OK, I know some of you are saying, "Why would anyone in their right mind want to ride 1000 miles in a day if they didn't have to?" Good question. I also know that some others of you are thinking, "I wonder if I could ever do something like that?" Actually, I've had both reactions. This weekend, I finally got the chance to answer the second question, "Yes, I can do that!" This last weekend, I rode in the Cal 24 Endurance Rally, which requires you to ride 1000 miles in 24 hours. In the process, I developed some ideas about the answer to question number one, but that will come later.

Two years ago I happened to buy a BMW R100RT when I got back into motorcycling. It happened to be available, BMW's had a good reputation for reliability, and the price was right. Voila, I was back in the fold. Then as I started to read BMW sites on the net, and talk to other Beemer owners on weekend rides, I found out that many of these folks used their trusty mounts to tour, to see the countryside, and generally put miles on the bike. Within three months I was on my first long distance ride, 4300 miles around the western states. It was great! I really enjoyed the scenery, the people I met, and being out on the road. Still, I had never traveled more than 520 on any given day and that happened only once. The pain in my butt reminded me that I preferred 300 mile days to those over five hundred.

Later that year, I read Ron Ayers book, "Against the Wind" which chronicled his participation in the Iron Butt Rally. For those who don't know, the Iron Butt Association (IBA) sponsors an 11,000-mile rally around the United States in 11 days. Yep, you have to ride at least 1000 every day for 11 days, just to be considered a finisher. If you want to "win" the Iron Butt, you have to try and get bonus points by visiting sites off the beaten path and taking a picture to prove you were there. What that all means is that the winners of this endurance rally ride far more than 11,000 in 11 days. My first reaction was, "Why would anyone in their right mind want to ride 1000 miles in a day, for 11 days, if they didn't have to?" My second reaction was, "These ol' boys are crazy."

Since I am only slightly mentally disturbed, the Cal 24 Endurance Rally, (Also known as a Saddle Sore 1000), seemed quite enough foolishness, thank you, to answer the question, "I wonder if I can do that?" Actually, doing 1000 miles in 24 hours appeared to be the easiest way to find out what this endurance riding was all about, but how to go about it, that was the question.

I met Tom Melchild in a motorcycle group I've been hanging with these last several months. Tom is an honest to God, Iron Butt rider (see Other Rider's Stories) and has ridden lots of endurance rides, including a Bunn Burner 1500, a 50 Coast to Coast, etc. He is, indeed, one of the crazy ones. It just so happens, that Tom was helping to organize the Cal 24 Endurance Ride as a fundraiser for the widow of Gary Kunich, a local motorcyclist killed by a stupid driver in an SUV. This seemed like a good way to donate some money for a good cause and also see what the attraction was to this long distance riding. I signed up.

At 8:00 a.m. on June 14th, 32 riders showed up at the Ramada Inn in Antioch, CA, to check in for the Cal 24 and be assigned a rider number (photos 1 & 2). Of that number, about five of us had never ridden in an Endurance Rally before. I was going to be among kindred spirits. I became rider number 33 and I would be riding the BMW for this trip (photos 3 & 4).

For some reason, I assumed they checked you in, gave you directions to a destination, and then checked your odometer when you got back to make sure you went a 1000 miles. No sirree Bob, these fellows give you things to do.

At 9:00 a.m. we received an envelope with the locations of the four checkpoints, a list of questions worth varying numbers of points that could be answered by riding to specific places to get the answers, and several bonus activities points that could be received by doing something really special. For example, getting a toll receipt from all five bridges connecting the counties in the bay area, or paddling a kayak for extra points. Each rider had to decide what activities they were willing to do and the ones that would net them the most points. The point leaders would receive a plaque at the end of the Rally.

The riders took their envelopes, went off by themselves to plot their courses and tried to decide which questions or bonus points they might be able to get, then at 10:00 sharp, they turned us loose. I would not see most of these riders again for the next 24 hours, others I would see along the route and at different checkpoints.

Checkpoint #1 was north, at the intersection of California SR 16 and SR 20. This took us over the Antioch Bridge, where we wrote our mileage and time on the back of the toll receipt for 10 points.

Since I elected to take SR 160 past Rio Vista, I pulled off to find the monument dedicated to the visit of Humphrey the Whale, who lost his way in 1980 and became somewhat of a celebrity in the process. They erected the monument to him in 1981, the answer to another question and an additional 20 points. I pulled off the route two more times to find the name of the man who built the model of the Railroad Museum and the conditions of the fire hydrant at the Jelly Belly factory. That one was erected on a dog run to allow dogs to do their business and was considered a none-functioning hydrant. Cute.

Hwy 12 took me north through the foothills of California, already turned brown in the pre-summer heat and small towns I had never visited before. One small town consisted of a few odd buildings with several large handmade sighs advertising HONEY, HOMEMADE HONEY, GET YOUR HONEY HERE, etc. I got the impression this was their claim to fame. Apparently a large number of bees lived and worked in the area.

Hwy 16 also took me past one of the new Indian casinos called Cache Creek (photo 5) which seems a long way from the gamblers, but apparently not, since they seemed to be doing a good business. The Cache Creek casino is just a short distance from, ta da, Cache Creek, where a whole lot of people were gambling on low, mild, water for their fun and games. I was betting on the boaters for having the best day (photos 6, 7 & 8).

At about 11:45, after a pleasant ride through the oak spotted hills of northern California, I pulled into Checkpoint #1 with two other riders already present (photos 9 & 10). The volunteers signed my paperwork for the first leg, checked my odometer, and gave me the envelope for Checkpoint #2, Lake Tahoe. I spent too much time deciding which route I should take, freeway or back roads, and decided on SR 20 all the way to SR 89 at Tahoe.

I hadn't eaten since before eight and was getting hungry. Since I also needed gas for the Beemer, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and gas myself up as well; I bought a Chicken Salad Sandwich at the local Food Mart in Yuba City (photos 11 & 12). While I ate, it dawned on me that I had only gone 152 miles and already I needed gas, this might turn out to be more difficult than I expected once we got into Nevada.

As I was eating in the shade of an Oak tree, Sean Smith passed me. Sean is a fellow rider who is also in the Woodies MC group I've been hanging out with. Sean rides a Kawasaki Concourse and Sean's got Ride. I tried to keep up with him, but was only able to do so because Sean slowed down for me. When we finally hit traffic in the mountains near Tahoe, everybody slowed down. We rode into Tahoe together.

Now here's where the conflict in endurance riding rears its time-constrained head. Hwy 20 was a nice ride, a scenic ride, right into the heart of the Sierras. Stopping to take pictures or just enjoy the view is not something you can really do on one of these rides. It's not the point of the trip. Distance and speed and points are the challenges and stopping is for another time. Since touring and photography are my two main interests in motorcycling, this was a conflict I probably felt more acutely than the other riders. Many times on this trip I found myself saying, "Damn that would make a great picture." Then I would think, "If I keep stopping, I'll never make it on time." So there you have it. Trust me, SR 20 is a nice ride. If you're in the area, give it a try.

As we pulled into South Lake Tahoe, the directions to Checkpoint #2 became "fuzzy" and we did several U turns trying to find where we were supposed to be. It was about this time that other riders coming from different directions or catching up with us started to appear.

I discovered that Endurance riders are like blackbirds landing on a telephone wire. One moment the wire is empty and the next it's loaded with birds. Same with my fellow riders, the next thing I know, there are six of us looking for Checkpoint #2 on Lakeview Ave in South Lake Tahoe, and we all end up pulling into a fire station to get directions.

Now Checkpoint #2 stands out for two reasons, the first was that I almost ran out of gas. Just as we were leaving the fire station, the Beemer sputtered and started to die. Quick switch to reserve and now I know I've got about 20 miles to find gas. Second, Checkpoint #2 was the nicest checkpoint on the trip, a condo right on the lake (photo 13). This is where some of us had to make a decision about bonus points. The choice was to stay 20 minutes, a looooong time in an endurance ride, or paddle a kayak around a small buoy on the lake (photo 14 & 15). As soon as you accomplished this, you could leave. Of course, they also had pizza and soda so some of us had a quick bite to eat. I elected to eat, go to the bathroom, and call my wife. By the time I was finished, my 20 minutes were up and I was back on the road to Checkpoint #3, Tonopah, Nevada.

I jumped up on Hwy 50 to Stateline, grabbed some gas, and headed up and over the mountains on Nevada 205 and over to IS 395 heading south. Now Nevada 205 is a really great ride. As you come over the crest of the mountain, you look down on a great basin/valley below where Carson City and Minden are located. The sun was just starting to get low in the sky, which caused me to go in and out of deep shadows and also seemed to invite the wind to buffet me around a bit. SR 205 is a combination of high-speed sweepers joined with tighter diminishing radius curves. Not having the sun in my eyes was a Godsend and I took notice that here we were towards the end of the day, and someone charted a route that put the sun behind us during sunset. Good move. I only passed three cars all the way down. Soon I'm at the bottom turning south on IS 395.

When I thought about doing a Saddle Sore 1000, I assumed that I would be concerned about staying awake while I put in my 20+ hours on the motorcycle. In truth, staying awake wasn't a problem, but I was always worried about the clock. If you can average 50 mph, you can do 1000 miles in 20 hours without breaking a sweat. The Cal 24 was designed to give you a choice between taking scenic roads or the freeway. Freeways gave you time, scenic roads gave you bonus points. How to resolve this potential conflict? Take the scenic route and drive really fast! Hwy 395 through Minden was driving me crazy because it kept me at 25 mph. I needed to make up time.

Hwy 395 reentered California somewhere above Lake Topaz and was a delight to ride (photo 16). The Beemer purred along at 75 to 80 doing 42 to 45 hundred rpms and loving it. At this point in the rally, this was about as fast as I wanted to go. As I got closer to the end, I realized I had made some bad choices on routes and needed to pick up the pace if I were going to make it on time.

Now here's the thing. By this point in the rally, I've already decided not to attempt any more points other than those for hitting all of the checkpoints. The winners were going to be those who figured out the best routes to get bonus points and hit all of the checkpoints to boot. These fella's were in a different league than me and I am still wondering how they were able to do it. I began to focus on why I was out here in the first place; I wanted to see if I could do 1000 miles in 24 hours. If I didn't finish, I was really going to be annoyed.

I pulled into a Chevron station in Lee Vining, CA and filled up with gas. I also went inside the little food store and got a Jolt soda for a caffeine boost. Somehow, I paid my money; got back on the road went 10 miles south picking up Hwy 120 heading east to Hwy 6, then on to Tonopah. I had just started down this long lonesome road when I realized I smelled gas. When I looked down, I saw an ugly, empty hole where my gas cap should be. I had left my gas cap back at the station. Damn! I had never done that before. Was I sleepy? No, just in a hurry. There was nothing to do but turn around and head back.

As I pull back into the station, the lady at the counter smiles and waves as I pick up my gas cap, right where I left it on top of the pump. I had been thinking about checking my oil for sometime now and since this would be my last chance for some time, I figured someone was trying to give me a message. I was running the Beemer kind of hard and sure enough, I was down about a third of a quart. I topped it off and felt better about heading into the back roads of Nevada.

By this time, the sky was starting to turn shades of dusky gray and I notice that the dominant colors were similar to the paint job on my R100RT Classic. I took this as a good omen and started to feel confident I'd make it to Tonopah. Soon the moon began to rise in the eastern sky beyond the mountains. It was a thing of beauty.

A huge, full, yellow moon peeking up from behind the mountains, playing hide and seek off to my right. When I was a young boy, I always saw the man in the moon as a smiling face. Now this face seemed downright playful as first it was behind a mountain and then would pop up between the valleys. What a great way to start the evening.

I'm now doing about 85, trying to make up a little time when a small rabbit jumps out from the left side of the road trying to commit suicide. I briefly start to swerve but I'm way too slow, clunk, I hit the rabbit. I feel bad about that little fellow, but in retrospect, I'm glad I didn't overreact and lose control of the bike. It's easy to say you won't swerve at high speeds for an animal, but it's very difficult to cancel out years of avoidance reaction. I hope he made it to rabbit heaven.

As I rounded a curve and came over a hilltop, I saw a taillight way up ahead. As I got closer, I could tell it was another motorcycle and knew it was one of our guys since the odds of another biker being out here in the middle of nowhere, at 10 o'clock at night, seemed large indeed. I passed the other rider going up a hill and he caught up with me at a stop sign outside of Benton. It was Gerald Hopyard, who happed to be an instructor for the California Motorcycle Safety Program. Since we were headed in the same direction, I told him to take the lead, and I followed him the rest of the way to Tonopah, which we reached about 11:15 p.m. Now Gerald's a safe driver, as you would expect from a CMSP instructor, and seldom went over 70 mph, at least while he was with me. By staying with Gerald, I new I had slowed, down but I enjoyed the company.

Checkpoint #3 was at an all-night Mobil station where I was able to grab a candy bar, drink some of my high caffeine soda, and fill the tank with regular. Tonopah required another decision, to continue south on SR 6 and then cut back west through Death Valley on SR 364, and then head north to Lone Pine, CA, or go back north on Hwy 6 till you cut over one of the local roads, then use CA 395 to go south to Lone Pine? This is one of those "sucker" decisions. Because you are closer to Death Valley it tends to look shorter on the map. In fact, because of the Paniment Mountains, it's actually longer. Of course I choose Death Valley. So did five others.

Gerald wasn't ready to go, so I said I would see him on the road and headed south. Ten miles our so down the road I pass The Gaudy Lady whorehouse, which is good for extra points if you stop and get a souvenir. I need to make up time more than I need bonus points so I fly right past. I have to admit I did wonder who they were servicing way out here in the middle of the desert. It's a long way to drive when you're horny.

At any rate as I started down into Death Valley towards Stovepipe Wells, the temperature, which had been very comfortable all day, started to rise quickly. Damn, it must have gone up into the nineties. If it's this hot at 1:30 in the morning, how hot would it be at 1:30 in the afternoon. I had no burning desire to find out.

Thank God for that full moon. When I first saw it, I just enjoyed the beauty of it, now I was grateful for its light. There are few roadside reflectors in Death Valley. I had to slow down since I wasn't sure where the curves were until I was on top of them. There was one stretch were reflectors appeared and because of the multiple switchbacks, I was glad to have them. Back on a flat stretch of the valley floor I suddenly came to a tee in the road, and wasn't sure which way to go. OK, I can handle this. I get off the bike and pull out the trusty ol' map and use the Beemer's headlight to direct me left and then right. My map is not detailed enough to show these small variations in road directions but I figure it out.

I wind the Beemer up and am making good time in the lonesome nothingness that is Death Valley, heading west towards the Paniment Mountains when there on the valley floor, arising out of the dark, is Stovepipe Wells. It looks like a nice place, modern facilities, gas, etc., then it's gone and I'm back to the night.

Soon I'm climbing out of the valley and as I wind back and forth, trying to encourage the Beemer and myself to higher limits, I can see Gerald's head and taillights down below, and another rider further behind. They look small from up here but the rider in the back is coming up fast on Gerald. As I leave the mountains and head toward 395 I start to see another motorcycle far behind me. As I turn north on 395 to Lone Pine and Checkpoint #3, he's right on my tail. We're both doing about 90 and he seems content to stay there for now.

As we pull into Lone Pine, I see Checkpoint #4 up ahead, on the side of the road near a restaurant. My companion and I pull in to have our paperwork validated. I'll be damned; he's riding a Goldwing. I'm impressed. Coming up those winding mountain roads and he overtook two of us on smaller, more agile bikes. Well, at least that's what I thought until I remembered the rider is probably more important than the bike, at least in this case. It's about 2:30 and it's been a long, fast ride. After five minutes, my paperwork is signed and I'm back on the road, heading north toward Yosemite, Tioga Pass and the end of the ride.

I stopped at another Mobil station at the end of town and took on gas. After leaving, I fall in behind the Goldwing and he keeps a study pace on good roads. Sean Smith passes me with a wave and I see him pass the Goldwing a little while later. Somehow Sean is always passing me. It has to be because he's going off in one direction or another to get bonus points, which keeps putting him behind me. This is Sean's first endurance rally and I'm thinking he's going to do quite well.

I think the Goldwing is keeping it slow because some of the fella's at the checkpoint reported getting "performance awards" for their efforts to make up time. We heard later, at the dinner, that the highest speed on a ticket was for 94. Hey, any number of our riders could be ticketed for doing 90. Besides, out he in the middle of nowhere, 90 didn't seem all that excessive.

At any rate, I'm starting to freeze my butt off. It's either feast or famine out here. At 1:30 this morning I was hot, now at 4:30 I'm trying to figure out if I can go another 20 miles before stopping to put on some warm clothing. I make it to Lee Vining for gas and put on everything in my tote bag; touring pants, extra shirt, fleece jacket liner, etc. I feel much better.

The Goldwing and I leave together heading up to Tioga Pass and the entrance to Yosemite National Park. He obviously likes this road. The next thing I know, he's passed two other riders and is on his way to being gone. I later find out that this gentleman just bought his Goldwing seven months ago and has already ridden 40,000 miles on it. Make that 41,000. And I thought I was doing well putting 12,000 miles on mine in a year.

We get to the ranger's station and no one's on the gate. Works for me, and the three of us pass through without the need to pay. That's all right, since we're not going to be here long anyway. It's getting to be about 5:15 in the morning and the sun is bathing the eastern Sierra's in shadows and light, making a beautiful ride even better. It was one of those mornings when the full moon is still up in the western sky, while the sun was rising in the east. What a great ride. Again, the planners of this event put us going west while the sun came up in the east, right through one of the premier scenic spots on earth, Yosemite. I'm glad I made this ride.

The three of us, all on BMW's, seem to average about 20 mph above the 45 mph speed limit. Back and forth, through valleys, past lakes, near granite rock cliffs, and between towering Pines, on we go, heading west on SR 120. Antioch is still about three hours away as we leave Yosemite at 6:20 a.m. This is going to be close.

Shortly after leaving the park, I see several others from our group ahead. I fall in behind them but once they get in the groove, they get serious about making up time. I quickly fall behind. It is clear to me that I'm not ever going to be a racer. Don't want to be, don't feel comfortable doing it, and don't usually have the need. I will drive as fast as my ability will allow within the limits of safety and comfort. It better be enough to get me to the finish line on time.

I gas up for the final time in Oakdale, then pick up IS 5 heading north and make good time to SR 12 going west. As I approach Rio Vista, I realize that, unless a wheel falls off, I'm going to make it, 1000 miles in 24 hours. Up and over the Antioch Bridge, with great views of the delta, then at 8:55 a.m., I pull into the Ramada Inn for the finish, with one-hour and five minutes to spare. A volunteer signs me in and I turn in my paperwork to the scorekeepers. It's over.

I grab a couple of hours sleep at my nieces house in town, then head over to the awards dinner at Humphrey's on the marina. I get a plaque for finishing 24th out of 28 completers, with four taking a DNF. One broke a chain, one got rear ended by a careless driver, fortunately without injury to the rider, and I have no idea what happened to the others. My friend Sean finished a very respectable 13th for his first rally. Like I said, the boy's got ride.

I'm glad I did it, it was fun, and I never once got sleepy. Still, I don't think I'll do it again, simply because I like to stop and smell the roses, or at least take a picture of the roses, and this type of ride doesn't really allow for that if your serious about finishing on time. At least now I think I know why other people do it. There's the physical and mental challenge, of course. You get to see large amounts of scenery in a short amount of time. The planning required to acquire the most points in the shortest route or amount of time will be a draw to some, and then there's the camaraderie of being with other riders doing the same thing. If you've never done it, you may want to give it a try. The worse that can happen is you'll have a lot of fun and develop a numb butt.

See you on the road. Right now I've got to go send off for my Iron Butt certificate.