The 2004 Land of Enchantment 1000 - by Matt Lasley

The Land of Enchantment. New Mexico. 1000 miles (minimum). 24 hours. I was finally here, and very excited. I was pretty nervous since I felt pretty outclassed. I'd intended to sign up only after completing the Two-Bits rally and the Colorado FreeWheelers' 1000-in-24. Randy Bishop was doing the Two-Bits rally earlier in the year, and I loved that idea. (Quarter rally... 6 hours. Get it? I sure didn't until he explained it. Clever he, not me.) A practice rally. Test my route planning, less stress, close by, not the whole weekend. And it was great. I got top score even with some mistakes, and I realized that anyone can win with just a few fewer mistakes than the next guy. I felt good after that rally. The Colorado FreeWheelers' 1000 miles in 24 hours was a bit rougher. Holy cow, that's a long way. I gained huge respect for the LD (long distance) riders and those that do rallies, and really had second thoughts about doing the LOE. However, I'd already signed up after more than half the field had filled and I didn't want to miss my chance.

So, here I was, cashing in my chance! I did manage to secure a different bike. My buddy John was to ride this rally with me but an inconvenient sickness and the associated radical surgery kept him out of it for this year. He not only offered me his BMW R1100R, but a ride down and a place to stay! Just doesn't get better than that! (Thanks John, Sherry and Dan!)

Tech inspection was no sweat, and neither was the odometer run. A nice little-traveled section of old Route 66 into the setting sun. Taste of things to come. Rally meeting, lecture by Ira, towels, shirts and rally packs. Yikes! Bonus listing before bedtime? How will I sleep? Some planning at hotel and then at Dan's house.

Basically I spread out the map, circled the bonus locations in hi-lighter and noted the page the bonus was listed on and the point value. John was punching them into Microsoft Streets & Trips while I stared at the map. And stared. And thought. I figured the combo bonuses were key, especially the 2000 point combo-combo (get three combo bonuses). So I was trying to pick out the easiest three combos. I settled on a plan that seemed reasonable (about 1300 miles) and would have some bonuses along the way. Northeast destination, and southeast destination. Minimum requirement was base to destination, back to base, out to another destination, and back within 24 hours. Destination points were not penalized by any time-gate missed, but others were severely penalized. Half the leg was dumped if you missed the middle time gate (12 hour plus/minus 2 hours) and quarter points dumped per 15 minutes at the ending gate at 24 hours. Justifying a late arrival with a big bonus is pretty tough with a percentage penalty like that.

Anyway, we wrote up direction cards and got to bed by midnight. I felt bad for John typing in bonus locations I didn't use and for writing directions I wouldn't use, but... I appreciated the help. This'll be better when we're a riding team instead of a pit crew and rider.

Ride down for the start. Oh the machines. Saw some of them at check-in last night, but here they were ready to rally. Those beautiful FJR1300s. Lovely machines. A pair really caught my eye, and would again at a less giddy time. BMWs, Honda STs a Harley with an amazing auxiliary lighting system (picture reflective salad bowls around the filament). The K1200LT next to me was loaded with two GPS systems, satellite radio, clocks, communications radio and I forget what all. A ST1300 was similar. Just a gadgeteer's dream. I'd later sit at the banquet with Dick and hear how his fifth place finish went aboard that KLT.

Started out, and off we go! I'm in third! Everyone heads south on I-25, and I go north. Why would I want to fight traffic to get the balloon bonus? I wasn't planning to, but the traffic wasn't so bad. Off ramp shoulder, hop off, towel over the seat, shoot the Polaroid against a sea of balloons, and back on. Around the traffic control cones and back on the highway. My first rally bonus ever! My first Polaroid shot in anger!

Northbound I-25 to Santa Fe. End up with two other riders. One in red Aerostich (KLT?) and another in grey or blue gear. Moving through town, the Connie makes a left. I know there are lots of routes, and I figure he knows that one. I'm heading to Alameda. Red 'Stich makes the same turn, but by the time I make it too, he U-eys back around. Hmmmm. I find St. Francis Cathedral as expected and see the Connie pulling away. By the time I finish, Red 'Stich is pulling in behind me "Had to stop for directions".

North on US-285 for Las Trampas. What a wonderful road. No traffic, great turns, great visibility. (Actually being able to see three turns ahead! Not common in Colorado!) Into a little town where I go straight. See two horses walking untended down the street towards town like a couple of ladies heading to tea. Some mean speed bumps and then dirt. Hmmm. I will be doing dirt today, but not here. Double back and see that the intersection in town is quite clear...if you're coming from the other direction. Found church for the second of the churches combo bonus as Red 'Stich was leaving. More wonderful road down into a tiny town where the highway becomes the main road, before coming out to the next highway.

Taos. Did this with John over a year ago. Familiar road. Much more confident. Turns much better. LD can be some good training. Eagle Nest and the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial. Lots of bikes, I think five while I'm there. Hold a towel for someone and they hold mine. Fiddle with my sound system and realize I'm not carrying enough urgency like on my Two-Bits rally. Last out of the lot.

Out to US-64 toward Raton and the first destination. Straight and long visibility. Hmm. If I were aboard an FJR1300 right now... would I be able to NOT be going 140? Raton, gas, and feeling urgent. Didn't see any other bikes. More straight to Capulin, and up to the volcano for that bonus. Met another bike there. Got in after and out before him, so feeling better. Off into the dirt south of Capulin for my "move". Dorsey Mansion via county dirt. Not too confident though, and wasted time stopping at every intersection to recheck my Gazeteer. A big herd of antelope. OH! Antelope right next to the road! Very close as they squeeze through the fence like a bunny to run through the field. Are they really that much bigger than our Colorado animals, or are they just that much closer?

Cows. A whole herd in the road. This happens several times on this bonus. I think there's such a thing as Bovine Gravity. A cow will run to the other cows, regardless of the danger, rather than run away from you. Crossing the noisy sewing machine's path is unavoidable in the face of the bovine gravitational field.

Where are these rocks coming from? Thwack! Boots taking a beating, but how could the tire be kicking them to my boots? Later, once stopped, I would savor the aroma of fresh roasted grasshoppers. Big ones. Not rocks. Someone at the midway stop would ask, "Where the heck did you ride? You're covered in bugs!". Joy.

Smooth dirt. Can see forever. I'm moving pretty good! How fast am I going? 80 MPH!! Holy cow! Something about a modern suspension on straight, far-sighted road with consistent surface... even if dirt. Hey, there's a bike coming! Someone else on this path. Wish he'd stop and tell me where the bonus is.

You notice that when dirt is wet it gets really mushy? Yeah, that mud stuff. Then, when it dries in the New Mexico sun, it becomes hard again? Well, I was checking out a side road, and I didn't align my bike properly (no I'm not going 80 any more, probably 30 here) and the rut is deep enough the wall hits my left fork. WoaOOooh!! Not good. Closest I came to having a bad happening. But, things worked out fine. Must watch road. The road I'm on, not the other road.

On asphalt. The turn should be right here. Don't see it. Town of Farley. Hmm, that's too far isn't it? Check map. Yup. Should've read more carefully. Told me 11 miles north of US-56, mile markers would walk me to it. I putter in search mode, back across dirt, and just barely beyond the surface change there's my road. Much further yet than I expect. Going slow. Dodging cows. Finally! Get the bonus and leave. Turns out I could've gone straight south from there, but... didn't notice. My big 444 point bonus had killed too much time, mostly because I didn't trust my instincts, read the directions more closely, and notice map features. Ugh.

Gas will be tight to Roy. Straight south. Very straight. Illinois straight. Cornfield straight. Roy! Get the Polariod shot. Duct tape comes into play to secure towel against the wind. Now that gas light has been lit for a while. They better have gas here. A 24 hour pump! Yeah! Swipe the card. Pump unavailable? What's that mean? Both sides? Ugh. Putter up to the grocery store. "Where ya riding to?" "Well, I was riding to Roy. Need gas. Heading to the dam. Those pumps aren't working." "How much further can you go?" "About 30 miles." "Oh, there's no gas for 30 miles." ">>!!!<<" "But we'll figure something out, don't you worry!" They call the gal that owns the station and she came and reset the pumps for me. As I was remounting one of them said, "It's nice to live in a small town, isn't it?" Indeed it is, Ma'am...Indeed it is. (Later I found out that John and Sherry had met and befriended a gal from Roy while in Omaha. She knows those folks in Roy! So they unknowingly helped a friend of a friend of a friend. Small world.)

Off to the dam. Last stop of the first half. Will complete the northeast combo. Seems boring enough on the map, and in the distance it looks flat enough, but the road descends into a valley, and I'm in for a treat. Well, I thought I'd be cruising at 80, but this will be more fun. Great visibility through the turns, just a blast.

Dam, bonus, snake? Probably should've gotten gas. I-40 should be fine. It is. Gas. Interstate. Interstates do stink. Should be fast but too much traffic, and too much potential law enforcement. A waste of good asphalt. Following a truck who's passing several other trucks. The sound was felt as much as heard as it over-pressured my right ear. Like standing next to someone shooting an M1 Garand. While my brain was puzzling over the strange sensation of a bomb going off nearby, my eyes noticed the fireball. The truck at 2:00 o'clock had blown a tire. Rubber was flying everywhere. Little pieces, and then the big ol' gators. I'm sure someone behind me got the worst of it, but I was dodging from my position as best I could. After all the rubber was gone, there were still sparks flying from the rim hitting the street. I'd heard about these explosions, now I've witnessed one... up close... too close... that's enough for me, thank you.

Arrive at midpoint at 12.5 hours. Too long. Over 700 miles. Take the 30-minute rest bonus, and it takes me that long just to reconfigure for the chilly night riding ahead. Modified my plan while on I-40. Not going for the eastern combo, but will try for the central combo. Seems the most on the way to Artesia, the southeast destination. A bit over 500 miles. I think I can do this.

Head south, dark now. Lightning in distance, but stars above. See some wet while heading east on US-60. Get distracted by what I think is the bonus, but it's not the right one. Part of the memorial, but not the part I need. South for the bonus. Nothing. Dark. Clear. Quiet. Bunnies. Porcupines. Sleepy. I'd wish for oncoming traffic, but I've been waking up over there. My speed drops significantly, which is even more boring, and I'm not doing well. Make the bonus, and wonder if I'll make it to Carrizozo. More sleepy riding to the next highway. Tempted to sleep right there. 12 more miles. Make it to Carrizozo. Isn't that the pair or beautiful FJR1300s? They're coming back, and I'm only halfway outbound on my second leg. Outclassed I am. I think these were the winning pair. (Ed: The LOE was won by Roger Zieseniss and Dennis O'Neal riding a pair of Concours. And Jeff Kramer rode his Concours to 11th place.) Get gas and ponder my situation. I've got 400 miles of riding, maybe which I figure will take 8 hours and it's 11:30, gate closes at 7. Too close. I'm not making pace. I HATE to DNF, but I'm done. Got to get back to base now in one piece.

Take a nap on the tank bag sitting in the saddle. Feel a nudge, "You okay, sir?" Oh yeah, I'm fine. Relay my story to the deputy sheriff, who looks all of 24 years old. He was getting his midnight coffee. "Well, if you need a place to sleep, I've got a bed you can use." Where do they get all these nice people? I've been sleeping 40 minutes. On the road, with 150 to go, thinking I'll stop every 50 miles.

Thirty-four miles later, I'm dying. Picnic pull-out. Curl up on table under a beautiful clear sky with shining moon past full. If it were raining, maybe I'd be awake better. Sleep for maybe an hour and half. Wake up and roll, with my teeth chattering. Cold. I stop three or four more times on the way back, counting down the miles. Back at 4, compile my bonuses, though I know they won't be counted. Sleep 'til 6 and tell the rallymasters what's up. They mention the Saddle Sore 1000 still available. Hmmm. I thought I needed 1050 on the odo, but I've only got 1027 or so. I sign in, and then head for Dan's. Ask them to witness my odo and arrival which I later calculate to have barely put me over the mileage by about 12 miles. I might get an SS1K out of it.

Pretty down but trying hard to remember the fun parts. Not so keen on rallies though. Then at the banquet I hear about the cow-colliding Okie (he's doing okay I hear). And the photographed quill-keeping tire after a porcupine killing. And then the standings. Bill G was most efficient in third place, and I think I'd trailed with him a bit. Found out his route was similar than mine but without the central bonus. My plan had more points! In fact, it had more than the winners, with 200 fewer miles! Okay, my execution needs a LOT of work, but perhaps I've got a handle on planning. Maybe I will have to do another one of these. I need another bike. I do love a R1200GS, but maybe I should find an FJR1300 to ride... on some dirt... at 80.

-- Matt Lasley, Colorado Springs, Colorado, October 2004