Utah 1088 - 2004

 

Thursday, June 24^th

This year, in my quest to gain rally experience before the IBR next year, I entered the highly regarded Utah 1088 rallymastered by Steve Chalmers of the Cognoscente Group.  Another friend, Mike Ledbetter, an MTF member and rider during the 2003 MTF 100ccc, had also entered and we decided to meet for the ride to Salt Lake City.

 

Thursday morning just past midnight I pointed my loaded 2003 FJR1300 for Nyssa, OR where Mike and I were meeting for breakfast and then to ride some less traveled roads south along the Snake River before heading due south into Nevada Indian country and high desert.

 

The ride from Stayton to Bend on OR22 and US20 was uneventful and most of the forest rats were out of sight although several larger examples stood watch at several points as I went by headed east.  East of Bend US20 straightens out as it traverses the central Oregon high desert on its way to Burns.  This is prime deer country and my Hella driving lights were a godsend as I scanned the roadsides for hoofed rats.  I gassed up in Burns before setting out for Juntura and the Malheur river valley on the way to Vale and my southern turn toward Nyssa.  Bugs were plentiful along the river and I was soon covered with a protective bug coating.

 

About 5:00am, just after daybreak, I rode down Main Street and passed Mike heading the other way.  Excellent timing as we had both just hit town at the same time.  We BS’ed in a grocery store parking lot, commenting on the buggy morning ride, deciding to take the quick break instead of a sit down breakfast, until the store opened and we bought breakfast snacks.  After that we headed south out of town.

 

The plan was to ride ID78 to ID51 south into Nevada.  This follows the south side of the Snake River until its junction with ID51 east of Grand View and west of Bruneau.  ID51 runs due south through high desert cattle country and Indian reservation land becoming NV225.  This is a quick road with little traffic and little enforcement.  In the middle, or halfway to I80, there are some twisty bits leading up to the Wild Horse reservoir that make it a fun ride.  In Elko we stopped for gas and a break before jumping onto I80 for the ride east to Salt Lake City.

 

Interstate riding is fast but usually not too visually interesting and we made good time trying to reach the motel with plenty of time to make rallymaster Steve Chalmers’ BBQ.  We succeeded and arrived with time to spare after checking in and unloading to our room.  We met and re-met several of the other early arrivals and shared a beer or two between stories.  George Zelenz, Warchild, Chuck Hickey, Ken Morton, HMarc Lewis, Chuck Hartshorn, Stephen Douge, John Langan, Coni Fitch were all evident in the parking lot and at the bbq, just to name a few that I had met previously.

 

As time neared for the BBQ a motel van was arranged to ferry guests to the Chalmers’ residence so that alcohol consumption would not be a detriment to riding back to the motel.  The BBQ was as excellent as reputation had assured us it would be.  Quite a few of the rally entrants were there and we met many new folks with ties to the LD community.  Once fed and watered, the motel bound van rounded up, we headed back to the motel for further alcoholic lubrication and sleep.

 

 

Friday, June 25th

The next morning was Friday; the tech inspection and rally check-in was in the afternoon.  Mike and I spent the morning getting set up for rallying and making final preparations and checks to our existing bike set ups.

 

Sometime after 1:00pm Steve arrived with helper Dave McQueeny and tech inspection began.  This year tech inspection was a self directed proposition.  We followed a printed sheet checking off the correct categories as we went before signing off and depositing the paperwork in the proper receptacle.  Once checked-in and inspected it was off to run the odometer check course which was completed in no time as total mileage was less than 15 miles.

 

With the afternoon to kill Mike and I kicked back doing various bike and rally related tasks while consuming some refreshment.  Later in the evening Steve gathered us all up for a rider’s meeting in the parking lot where he went over some fine points and entertained questions.  Stupid questions got the questioner the dubious honor of holding the rally rock until a new stupid question came up.  Several well known participants got to hold the rock.  Alternate route route sheets were distributed but Steve held off on the main route directions until the rally packs were distributed in the morning.

 

Saturday, June 26^th

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright as we gathered in the parking lot to receive our rally packs prior to the rally start.  Rally packs were numbered but distributed randomly and as soon as they were gathered up participants quickly adjourned to their rooms for route planning.  Mike and I did the same.  We agreed we were not going to run the rally together but we would start off together.

 

Right off the bat we made rookie mistakes.  The rally pack and route sheets were intimidating in their size and complexity.  There was no way we could read through this whole thing, plan a route, and make the start on time, or so we thought.  (Later we would discover that a few minutes spent reading and delaying the start would have served us very well in the end.)  So we skimmed as best we could, noted the larger bonuses and headed off to Antelope Island to begin our rally with a GPS bonus.

 

We were the first to arrive but Chuck Hickey was there soon after while we decided exactly which sign to photograph after my GPS locked up requiring a reboot.  Following no particular route we bagged this bonus and headed south on I-15 running smack into the construction we were warned to avoid.  One particular bonus was a picture of a Utah LEO.  Spying a motorist stopped by an officer on duty we attempted to pull over but there was simply too much traffic to make it safely.  Ever vigilant I spotted another miles later where we could safely pull over, which we did.  The customer, towing a large boat, had the officer engaged as I pulled up behind his cruiser.  I doffed my helmet and plugs, grabbed my Polaroid, and waited patiently behind the cruiser on the shoulder.  Mike had pulled off ahead and walked back to join me.  After completion of the award ceremony the officer walked back to ask WTF I wanted.  As I made my request the officer ran my Oregon plate.  Coming up clean (thankfully) he agreed to the photo and Mike and I quickly obliged.  As be was preparing to leave I walked up to the passenger window, as he lowered it, and asked his name which he provided with a card and off he went.

 

Mike and I geared up and headed south toward the first checkpoint in Price, Utah.  Miles later we made the checkpoint roughly a half hour after the 11:00am opening.  Looking at maps we decided to head further south and bag large bonuses up a dirt road and farther on at some national monuments before continuing to the second checkpoint.  Fast gas and something to drink and we were off after Steve validated our photos of the cop.

 

Just outside Wellington we turned east to catch Nine Mile Canyon Rd, a dirt road and gateway to the largest bonus of the rally.  Trouble was it was 16 miles in and 16 miles back out.  Steve had warned us that it could be fast or dog slow depending on conditions.  It was dry.  And fast.  And very dusty.   We ran in quickly passing others on their way out, took the required bonus photo, and turned around.  Now having taken it easy on the way in I wicked it up a notch having a blast sliding some corners in third gear crossed up like my old dirt bike.

 

Of course my FJR was no dirt bike and I was having too much fun.  Almost all the way out to the pavement I held too much speed at the end of a long straight and did not have enough traction to slow down for the upcoming curve.  Gingerly trying to slow and make the corner as best I could I ran wide into the soft, silty stuff just outside the hardpack.  I instantly became a dirt farmer as the front end first plowed and then planted itself ejecting me off the high side like superman.  I remember thinking, “This is the one thing you did not want to happen in your first competitive rally.”  As quickly as I knew I was going down, I was getting up off the rough ground.

 

The FJR behind me rolled and endo-ed.  It was not pretty.  Nine Mile Canyon Rd. looked like a yard sale as FJR parts were scattered across it.  My fuel cell was in the middle of the road leaking gas, one pannier was beyond that, the other close by me.  My tankbag and contents were scattered among the rest.  My seat was lying on the shoulder next to me.  The bike itself was on its side leaking gas from the fuel cell line.  Mirrors, windshield, GPS, sliders, bar-ends, were all broken off and mixed with the rest of the debris on the road.

 

I jumped up, noticing only a tightness in my right ankle, and began clearing the road depositing parts in a pile on the shoulder.  I picked up the cell and oriented it so it would not longer leak.  A broken audio cable end became the plug for the fuel line leaking on the bike.  Just about then Mike pulled in behind and surveyed the scene jumping off to help me right the bike and roll it to the side of the road.  I then began looking for my glasses, as I am severely nearsighted, hoping they were not lost or broken.  About then I noticed that my head hurt so began taking off my helmet.  My glasses had been pushed back onto the top of my head leaving a gouge for a track to their position.

 

“So now what,” I thought.  We took stock and I reexamined myself.  My right ankle seemed a bit twisted but nothing to worry about.  My head hurt but no more than a headache.  Past that I could find nothing else hurt or damaged.

 

Thanking my lucky stars we began re-assembling my ’03 FJR.  The right side was a total loss.  The nose was pushed in and the plastic was broken, driving light missing, bar-end gone, frame sliders bent over, etc.  Additionally the windshield was broken in half vertically and my GPS RAM mount was broken.  Both panniers were broken so we used cable ties to hold them in place.  My fuel cell mount required some hammering and bending with vice-grips and a wrench to remount it on the bike.  The seat with no catch held it down as it had pulled off.  The magnetic tank bag base was still attached to the tank but the tank bag zipper connecting it to the base had pulled loose.  Mike stowed some of the loose and broken bits as my panniers would not open.  After about an hour of work and rehab we deemed it ready for a test ride. 

 

Lo and behold round the very next corner was pavement.  Damn!!

 

A short ride to the highway later we stopped as I attempted to phone the rallymaster and phone home.  My wife took some convincing that I had really crashed.

 

The bike had ridden fine so far, tracking was straight and true and all my electrical and electronic bits were working.  We noticed my fuel overflow catch tank was still hanging so we tied that back on and went inside for a break.  I washed my face and swallowed four ibuprofen with Pepsi all the while mulling over my decision to continue or head for the barn.  I was beginning to stiffen up a bit and I could not convince Mike I was fine enough that he continue on his own.  I really did not want to ruin his rally too.

 

In the end we decided to see if we could make the second checkpoint in Delta, Utah on time as we had killed two hours already and making the next checkpoint would be iffy at best.  Off we went, back the way we had come up US6/UT91, the quickest way to I-15.

 

As Mike led us south down I-15 some time later I took stock again.  All my helmet audio was also gone so I had no radar in my ear but it continued to work I just had to pay attention to the LEDs.  With only the right half of my wind screen I was getting more air and it flapped a bit.  With no catch on the seat I was holding it and the fuel cell on with my weight.  Its times like this when it’s good to be big.  The bags flopped on bumps but made no signs of coming loose.  The rear of the FJR did seem to be drooping some but the bike continued to track straight and no handling issues were obvious.  So far, so good.

 

About then we came to the exit for US6 toward Eureka, I slowed expecting Mike to get off here.  When it appeared he wasn’t I slowed some more and finally got off as Mike continued south.   After helping me Mike had time to spare, I did not.  I was familiar with this area after riding Blister last year and knew that the possibility for some elevated speeds was greater off the interstate.  Running quickly through Santaquin I saw a sign on the outside of town:  Delta 77 miles.  I had 45 minutes to make it.  I made the best time I could until Eureka.  I knew that south of Eureka there were no towns and the area was quite rural and remote until Delta.  As I passed UT36 and US6 straightened out I bore down and hung on.

 

Arriving in Delta I spied the park and check point quickly, pulled in and dismounted.  Dave McQueeny walked over and I asked about the time.  On his GPS I had 5 minutes to spare.  Four minutes later Mike pulled in after taking a shorter but slightly slower route.

 

At this point I thought what the hell let’s see if I can finish this thing so we planned to bag a couple bonuses to the south, one especially nice across the Utah border in Colorado City, AZ.  I still could not convince Mike to take off and leave me.  Off to the nearby Chevron to gas up and head out of town.

 

By now it was after 5:00pm and we figured we could make the southern bonus before dark.  Off we went stopping in Milford for another bonus on the way before catching I15 south at Cedar City.

 

After riding hard we made Colorado City at sunset and attempted to take our Polaroids.  This was difficult as the glare from the setting sun to the west made the pictures hard to decipher.  I also ran out of film and had to change packs taking up precious time.  We got some mighty long stares from the Colorado City citizens as they drove slowly by.  We figured it was time to get the heck outta Dodge.

 

Another gas stop before returning to I15 was required and then we hightailed it north retracing our Southern trek to Delta and turning north on the now familiar US6.  Close to Eureka again we turned onto UT36 for the ride into checkpoint three at Tooele.

 

It was full dark now and getting close to midnight.  I was beginning to get sore and stiffen up.  Fortunately we missed the recent rains that were evident on the road surfaces.  By the time Mike and I pulled into the last check point I was done in.  My right ankle was so stiff and sore that I could barely walk on it.  My right knee, shoulder, and rib cage were all making me painfully aware of their existence and the fact that maybe I had landed harder than I realized.

 

Sunday, June 27th

I told Mike at this point I was done and just wanted to ride the miles it would take to be a finisher.  To that end we decided to make a run on I80 over to West Wendover, NV to pick up several small bonuses including a casino chip, gas receipt, and marquee photo bonus.  We also bought a six pack of libation for another bonus, but better yet Wendover was 100 miles away and the combined total back to the finish would put us over the required minimum mileage for finisher status.

 

Dawn crept up on us as we headed east on I80 toward Salt Lake and made the exit for the motel.  Surprisingly, there were already several bikes back ahead of us.  Perhaps 6 or 7 bikes were in the lot counting our two machines.

 

The finisher’s banquet was scheduled for later in the day so as soon as Steve showed up we checked in, handed in our paperwork, re-hydrated using the bonuses delivered by entrants, watched the rest of the participants finish, and then went to bed to catch a nap.

 

Sometime after noon we woke up, cleaned up, and headed for the banquet area.  I did not exactly jump out of bed but rather rolled off until my feet hit the floor and then attempted to stand.  Several minutes later I was successfully able to walk but had to listen to my ankle, ribs, and shoulder complain loudly upon doing so.

 

As we gathered in the banquet room and the buffet was served we scrambled for a place in line.  The food was great and the company exceptional.  Steve began the festivities in earnest as we finished our meals.  Door prizes were drawn and many great items were given away including a large stack of boxed helmets that dwindled as numbers were called.  Riders placing were announced and the results can be found on the Utah 1088 website, http://www.utah1088.com .  Every finisher got a clock to go with the shirt, hat, and water bottle we received as entrants.

 

After the banquet the 1088 tradition is that Steve host’s an open bar and this year was no different.  After a few beers and drinks I think most of us were quite ready for some serious sleep.  Some of us attempted to pack up so that we could head for home first thing in the morning.  This is exactly what I did since I was already on my feet; I did not think I would be getting around too well after a full night’s rest.  Mike wanted to ride over to Wendover and spend Sunday night at a casino before heading home.  Not me.  I was beat and just wanted to crash and head straight home in the morning.

 

Monday, June 28^th

First thing Monday morning and Mike and I were on the road early although somewhat after daybreak.  After loading up, attaching my Givi top box and heading north on I15, I noticed the ass end of my bike was hanging kinda low.  Up until now I did not have the box mounted trying to stay lighter for the rally.  Once attached and loaded it was obvious there was a problem when the screws holding the rear fender reflector noisily ripped a gouge in the tread of my rear tire.  The reflector and part of my fender quickly broke off.  I suspected my rear sub-frame had been broken in the crash.  Thankfully the Givi rack is strong and was holding the rear of my motorcycle together.  We stopped for gas on I-15 north at Tremonton where we had a quick, stand-up breakfast and I looked over the FJR concerned that I might not make it home and with thoughts of shipping my Givi top box.  It looked like I had about 3 inches of travel in the rear, at the most, before the fender would rub.

 

I decided to continue and headed northwest once again.  This time I was trying to ride smooth and easy missing as many bumps, holes, depressions, and anything else that would cause the rear suspension to travel as I could.  It is absolutely amazing how many obstacles to that objective there really are, even on an interstate.

 

After a couple more gas/break stops Mike and I were west of Boise and, not needing gas, I headed for home via Ontario where there was much less traffic and I could slow down a bit.  Through Ontario I looked for a UPS or FedEX shipper as my rear travel was down to just about two inches or less.  I was not sure the rear frame would hold together, Givi rack or not, before I made my way from extreme eastern Oregon to the wet side.  Nothing was obvious so I continued east toward Vale and Burns.

 

By now it was past noon and quite hot.  I stopped in Vale for gas and a drink as my jug and hose were non-functioning, thanks to my crash, and I had not bothered to clean them out.  I stopped again in Burns, crossed the central high desert, and made my way into Bend before making my last stop in Sisters.  My traveling speed had dwindled to about 50mph.  Any faster and bumps put the rear tire into the fender.

 

From Sisters through Detroit and the Santiam Canyon to home in Stayton I prayed the bike would hold together.  Thankfully it did.

 

Epilogue

My once beautiful 2003 FJR sat in my garage for a couple of weeks while I mulled over what to do.  We eventually decided not to make an insurance claim.  Everyone I talked to was sure the bike would be an insurance total.  The local dealer informed me they had a customer bike totaled with less damage than mine.  I contemplated a nekkid FJR.    With that goal in mind I began some disassembly.  The rear sub-frame was broken at the weld that held the taillight/brakelight assembly and was free floating.  The angle supports were sprung and slightly bent.  My Givi rack had truly been all that held my FJR together. 

 

Just before WFO-3 at the end of July I had been up to Sunnyside Yamaha to put money down on a new 2005 FJR.  Did I mention that during the rally while on my second phone call to my wife she suggested I just buy a new one if I could find one?  As I was leaving Sunnyside I spied a Honda XR650R for sale out front.  I’ve had my eye on one of these for a number of years and facetiously ask John the sales guy if they’d be interested in my wreck in trade.  To my surprise John said he’d check and that I should get back to him with photos.

 

As time progressed toward WFO-3 I decided to just load it up and drive by Sunnyside on my way to Moscow.  To make a long story a little shorter, Dan was interested in my trade because he was selling me the FJR he had ordered for himself.  I left without my FJR but with a used and good running XR650R.

 

I now have several hundred miles on my new FJR and it’s in the garage now as I modify and add farkles.

 

dougc

9-13-2004