She's a Maine-iac, Maine-iac....

So.  In order to finish the requirements for my Iron Butt 'Master Tourer - Silver' challenge you may recall I need to get at least one stamp from a National Park in Maine.  There are only two qualifying parks in Maine and the nearest of them is halfway up the East coast in Bar Harbor.  I have until May 11th, 2010, but it's not going to be any warmer between now and then than it is now, so I have three days to get up there and back or it ain't gonna happen.


The Plan was fairly simple, really: 95 North from Maryland to Maine and back.


Sunday - Leave directly from work with bike packed to sleep at sister's house to gain 45 minutes travel time.
Monday - Leave from Harford County, MD between 7 and 8 am and ride to somewhere North of Boston and find a hotel for the night.
Tuesday - leave between 7 and 8 am and ride from Boston to Bar Harbor/Acadia National Park, and spend 3 or 4 hours tooling around the park to actually enjoy it and collect several stamps available at various visitor centers along the park loop road.  Leave park mid-afternoon to ride South as far as possible before turning in for the night.
Wednesday - Leave between 7 and 8 am and hit parks in Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut on the way home to add some more parks and stamps to the collection.  Arrive in Batimore early enough to get some sleep before work the next morning.


Simplicity, though, is a deceptive thing...


Sunday - I left work an hour early to get a head start, but spent it in the parking lot crawling behind the hundreds of cars also trying to get out of the Renn Faire before closed.

Monday - After some scrambled eggs and hanging with my peeps, my sister drove them to school and I delayed leaving to change my headlight to a brighter bulb for the 3 day moonless trip.  I left at about 9am and at 945 and 46F degrees pulled over to figure out why my Gerbing heated gloves were no longer warm.  The fuse to the gloves was fine, so it was probably the fuse under the seat that blew.  Back on the road, it was a tad chilly without electrified gloves, but the Delaware Park sign was only a minor distraction.  Visions of slot machines danced in my head, but I thought 'perhaps I'll have time on the way home...'  Another hour into the cold, though, and the sign for Atlantic city was a bit more enticing.


At about 1115am or so, I pulled into a Cracker Barrel to thaw and have something to eat and swap out the powerlet fuse.  After chatting with the waitress, Kristen, about bikes, I headed out again, but without the benefit of the heated gloves.  The fuse had been bad...looked like something had sneezed in its little glass tube. I put a fresh one in, but I needed to be able to rely on the power outlet to charge my phone and gps, so I didn't take the chance that the gloves would blow the fuse again.


From my last bike trip I knew that the 10 minute rule I'd implemented didn't give me quite the margin I needed, but I stuck with it anyway:  for every hour the GPS or mapping program said it would take, I add 10 mins to the total time to come up with something more realistic.  Baltimore to Bar Harbor, 12 hours x 10 minutes = 120 minutes, means 14 hours to get there.  Simple.


Unless 95 takes you through New York and over the George Washington Bridge.  I can't bring myself to go into the details of the traffic, tolls, trucks, and the accident that caused me to run the gas tank to a blinking 'low', barely moving even when we did, on a misnamed 'expressway', freezing my butt off with a serious clutch-hand cramp.

I got past New York at 230.  Since I wasn't going to make it anywhere North of Boston to stop for the night and my plans were already seriously out of whack, I decided that I'd stop at a Connecticut Park, which would open up time on the way home and give me a break today.  Of course, being a spontaneous stop, I didn't know that Weir Farm National Historic Site was only open Wednesday to Sunday.  The grounds were pretty, but I left after taking a couple of photos and finding the bathrooms locked.  Of course.

I can't for the life of me remember where I ended up Monday night.  That's what I get for not making notes that night!

******Day 2*********

Tuesday was rainy and cold and not fun.  I was hesitant to plug the gloves back in, but if I was ever gonna need them, it seemed like it was today, so what was I saving them for?  I had three more fuses with me, just in case.


I saw less than a handful of bikes on the road all day.  The rain was steady, but mostly light and traffic wasn't bad at all.   The biggest problem I had in the morning was a bit of the filling that's been escaping a back molar recently lodged itself in a dark recess next to my tongue.  Not bigger than a poppy seed, I'd bet, but tucked away in a soft fold that my tongue kept looking for, but never did find.  But for the  nacre, I'd have had a pearl by the end of the day.  In the evening, it was a bit of hair that got loose from my hood when I put my helmet on that kept wacking me, wacking me, wacking me in the eye. 


Annoyingly, the road to Acadia went through Bar Harbor during rush hour, and had construction crews directing traffic.  I had to devote most of my attention to the bad roads, so I didn't see much in the way of scenery.  It was slow going and pretty cold getting to the park, but I did make it.  The parking lot was nearly empty, so I swung in to the space nearest the base of the stairs and yanked off my gloves to undo the tank bag.  I hopped up the stairs, tank bag in hand, out of breath, hoping the center was open till 6...but it wasn't.  Of course.  Well, they can't say I wasn't there.  I took some pictures as I made my way down the million stairs and grabbed a brochure out of the box at the bottom.  I could read about all the stuff I was gonna not see some other time.

I got back on the bike ready to start my way home grateful that the rain had at least stopped. The temps were 36 and 34 depending on whether you believed the bank or the convenience store sign, but either one put it too close to freezing for my taste.  I planned to get as far on my way as I could before the sun set.  I wasn't going anywhere once the sun disappeared and left the wet roads to an icy night.

I made my calls from a Walgreens where I'd gotten something to drink, and decided on the place right across the street.  The Cozy Inn in Brewer, Maine was basic, but had free wireless and wouldn't require me to do anything but make it across the street.


Ah, the Cozy Inn... The wireless was not working, so I gave up messing with that to warm up in the shower.  Really, all I wanted out of a hotel tonight was a hot shower and a clean bed to sleep in.  Well, they did have a bed.  When I called about there being no hot water and no internet, the oh, so charismatic owner said she'd reset the router and I should try later and that perhaps I should try the shower in the morning because the other guests must have just performed their evening ablutions.


So, cold and bored and wondering what karmic debt I was paying off, I watched the weather report and called home.  It was going to be cold again the next day, but the rain had moved out, so at least it should be dry.  My rain suit was tattered from the day's ride already, so 'dry' sounded good to me.

*********Day 3**********

On Wednesday, there was no point to taking a shower and not being able to dry my hair completely.  I used the now hot water to wash my face and then turned on the weather and started packing up again.  Wind chills in the 30's all day, but dry.  At least my gloves had dried completely on the heater overnight.  I made my first trip out to the bike with all the cords that needed to be secured to the handlebars and stopped short at the ice covering the bike.  I didn't need a chisel or anything, but the tank and speedometer were covered in frozen rain and the seat was no longer black for the frost that was on it.

I went back in and slowed down a bit wanting to give the sun a little time to do it's thing to whatever might be sticking to the asphalt before getting back on the road.  I watched the news on and off while organizing my things and was struck by the least pretty news team I'd ever seen.  Not that they were unattractive, but very normal and striking in their lack of attempt to satisfy anyone's expectations of what people on tv 'should' look like.  I flipped through the other channels and found the other news teams decked out in their on-air fancies and all make-up'd out.  I went back to the average Joe channel in silent support of the regular guy, but they used no maps when they did the traffic report.  Neither did the other stations, so I had no idea if I was going to hit the traffic on 95 caused by the accident they kept mentioning.

I scraped the frost off the seat, the ice off the speedometer, and loaded up my stuff.  At 8am it was cold, but clear and I was grateful not only not to get stuck in accident traffic, but apparently to be out of the way of rush hour activities at all. 

At 10am I stopped to fill up and warm up.  The gloves were still working, but like a most of yesterday, it was so cold out that all they served to do was keep my hands from being worse than cold.  The outlet plug continued to shimmy itself out of the socket at annoyingly frequent intervals and the change in temperature in the gloves from cold to frozen was a constant prompt to reseat the plug.  It was annoying, but at least it proved that the gloves were doing *something* for my hands, even if it wasn't enough to call them warm.  Not by a longshot.

Augusta, Maine into New Hampshire again, then Massachussetts headed West to start an avoidance path to keep me far, far away from the George Washington Bridge and other New York irritations.  On the way, a brown road sign caught my attention and I thought I recognized Springfield Armoury as a qualifying National Site.  I took the exit and pulled over to check my book.  Indeed, it was, and I made another unplanned stop to warm up and watch their educational film adding another park and another state to my belt.

I checked the GPS again to see where I was headed.  To keep me away from NY I told it I was headed to Harrisburg, PA and it was sending me all the way out on 90 West and then South past 4 different Parks/Sites.  I checked each one and, remarkably, the one I'd hit first was open the longest.  I managed to get myself to Van Buren National Historic Site well before the 530 close, but wouldn't make it to any of the other 3 in time, which was good...I needed to get home and there was rain in the forecast again.  The out of the way route was adding a couple of hours to the trip home as it was and I didn't want to get home in the wee hours.

I coasted into a gas station after leaving Van Buren and filled up.  I planned on riding hard until the sun went down to take advantage of the light and heat.  It turned out that going South on Rt. 287 was a beautiful alternate route with only a bit of congestion.  Once I started making my way back East to hook up with 95, I stopped for gas again in the dark and a local sign said it was 50F out.  Well, no wonder it had been almost comfortable these last couple hours.  Even in the dark it was warmer now at 730pm than it had been for the last 48 hours.

At the MD border the drizzle started.  I knew it was coming and was glad that the temps were what they were, given that my rain suit was in tatters and the fuse had blown out on the accessory port again.  It was only another hour and a half with the rain and no heated gloves 'till I pulled into the garage and unloaded what I needed off the bike.  The rest could wait.

HOME!  I'd done what I needed to do and gotten home in one piece and on time.  It wasn't the most fun ride of the season, but I wouldn't trade it.  Now, officially done the riding portion of the Master Tourer, I need to start in on my paperwork.  If there are any nice days left of the year, I might hit the nation's capital since there are a bunch of sites less than 2 hours from home base. I need to count again, but it looks like 31 states/provinces and 60+ park stamps in less than 6 months.  Not bad for my first full riding season.  And now I have all winter to plan for next year. ;)

Iron Butt Rides

Seriously, how can you not get excited about a list like this?

114 Iron Butt Association approved endurance rides

IBA rides by number of certificates awarded for them

My adrenaline kicks in just looking at all the possibilites and I get overwhelmed by the options. Which one to do first?? ~A coworker rudely interrupts my daydream with a bit of actual business and, by the time I turn around, the spell is broken.~ Ok, back to the task at hand: to finish the challenge I'm already working on.

Monday morning I leave for Maine to finish up my 2nd Iron Butt Challenge: the Master Tourer Silver. I've met all the requirements for the Master Tourer and have only one more State and National Park to hit in order to bump up to the Silver level. I'd hoped to go Monday to Wednesday of *this* week, but friends from out of town were coming to visit, so it got bumped to the 12th-14th.

I've been watching the trees here turn colors and the temperatures drop and am not particularly excited about riding North in October, but I'm going anyway. With the "pros" forecasting 50% chance of rain and a high of 51F, low of 36F for Bar harbor, Maine on Tuesday, I picked up heated gloves this week and have finally decided on the gear for the 3 day trip.

I'm sure that some of you (if you know me at all) are making squinchy faces already that I'm even *thinking* of being anywhere except in front of my fireplace, under a blanket, watching Long Way 'Round given those temperatures. Ok, maybe you actually laughed audibly...

Go ahead, furrow your brow, have a good chuckle. I know that you think it's funny (funny-wierd, not funny-ha ha) that I get cold below 70F standing still, never mind at speed on the bike and that while you guys are finally not 'dying from the heat', I'm in long sleeves with bouts of goose bumps.

But that's ok. I know you love me anyway. Even if you do have to turn the heat on in the car for me in May.

It took some searching to find something that will keep me warm at highway speeds in 35-55F degree weather, but this should do it. This one piece with a couple layers of wool socks and my Gerbing gloves and I think I'll be ok.





So, if you're on 95 North of Maryland next week and see what looks like Ralphy on a silver bike, it might be me.

:p

Day 10 - Really? 10 Days? Cool.

I woke up in Illinois this morning, "Land of Lincoln". There was no clock in the hotel room I'd booked, so I grabbed my phone to check the time - 745. ack! While I was getting ready, feeling like a big slacker, I remembered that my phone, for some reason, has not changed automatically with local time, so it was really 645.

It was brisk out while I filled the tank AND the gas can before heading to Springfield, Illinois. At 9 am it was 58 degrees.

It didn't get much warmer and I was appreciating my new fleece shirt. At 11 am it was only 65 degrees out. But that was tolerable dressed in my many layers.

I navigated through the city of Springfield to get to the Lincoln Home visitor center. I watched one of the longer videos shown at any of the parks in the last 2 1/2 weeks and looked around the bookstore before heading out. I called Dayton's Aviation site and spoke with an unenthused ranger to confirm directions and address. The gps said it was going to take about 6 hours to get there.

I crossed into Indiana: "The Crossroads of America", but there were only 2 qualifying parks in the state and both the George Rogers Clark Nat'l Historic Park and Lincoln's Boyhood Home Nat'l Memorial were at the south end of the state. I'd decided those were too far off my route which cut Indiana through the middle, so, without park visits, it was a straight drive through to Ohio. Going through Indianapolis on 70, it looked remarkably like 695 around Baltimore, though I was grateful not to hit Baltimore-like rush hour.

I did stop at a McDonald's for lunch in Indiana. I hadn't stopped at restaurants until recently. I'd been eating fruit and granola bars out of my tank bag at rest stops, and microwave meals at the hotels, but my body was starting to get annoyed by that. I decided I needed some protein and there wasn't anything else quick that was close, so
a double cheesburger it was.





I walked in to a long line and one open register. I decided that since I could catch up on my messages and use the time to plan, I could take advantage of the wait rather than view it as lost time. I sat to wolf down my meal and texted Jon, Jen, Vicky and Denise to see if anyone was interested in meeting me tomorrow when I got closer to home. While waiting for replies and finishing my drink, I noticed a framed print of Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper on the wall. I took it as a sign that my McD's break was all in the grand plan.

Before I left McD's, I saw this in the bathroom. Someone had tried to re-write the 'C' in 'Changing'. Think about it for a minute. Now, every time I see one of these I see 'Baby hanging Station'. Even I find that creepy.

Back on the road, I hit the now expected construction. At this point I don't know what I would do with myself if I couldn't follow a snake of orange cones.

Somewhere after crossing into Ohio, 'Birthplace of Aviation', I took stock of where I was and where I needed to be that night. I still had a good bit of road to eat up before getting to Hoagy's in West Virginia. Dayton Aviation Heritage National Park wasn't horribly far off the direct route to his place, but I wasn't going to get to the visitor center before it closed at 6 and the guy I spoke to there was the least friendly of everyone I'd talked to this trip, so I decided I wouldn't go. I was torn, but it's close enough to home to make a seperate trip, if I'm so compelled, and I was already going to have to drive in the dark to finish my ride today, so it seemed wise and convenient to let that one go.

There was, however, an enormous bike supply place that sat right on 70 that I'd passed on the way out, so I called to see what exit they were on (54) and how late they were open (7). I stopped at Competition Accessories for 30 minutes and stretched my limbs while looking at all the fun stuff there. I was out before they closed at 7 and headed to Hoagy's place. It was cold and dark and cold and I was not happy riding that last 2 or so hours. I don't mind riding in the dark so much, you just have to be vigilant for the night issues. The cold, however, I find very unpleasant and do not enjoy riding if I can feel it through my gear.

This I could feel through my gear. On any other night I would have found the first exit with sleeping accomodations and made my round of calls, but tonight, for the first time before or after the conference, I had a reservation. I rode with my shoulders at my ears, unsuccessful at convincing myself to relax. It was so ridiculous that the top of my right foot hurt from contracting every muscle I own in a vain attempt to reduce my surface area against the wind or something.

Finally, 'Wild and Wonderful' West Virginia.

Just before Zanesville on 70, about 2 hours East of Dayton and an hour and a half West of a hot shower, I needed to stop for gas. I took an exit not explicitly marked for gas thinking I'd just cross over to the return ramp and rejoin the highway if there were no pumps. I was running low and didn't want to push my luck given my history, but no, it was not meant to be. There were no pumps and there was no return exit. I was routed on, if it were warm and light out, what would have been a nice back route.

I followed those signs for a couple of miles, watching for wildlife, trying to forget the cold, and ended up at the next exit...where there was no gas, either. Seriously? You're going to make me do this now? Here? Even though trying to avoid exactly this is what got me here? Really? Fine. Knowing I didn't have much left from the last fill up, I took the gas can off the back of the bike and emptied it into the tank for, what I certainly hoped would be, the last time this trip.

I took the next exit marked 'gas' to refill everything. Yes, even the gas can. Clearly, it would be stupid of me not to with my track record, even though I was, theoretically, less than a tankful away from my destination.

With a little confusion, I got to Hoagy's gravel driveway where making the turn in I managed to lay the bike over even while noting all the things I needed to do to keep it upright. I was pretty numb and sore by that point and just straddled the bike for the time it took to remove my helmet and gloves so I could deal with it. Hoagy was there in two seconds to help me right it. I parked it in the garage where I wouldn't have to unload it and met some folks that were hanging out at the infamous Carmichael Irish Pub.

September 1, 2009

As is the case with everyone I've met through Hoagy, they were nice folks and we chatted for a bit before they called it a night. Hoagy made me the finest grilled cheese I've had in years while I thawed out in a hot shower, and we caught up for a while before turning in.

The next day, Wednesday, would be the last of my 2 1/2 week adventure across country. I had no plans except to get home. In my usual fashion, I'd scheduled work first thing Thursday morning, though that still seemed a while away.

IBA Saddle Sore Saga

Well, it has been exciting, to say the least. On Saturday at 4am, I was packing my bike for a ride to Colorado for a Women and Motorcycling conference. The plan: ride my first Iron Butt Saddle Sore from Baltimore, MD to Kansas City, Mo, get a couple hours sleep and do another 500 miles to get the Iron Butt Bun Burner as well. 1500 miles in less than 36 hours would get me those 2 titles plus put me in the midwest with 2 days to burn before the conference. In those 2 days I would head down to Oklahoma and Texas and back through New Mexico and Colorado from the South to pick up some more states and National parks for the Iron Butt Master Traveler Challenge. Perfect!

The reality: Ride off at 420am. Stop for gas, 421am, for the official receipt to start the 1000 miles in less than 24 hours. Stop to put on cold weather jacket: 445am. Stop to put on quilted liner under cold weather jacket: 510am. Stop to stretch and wake up: 6am. Stop for picture of beautiful sunrise over mountains: 645am. Stop to stretch and wake up, drink Red Bull: 745am. Stop for gas at an exit where gas is nowhere to be found despite the sign that indicated gas: 830am. See adorable deer and fawn on shoulder and decide I couldn't afford the time to take a picture: 835am. Find gas, fill tank: 845am. Stop several more times for gas and stretch breaks. Buy more Red Bull. Calculate what time I would arrive at my destination at this rate.


For whatever reason I never really felt awake in the morning. It was a hard ride. I had hoped to stop at a National Park or two on the way, but they never coincided with my pee breaks and were more than a quarter inch off my primary route, so I will forever be deprived of the cultural knowledge from these sites that I would have used to kick someone's butt in a bloody Trivial Pursuit game.

After dark I did pass close enough to the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial that I could see it from the bridge I was on and I couldn't NOT stop to add it to the Parks list. This is the Memorial, which most of us know at the St. Louis Arch, though that's only part of the whole park.

I kept on after the Arch and was doing well. After the morning's struggle with grogginess I was making good time and certain I would finish with time to spare. I'd passed through a handful of states and a time zone and would soon be checking into a hotel for some rest. I pulled over for a last stretch break and a fill up with about 100 miles to go. I drank some water and ate a granola bar and was starting to put my tank bag back on my bike to go this last leg of the Saddle Sore. I waited for the car taking up part of my spot and part of the next to leave before swinging my leg over the seat and BLAM! she cranked the wheel and hit the gas and nailed my bike's right side pushing it over toward me. It landed on the left side with the car's front fender still pressing on the bike.

Sigh.

I started yanking stuff off my bike so I could hulk it upright on my own. The driver was expressing her frustration with the passenger in such a ferver that I thought I might be on my own for a while. Apparently, it is possible for a passenger to speak in such a way as to distract the driver such that she might not be applying her full attention to the task at hand. Interestingly, the passenger felt that the driver's lack of attention to the details of driving was a chronic condition and had little to do with him. The backseat passenger seemed to think , as I did, that it was a good idea just to be quiet and hope we weren't noticed until things calmed down.

When they got out of the car she was truly apologetic and explained that you just can't have someone distracting you while you're driving... I nodded and asked her if she wouldn't mind moving her car off my bike so the passenger and I could get it up. I looked it over and took it around the parking lot before they left just to check it out. We exchanged info and it seems that insurance will take care of it. I was concerned that something unseen might have been boogered up on the bike and bite me later, but also thought how sucky it was that I was going to a bike conference with a banged up scoot.

So, after all that excitement I finished the last 100 or so miles and found a hotel for the night. I got my ending receipt and witness and still hadn't decided whether I'd continue with the next 500 in the morning or call insurance and deal with the bike.



When I woke up I decided that I needed to give up on the Bun Burner and deal with the bike. :/

Once that phone call and info was done, I got back on the road. I didn't have any bike issues, thankfully, and, in lieu of the 500 miles I had hoped to ride that day, I added some unplanned parks to the list. So, hey, the accident sucked, but the bike was driveable, I was fine and it could always have been worse.

Harry S. Truman National Historic Site, Brown v. Board of Education, Washita National Historic Battlefield.