Quick forward, hope you don't mind me doing this Iron ***. Here is the Hoka Hey Experience consolidated into one continuous thread so you don't have to jump around.


My Hoka Hey Experience by Iron ***

Thought I'd post a few thoughts and experiences from the Hoka Hey Motorcycle Challenge.

I know I'm not the only one from this forum to take part and finish and hope others will put their feelings and experiences in here as well.

I am back to work and don't have as much time online on my current gig as I did when I was working for Rascal Flatts or Carrie Underwood but will add to this thread as time and WIFI signals allow.

I want to make one thing clear from the git....It was a great experience that I wouldn't trade for anything! Regardless of what anyone thinks about the run itself, or the people that put it on. If ya didn't do it and wanna trash talk it you can kiss my *** cause I ain't listenin to ya! If ya did ride and completed it then I'm all ears.

Seems most of the participants that do trash it are the one's that didn't have the ***** to finish it or crashed due to their own lack of skill or common sense. Just my opinion but that’s the way it looks to me…..Could be wrong, wouldn’t be the 1st time.

My prayers are with those that did not live to finish and their family's.


As for me....I left my house in North Central Arizona in the early morning of June 9th. I had decided to ride the interstate as I had some friends I wanted to stop and see on the way down and also wanted to arrive in Key West with a few days to just relax before starting the challenge. So off I went on I-40 east bound.

By mid morning I was in Santa Rosa New Mexico and decided to camp there. I found a quiet little campground and set up house for the day. This was the 1st chance I had to try out my “Bushwakka Swag” and “Oregon Bedroll”. I couldn’t be happier with both items and highly recommend them. The swag sets up and tears down in less than two minutes and works as advertised. Although it’s not big it gives excellent protection from the elements and is very well constructed and should last a life time. Another thing I really liked about it is you don’t need to stake it to the ground. A couple of bungee’s attached to the bike or a fence or whatever and you are good to go. Before the Challenge was over I had slept on about every type of surface imaginable on my Oregon bedroll and never had any discomfort at all. It also is ready to go in a very short time and packs easily on the bike.

The morning of the 10th I found myself in a torrential downpour in western Arkansas. I later heard that several people were killed by flash flooding in a campground caused by the same storm I was riding in. This was good prep for the challenge. It rained so hard that my ac got soaked and I had to stop and dry it out under an awning in a rest area in order to keep going as the motor was sucking so much water it wouldn’t keep running. I spent the night of the 11th in a motel in west of Little Rock.

Got up on the morning of the 11th and left in a light rain shower and rode to Birmingham AL to stop and see the crew form the show I had just come off of. They had a show then next day on the 12th and I spent the night sharing a hotel room with one of the other drivers from the tour. Next day I went to the Arena and hung out and visited with the crew and band then left in the early afternoon for Miami. I had an appointment for a major service and new tires at Peterson’s South on the 14th in prep for the Challenge.

Spent the night of the 13th in a hotel in Miami near Peterson’s and was finished and on my way to Key West by 1:00 PM. Service dept staff was great and I would not hesitate to go there again for any service on my bike.

Stopped at a Micky-D’s on the way to Key West and met a couple of guys from Oregon that were riding in the Challenge and we rode most of the way to Key West together. Never saw them again after that.

When I got to Key West on the afternoon of the 14th I tried to check into my room early as my reservation wasn’t until the 16th but they had no rooms so I went to “Joe’s Hurricane Bar” and had some great seafood and a shitload of beer. I woke up the next morning sleeping on a pile of rocks in the parking lot of Joe’s on my Oregon bedroll. Felt great and decided to ride up to “No Name Key” to the “No Name Bar” for some great seafood and a shitload of beer. Woke up the next morning about ˝ way between the No Name Bar and hwy 1 in some bushes on my Oregon bedroll and felt pretty good. Rode back to Key West and checked into my room.

After I got all my **** off the bike and into the room I decided to ride downtown to the Half Shell Raw Bar and eat some great seafood and drink a shitload of beer. I got an early start and was able to half *** sober up and made the ride back to the hotel for a shower and a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

On the 17th I just hung out at the hotel and drank a shitload of beer and ate a pretty good burger.

The 18th was the day I was to register. I went to the Marriott. I got there at 8:00 and was registered and on my way by 10:30 with my Challenge Coin in hand. This brings up one of the few complaints I have about the Hoka Hey….I feel the Challenge coins should have been given out at the finish line and not at the beginning. If I hadn’t finished I might feel differently about it but I did finish and I think the coin should have been earned not bought. Just my opinion. I could be wrong….wouldn’t be the 1st time.

The evening of the 18th (Friday) was when my OL was scheduled to arrive in Key West so I took it easy that day. Mike, the VP of the Co. I work for arrived that morning and he and I rode out to the No Name Bar and had some good seafood and rode back to Key West.

That night the OL came in but her bag didn’t so after I picked her up at the airport we parked the bike at the hotel and walked over to Joe’s Hurricane Bar and ate some good seafood and I drank a shitload of beer and she had some wine. When we got back to the hotel her bag was at the front desk.

Saturday the 19th was a day to just do sightseeing with her and that night was the pre-ride Riders Meeting. The riders meeting was not exactly what I was expecting in that we heard allot of talk about Native American spiritual issues which I’m not going to get into. It all did come together and make sense a couple days after the actual Challenge had started but as I said I am not going to discuss it here.

This brings up one of my other complaints about the Challenge. Although I understood that the organizers reserved the right to change the rules at any time I was extremely disappointed when we were told that the winner would only be asked on the Polygraph if they had received any citations for traffic violations during the running of the Challenge. The original rules stated the winner would be asked if they had knowingly violated any traffic laws. I feel that at that point the Challenge went from being an endurance ride to being a race and that is where I was no longer in the running. I refuse to endanger myself or other innocent people on the roads by riding for prolonged periods at excessive speeds on public roadways.

The next morning, Sunday June 20th at 5:00 AM I was in the parking lot of the Marriott Resort in Key West lining up for the start of what would turn out to be one of the best rides I have ever ridden.


All told I rode just about 3,000 miles from my house to and around Key West prior to actually starting the Challenge.


TO BE CONTINUED…………..

 

First Day of the Challenge.
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It was still dark when Beth Durham started walking down the line handing out the first set of route directions. It said our 1st check point was to be at Bruce Rossmeyer’s Destination Datoyna Harley Davidson in Daytona FL. I thought “that’s not very far”. Then I saw the mileage given at the top of the page. I neglected to bring the route maps out with me when I came back to work but I seem to remember it being somewhere around 680 miles. I think a straight shot up from Key West to Daytona is about 300 miles or so.

This is when we started to realize that this thing was not going to be easy.

I could hear the whinning starting as Beth handed out the directions. I got the impression many of the challengers thought this thing was going to be like a HOG poker run. I guess that’s why only 210 of the original 750 actually finished by the official deadline of July 4th. ***(at the riders meeting we were told 750 had registered and would be starting the challenge)****

The route directions were similar to a MapQuest page with the exception that they did not list any distances between turns. This means that the directions might say “turn right onto W. Bumphuck Hwy” and the next line may say “turn right on Lawson Dr”. Not a big deal except that Lawson Dr might be 50 feet after you make the turn onto Bumphuck Hwy or it might be 150 miles!!!!! This lead to allot backtracking for most of us. You’d be riding along and realize that you hadn’t been paying attention to the street signs for the past 20 miles or so and you would have to turn around and go back and make sure you didn’t’ t pass the road you were looking for. This made it especially difficult at night.

We did allot of zig-zagging and back and forth throughout the entire ride up to Alaska but that is part of why it was called a “Challenge” and not just a ride. That 1st day was ridden through several of those infamous Florida Thunderstorms along with the high humidity that goes along with them which made for a very uncomfortable 1st day for me.

Something else that became apparent that 1st day was that we were going to be visiting allot of Indian Reservations. By the time this was over I had developed an entirely new perspective regarding the original inhabitants of this great country of ours.

There was no rhyme or reason to the starting order. You just lined up as you arrived. They had us 5 across all the way down the main driveway at the Marriott. There were a couple guys in Kilts playing the Bagpipe’s and walking up and down the line. It made it seem kinda surreal (I think it freaked my OL out a little).

I was a little surprised by how many people had come out to see the start. This had been a pretty low key event with about the only publicity being generated by the challengers themselves. I had done several internet searches in the months leading up to the run and could find very little regarding it. There were both locals and many tourists there to watch us head out.

I was about 50 rows or so back from the start line and at official sunrise (approx 0643 hrs) we were on our way to Homer. The start reminded me of an old “hare and hound” race. It was total chaos once we rounded the corner onto hwy 1. Some of us just rode the speed limit while others were running wide open and hell bent for leather. I saw guys passing on the right, left, and in the middle. It was crazy! I stopped about 30 miles out of Key West and filled up my tank and let the rest of the wakco’s fly on by.

As we proceeded up Hwy 1 there were people standing on the side of the road holding banners and cheering us on. We saw this for probably the first 150 miles or so.

Things started to settle down a bit by the time I reached Homestead. I saw one guy getting a ticket there and thought “that’s gotta suck big time. Not even to the 1st checkpoint and already out of the money.
I saw 3 bikes off the road on that 1st day. There were many more before it was over.

With very few exceptions the entire route was on rural roads. We went through a bunch of residential areas. I remember thinking that the people that lived in them must have been hating life for a couple days as Harley’s rumbled down their street at all hours of the day and night.

One thing I noticed as the ride progressed……In the beginning you would run into someone at a gas station or rest stop, checkpoint or wherever and they would be very stoic and tight lipped but as the days went by everyone seemed to loosen up and it went from being a competition to becoming a long ride with a bunch of friends that you didn’t know. I don’t know if that makes sense or not but that is how it became for me.

I arrived at the 1st check point in Daytona about 2000 hrs wet and already tired. Several guys were sleeping in the parking lot and they had the store open and food available inside. I was wearing my Cabella’s GoreTex boots which have always kept my feet dry but had not been wearing my rain pants. My jeans got so wet the water had run down inside the top of my boots and I must have dumped a half cup of water out of each one when I got inside. I got checked in and got my map to the next check point. I was not happy when I saw where it was heading us. Although I had decided I was not going to run it as a race I did want to stick to my original plan which was to ride at least 20 hours a day so after about an hour I headed out into the Florida darkness.


TO BE CONTINUED………

 

The road to "Southern Thunder"
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Prior to getting my directions to the 2nd checkpoint I was thinking and hoping that we would be heading north and west and away from the hot and humid southeast. Much to my chagrin….They had us going north into Georgia and then back south into Florida again where we would ride along the border with Alabama and then cut back into Georgia and Alabama and then into Mississippi towards our second checkpoint at “Southern Thunder Harley-Davidson” in Southaven MS. a distance of 905 miles.

After leaving Rossmeyer’s I stopped at a small gas station/connivance store to top off my tank. My attention was soon taken away from filling my tank by the sound of about 15 Harley’s rumbling up the road and turning into the parking lot. It was one of several groups of riders that would form throughout the Challenge. Some riding together for the entire route others for a few miles or days.

This particular group appeared to be under the watchful eye of a tall lanky New Yorker I later learned was named “Joe”. Joe is with the NYPD and is a stereotypical New Yorker. Loud and proud with a great gift for gab and a sense of humor to match. He had his little troupe fuel up and then assembled them in a corner of the parking lot where he conducted a quick “safety meeting” after which he came over to talk to me about my Springer. After we chatted for a few minutes Joe had his charge mount up and off they rode into the darkness. I would see Joe and several of his group off and on throughout the rest of the Challenge.

I finished my fueling and off I went as well. I rode until about 0230 and finally stopped at a hotel that had several semi tractor trailer rigs parked in its large parking lot. I pulled up between two trailers and put my bedroll down and slept for about 2 ˝ hours. I guess my being a truck driver I felt more comfortable sleeping amongst the Semi’s. As I drifted off to sleep I could hear the occasional rumble of a bike or two going by on the road next to where I was sleeping and I remember thinking ….”I should keep going! They are passing me….this is no good” but the tiredness overtook me and I slept sound for the next couple hours.

When I woke up I jumped to my feet and packed my bedroll on the bike and headed out. I stopped not to far up the road for gas and there were several more riders there. They were the ones I had heard a few hours before going by me as I drifted off to sleep. Seems that when they got to the gas station it was closed and they were afraid to ride any further not knowing where the next gas stop would be so they slept under the canopy of the gas station next to the gas pumps. The station opened a few minutes later and we all gassed up and were once again on our way.

One of the landmarks I passed was the infamous Civil War Prison at Andersonville. I really wanted to stop and check it out but didn’t want to stop riding. I promised myself that I will go back someday. There were several more “go back someday” promises made during the remainder of the Challenge. I guess I’ve got a whole new bucket list started.

It was about that time that I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before we left Key West. I had been drinking and loosing lots of water however. One of my neighbors had made a couple pounds of beef jerky for me to take with me and I had stuck it in the tank bag I bought to hold my maps so I opened it and was happily chewing away as I rode down the road in the rays of the rising sun.

Later that morning I would have my 1st experience with the mysterious disappearing road sign phenomena. The word began to spread through the field that someone in the front of the pack was taking down road signs. At first I thought it was B.S. but as more and more roads started to not have signs I became a believer.

This became a source of laughter for me as I would be going down what I thought was the right road only to see a group of 3 or 4 bikes coming towards me. This of course would cause me to think I was going the wrong way so I would turn around only to see another group going the direction I had just been traveling. I remember sitting at one intersection trying to figure out which way to go as the roads weren’t marked only to see bikes coming from my left, right and in the opposite direction from me all at the same time…..I felt as if I were in an old Keystone Cops film. I just sat there and laughed for what must have been 3 minutes.

I heard many complaining about this type of thing but I just looked at it as another obstacle to overcome. I started just going up and knocking on doors and asking whoever answered where I was and what road I was on? It seemed to work pretty good.

That night I hooked up with another rider. I never even got his name and we got lost together someplace outside of Tupelo MS. We ended up sleeping in the parking lot of a church for a few hours. In the morning we could not agree on which way we should go so he went his way and I went mine. Mine worked and I was at the checkpoint at Southern Thunder within a couple hours of parting company with him. I never saw him again after that. I hope he’s not still out there.

Upon my arrival at Southern Thunder I heard stories from several people about the front runner being a full day and a half ahead of the rest of us. Couldn’t understand how he could have done it but I guess he did. I also got conformation about the mysterious disappearing road signs form the girls doing the check in. they said the first 25 or so riders to check in seemed happy but after that they started getting complaints about the roads not being marked.

After getting checked in and giving myself a “****** bath” in the restroom I took a look at my directions for checkpoint #3. Flaming Gorge Harley Davidson in Rock Springs WY. A distance of 2753 miles. I also saw that this route was taking us into Arkansas and out west. Finally…..some relief from the humid weather was in sight.



Might be a few days before I’m able to post any more but…….”I’ll Be Back”!!!!

 

The King, the dogs, and officer friendly.
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When I started to read the route I was pleased to see that the ride to checkpoint #3 would take me within about 30 miles or so of my house. This got me thinking about my OL and how I could not have done this without her support (read that permission) LOL.

One of the things that kept me going as the hours in the saddle turned into endless days and nights was my daily phone calls to her. The calls were never more than a minute or two. We had agreed that I would call to let her know that I was alive and well and so that I would know she was also.

It bothered me that I had made the decision not to run this as a race and therefore accepted the fact that I would not be the 1st one to Homer. I still rode it hard and long every day and knowing that she was going to fly to Homer to be there when I crossed the finish line kept pushing me down the road when my butt was telling me it was time to take a break.

The route to WY would run us north out of MS into Memphis TN and then to Arkansas. A short section ran down I-55 which was a treat of sorts after the last few days of slow going on rural back roads. One place we passed that I have been by many times in my truck and never paid any attention to was Graceland. There were about a half a dozen people outside the gate looking in and taking pictures and I wondered about all the strange **** that probably took place in that house so many years ago when the “King” was in his prime.

Little did I know that I was in for one of the biggest treats of the entire trip. I have driven the highways of Arkansas countless times but was not prepared for the absolute stunning beauty of the Arkansas Mountains. Every curve brought another scene of absolute beauty for my tired eyes to take in. I kicked myself in the *** more than once for not taking a camera with me on the Hoka Hey. I opted to leave it home because I did not want the temptation to take pictures to slow my progress during the Challenge.

Another thing that I did in preparation for the challenge was to think of anything I could that might go wrong with the bike and what I would need to fix it on the road. I had packed one saddlebag with nothing but spare parts and tools. I had swapped out my spokes for a pair of used centerline wheels form a Fatboy to make a flat less of a hassle (much faster and easier to plug a tire than to R&R a tube). I had a tire repair kit with a small compressor I could plug into a lighter socket which I wired to my battery. I brought along spare throttle cables and a clutch cable. Packed a spare Crank position sensor, jiffy stand spring, light bulbs, dead blow hammer and mallet, zip ties, duct tape, electrical tape, and enough tools to rebuild and 747. I even took a braided oil line in case the cheap plastic one that came with my Harley Oil Pressure Gauge cracked on me.

About 3 am on a moonless night in the middle of a curve in the mountains of Arkansas is when I found out I brought everything except the one thing I would need…….A fuse. As I was rounding a curve my world suddenly went black. The only light I had was from the front turn signal running lights.

I pulled off the road on a narrow shoulder and shut the bike down. That is when I heard them…..They sounded like something out of a horror film. Snarling and growling and barking as if the world was coming to an end. It was two dogs. I had stopped near a house that sat about an acre back off the road and the dogs were not happy about my being there. I could see a porch light on the house but could not make out what kind of or how many dogs there were. I could barely make out a fence in the darkness so assuming the dogs were fenced in I no longer considered them a threat.

As I fished in my windshield bag for my flashlight I could hear the dogs running toward me still sounding the alarm which seemed to be going unheeded by those in the house.

As I was removing the seat I was trying to talk to the dogs to settle them down but they were having no part of that. I shined my light toward the sound of their barking and that’s when I saw a pair of what appeared to be the biggest damn Rottweiler’s I have ever seen. That was unsettling enough but what really got my attention was they were standing about 20 feet from me in the middle of an OPEN GATE! I quickly gathered up my tools and proceeded to move the bike about 100 yards down the road. That seemed to appease the dogs and they fell silent. That is when I discovered I had not brought any fuses or breakers with me. I pulled the fuse for the instrument lights and used it for the headlight and was on my way.

It wasn’t more than maybe 10 miles down the road when I came to a small town. The only sign of life was the local cop and he gave me a couple of spare fuses. Never did figure out what caused the fuse to blow. Didn’t have any more problems with it after that. I think that maybe fuses are like people….They just wear out and die after time.

I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the town that officer friendly helped me out in but I did go through some towns with unusual names. One that has stuck with me was the town of “Howie in the Hills”. If anyone knows the origin of that town name I would love to hear about it.

I soon found a roadside picnic area that had 3 other bikes from the challenge parked in it and there I laid down and took about a 3 hour nap again falling to sleep to the sound of those magnificent V-Twins rumbling down the road.


I should have my route maps in a couple of days and will post the routes for the entire Challenge.

 

Some keep showing up & others just dissapeared!
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I had previously mentioned that I was running the Challenge per the original rules which stated we must obey the traffic laws. I thought that if I assimilated the hare from the tortoise and hare story that I could still finish in a respectable amount of time.

In keeping with that plan I just lumbered along at whatever the posted speed limit was. I would be passed several times a day by riders going considerably faster than myself and I began to notice that I was being passed several times a day by 3 different small groups of riders running together. One particular group was passing me more times than the others. It was made up of anywhere from 3 to 5 bikes with 2 of them being consistently in the group every day. The two that I saw all the time were both riding late model Road Glides.


I eventually met and rode for a short time with the two Road Glides along with a guy on a Street Glide and a rider from Florida on a 2001 Indian Chief. The Organizers had allowed a few Indians into the Challenge but they were not eligible to win the money. The guy riding the Indian was concerned about making it to Homer as he had done considerable performance work to his bike and said he only had a range of about 110 miles on a tank of gas. Myself and the others suggested that even though it violated the rules he might consider buying a gas can to carry with him as you can have distances of as much as 150 miles between available gas supplies on the Alcan.

I noticed that the two Road Glides had “Iron butt” license plate frames and I asked them how they would compare what we were doing to an Iron Butt. One of them immediately answered me by stating…..”The Iron butt Ain’t **** compared to this” to which the other one agreed.

We met just prior to entering the Columbia Ice fields outside of Banff in British Columbia. The temp was in the 40’s and it looked like it was going to start raining. We all stopped to get gas at the same gas station and decided that since we kept seeing each other throughout the days we might as well ride together for awhile. What we actually ended up doing is stopping together. When we left the gas station they all took off like rockets and I just lumbered along.

About 40 miles up the road I came upon them on the shoulder. They were putting on their rain gear so I pulled over to put on mine as it was beginning to rain. That is when one of the Road Glide pilots realized he had left his keys sitting on top of the gas pump 40 miles back at the last gas stop.

The two Road Glides turned around and went for his keys and myself, the Street Glide and the Chief continued on.

Without the Road Glides the other two seemed happy to hang back with me and run the speed limit. When we stopped for gas the next time the Indian would not start (later learned his ground cable from the battery had broken) . Myself and the SG offered to stay with him but he insisted we continue on so off we went. We rode several hundred more miles together and stopped at an R.V. repair shop and decided to catch some Z’s in the parking lot. When I woke up 4 hours later the S.G. was gone. Did not see him again but continued to run into the two R.G’s the rest of the way up to AK.

Also as the ride wore on I started hearing about guys just falling over. They were getting so tired that they couldn’t hold their bikes up and when they stopped all it took was a little too much lean one way or the other and over they would go. I helped one guy pick his Ultra up at a gas station and he told me that was the 3rd time he had fallen over in the last two days. I personally saw this happen at least 5 more times to other riders before the challenge was over. I too notice that my bike seemed to be getting heavier each time I went to hoist if off the Jiffy stand.

As you might have figured out by now, other than at the checkpoints the gas stations were the best place to pick up information on what was going on with the field. This is where we got most of our gossip from. Who’s in the lead? Who went down? Who got turned away at the border? And on and on.

I met a guy at one gas stop who told me he had been riding with his dad. He said that his dad went off the road two days before and was in the hospital in OK. I asked him what the hell he was doing out on the road and he said his dad told him to ride his *** off…..Nothing he could do for him that the docs couldn’t. I don’t know if I could have left my Ole Man in the hospital or not.

I met a father and son team a day later. The son had come home from the sand box a couple months ago and this was his dad’s idea for them to do the Challenge as “get your head clear” therapy for the son. They told me that the day before some guy on a Fatboy had pulled away from the shoulder to do a U turn right in front of the Ole Man…He T-boned the Fatboy’s front forks with his Ultra and totaled the Fatboy. Only damage to the Ultra was some scuff’s on the right lower fork leg.

Most of the accidents I heard about sounded like they were caused by fatigue. I had a bout with fatigue myself that I was told came very close to ending the ride for me and possibly my life. I’ll tell you about that one when we get into Montana (still a couple days riding away).

 

Dust Devils, Great Emotions and a Familar Face!
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It was now Wednesday morning, Day four of the Challenge. Although I did not take my camera with me, I did have my phone. One of the 3 pictures I took with it was of the spot I stopped at for my little nap in the Arkansas Mountains. It was very beautiful and peaceful spot to be sure. I have attached the picture form my cell phone to this installment. I took the picture just prior to my departure. My bike is in the foreground.

I had hoped that my normal sleep pattern would continue on the Challenge. My normal pattern rarely involves more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep at a time. I took a battery powered alarm with me called a “Screaming Meanie” which I use in my Semi when I am working. The Meanie will literally scare you out of bed! I never used it having decided that it would be better to just sleep until I woke up and give my body the rest it needed. So far I hadn’t slept for more than 3 hours or so.

The route now started to head us in a mostly westerly direction. I would soon be crossing into Oklahoma where I was to make my biggest mistake in navigation.

The directions told us to get onto US 60 and run it until we hit US 64 and to then follow US 64. Fatigue had started to catch up with me and instead of taking US 64 I just continued to putter along on US 60….All the way to the Texas State Line!!! When I saw the sign that said “Welcome to Texas” I said OH ****, OH DEAR!

Keeping to my commitment to run the Challenge “by the rules” I turned around and rode all the way back to intersect with US 64. This cost me a half a day but it was a price I had to pay for my lack of attention.

I later learned that I was not the only one to make this mistake but I didn’t talk to anyone that had gone as far as I did before realizing what they had done.

Crossing into New Mexico I began to get my second wind. I also started to see more and more evidence of riders ahead of me not securing gear properly. First I would see a bungee cord or two in the road and pretty soon I would see something that the bungee had been holding on the bike. Things such as small coolers, water bottles, gloves, hats etc. I’m sure this was a result of fatigue as well.

When we got to Raton N.M. I had another chance to run a freeway for a short distance of about 5 miles as Hwy 64 and Interstate 25 become one going south. The route ran us on Hwy 64 into and around “Taos” New Mexico. This became one of those “which way do we go” spots for many of us. It felt like we just kept going in circles around Taos. As pretty a spot as it is I was glad to get out of there.

By the time I was heading south out of Taos it was starting to get dark and I found a small roadside picnic area and spread my bedroll out on a picnic table and slept for a couple hours to the sound of two idling semi’s.

When I awoke I pulled out my “Harley-Davidson Road Atlas” that I brought with me. This was the 1st time I had looked at it. Up until now I had just been following the directions and not looking at the map to see where I was being taken.

Seeing that I would soon be crossing into my home State of Arizona put a smile on my face for awhile. I stopped smiling when I started learning about Reservation roads and how they are marked (or not marked in most cases).

If you look at the directions you will notice that some roads are listed as “BIA” this stands for “Bureau of Indian Affairs”. Some are marked as BIA but most will be marked with a single letter which denotes which tribe’s reservation you are on. So as I was looking for road BIA -13 I passed road N-13. N-13 denotes road “Navajo 13” which it turns out is the same as BIA 13. Here we go again!

If you look at a map of New Mexico and follow Hwy 64 along the top of the state just south of the Colorado state line to Hwy 491 near Farmington New Mexico you will see a little road a few miles south of the 64/491 intersection that heads S.W. into Arizona near “Ship Rock”…That road is BIA 13 but it is marked N-13.

Thinking I needed BIA-13 I just motored on by as did several other’s. About 20 miles down 491 I started thinking that maybe…just maybe, BIA 13 and N-13 are the same road so I stopped at a construction site along the hwy and asked one of the workers. Guess what??? The two are one in the same. Back north I went.

I rode through the Navajo and into the Hopi reservation. Although the scenery was at times spectacular one thing I noticed through most of the reservations that remained constant for the most part was the fact that the land appears to be mostly rock and not capable of sustaining any kind of farming. I have also learned that the availability of water on the reservations is a big issue. To me this is a travesty. I promised myself that I was not going to get political with this so I am going to leave it there.

Once I got to hwy 87 going south I came across and bike being loaded onto a flatbed tow truck and about 20 miles further down I came across a lone rider sitting on the side of the road. I stopped to see if he needed help and he informed me that he had run out of gas! He said he had someone coming to bring him some and told me the rider that was getting loaded on the flatbed had a flat tire. Had I gotten to the flat sooner before the tow truck had arrived we could have repaired his tire with my tire repair kit. I asked the rider that had run out of gas if he had a siphon hose which he said he did not. I did not have one either so I left him to his dilemma and continued on to I-40.

We got to run I-40 for almost 30 miles. That was a treat! I stopped at a truckstop and topped off my tank and then followed the directions to hwy 77 south which would take me into the town of Snowflake Arizona. In Snowflake I would pick up Hwy 60 to Globe and go through a couple of Apache reservations.

Just prior to entering the town of Snowflake I rode through a rather large “Dust Devil”. If you are form the east and not familiar with the term “Dust Devil” it refers to a small tornado type phenomenon which is fairly common out west. They are easy to spot as they contain allot of dirt and dust…Hence the name Dust Devil.

Dust Devil’s can be anywhere from a few feet tall and a couple feet wide up to 100 feet or more in height and several feet wide at the base.

This particular one was pretty large and to my right and moving towards the Hwy I was on. The Dust Devil and I met and it just about blew me off the road along with depositing a large amount of dirt and dust into my left eye. This would be a source of great discomfort for me for the next couple of days. I bought some clear eyes eye wash and it did help some but I was still having problems with my left eye when I arrived in Homer AK.

I began to notice something a little strange whenever I would pass through a reservation and particularly when I would pass through a place that allot of people had died violently in. Places such as Andersonville, Wounded Knee and the Little Big Horn. Initially I would have a feeling of great sadness come over me. It was overpowering and on more than one occasion almost brought me to tears.

The feelings of sadness would soon be replaced by feelings of great strength and confidence and then a peacefulness that I have rarely experienced in my life. To this day I can’t explain it. I have spoken to other Challengers and they have told me of similar experiences that they had.

When I reached Globe Arizona I stopped for gas and gave my wife a call to let her know I was doing OK. She informed me that one of my neighbors wanted to ride out and meet me and ride a bit of the Hoka Hey himself. His name is Mike and he moved to Arizona from Alaska. Mike was a Musher when he lived up north and has competed in several Iditarod’s. He works on the North Slope now and is up on the slope for two weeks and then home for two. It worked out that he was home when I was passing through Arizona.

Mike had wanted to do the Challenge in the worst way but couldn’t due to work. He had been following my progress and was very supportive of me. I gave him a call and we set up a rendezvous point.

Mike met me in Payson at around 11:00 pm. We had a quick bite to eat at a Denney’s and he rode with me to Cottonwood. It was good to see a familiar face.

Mike headed back west and I rode on toward Sedona. I had two close encounters with dear in less than one mile just outside of Sedona. I decided that it would be a good time to take a nap as it had been a very long day.

It was now early Friday morning. Day # 6 of the greatest ride of my life.

 

The Lizard, A big hole, and the MOKI!!!
________________________________________
It was about 0500 hrs when I awoke to the sound of a lizard running past my head as I lay on the dirt road that served as my rest stop. I had fallen asleep 3 hours earlier. That was the fastest I had gotten to my feet in long time.

The town of Sedona lay just a couple miles ahead of me. Sedona is an “artsy” little town set in the Arizona Mountains amongst some beautiful red rock cliff formations that go beyond imagination in both their rugged beauty and how they manage to keep from falling over. Otherwise it is not much different than any of the thousands of other tourist traps that dot the countryside with their spa’s, restaurants and gift shops.

Just beyond Sedona is one of my favorite rides, Oak Creek Canyon. This is a road I have ridden many times and it is a favorite of riders living in my area as well as “flatlanders” living down around Phoenix. Oak Creek Canyon follows Oak Creek for the most part and has some fun twisties but also has a fair amount of deer and elk. For that reason I did not leave the Sedona area until the sun had broken the horizon.

The route brought me out on the east end of Oak Creek Canyon and onto I-17 for a short freeway ride up to Flagstaff and along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.

After leaving Grand Canyon National Park ($12.00 fee for a bike) I was routed north toward Utah and one of the best parts of the ride for me.

Utah has some great scenic areas and I highly recommend it for anyone if in that part of the country.

Utah is also home to a little know 3 mile stretch of dirt road with 10% grades, 1,100 foot shear drop-offs, spectacular views and no guard rails known as the Moki Dugway. You start to see warning signs about 10 miles prior to reaching it.

You can go to:

http://www.google.com/images?q=moki+...w=1280&bih=480

and see some photos of the Moki and the warning signs as well.




When I got to Homer I recall one Challenger asking me what I thought of the Moki Dugway? He told me that he was NOT happy about having to ride it and that it never should have been included as part of the route because he thought it was dangerous! I recognized him as one of the riders that had passed me back in the Arkansas Mountains at an extremely high rate of speed on a narrow twisty road and I told him that I did not think the Moki was dangerous at all. I also told him that what I thought was dangerous were riders running in excess of 70 MPH on roads they had never been on and passing on blind curves after going for days with little sleep! I don’t think he appreciated my comment as he just turned and walked away.

After reaching the top of the Moki I proceeded north toward Salt Lake City and then west into Wyoming where I reached checkpoint # 3 at “Flaming Gorge Harley-Davidson” in Rock Springs. I arrived at about midnight and this was the first time I opted to get some sleep at a Checkpoint.

I threw down my bedroll on the sidewalk in front of a movie theater located next to the Harley shop along with about 4 or 5 other Challengersand there I slept for about 4 hours.

I had ridden over 4,275 miles of the Challenge so far and was less than half way to Homer.

The biggest WAKE UP CALL I have had in a long time was less than 48 hours away!!

 

Ruts, A Teepee, and Fry Bread!!
________________________________________
Saturday Morning, day 7 began as most others had. I woke up and thought “Damn I need a shower”! Showers however were not part of the program for a Hoka Hey Warrior.

The totality of my personal hygiene supplies I carried were….Several packs of “Colgate wisp” single use mini toothbrush/toothpicks, a couple of disposable razors (which I didn’t use until reaching Homer), and three 10 packs of “Quick Bath” moist wipes for dogs. I like them because they are as stated on the package….”extra thick and heavy duty” and they….”remove dirt and clean hair and coat”.

The 1st thing I noticed as I awoke was that it was still dark which meant that I was still maintaining my normal sleep pattern and the 2nd thing was that all the people that were sleeping when I got there were still sleeping!

I hadn’t even looked at my route directions packet when I received it at check in a few hours earlier. I thought I might fall asleep faster if I wasn’t thinking about where we were being routed to next.

What I saw when I did take a look was a stop along the way that made me say “Cool”. If you look about ˝ way down the first page of the directions for leg 4 you will notice a line that says…….”Medical, food and rest stop at Chief Oliver Red Clouds home”. I liked the food part of that as I had been living on jerky and gas station sandwiches for the most part since leaving Key West. What I liked even more was that I was going to stop at a Sioux Chief’s house. That’s like going to the White House in my book.

This day would turn out to be my shortest day of riding. By the time midnight came I had ridden only 530 miles. It would also be one of the most scenic so far.

On the way to Chief Red Cloud’s house I passed through the area that so many of you have probably ridden. That area being the Black Hills around Sturgis South Dakota. The Black Hills as most of you know are absolutely beautiful. I love Spearfish Canyon and could ride it all day long and still want more. I went through Deadwood and saw more non Hoka Hey bikes than I had seen so far on the run. This brings up the observation that I was starting to see less and less Hoka Hey Challengers over the last couple of days. The field had started to really thin out. I was also running into more non challenge riders that had heard about the Challenge than I had previously. All were very excited about it and had many questions and comments. I heard no negative comments from anyone I spoke to and got allot of encouragement from those I met along the way.


Most of the riding through reservations was pretty direct and non eventful. This one however would prove to be a bit frustrating. The frustration came from the fact that the directions to the chief’s house were not very detailed at all. After getting pretty deep into the reservation I came upon the business district. There were schools and several gas stations and stores. Allot of people were out wandering about and I found out from talking to the Chief later that night that there had be a coming of age ceremony for several young men taking place which explained the large amount of people.

I pulled up alongside 3 young men that were walking and asked if they knew how to get to Chief Red Cloud’s home. After a bit of hesitation one of them said he did and gave me directions which I later learned took me in the opposite direction I needed to go to find the Chief’s house. I stopped and asked a clerk at a gas station and got a blank stare. Walking into the parking lot of the station I approached a woman that was filling up the gas tank on her minivan full of kids and asked her. She said that she knew where he lived and thought it would be easier if I just followed her as opposed to her trying to give me directions. It turned out she needed to go the opposite way to get home but was more thanhappy to detour to assist me.

I later learned that many Challengers had not stopped at Chief Red Cloud’s house after giving up on trying to find it. It turned out to be a mandatory Checkpoint and got several riders disqualified.

After several twists and turns and forks in the roads we arrived at the Chief’s driveway and what a driveway it was. Although I did not take a camera with me I have a couple of pictures that were taken by another challenger that show the entrance to the Chief’s driveway and a long shot of the driveway and his house. These I have attached below.

At the head of the drive were a couple of banners welcoming us. At the end of the drive was the house with a large Teepee in the front yard. Between the banners and the Teepee was something that strikes fear into the hearts of many a large street bike/cruiser rider. It was about a quarter mile of twisty, uneven, loose dirt, rocks, and deep ruts.

As I ride an FL Softail with its nimble Springer handling I wasn’t too concerned about negotiating the drive. I did however hear of several baggers that did not fare very well and I spoke to one Challenger that went down on both the way in and out.

I made it in without any real trouble and when I got to the end of the driveway I saw the always smiling face of Beth Durham waiting to greet me. Beth is a wonderful woman and I was always happy to see her. I know she must have been as exhausted as all of the riders were but she never showed it. Upon seeing her I let out a “War Hoop” and gassed it throwing out a shower of dirt and rocks behind me much to her amusement.

After getting off the bike and getting checked in I was told to make myself at home. As I approached the house I was met by “Doc”. Doc was a medic in Nam and as such had endeared himself to most of us that are Vets right from the start. He was at several of the checkpoints when I arrived and it was his duty to give us a quick lookover and determine if we had any physical issues that might affect our ability to safely negotiate the Challenge. He always approached it in a way that you never realized he was in a sense examining you as opposed to just shootin the breeze. He immediately noticed my swollen and bloodshot eyes and asked if I had been getting any rest? I informed him I had been sleeping every night and related the encounter I had had with the “Dust Devil’ in Arizona. He suggested a couple things I might do to help clear it up and I went inside the house.

I have to say that the Chiefs house was not what I had expected the Chief of the entire Sioux Nation to live in. Modest is an understatement. It was however full of people and had a very warm and festive atmosphere. I did not feel like an intruder or out of place at all.

When I walked in the door I was greeted by several people that all seemed genuinely happy to see me. Handshakes and hugs everywhere. I was told to go into the kitchen and have a seat and get something to eat.


When I got to the kitchen I found Whittany the Hoka Hey girl cooking and serving stew, pulled buffalo barbecue sandwiches and fry bread. The buffalo barbecue sandwiches were awesome. For desert she gave me a cup with a slurpy looking concoction in it that I was told to dip the fry bread in. It tasted kind of like strawberries and I couldn’t get enough of it.


After I finished eating I was introduced to Chief Red Cloud. The chief is a slight man. I was told he is 90 years old. He was in a wheelchair and a real pleasure to talk to. He told me that if I wanted to live to be as old as him I needed to get my rest and suggested that I take a nap in the teepee that he had provided outside. Although I wasn’t feeling that tired I told him that sounded like a good idea. I got the bedroll from my bike and had no sooner stretched out than I heard rain hitting the canvas of the teepee. I slept like a baby for 6 hours! When I awoke at 0100 hrs I found a puppy sleeping on my chest and two other challengers sleeping nearby. I exited the teepee to the sight of thousands of stars in the South Dakota sky.

Bikes were still pulling in, the party was still going on and the food was still being cooked. Beth was still outside waiting to greet the riders as they arrived. I did not want to leave but knew I had to.


After securing my bedroll to the bike and wiping the water off my seat I prepared to make the treacherous ride out to the paved road. With only the moon to light my way I was a little apprehensive about riding the dirt (and now mud) ruts again. I thought “I do not want to go down in front of all these people”.

I fired up the bike said my goodbyes and told Beth I’d see her in Homer.

Then I began the ride out of the driveway.

Did I make it?

Stay Tuned…..

 

To many skeeters, to many Troopers, Not enough sleep!

Sunday day 8.


As I pulled out of the yard and onto the dirt driveway I feared the worst. It was dark and the driveway was a little muddy but not as bad as I had expected. I took it slow and made it to the end without embarrassing myself.

After taking a few moments to remember how I had come in I began the remainder of my ride to Checkpoint #4 in Montana. I stopped at the gas station in the center of the business area and filled up and proceeded out of town into the blackness.

The directions had said to turn left toward Wounded Knee on BIA road 27. After riding about 7 miles or so I came to a sign that said Wounded Knee was to the left but could not find a sign saying what road it was.

I made the left turn and rode for over 20 miles with not a hint of which road I was on. This made me a bit nervous so I turned around and rode the 30 or so miles back to the gas station to ask where BIA 27 was. I was told to go out of town the way I had and turn left at the sign pointing to Wounded Knee and I would be on BIA 27. So I had been going the right way.

BIA 27 turned into SD-44 but I saw no signs Identifying BIA 27 and did not see a sign for SD-44 for close to 60 miles.

When I finally did see the SD-44 sign I was relieved to say the least.

Knowing I was headed in the right direction I started to relax a bit and just motored along feeling pretty content.

The ride had started running us more and more on the same roads for long distances as opposed to the constant turning and backtracking that we were subjected to in the early segments.

As I crossed into Montana I looked at my trip odometer and thought to myself “it’s going to be a long day”. I had made up my mind when I left the Chiefs house that I was going to ride straight through to the Checkpoint in Missoula. Knowing I had done only 530 miles the day before, I knew I had at least 821 miles to do today. That was without the added miles from the backtracking I did after leaving the Chiefs house and any more I might add before getting to Missoula. I seemed to be getting better and better at adding unnecessary miles onto my daily totals.

Prior to starting the Challenge I had done my share of “trash talking” to other challengers and one of the things I made sure to point out to them was my ability to follow directions. A skill I told them I had picked up over my many years of long haul truck driving….Show’s what the hell I know!


The directions put me onto I-90 for about 50 miles all the way into Billings. When I saw that I would be going north on 87 up to Hwy 12 I said to myself “I know exactly where I’m going now”. As a freight hauler in the 90’s I used to drive that route a couple times a month on my way from Billings to a grain elevator in Harlowton Montana.

I stopped at a gas station at the junction of Hwy 87 and Hwy 12 to top off my tank and noticed the little bar next to the gas station had several bikes parked in front of it and a group of bikers were sitting in the outdoor area and looked to be having a pretty good time. The urge to join them was almost overpowering but I managed to resist and made the left onto Hwy 12. Hwy 12 is for the most part a long straight stretch of boredom with an occasional small town every 20 miles or so until you reach Helena.

Shortly after passing Helena I was heading north on Hwy 141 towards Hwy 200. I have driven Hwy 200 in trucks also but it had been awhile so I was happy to be on a somewhat unfamiliar road again.

I came across several other Challengers while riding across Montana and we would exchange hello’s at the various gas stops or give a wave as we leap frogged by each other along the way.

I had been limiting my stops to as little time as necessary due to the large number of Mosquitoes that were out in search of a meal that day. I don’t know where the hell they came from but I would stop at a stop light or to get gas and within 30 seconds would be literally covered with the little bastards.

The heat and the boredom were taking their toll on me this day. I am not sure exactly where on Hwy 200 I started to lose it but I know I couldn’t remember at least the previous 30 miles or so when I came back to consciousness after hearing the siren and seeing the lights of four (that’s right four) Montana Highway Patrol cars in my mirrors. The Highway Patrol cars were accompanied by a Ford Explorer which was towing a boat.

I pulled over along the shoulder in front of a long closed up gas station and shut the engine down. It was now dusk. The last I remembered it was still light out.

I sat there on my bike thinking to myself….”where am I and what the hell did I do”?

One Trooper approached me cautiously while the 3 others along with the guy driving the SUV stood back. I noticed the Trooper approaching me had his hand on his pistol. I thought to myself “this is not a good thing that is happening here”.

I can only imagine what must have been going through the Troopers mind as he walked up to me. I am not a small man. Many people have told me that I make my FL Springer look like a mini bike when I am riding it. (see photo below). I had a weeks’ worth of road grim and grit on me and had only changed my pants once and my shirt twice since leaving Key West. My eyes were red and swollen and I probably smelled like a Buffalo.

When he got to me I gave him a toothless smile and said “Good evening Trooper, is there a problem? I’m surprised he didn’t respond with “Here’s your sign.

He asked me how I was doing and I told him that I was a little tired but otherwise OK. He then asked how much if anything I had had to drink. I told him I had drunk several bottles…..of water during the day.

He then asked me to give him my license, Registration, and proof of insurance. I told him that my Reg and Ins cards were in the saddlebag and I needed to get off the bike to get them. He said fine and as I was getting them out he proceeded to tell me that no less than six citizens had called 911 to report an impaired motorcycle rider driving erratically on Hwy 200 heading toward Missoula. He informed me that the person in the SUV was one of them and I had scarred him and his family so bad with the way I was riding that he had followed me for several miles while talking to the dispatcher and was prepared to file a complaint against me for drunk driving. The Trooper also told me that some of the citizens that called said I had crossed into oncoming traffic several times and narrowly had missed hitting a car head on.

I did not remember any of it! The Trooper asked me how long I had been riding that day and I told him I had left the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota around 1:00 am that morning. I also told him I was part of the Hoka Hey and he said he was aware of the run and wanted to know how far I had ridden that day. I punched my trip odometer and it showed 898 miles for the day since leaving the Chiefs house.

The Trooper told the citizen that it was obvious that I was not drunk and having not seen me doing any erratic driving he could not arrest or cite me. I asked the Trooper if I could speak to the Citizen for a moment. He said I could and I thanked him for calling the authorities and apologized for scaring him and his family. That seemed to make him happy and he got in his vehicle and drove away as did the other 3 troopers.

The remaining Trooper told me that he was going to issue me a written warning for failure to maintain lane control and should I continue on and get stopped again it would come up when my license was run and I would then have a problem. He suggested I get some sleep in the closed up gas station I was parked in front of but also told me that he could not tell me I couldn’t drive and if I felt alert enough after our little encounter that the Checkpoint was only about 12 miles away.

I felt I was good enough at that point to make it to the checkpoint so I rode the last 12 miles without further incident.

I got the checkpoint, checked in, got my route to the next checkpoint and I think I was asleep before my butt hit the grass.

The encounter with the Trooper put a whole new light on the Challenge for me. I had not yet heard about the Fatality that had occurred the day before and strangely enough the thought that I had come close to possibly killing myself didn’t seem to bother me at all. What did bother me tremendously however was the possibility that I could have killed or injured some innocent person or persons.

I promised myself that regardless of what happened after that I would not ride if I were anywhere close to being that tired again.

 

A swingin biker and Scooter Surgury.
________________________________________
Monday, Day 9.

I slept for about 8 hours and when I awoke and saw that dawn was fast approaching I felt a sense of panic come over me. The panic subsided quickly once I remembered that the “competition” was essentially over for me. Of course I wanted to finish near the top but the sense of urgency had subsided considerably.


I promised myself that I would still ride hard but not to the point of exhaustion. That turned out to be a promise that was hard to keep but I made every effort to abide by it.


A gas station/convenience store across the street had a few riders in it getting gas and morning coffee and the parking lot and adjacent grass of the Dealership/Checkpoint had a small number of bikes as well. I was not seeing anywhere near the bikes that I had seen at previous checkpoints.


As I got up one of the first things I noticed was a bike with a hammock suspended from the right side of it. That bike belonged to a rider whose name is Mark Wilson. Mark owns a business in W.VA that develops and sells **** for Harleys and he told me that he came up with the idea for his hammock just a week or so before the challenge ( see Mark and his hammock below). I told him I thought he could sell a bunch of those things should he decide to market them and he informed me that he had already applied for a patent and planned on selling them. He just needed to refine it a little and develop applications for the other models in the Harley line up. I plan on purchasing one from him at some point in the future provided it has a high enough weight rating to handle me.


The second thing I noticed was a bike parked on the other end of the lot from me. I had seen this particular bike in Key West. It had caught my interest because it was a bobber style bike which I love because of their clean uncluttered appearance. I asked the owner what year Evo motor it had in it and he responded “86 thru 99, take your pick it has something from most all those years in it”. Upon closer examination I noticed it was a hardtail. I asked if he was riding it in the Challenge and he simply responded “yup”. I also noticed that the gas tanks had been pushed in on each side and a design had been painted in the depressions. I later was told that the tanks were over the 6.2 gallon limit for the Challenge so he had beaten them in with a hammer to get them down to the limit set by the rules. This bike was very Spartan in comparison to most of the bikes riding this event. No windshield, small saddlebags, a bedroll and a cane strapped to the handlebars and not much else.


I had seen and spoken to him again briefly in Oklahoma where I had asked him how it was going? He said that he was starting to feel the stress of the hardtail between his shoulder blades and he thought he had a rocker arm bushing starting to go bad but otherwise things were going well.


When I saw him on this day he had the gas tank, seat, carburetor, and front head, jug, pushrods, and piston off the bike and lying on tarps on the ground next to it along with a rather large assortment of tools.


I said looks like more than a rocker arm to me to which he replied that he had scored the front piston and his wife was on the way with a new one. (They live in Idaho). This guy….whose name I cannot remember for the life of me is what the term “old school biker” was meant to define!


After wishing him luck I walked over to the gas station and had a cup of coffee. As I was walking out of the gas station a rider that I would come to know only as “Kiwi” stopped me and asked if that was me on the side of road the night before with all the cops? I told him it was. He then asked what I had done to get pulled over by 4 police cars? My initial thought was “you’re being awfully nosey for someone I don’t even know” so I told him I had been stopped for speeding and when the cop approached me I said “you’re gonna need some back up if you plan on phucking with me”. He said something to effect of “good on ya” and that was the end of our conversation.


I went back to the checkpoint, gathered up my belongings and looked at my route directions. North to Alaska was becoming a reality. In just a couple of hours I would be crossing the border into Canada.