to take any additional time for these bonuses. Gut Bomb Bingo is officially over for this rider.

Taking longer than I’d hoped, I wrapped up my planning, got the updated route transferred to GPS devices and settled in to sleep. After all that, I would only have time for yet another four hour block of shuteye. 😩