Motochicks' Iron Butt Run- 24 hours to ride 1000 miles on our motorcycles

Midnight- Ten-X campground near Tusayan, AZ

The campground is silent now that our neighbors generator has shut off. I've been silently tapping away, editing and publishing a post. I have the tablet dimmed all the way so I can occasionally daze up at the stars as I write. Tomorrow morning we start our Iron Butt Run to my grandmother's home in Nebraska. The Iron Butt is challenge for motorcyclists to ride 1000 miles within 24 hours. I'm learning a lot about my limits on this trip, physical and mental.

The juniper and ponderosa pines form a black turtle shaped frame around the stars as I tilt my head back, trying to find the flow of words for you. The ride from the canyon rim was eventful. The clerk at the Texaco in Tusayan was unspeakably rude to Margie.  We picked up some beer at the Trading Post, and Margie found me a souvenir squirrel to tack to my bike, a personal reminder of traveling safely on two wheels. I made peace with some of my life decisions when we spooked two elk foraging along the road. The young bull spun on his haunches and headed into the forest, the brown cow following suit.

Gary, our witness at Grand Canyon 

It was so warm today... I can't believe how quickly it got cold. The desert continues to surprise and delight me as I learn about its nuances. I want to stay up and write about the sounds of the forest, and the cold that has very quickly settled into my fingers. I better spend some time looking at the back of my eyelids,  Margie mentioned starting at sunrise.  Which I'm sure will be stunning.

930am- Pipe Creek Vista on East Rim Dr, AZ

Yeah, that didn't happen.  The air was cool and crisp when we poked our noses out of our sleeping bags. We bundled up and slept in for a few hours. And as quickly as the cold slipped in last night, the temperature gauge climbed as we packed quickly and carefully. We pulled into Pipe Creek Vista and got our documentation for the Iron Butt witnessed by Gary from Tennessee :)

Margie turned on the SPOT so we'll have an exact GPS location (SPOT is a device that emails your loved ones with locations. But it can also notify emergency personnel if needed, even post to Google maps and Facebook). Time to get moving :)

hippy motochick working girl

10 am- Roadside Artists Market on Hwy 64 

Okay, so TWO stops before we need fuel... I know! So far we aren't making the best time. But I may not return to the Grand Canyon for a long time. The first stop is Desert View Watchtower on the South Rim. We didn't even made it out of the park, haha. The view was just too staggering to pass by. The golds and reds of the canyon face dance under the sun, teasing my imagination, making me daydream about cowboys and indians.

From where I sit I can see smoke trailing into the atmosphere across the ditch (leftover from the fires that raged along the North Rim), and learn that the average width of the canyon is 10 miles across. I also learn that the blue - green river Colorado River used to run red. "Colorado" actually translates to "red-colored."  When the dams were built at both ends of the park earlier in the century, the river slowed and lost its namesake color... which means it's no longer carving the canyon :(

There are these really fascinating Native American roadside markets along Hwy 64... and this one said DINE on the sign. I wanted to find out what kind of food I would find here... Embarrassingly, turns out that Diné is the pronoun the Navajo people call their nation. I'm glad I didn't say anything offensive :) I really do hate unnecessarily offending people.

We picked up few things to tote home. I wish we had more time to hang out and look around (I'm starting to a theme here). The view into the canyon is stunning here. And the local artists have some beautiful pieces... there are neat dream catchers and jewelry, but the pottery... I feel like the pottery shows me a glimpse of the Diné culture, with the animals and symbolic carvings. I like the pride the artists take in their creations.

Hwy 64 heading east curves and meanders following the edge of the South Rim providing some stunning views of both the canyon and river. If you vist GC south rim, drive in on 64, and skip the BS souvenir town. 

Noonish - Tuba City, AZ.

Feeling my oats in
Tuba City :)

I've written and erased a several lines because I am struggling to explain how I feel. I don't want to put Tuba City in a bad light, but I will be happy to get on the road. The people we've met at this station are as nice as any (and nicer than many) people we've met along the way. I just have a feeling that makes me want to get on the road. I think I might breathe easier if I was out alone in the wilderness of the reservation somewhere. I'm just... not at ease in town here. It is difficult to describe... a tense feeling.

The town itself and people look like most other desert towns, relatively small, but more than just a crossroad. Tuba City is a trading center and market for the people who live in the surrounding desert. It sits just northeast of the colorful Painted Desert, Tuba City is surrounded by sparsely vegetated buttes and mesas.

Most of the vehicles are farm trucks, banged up and dented from being put to use. A mangy stray dog just wandered through the gas station parking lot, covered in black matted hair. He didn't even stop to beg for food. I'm gonna go inside and fill up my water bottle so we can ride out.

One pm- 6 miles from Utah State line-

 We've stopped at the Mexican Water Trading Post, about 40 miles or so from Four Corners where Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah all meet. It's tempting to ride to the corners (to cross it off some imaginary list), but we really don't have time at this point. The ride through the reservation on Hwy 160 was spectacular.  You'd think I'd be tired of desert by this point. Maybe because it is such a foreign terrain. Every time I see something new or different (like the volcanic rocks that look like they've been thrust violently from the flat earth), I try to take a mental snapshot so I can revisit this ride in my memories... who knows if it will work.

Selfie in the desert

No cell service here. The air conditioning escaping from the front door feels like heaven. It is quite warm sitting at the picnic tables out front, though they are shaded. We have an old man trying to convince me that we are crazy- We get that about three times a day.  Margie handed me a strip of cloth that retains moisture somewhere in Texas to wear around my neck. I have happily worn it all over The Great American Desert. It's got an American flag print on it... which makes me happy :) Maybe that's why I spent the last hour belting out the first verse of The Star Spangled Banner in my helmet. Go easy on me- at this point the number of miles I've spent alone in my helmet is darn near six thousand, with no one to talk to (except myself) and no phone to distract me...

 I've seen several different wildlife crossing signs over the last 300 miles: elk, large cat, bear... now horse? :) There certainly is a lot of wide open space for them, I can't imagine they would wander anywhere near a human road. I wonder how challenging it is to find water out there in the desert.

As a kid I read A LOT of Louis L'Amour. This area of the country reminds me of his frontier stories. I may have to dig out his short story collection and revisit it when I return home. He often wrote of dessert and the challenges facing the people who choose to live here, of water wars and rustling cattle, it must've been a hard life back then. 
Honestly, (though I have fallen in love with the views, terrain, and ecology, I wouldn't want to live here. I long for the humidity of Georgia. I've started getting nosebleeds from the dry air.
I found the video below (it's quite a trippy gem) during a search of youtube for motorcycle rides down Hwy 160 on the reservation. I think it's a fun little song. And while the music is a work of art all on its own... I'm sharing it here with the purpose of showing you a hint of the reservation terrain I’ve been experiencing in the background :)

 

4 pm- Wilson’s Arch,  Utah. 

Green grass again :)

 I am having difficulty putting the last hundred miles into words. I will try, but I'm afraid of sounding like a broken record. But every few miles there was a new interesting geographical feature that made me want to pull onto the shoulder and spend time connecting with mother nature. For me, Hwy 191 rivals Hwy 90 in south Texas, in terms of the experience of the road, and my desire to return to it.

I've been watching the flora slowly change as I ride north. The desert terrain now has pockets of green. Naturally occurring green, as I've seen more irrigated farmland in the desert than I'd like to admit. I can see the influence of more precipitation. There are more deciduous trees and they are getting taller. I remember walking in the campground last night, looking at the oaks, marveling at their stumped size. Those oaks couldn't have been more than eight feet tall, nothing like the towering giants at home. I'm starting to see more green grass along the highway :) I still see a lot of conifers, maybe spruce and pines... The foliage reminds me of home, as so many things do lately. There are a lot of canyons here (according to the map) I haven't seen any, but they are holes in the ground, so I assume that I may need to find a rim. There are sand and red colored mesas and mountains with huge crumbling boulders falling off the steep sides.

Unfortunately, we don't have any GoPro of the Iron Butt Run, but here is a short video of Hwy 191:

Wilson's Arch is composed of sandstone. And like the Grand Canyon,

Wilson's Arch

water erosion created it. Water got into the base, and as it froze and melted, expanding and contracting, it created cracks and crevices for more water to fill and wash away the sediment, leaving the denser, sturdier arch.

refueling on the side of the road

We got stuck in road construction for a half hour on Hwy 191. We took the opportunity to fill our tanks with the two gallon gas cans we've been carting around (cause no one wants to run out of fuel in the desert - no shade!). So we should make it to Interstate 70 (ugh, interstate) before we need fuel. The worker holding the sign seemed amused by our antics, as we parked, refueled, chatted about our disbelief of the incredible view.

8pm- Grand Junction, Colorado, Boston's Pizza

The sun is setting behind us, bathing the Rockies in a golden light. I inhaled my food because I'm ravenous.  I'm feeling a little pain from not resting as liberally as we usually do. An achy, stiff feeling is settling into my hip joints. Margie can hang her legs off her bike, but my legs are so long that the road would eat my boots in no time if I tried to stretch out my legs too far. At this point I'm a little jealous (it's not often I envy women shorter than me). My left shoulder was also hurting somethin' fierce, but about 30 miles out it started tingling, and pricked for a few minutes, then went numb. I much prefer this to the shooting pain from my neck to my fingertips.

Desert Bighorn Sheep http://www.donaldmjones.com

After Wilson's Arch, we continued north on Hwy 191, through Moab, Utah. Huge red cliffs rose along both sides of the road... brick red with a little fire mixed in. Once again as we rode along 191, our mouths hung agape (is there an echo in here?). We wanted badly to stop and explore the natural geography, but I'm committed to finishing this Iron Butt thing on time. There were more natural sandstone arches and we've passed signs for several National Parks. Where the vegetation had gotten more lush, it has reverted back to the sage colored desert brush. The grass disappeared again, replaced by rocks and sand, a hostile environment for plants with tender leaves.  North of Moab I noticed some movement on my right and turned my head to see three Desert Big Horn Sheep racing along the base of the cliff. I almost ran off the road watching them... fascinated with how they kept their footing bounding along the steep slope among the fallen rocks.

It was HOT in Moab. Heading into the city I was thinking this was another place I could live for a year (Alpine, Texas and San Diego, being the two others), but when we got into town the stifling heat made me strike that idea. It wasn't wasn't the humid heat like Georgia, but it also wasn't the dry heat I'd experienced in the desert. It was just suffocating :/

I'm glad we got to ride through the Arches area in daylight. Too bad there is only so much daylight because we have The Rockies ahead of us, and I know I will miss some amazing sights... I guess I can't have it all. I must admit, I have never lost any love on Colorado. Not that I've spent a lot of time here, a family reunion here and there, (and one fabulous elk hunting trip with my father a few years ago that was quite special). For whatever reason, Colorado just doesn't hold any magic for me...

The middle of the night, Silverthorne, Colorado.  

The last few legs have become a competition with myself, with my body and my mind. We stopped in Gypsum, CO, to refuel, and I wish I had put more layers on. Screw Vail. (Grandma lovingly asked me to tone down my language.) Interstate 70 is a nightmare to ride in the dark. The curves are technical, and mentally and physically draining. I have taken lead all night, because Margie's eyes aren't as young as mine. It doesn't help that the lines will completely disappear from the road. Leaving me to figure out on my own how long the curve goes on. Does it straighten out halfway through for a few yards? Or does it have a decreasing radius? There could be a hill or drop off around each curve, and I have no way of knowing what to expect. The sides of the roads are edged with drop offs and mountainous walls... adding stress. It is too dark to see any of the landscape, it might be able to distract me from my pain.

I turned the heat up in my
gloves so high THAT
I BLISTERED MY KNUCKLES.  I
really don't like Vail. 

Screw Vail. It's REALLY cold (I'm trying Grandma. I really want to use some of the strong language I voiced to Margie as I peeled my frozen legs from my bike...) The altitude on I70 in Vail hits 10000+ feet. I was taught the normal lapse rate says that for every 1000 feet you rise, the temperature drops an average 3.5°F (thanks Porinchu!). I spoke of the effect of the proximity of the ocean on the temperature in Bodega Bay. The large body of water moderates the temperature,  well here towards the center of the continent, the temperature varies vastly between day and night. The stars are out, but the lack of cloud cover lets any heat radiating off the asphalt escape into the atmosphere.
The internet is telling me it was 35°F in Vail. I didn't realize it was that cold. I was grateful I packed my Gerbing heated jacket and in Gypsum, CO, Margie gave me her husband's plug in gloves. I don't know I would've made it without them. 
I was difficult to find an open gas station. I needed coffee, very hot coffee. The guy running this Shell (190 Hwy 6) is cool, he rides, and volunteers with some local veterans groups. Really, I'm just happy to be out of the cold and the sharp wind that is slicing my soul.
My Godfather, a retired Army colonel, introduced me to the Iron Butt last year; I'd never heard of it. I texted him earlier that I was starting to feel a little pain and he reminded me that "pain is only weakness leaving the body." I'm excited to see how strong I am when I get home :) I may be unstoppable.  Right now though,  I'll be happy when the skin on my legs returns to a healthy color.

4am- 7Eleven, Brighton, Colorado.

I am exhausted. I'm struggling to keep my spirits in good form.

It took us all night to cross the Rockies on Interstate 70, roughly 250 miles. I just polished off two donuts and am enjoying a black coffee, sent from heaven. I'm struggling to find something positive to say... 
The guy working here is very cool, Jeremy, he has been sharing jokes and singing as he goes about his work. We've been here a while now, probably a half an hour. I'm trying to get my bearings and recover before I wipe out completely.
The sky is starting to lighten, hinting at the sunrise we will be riding into. Since we've been heading east the last few days, I have missed riding into the sunset (Arizona undoubtedly had the best sunset) every evening. And because we usually ride at least part of the night, the only sunrises I've seen were in San Diego when we arrived after the sun came up, and the glimpses from poking my nose out of my sleeping bag when camping.

We haven't spoken much. We just checked our mileage and compared it to the clock, and it looks like we are in good shape to make the thousand miles before the clock runs out. So far we still have about an hour to spare, though we may need it for rest and recuperation. Denver is slowly starting to wake, the blue collars fueling up their work trucks and getting coffee.

"FOR THOSE I LOVE, I WILL SACRIFICE", 
an example of one soldier's honor,
read Time Magazine's article here

Another person told us we were crazy. It's fun to talk to people about the Iron Butt, and bring up the fundraiser so I can tell them about the fantastic things The Wounded Warrior Project is doing. It's certainly improving my mood, reminding me that there are those that suffer a great deal more than I. Sacrificing part of their self, so that I have the liberty to ride a 1000 miles in 24 hours if I so chose.

8am (Arizona time but we've crossed a time zone) - Big Springs, NE

Sunrise on the Iron Butt Run:)

Honestly, the last few hours have been a little bit of a blur... the minutes and the miles have passed quickly. We got to see the sunrise as we rode out of Colorado. It was so gorgeous that we took a mini break to snag a few pics to share. After the night ride from hell, watching the sunrise refreshed me. Margie took the lead from Denver. But I pulled up next to her to ask her to stop, so I could snag a picture to share with you. 

Margie and I have gotten really good at communicating with hand signals. In the space of a few seconds I can tell her: pass me and take lead, I need fuel, hey there's cops nearby, I NEED A DRINK AFTER THAT SH*T... and she often has to tell me that I've left my blinker on... again. Most of our signals are well known to motorcyclists, and are valuable tools. We even invented our own signal that my bike was running hot (when we were in the Mojave Desert). Both our bikes are air cooled (for all you non - moto readers it means we don't have antifreeze to cool our engines and the desert air at high altitudes is tough on the bikes).

The road east of Denver is wide, flat, and straight. And thank heavens, cause I'm beyond tired. We are riding into the Breadbasket of the World, I haven't seen any tractors on the highway, but I wouldn't be surprised. The towns are few and far between, with miles and miles of planted grains and corn. The only place I've seen trees since we left Denver is along creekbeds. I wonder why. (Derp, I just realized that it would be challenging to grow much if you had trees in the middle of your field, shading out your crops. Geez, I must be exhausted, my brain isn't functioning at its best.)

While I was inside getting caffeine and sugar, a man warned me that we needed to park our bikes and get a hotel room. Apparently,  we are riding into a storm. And not just any storm. This one is capable of producing tornadoes. High winds, rain, hail the size of softballs. Gawd. No wonder people have been calling us crazy. I'm gonna put my tablet away, eat some food, chug some coffee, fuel up, and hit the road. We have a little over an hour available and I can almost see the bright lights at the finish line.

10am(AZ time)- Jay Bros Truck Stop, Overton, Nebraska.

Best food ever.

WE DID IT! ERMAGERD! Okay, I'm gonna go pass out on the sidewalk.

Just kidding. Instead I devoured some ah-mazing Indian food. Who woulda thought we'd randomly stumble upon food fit for a foodie at what appeared to be an abandoned truck stop in rural Nebraska!?!?

It's a great way to celebrate the end of this incredible journey. If your traveling through the area on I80, I highly recommend you stop and grab a bite to eat. I'll definitely be coming back next time I return to visit my family. 

We stopped (I don't know exactly) maybe 20 miles up the road and found a witness to certify our mileage since we couldn't find a gas station with time stamped recipts. But, as I looked at my odometer I realized we still lacked a few miles. A quick glance at the clock showed us we had 25 minutes available, so we geared up and hauled ass.

I have a few texts from my mom (a native Nebraskan) and other family members here, worried about us and the storm, so this entry must be short and sweet. I don't want to vist the land of Oz.

Grand Island, Nebraska,10pm-

The tornado force wind blew my bike over at Jay Bros Truck Stop. We spent a half hour fixing it. Luckily,  I have these fantastic aluminum guards over my clutch or else we'd have been in real trouble with the storm pressing down on us. I've had trouble with my kickstand bolt... I won't bore you with those details. We fixed it and pealed out.

I feel strong and capable. Accomplished and powerful. Like I had a tiger by the tail and got away unscathed. I understand now why the Iron Butt intrigues so many riders, and so few complete it. I was tired, but not too tired to spend the afternoon hanging out with my loved ones. I slept briefly, then poured a beverage and watched the sky and laughed a lot. I probably have enough coffee residue in my system to kill a small animal.
I do have to wait to hear from the IBA (Iron Butt Association, yeah it exists, lol) to get my official certification and badge. There are two more levels I can beat. Saddlesore, the challenge we completed, is 1000 miles in 24 hours. There are other challenges- 1500 miles in 36 or 24 hours, or coast to coast in under 50 hours (this is the one I'm most interested in ;)... who knows if I'll try it though.  I hate a little that we had to fly through eastern Utah and the Rockies. I want to be able to stop and drool over the natural beauty, explore the local cultures, and enjoy the local cuisines.
My perspective on traveling has changed a lot. I like not having an itinerary. If I want to go west, I'll make sure my shadow is in front of me in the morning, behind me in the afternoon, and just go. I see myself doing a lot more of mototraveling in the future. Maybe alone, because I'll be hard pressed to find a better traveling partner than Margie :)

Work hard and play hard my friends :)

~Amanda Terranova

Follow me on G+: Amanda Terranova
Facebook: FromTheRefuge
Twitter: FromTheRefuge
Youtube: Amanda Terranova

We are still taking donations through July 4th. 

Paypal disabled

Or you can always donate directly on The Wounded Warrior Project site

One last thing:

I want to send a thank you to Jeremy. He was working the 3 a.m. shift at the 7Eleven in Denver, Colorado. He brightened my life when I was in a foul mood. You really can get anything you need at a 7Eleven :)