I'm more of a daily commuter/around town rider, but I like to throw in the occasional road trip on my 05 HD Sportster 1200. I've ridden all around California, Nevada, and Arizona, but I'd never done a long-haul ride for the sake of the ride, so when I randomly Googled and discovered it's exactly 499 miles from my door to the Grand Canyon, I knew I needed to do my first Saddlesore 1000 ride.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time planning and thinking about the ride. I played with Google Maps to space out the gas stops. I looked up weather reports for different months. I recruited a friend to do it with me. And, most importantly, I made my fiancee comfortable with the idea of me spending a night with my motorcycle instead of her. She would never stop me from doing a ride (hell, she's comfortable with my 100+ mile roundtrip commute in LA), but her buy-in was still important -- happy wife, happy life and all.
My buddy lives in Nor Cal so he towed his bike down on August 5. I fired up the Weber Kettle and made some steaks for an early dinner, and we both turned in around 9PM with my alarm set for 3AM. When I woke up, I made a hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs, guzzled a bunch of water, and loaded up the bike with a day trip's worth of snacks, water, and extra fuel. Once my buddy woke up around 3:45, we each took one last bathroom break and fired up the bikes. I'm sure the neighbors loved waking up to his Dyna and my Sportster (both equipped with Screamin Eagle pipes), but we quickly made our way to the closest gas station to fuel up and get going.
Or so we thought. The gas station was closed -- I didn't realize any gas stations in Orange County fully closed overnight, but there we were at 4am with near-empty tanks. I didn't expect all the planning to go out the window before we even got started. Thankfully, the 7-Eleven a mile away never closes and we fueled up and hit the road at 4:23 AM. I don't ride with music, and my phone is always in my pocket, so my only navigation tools were a sharpie and masking tape on the tank. Honestly, it works better than letting Waze re-route you halfway through a trip, and I prefer it.
It was in the high 60s when we left, so I was in my half helmet and leather vest. I had my jacket tied to the sissy bar just in case, but the mercury was only rising from here. We made quick work to Barstow by sunrise, and then it was the longest stretch of the day to get to Needles. My plan at each stop was to eat a handful of nuts, some beef jerky, or some dehydrated fruit, to drink a liter of water and use the restroom, to fill up the tiny sportster tank, and to be back on the road in 20 minutes. By the time we get to Kingman, we were almost a full hour ahead of schedule and I start thinking about making another steak for dinner when we get back at a decent time. Ha!
According to my extensive internet research, the South Rim entrance to the Grand Canyon can back up for a couple hours in August. This was a non-starter with our air-cooled bikes even before the idea of lopping that time off our 24-hour window, so we decided to go through Flagstaff, up Route 89 through the reservation, and to the East Entrance to the Grand Canyon. Added bonus: it gets us a buffer of about 80 miles in case we need to re-route for whatever reason.
So as we head up to Flagstaff, I enjoy the trees and the cool weather. I let myself daydream about living close enough to get to the Grand Canyon on any given weekend, and then we start heading North on Route 89. Almost immediately it goes from mountain green to desert chaparral, and the temperature starts to rise. And quickly. Then we hit the only traffic we saw the entire trip -- it took about 45 minutes to go one mile due to construction. We debated splitting lanes to get out of traffic (something I do without thinking at home), but decided against because there were plenty of cop cars stopping traffic for the construction.
Once the traffic broke, we started jamming northbound to try and get that time back. Seemingly as soon as we hit the border of the reservation, the chaparral disappeared and it was just red rocks and high winds for what felt like an eternity. The wind was so strong I had to lean into it to keep my bike from drifting, and then it would die suddenly and I would have to shift my weight to make sure I didn't tip. For the first time, I felt both mentally and physically exhausted. But we'd passed the 500-mile mark and it should get easier. Should.
But here's the thing: I had neglected to change my brake fluid, and with the high heat and nearly 12 hours of riding it has started to break down. My bike failed to stop at a stop sign entering the first traffic circle once the traffic cleared. It was terrifying, but as soon as I figured out what the issue was, I was able to leave enough following distance and pump the front brake in order to stop in time. I added to my to-do list: avoid the need for an emergency stop.
We stopped for a canyon view on the reservation along Route 64, and we entered the park around 2:15pm. The heat and wind had completely zapped both of us of our energy. Backing our bikes into parking spots at the viewpoint took a ton of effort. So we sat in the visitor center for a while and ate lunch and drank water, and then we rode to another viewpoint. I was suddenly hit with regret -- I had put all this effort into this trip to come to such a majestic place, and we only had 30ish minutes to spend taking it in. What, in my head, had seemed like a great tribute to such a beautiful place felt somehow disrespectful. How could I spend 12 hours to get here to just leave right away?
But as with all of my sins, I quickly put it out of my mind and got back on the bike -- leaving plenty of following distance and pumping the front brake every time we needed to slow down. When we got back to Kingman, we decided to stop for more food and a full hour of air conditioning. The sun was setting soon, and for the first time I was starting to wonder whether we'd be able to make it all the way home.
When we got back to Needles, it was over 110 degrees at 9:10PM. We were staring down the longest stretch of the trip again, so I put a bag of sunflower seeds in my vest pocket to help keep my mouth and mind active, and we trucked ahead. We ended up needing a mental break sooner than Barstow, so we found a far-too-expensive gas station in the middle of nowhere, and then made our way to Victorville. The good news was that we had left the oppressive heat behind, but the bad news was that the mid-60s temperatures felt ice cold after the 110 we'd felt just a couple hours before. Thank God I had my jacket still tied to the sissy bar, so I threw it on and we set out for the last leg of the trip.
For the final best laid plan gone awry, the road signs let us know that I-10 East was backed up with construction traffic. Thankfully we were close enough to home that I knew to take the 15 to the 60 to avoid the traffic, and we pulled into the convenience store by my house just before 2AM. I pulled 20 bucks out of the ATM to get a dated receipt, and then rode the 1/8 of a mile home, woke up my fiancee to let her know I made it home safely, and laid there with a smile on a face and a ringing in my ears until I finally fell asleep at around 4am.
I got my ride certification in the mail today, and just a few days ago I planned out my next IBA ride: an I-5 E2E nested in a Bun Burner 1500. But this time, I'm going to make sure my brake fluid is clean, and I'm going to avoid 110-degree heat.
I spent a ridiculous amount of time planning and thinking about the ride. I played with Google Maps to space out the gas stops. I looked up weather reports for different months. I recruited a friend to do it with me. And, most importantly, I made my fiancee comfortable with the idea of me spending a night with my motorcycle instead of her. She would never stop me from doing a ride (hell, she's comfortable with my 100+ mile roundtrip commute in LA), but her buy-in was still important -- happy wife, happy life and all.
My buddy lives in Nor Cal so he towed his bike down on August 5. I fired up the Weber Kettle and made some steaks for an early dinner, and we both turned in around 9PM with my alarm set for 3AM. When I woke up, I made a hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs, guzzled a bunch of water, and loaded up the bike with a day trip's worth of snacks, water, and extra fuel. Once my buddy woke up around 3:45, we each took one last bathroom break and fired up the bikes. I'm sure the neighbors loved waking up to his Dyna and my Sportster (both equipped with Screamin Eagle pipes), but we quickly made our way to the closest gas station to fuel up and get going.
Or so we thought. The gas station was closed -- I didn't realize any gas stations in Orange County fully closed overnight, but there we were at 4am with near-empty tanks. I didn't expect all the planning to go out the window before we even got started. Thankfully, the 7-Eleven a mile away never closes and we fueled up and hit the road at 4:23 AM. I don't ride with music, and my phone is always in my pocket, so my only navigation tools were a sharpie and masking tape on the tank. Honestly, it works better than letting Waze re-route you halfway through a trip, and I prefer it.
It was in the high 60s when we left, so I was in my half helmet and leather vest. I had my jacket tied to the sissy bar just in case, but the mercury was only rising from here. We made quick work to Barstow by sunrise, and then it was the longest stretch of the day to get to Needles. My plan at each stop was to eat a handful of nuts, some beef jerky, or some dehydrated fruit, to drink a liter of water and use the restroom, to fill up the tiny sportster tank, and to be back on the road in 20 minutes. By the time we get to Kingman, we were almost a full hour ahead of schedule and I start thinking about making another steak for dinner when we get back at a decent time. Ha!
According to my extensive internet research, the South Rim entrance to the Grand Canyon can back up for a couple hours in August. This was a non-starter with our air-cooled bikes even before the idea of lopping that time off our 24-hour window, so we decided to go through Flagstaff, up Route 89 through the reservation, and to the East Entrance to the Grand Canyon. Added bonus: it gets us a buffer of about 80 miles in case we need to re-route for whatever reason.
So as we head up to Flagstaff, I enjoy the trees and the cool weather. I let myself daydream about living close enough to get to the Grand Canyon on any given weekend, and then we start heading North on Route 89. Almost immediately it goes from mountain green to desert chaparral, and the temperature starts to rise. And quickly. Then we hit the only traffic we saw the entire trip -- it took about 45 minutes to go one mile due to construction. We debated splitting lanes to get out of traffic (something I do without thinking at home), but decided against because there were plenty of cop cars stopping traffic for the construction.
Once the traffic broke, we started jamming northbound to try and get that time back. Seemingly as soon as we hit the border of the reservation, the chaparral disappeared and it was just red rocks and high winds for what felt like an eternity. The wind was so strong I had to lean into it to keep my bike from drifting, and then it would die suddenly and I would have to shift my weight to make sure I didn't tip. For the first time, I felt both mentally and physically exhausted. But we'd passed the 500-mile mark and it should get easier. Should.
But here's the thing: I had neglected to change my brake fluid, and with the high heat and nearly 12 hours of riding it has started to break down. My bike failed to stop at a stop sign entering the first traffic circle once the traffic cleared. It was terrifying, but as soon as I figured out what the issue was, I was able to leave enough following distance and pump the front brake in order to stop in time. I added to my to-do list: avoid the need for an emergency stop.
We stopped for a canyon view on the reservation along Route 64, and we entered the park around 2:15pm. The heat and wind had completely zapped both of us of our energy. Backing our bikes into parking spots at the viewpoint took a ton of effort. So we sat in the visitor center for a while and ate lunch and drank water, and then we rode to another viewpoint. I was suddenly hit with regret -- I had put all this effort into this trip to come to such a majestic place, and we only had 30ish minutes to spend taking it in. What, in my head, had seemed like a great tribute to such a beautiful place felt somehow disrespectful. How could I spend 12 hours to get here to just leave right away?
But as with all of my sins, I quickly put it out of my mind and got back on the bike -- leaving plenty of following distance and pumping the front brake every time we needed to slow down. When we got back to Kingman, we decided to stop for more food and a full hour of air conditioning. The sun was setting soon, and for the first time I was starting to wonder whether we'd be able to make it all the way home.
When we got back to Needles, it was over 110 degrees at 9:10PM. We were staring down the longest stretch of the trip again, so I put a bag of sunflower seeds in my vest pocket to help keep my mouth and mind active, and we trucked ahead. We ended up needing a mental break sooner than Barstow, so we found a far-too-expensive gas station in the middle of nowhere, and then made our way to Victorville. The good news was that we had left the oppressive heat behind, but the bad news was that the mid-60s temperatures felt ice cold after the 110 we'd felt just a couple hours before. Thank God I had my jacket still tied to the sissy bar, so I threw it on and we set out for the last leg of the trip.
For the final best laid plan gone awry, the road signs let us know that I-10 East was backed up with construction traffic. Thankfully we were close enough to home that I knew to take the 15 to the 60 to avoid the traffic, and we pulled into the convenience store by my house just before 2AM. I pulled 20 bucks out of the ATM to get a dated receipt, and then rode the 1/8 of a mile home, woke up my fiancee to let her know I made it home safely, and laid there with a smile on a face and a ringing in my ears until I finally fell asleep at around 4am.
I got my ride certification in the mail today, and just a few days ago I planned out my next IBA ride: an I-5 E2E nested in a Bun Burner 1500. But this time, I'm going to make sure my brake fluid is clean, and I'm going to avoid 110-degree heat.
