Sunday morning Kevin Beretta and I completed an Iron Butt Saddle Sore 1000 run. Here's how it went.

Friday, 5/5/00, Kevin rode down to Granite Falls (WA) from Vancouver, BC so we could get an early start Saturday. He's riding his really cherry '83 R80 RT, I am on my somewhat less than brand-new (51K) R100/7 with a Luftmeister; both wearing old-style Krausers, although they aren't packed very heavily, mostly odds and ends. Thursday the new Lufty tall windshield had arrived from Gustavsson, and was installed without incident, replacing the home made Lexan model made during the "I have a heat gun....." thread.

(The Gustavsson is a very nice shield, perfectly finished, fit perfectly, and it arrived when they said it would. They are a little pricey, though, around $120 + shipping; I made the previous home-made tall windshield out of $40 worth of Lexan and still have 1/3 of a sheet left. The home-made one had worked fine, although it was a little rippled from the forming process. If the Gustavsson hadn't arrived I wouldn't have hesitated in making the trip with the Lexan one.)

Both bikes are in pretty good shape; we both put new shocks and tires on recently, and both have a fresh top end. We both spent the past couple of weeks going over our bikes, changing fluids, and so on, but other than the tall windshield on mine, we didn't do anything special.

In addition to the factory odometer, we are both running GPSs, mine with the fancy custom nylon ty-wrap mount to the clutch cable, and I am also running a Sigma Sport BC 500 Gonkulator. Inquiring Airheads want to know.....

We get up reasonably early, and following a nice heavy breakfast and lots of coffee, head into Granite Falls for gas and the first official stop. 7:53 AM, mile zero. The initial run down Highway 9 to I-405 and I-90 is uneventful; no problems this early. We are apparently ahead of the cell phone wielding SUV drivers. We run on out 90 over Snoqualmie Pass, bare and dry for a change. Able to run about 75 or 80, low cop presence. Not much to say about this part of the trip; pretty routine for anyone who lives around here. We go through Ellensburg, stop in Vantage, right on the west side of the Columbia, for the first gas stop. 10:25 AM, Gonkulator miles 170, GPS 167.

At these speeds (75 to 90) I averaged around 33 to 34 mpg on the R100, and I initiated all the fuel stops. Kevin got around 38 or 39 on the R80. I recently put new petcocks on the R100, and I need to trim the fuel tubes- right now I go on reserve at about 135 or 140 miles, and I have 2 gallons or more left in the tank.

We continued on 90 to Spokane, and stopped out on the east side of town in the Valley for gas. Waved at Sam van Wyck's house, and kept going. 12:51 PM, 326 Gonkulator, 322 GPS.

Leaving Spokane, the trip finally started getting interesting. We hit Coeur 'd Alene, and headed south on US 95, with the intent of driving most of the length of the state of Idaho. The first leg looks a lot like the Eastern Washington Palouse country, rolling, lots of farm fields, once we get past Lake Coeur 'd Alene. Very good two lane road, pretty twisty, we are able to crank it up to 80 or 85 most of the time. Running great. We pull into Moscow, ID at 2:44 for gas, 434 Gonkulator miles, 428 on the GPS.

Leaving Moscow the country really opens up, mostly fields and open rolling hills. The first part takes us down the Snake River Gorge into Lewiston, ID. I've done this a number of times in a car, but never a bike. Kevin has never seen it. About a 7 or 8% downgrade, huge switchbacks, and "runnaway truck" ramps carved into the corners of the switchbacks every mile or so. It's a challenge in a car, but a blast on a bike. I get a lot of the old "rubber cow" syndrome, though, wallowing when I am pushing hard into the curves at around 90, and have to back off. Need to stiffen up the front end. I put new steering head bearings in last summer, too, they probably need to be tightened up a notch. We keep going through Lewiston, and hit the best part of the trip. The country is open now, and you can see for miles. Rolling, nice sweeping curves; we find ourselves cruising at 90, just the way the bikes were designed. The R100 has an especially sweet spot at 90 mph; the revs are around 5200 and all the vibration just goes away. We blow past a couple of RUBs out for a Saturday putt riding their shiny hogs and wearing their shiny Nazi style helmets. Later, however, a Sheriff's pick-up truck with all the lights going blows past us going the other way; we have seen it coming and have pulled over to the side, but we have a brief worry that someone (perhaps the RUBs?) has gotten on their cell phone and reported two maniacs on motorcycles. We slow it down a little, and pull into Graingerville for gas and lunch, totally jazzed. 4:45, 536 Gonk; 529 GPS

We leave Graingerville about 5:30, after a short discussion with the waitress, who confirms that, yes, they DO write a lot of speeding tickets around here, but for up to 20 MPH over it's only $50; for over 20 over the posted limit (65 mph) it goes up to at least $100. Kevin and I have the same look on our face; we figure we can afford to keep it just under 85 or 90 most of the time, and it'll be worth it. We head south again towards Weizer, home of some kind of fiddle and bluegrass music festival my ex-wife used to blather about. I think about stopping and calling her from there, but decide not to...The run into Weizer is fun, but slower than the previous run. It's later, we are starting to get tired, and it's beginning to get dark. In addition, we go through a number of little towns along the Salmon river, and it slow us down. The scenery is really great, though, more trees, and we are right next to the river for a while. As we pull down into the river valley we see a bunch of people camped on a river beach, about a dozen inflatable boats pulled up, tents pitched, fires going; bet they had a fun evening.....We go through the little town of Riggins, and it looks like it is the opening day of salmon season, the rodeo, and a block party all at one time. Every dude in Idaho with a white cowboy hat and a busty blonde on his arm is in the street with a beer in his hand; never seen so many saloons in one place. We cruise through slowly, and they stare us like we are some kind of nylon-clad, bug encrusted freaks; unfortunately, we can't join the party, and keep going. A ways further along, the road has apparently been buried by a major rockslide for about 2 miles, and the signs say it's closed Monday through Friday. There isn't much road left to be open on Saturday and Sunday; it looks like the D-10's just got through scraping the rock (and most of the pavement) off the road, and we go through at about 10 mph. We finally pull into Weizer at 8:47 (I think we switched to Mountain Time in Graingerville), 694 Gonkulator miles, 684 on the Magellan. At the gas station is a sad looking younger couple on some kind of really old Japanese beater bike, blasting exhaust through blown-out JC Whitney pipes and a seat that's mostly duct tape. What looks like their life's possessions, a couple of sleeping bags, is tied on the back. She has an old dirt bike helmet. He has a head rag and a leather jacket. They make a lot of longing sidelong looks at the Beemers while they smoke cigarettes and finish their dinner of corn dogs and Mountain Dew. I'm sure there is a story there, but I've heard it before, and we have a freeway to find. It's dark. We head out of town, and eventually find I-84.

I-84 going north out of Boise to Pendleton is pretty gnarly. It's always under construction, and has a lot of steep twists and turns. It's a lot of fun in the daytime, but no fun at all at night. I last rode it a few years ago on the way to / from the Colorado MOA Rally, on the R100/S I should have kept, and they were working on it then, too. You are for all intents and purposes at the bottom of a gorge, it's dark as hell, and it starts to rain a little. In addition, the railroad tracks run right along the freeway, the triple locomotive headlights are blinding, the red signal lights are confusing, and the trains running along/across/against traffic are disorienting as hell. And I have bird crap or something nasty on my face shield. And my low beam dies. And Kevin wants to ride faster than I do.

We finally get into a truck stop in Pendleton about 11:00 PM. I am freezing; it's about 30 degrees, but it didn't rain much. We pump our gas when I realize what we are doing- WE are pumping our own gas- in Oregon!!! I ask the attendant what gives; he said due to it being on Indian land for some reason it's self serve. It's the only one in Oregon. I hate buying gas in Oregon.

Kevin and I both have a spare headlight lamp buried in our saddle bags, but it's easier to buy one from the truck stop, put it on the plastic with the gas, and, and plug it in. It works. Great. I really didn't want to dig the spare headlight relay out of the saddle bag, either. We guzzle a pint of coffee ("free with the fuel!"), and I wolf down some kind of plastic thing manufactured to resemble a Danish. I put on my last sweatshirt (three now under the Canyon jacket and liner). I really need to get some of that newfangled high tech fleece or polypro or whatever stuff to wear...... Sigma says 851 miles, GPS satellites all agree we have gone 839.

Keep going up 84 until we finally hit 82, go across the Columbia and back in to Washington. Once we got to Pendleton, the country sort of leveled out, opened up, and part of a moon came out. Not nearly as bad as that mess from Weizer to Pendleton. We cruise past the Tri Cities, and towards Yakima. Now Kevin can't stand it, and he suddenly pulls off the freeway into Wapato. I wish he hadn't done that. He said he can't stay awake. He doesn't know the Yakima valley is one of the #1 spots in the nation for heroin transshipment, and has a bigger DEA office than anywhere else in the entire Pacific Northwest. I don't plan to bring it up now, but Wapato is right in the middle of the Yakima valley.... We get gas at the only station we see, fortunately only a block off the freeway. The store is closed tight, but thank goodness for cyber gas pumps that don't sleep. It's now Sunday, 01:13, 30 degrees, 988 Gonkulator miles, 974 on the GPS.

We flee Wapato, and hit the road again. I'm in the lead, and I have made this run hundreds of times. We are going through Yakima doing right at the speed limit, and a monster Washington State Patrol Lincoln Navigator sweeps past, pushing us aside with the bow wave. About five miles down the road it has a clapped out old Camaro pulled over, lights looking like one of Speilberg's spaceships. We get to Ellensburg, and don't actually NEED gas, but it's been a long time since the plastic Danish, and even longer since lunch. It was probably close to 25 in the desert between Yakima and Ellensburg. We are both freezing, so we stop at a truck stop restaurant in Ellensburg, on the stockyard side, unfortunately. At 2:00 AM you can't be choosy. The clientele is about what you would expect at 2:00; drunks, weirdos, we fit right in. We both have a bowl of chili that can't be more than two or days old, gas up and hit the road again, back on our friend, I-90. We clicked over 1000 miles somewhere between Ellensburg and Yakima. We are too tired to celibate. 2:42 AM, 1036/1021.

Kevin is in the lead. I can't keep up. We are in mountain twisties again, Snoqualmie pass, very dark. I'm very tired, and keep thinking I see stuff crawling along the side of the road. Kevin finally pulls me over and asks if I'm ok. I take the lead, and once I'm driving at my pace and in my own headlight I get us cranked back up to about 70. We finally get over the pass and into the downhill side to Seattle, and I slow us down to the speed limit. We pass several WSP and county sheriff cars parked in the median strip, blacked out, waiting, lurking. They are set perfectly. Can't see the reflection from their decals or tail lights, barely see them at all when you drive past. We get to Bellevue, and turn north on I-405; traffic is surprisingly heavy for this early when I realize it around 4:00 AM, and starting to get light. Back up Highway 9, stop in Granite Falls for our final fill up and gas receipt, 5:13 AM. The Gonkulator said we went 1179 miles, the GPS 1162, and the Motometer results calculated 1145. It'll do.