As I trek down the road, I realize that both Garmins are displaying Est Time of Arrival at 1345. WTF! The 9.5 hr trek is now only 7.5 hrs? My first thought was that the track had too many way points and the Zumos trunicated the track. My heart sank.
However, when I pulled up the turn by turn directions, the end points seemed basically correct. So, to my pleasure I will now have a leisurely gallop with 2.5 hours of slack (HA!). Soon enough, the first bonus flag arrives on the screen. To my dismay, there is not a single lightbulb in the war field parking area. Dazed on what I should do next, I decide to use the bike lights to illuminate the most probable area for the photo. I need to find a very specific sign. Except it’s not in the cute little visitor hut. Even though this was suppose to be 10-hr day ride, I fish out the headlamp I through in at the last moment and try to scan the adjacent fields for more signs. The headlamp has about as many lumens as using a fire fly on a landing strip.
I spend way too much time. About 20 mins later another rider shows up. He can’t find the sign either. Eventually, I decide to leave. He thinks we should call the rally master, but for me this tag is just too much headache. I depart.
On the way to the next bonus, I begin to question this whole thing. Really, I’ve yet to see any fun for the amount of effort. I decide to make a decision to push the go-home button after 2 more hours. The next bonus is a very simple Historic Highway Marker. A few more bonus grabbed, and the confidence is raising. It’s still raining, but my gear is keeping me dry. I find myself strangely enjoying this.
This was my favorite pic
Around noon I reach Roanoke. It’s about the half way point. From dreading the rest of the day, I now realize I don’t want to head home. But alas, I have only 4 hours to get there. (So much for getting in at 7.5 hours). I also realize it’s time to set GPS #2 to the finale location, as I try to figure out how many bonus locations I need to jettison to get home. And now I am in BFE and I need Petrol. Nary a station to be had, and then I find a little mom and pop store to fill. Wouldn’t you know it, the next 5 miles was a buffet of stations!
Really, has the world gone mad?
Even more shocking, I get on I-95 north of Richmond, and traffic is a breeze. Although I dropped a few locations, I grab an extra back to the hotel. All told, 15 locations over 450 miles. All smiles at rider check in.
Lisa was kind to help me out assembling my scoring package. Everybody always laments how much of the rallies is reading comprehension, of which should be a huge weakness of mine too. My route should have netted me 255 points, but alas, there was one point that I didn’t have time to snag and another “wildcard” didn’t help me. Nonetheless, all the pictures and locations were accepted. I did lose 15 points, thanks to some nuances with Yatzee. Such is life.
Thanks to a bunch of cancellations, Blaster is able to join for the awards ceremony. The Rallymaster is a larger than life personality. I think I know why he has a contact phone is not to report injuries, but to mock all the people that call about all the mental breakdowns they are having. Then he roasts them over the awards. Of all the weird things this hotel has, the food is excellent. Then again it’s been 24 hours since I ate. I probably could have ate my own arm and thought it was good too.
There were somewhere around 80 riders in at the dinner. I was shocked that about 1/3 had ridden the Iron Butt Rally, and another handful were noobies like me. Good people all around. Till next year!
However, when I pulled up the turn by turn directions, the end points seemed basically correct. So, to my pleasure I will now have a leisurely gallop with 2.5 hours of slack (HA!). Soon enough, the first bonus flag arrives on the screen. To my dismay, there is not a single lightbulb in the war field parking area. Dazed on what I should do next, I decide to use the bike lights to illuminate the most probable area for the photo. I need to find a very specific sign. Except it’s not in the cute little visitor hut. Even though this was suppose to be 10-hr day ride, I fish out the headlamp I through in at the last moment and try to scan the adjacent fields for more signs. The headlamp has about as many lumens as using a fire fly on a landing strip.
I spend way too much time. About 20 mins later another rider shows up. He can’t find the sign either. Eventually, I decide to leave. He thinks we should call the rally master, but for me this tag is just too much headache. I depart.
On the way to the next bonus, I begin to question this whole thing. Really, I’ve yet to see any fun for the amount of effort. I decide to make a decision to push the go-home button after 2 more hours. The next bonus is a very simple Historic Highway Marker. A few more bonus grabbed, and the confidence is raising. It’s still raining, but my gear is keeping me dry. I find myself strangely enjoying this.
This was my favorite pic
Around noon I reach Roanoke. It’s about the half way point. From dreading the rest of the day, I now realize I don’t want to head home. But alas, I have only 4 hours to get there. (So much for getting in at 7.5 hours). I also realize it’s time to set GPS #2 to the finale location, as I try to figure out how many bonus locations I need to jettison to get home. And now I am in BFE and I need Petrol. Nary a station to be had, and then I find a little mom and pop store to fill. Wouldn’t you know it, the next 5 miles was a buffet of stations!
Really, has the world gone mad?
Even more shocking, I get on I-95 north of Richmond, and traffic is a breeze. Although I dropped a few locations, I grab an extra back to the hotel. All told, 15 locations over 450 miles. All smiles at rider check in.
Lisa was kind to help me out assembling my scoring package. Everybody always laments how much of the rallies is reading comprehension, of which should be a huge weakness of mine too. My route should have netted me 255 points, but alas, there was one point that I didn’t have time to snag and another “wildcard” didn’t help me. Nonetheless, all the pictures and locations were accepted. I did lose 15 points, thanks to some nuances with Yatzee. Such is life.
Thanks to a bunch of cancellations, Blaster is able to join for the awards ceremony. The Rallymaster is a larger than life personality. I think I know why he has a contact phone is not to report injuries, but to mock all the people that call about all the mental breakdowns they are having. Then he roasts them over the awards. Of all the weird things this hotel has, the food is excellent. Then again it’s been 24 hours since I ate. I probably could have ate my own arm and thought it was good too.
There were somewhere around 80 riders in at the dinner. I was shocked that about 1/3 had ridden the Iron Butt Rally, and another handful were noobies like me. Good people all around. Till next year!