Going the Distance
Going the Distance
10,000 miles in 10 days? For riders bitten by the long-distance bug, the question isn’t “Why would you want to ride an endurance rally?” but “Why wouldn’t you?”
ALAN RIDER
CHASING THE SUNSET THROUGH THE GOLDEN light and purple shadows washing over Montana’s Bitterroot Mountains, I’m struck by a moment of clarity: This transcendent experience would make a fine answer to all those people who wonder why anyone would want to enter a 10-day, 10,000-mile motorcycle endurance rally.
Admittedly, the past six days of the Motorcycle Endurance Rider Association’s inaugural 10-n-10 Rally are a bit of a blur, but I can tell you they’ve been filled with unforgettable moments like this. I’ve covered roughly 6000 miles through tripledigit temperatures and marble-sized hail, while living off a diet of Clif bars and beef jerky and wearing the same clothes for way longer than I care to admit. And I’ve loved every minute of it.
Unfortunately, as the sun drops below the horizon, I’m left with the dim realization that even if I could adequately describe this over-the-top experience, it probably wouldn’t help me explain the peculiar satisfaction I get from riding these backto-back 1000-mile days. In fact, the baffled looks I’ve gotten on past attempts have all but convinced me that endurance rallies are one of those activities—like, say, golf—where someone either gets the attraction or they don’t.
That said, the 18 hours a day I spent in the saddle during the 10-n-10 this past August gave me plenty of time to chew on this “Why?” question. And somewhere out there I hit upon three broad elements of the endurance rally experience that I believe make it something every serious motorcycle enthusiast ought to try at least once.
Endurance Rallies 101
Before we go much farther, I should take a minute to explain how endurance rallies work.
The easiest way to wrap your head around the concept is to think of them as two-wheel scavenger hunts. Rallymasters pass out a list of bonus locations where riders are asked to perform tasks—from bringing back a simple receipt to having someone take a photo of you kissing a willing stranger—to earn a specified number of points. The more difficult the assignment, the more points it’s worth.
Because there are always many more bonus locations than any one rider can possibly reach in the allotted time, winning becomes a matter of smart planning. The rider who manages to put together a route that earns the most points, while also making it to the checkpoint!s) and finish line before they close, is declared the winner.
That’s what makes this game as much of a mental challenge as it is a physical test. It also helps explain why many rally riders find the activity so addictive.
People Who Get It
Tell someone you’re planning to ride in a 10day, 10,000-mile motorcycle endurance rally and you’ll likely get one of two reactions. Either the person you’re talking to will be a little awestruck or, more likely, they’ll just write you off as a complete nutcase.
"Having the rallymaster’s list of bonus locations to keep your brain engaged makes it easier to ride long distances without being bored to tears. Rally riders are also a great bunch of folks who won’t look at you like you’re nuts for wanting to do this in the first place.” Gary Deitrick lornmp Irlahn
Oddly enough, both responses point to one of the main attractions of these events. In a world where the average motorcyclist considers 350 miles a long day, endurance rallies offer long-distance veterans and curious newcomers a level of acceptance and camaraderie that’s just downright hard to find anywhere else.
‘Tm a newbie, but this endurance rally thing is pretty exciting to me. Partly because it’s a chance to push my limits. Maybe I can do this or maybe I can’t, but I won’t know unless I try. Combine that with the solitude, and the chance to explore new places and rallies can become
glorious adventures.”Cletha Walstrand
Ivins, Utah
Which helps explain the instant rapport I felt with the 35 men and women who signed up to spend way too much time and money preparing for and running the 10-n-10. Clearly, these are folks who get it.
To be fair, much of the credit for this amiable atmosphere also goes to MERA founder and 10-n-10 rallymaster Steve Chalmers. Unlike some endurance ral-
\ lies where the rivalry between top riders can get a little in^ tense, Chalmers set out to create an event that was about fun first ate an event was and competition second.
Toward that end, Chalmers set up an e-mail list exclusively for riders entered in the 10-n-10. While the list gave us all a chance to get acquainted and share a few laughs, it also turned out to be infinitely practical. From getting answers to my newbie questions on rally strategy to finding someone willing to help me install a few choice pieces of equipment on the 2009 Yamaha FJR1300AE I’d borrowed for the event, these folks couldn’t have been more helpful.
What really impressed me, however, was the extent of their generosity. On two occasions, 10-n-10 riders who’d experienced a crash or a major mechanical meltdown, which they assumed would keep them out of the rally, were quickly offered spare parts and even spare bikes to help them get it together in time to make the starting line.
Months of this electronic interaction also meant the group had some shared history by the time we rolled into the parking lot of the Salt Lake City hotel that would serve as Rally headquarters. Because very few of us had ever taken on a motorcycling challenge of this magnitude, this quick familiarity also helped create an immediate we’re-all-in-this-together bond as we stood around checking out each other’s heavily modified bikes
and comparing notes on the routes we’d planned.
Of course, everyone knew full well that this mingling would be short-lived. Once Chalmers dropped the green flag at 10:10 the next morning, we’d all be entirely on our own.
A Reason to Roam
While the chance to hang with likeminded motorcyclists is great, most long-distance riders will admit this opportunity to rub shoulders and bend elbows is only part of the endurance rally’s appeal.
Though I can’t speak for everyone, my experience in the 10-n-10 convinced me the real allure here is the handy excuse they provide for us to indulge our wanderlust. After all, it’s this insatiable curiosity that explains why long-distance types are always ready to ride that extra 100 miles, for no other reason than the possibility there might be something interesting—a view of snow-capped peaks, the smell of new-mown hay, a funky café that serves up a mean slice of pecan pie—around that next bend in the road.
This desire to go out to see what we can see inevitably leads us wanderlustprone types to cultivate the ability to cover distances with relative ease, partly through building
“Having ridden several mufti-day rallies, including two Iron Butts, I could say that I’m really out to win. But my true motivations have more to do with overcoming the hardships I know I’ll face, the joy of riding into a sunrise somewhere I’ve never been before, and the chance to spend time with people who love doing this as much as I do.” Ken Morton Vancouver, Washington Winner, 2010 10-n-10 RallyE
up a tolerance for long days in the saddle and partly through modifying our bikes to make them both more comfortable and more functional. This gradual process yields one distinct benefit: When you’re able to ride coast-to-coast in a couple of days, this big country seems a whole lot smaller.
The first half of my 10-n-10 ride was a perfect example. Leaving Salt Lake City, I made a beeline for a bonus location on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Standing on that beach watching the sun rise over the Atlantic just a few days after leaving the starting line was as much of a reward as the 8511 points I earned for going there.
That bonus was just one of more than 300 individual destinations our esteemed rallymaster provided in a rally pack that ran more than 40 pages. Unlike other 24-hour and multiday rallies where this information remains a closely guarded secret until just hours before the start, we all received the bonus listings via email a full 30 days before the rally start.
The beauty of this approach is that it allowed each of us to plan a route that suited our riding styles, experience level and interests. Since most of us—myself included—had no illusions of scoring a top-10 finish, the rally became an opportunity to squeeze a year’s worth of everything good about two-wheel touring into 240 action-packed hours.
Easy it Ain’t
While endurance rallies give our penchant for rambling some structure, it’s a decidedly less romantic aspect of these events that motivates hundreds of folks to plunk down their entry fees each year. Namely, the highly concentrated challenge they offer.
Now, before you misinterpret that, let me point out that I’m not necessarily talking about the inevitable competition between the handful of big dogs going all-out to earn a spot on the podium.
No, the true beauty of endurance rallies like the 10-n-10 is that, within clearly defined parameters set out by the rallymaster, all the riders get to define that challenge for themselves.
Take my experience in the final days of the 10-n-10, for instance. After getting through the first seven days of the rally with nothing more than a few assorted aches and pains, I was laid low by a nasty case of heat exhaustion somewhere around the 800-mile mark of Day 8. Eventually, I managed to get back on the bike; but later that night, knowing that I couldn’t safely ride another mile, I checked into a cheap motel and called the rallymaster to tell him he might have to put me down as a DNF. Mentally and physically spent, I was seriously considering pulling the plug and heading for home.
When I woke up the next morning,
I still felt plenty hammered. But as I began to load up the bike, my stubbornness kicked in and I became determined to rise to the challenge of knocking out the last 1500 miles I needed to be counted among the finishers of this first 10-n-10 Rally.
As I pointed the bike toward Salt Lake City, it occurred to me that I’d found the last of the answers for that pesky “Why?” question. Namely, that endurance rallies offer us something that’s all too rare in everyday life: a chance to find out what you’re really capable of by taking on a challenge of such epic proportions—whether it’s winning your first multi-day rally or just dragging yourself across the finish line—that you’re not entirely sure you can pull it off.
Crossing the Finish Line
When I rolled into the hotel parking lot Sunday morning, I was torn between feelings of satisfaction with having accumulated the 8000-plus miles I needed to be considered a finisher and disappointment that I didn’t make my goal of riding the full 10,000 miles over the course of those 10 days.
But the more I talked to the other riders—most of whom didn’t reach the 10,000-mile mark, either, but were every bit as happy as I was just to finish— I recalled what one cigar-chomping rally veteran had told me 10 days earlier with an impish gleam in his eye: That when it comes right down to it, endurance rallies are really all about having fun.
Looking back on my 10-n-10 ride,
I can tell you that that may just be the simplest explanation of them all. E2
