Cycle-Ergo, the motorcycle ergonomics simulator, is a great online resource for getting a sense of what you'll look like and how you'll fit on a bike. Unlike cars, your options with bikes aren't as easy as sliding your seat back or adjusting the steering wheel. To make ergonomic changes on a motorbike you need to change hardware and mechanically adjust it to make it fit.
The other day I was out on my trusty 2003 Triumph Tiger 955i. I came off a Kawasaki Concours 10 to the Tiger and while the Connie was comfortable, it made my knees ache on long rides. The first time I sat on the Tiger it felt like a bike built by people the same shape and size as me because it is. I can go for hours without putting a foot down without a cramp on the Triumph. This got me thinking about the differences between the big Kawasaki that sits next to the Tiger in the garage these days.
Cycle-Ergo gives me a quick way to check out the differences. Forward lean is much more pronounced on the Concours 14 (12° vs an almost vertical 4° on the Tiger). Knee angle is the same and my knees aren't bothering me on the Connie but hip angle is 6° tighter on the Kawasaki which explains the cramps I was feeling after today.
I sold a Honda Fireblade to bring the 1400GTR in and that bike had an extreme 'sports' riding position which was basically like doing a push-up on the bike (you lay on it) - it ain't easy on the wrists. There are advantages to this aggressive riding position. When you want to get down to business in corners a forward lean gives you a more intimate relationship with the front end, which is why sports focused bikes tend to sit a rider the way they do. If I lived somewhere where roads were dancing with the landscape instead of cutting straight lines across it I'd have happily kept the Fireblade, but in tedious Southwestern Ontario it didn't make much sense.
Today I did a 200km loop on the Kawasaki and the constant lean does make it tiresome on the arrow straight roads around here (I have to ride 40 minutes to find 10 minutes of curves). In the twisties the Concours is much more composed than the taller, bigger wheeled Tiger. The Concours is a 50+ kg heavier bike but you can see in the animation that it holds its weight much lower than the Tiger. In the bends today the Connie was fine but the SW Ontario-tedium I have to deal with most of the time has me thinking about ways to ease that lean.
There are solutions to this in the form of 'bar risers' which are blocks of machined metal that you slip in under the handlebars to bring them taller and closer to you so you're not stooped. For me the lean also means I'm putting a lot of weight on my, um, man-parts, which end up pressed against the tank due to the lean.
Here's the difference between a stock Concours 14 and the Murph's Kit bar riser modification.
I had a look around at bar-risers. There are number of people who put them together including some cheaper Chinese options but I ended up going with Murph's Kits C14 bar risers. Murph is well known in the Concours Owners Group and has been producing Concours specific parts for decades. His risers aren't quite as tall as some of the others and look to solve the problem without over-solving it by giving too-tall handlebars that spoil the lines and the purpose of the bike.
The biggest ergo-thing I did on the otherwise well-fitting Tiger was getting a Corbin seat for it which makes it a long distance weapon. I'll eventually do the same thing for the Connie but I think I can make do with the stock seat this year and then do the Corbin over the winter. That doesn't stop me from mucking around with the Corbin seat simulator though:
By next spring I'll have a C14 that fits but it isn't as easy as sliding the seat back in a car. In the meantime we've got the Lobo Loco Comical Rally coming up at the end of the month. That requires a minimum of 400kms travelled in 12 hours and will need more than that if we're going to be competitive. I'm hoping my bar risers will be installed and I'll bring the good ole Airhawk out of semi-retirement to keep me limber over a long day in the saddle.
If you're thinking, "oh, a long distance motorcycle rally, that sounds like fun, you're out of luck on the Comical Rally, it sold out! Lobo Loco is doing other rallies later in the summer though.
You couldn't possibly hit them all, so route selection is key.
It's a sleepy, summer, Saturday morning in Elmira. The few locals that are already up are walking dogs and taking it slow, but the clock has just ticked over to 8am and we've begun our first long distance motorcycle rally. We fill up, get a receipt showing our start time and place and text to the rally lead that we've started. We rode over to Elmira to start because this is a target rich environment with over 1500 points on tap.
How did we get here? My buddy Jeff met Wolfe Bonham, the creator of this rally, at Lawrence Hacking's Overland Adventure and they became friends on Facebook. When Wolfe announced the rally on there Jeff asked if I wanted to give it a go and a rally team was born! A week before the event you get a rally book pdf emailed to you with various locations in it. You've only got eight hours to connect as many dots as you can and it would be impossible to hit all of them, so you've got to be crafty and find the best route from where you are to where the rally ends in Brantford.
The theme of this rally was birds and bees, so locations had some kind of connection to that idea and included everything from apiaries to bird statues. Since neither of us enjoy urban riding on hot summer days, we plotted a route that would take us cross country and out to the shores of Huron before looping back around to Brantford. Being new, we were afraid we'd bite off more than we could chew; we did anyway despite reducing our route goals half a dozen times.
The morning clipped along as we knocked out 1600 points in Elmira before 8:30am and were in Lucan by mid-morning. Things started to go sideways when we had to navigate miles of sandy cottage roads before eventually getting to Kettle Point on Lake Huron. Turning around from there at noon we were getting tired and the sun was relentless. One of our key goals was to try and get to a bee beard happening at Clovermead Adventure Farm near Aylmer. This only had a twenty minute window and was worth big bonus points. We caught a few more locations before hopping on the 401 and pushing to Clovermead, making it (thanks to a very helpful gate keeper) in the nick of time. Our cunning plan was to use the 401 as a pressure valve if we ran out of time, and it was already doing the job.
The bee beard was brilliant, as was Clovermead in general. A rally like this shows you all sorts of local spots you’d otherwise have no idea about. I was thinking about this as we got out to the bikes only to be told by Google maps that we were an hour away from the finish line with an hour to go! Perhaps the bee beard was a trap! We’d been tired but adrenaline kicked in again, the race to the finish was on! We got back to the 401 and flew on down the 403 elated that we'd made the bee beard bonus but anxious about getting to the finish. The traffic light coming off the highway felt like it was red for an hour! We pulled into King's Buffet parking lot, already full of motorcycles of all shapes and sizes, at 3:56pm; that's tight!
Staggering into the dimness of the restaurant I felt sun-blind. We drank lots of water while we wrote out a clean copy of our rally sheet that had to show times and odometer readings for each stop along with a photograph showing us and our rally flags in each location. A rally volunteer then checked off each photo making sure that it fulfilled the criteria. Most people hadn't eaten during the day so the all you can eat buffet went down well while we handed in scores and had our photos checked.
Our goal was to not embarrass ourselves at our first rally so we were hoping for a mid-pack result. When the numbers finally came in we were 17th & 18th out of 34 finishers. To top it off Jeff won most miles covered and I won the most bee related points trophy (thanks bee beard!).
The camaraderie of the riders is infectious at the end of an event like this. There are no class distinctions between types of bikes and this rally had everything from big Harleys and the latest BMW adventure bikes to a 200cc Yamaha TW200 (which he took over the Burlington Skyway!). Tales of daring do were shared and the overall feel was one of a celebration. Everyone there felt like they'd achieved something difficult and there was a real glow to the competitors, though that might have been sunburn.
Everyone cheered and clapped as trophies went out for everything from the person who got most lost to the top scorers. Riders were awarded for smallest bike, 2-up and most efficient route as well as a raft of other prizes. The top riders scored almost double the points we did, showing real navigation and riding mojo. Afterwards lots of handshakes and names were exchanged and a lot of new friends were made. Revitalized after a big buffet dinner and all that good cheer, Jeff and I saddled up and waved to everyone as we rode into a welcome evening rain. I was only an hour away from home, but Jeff, after already riding almost 600kms, was going to put another 200kms on going to his cottage in Kincardine; that guy’s a machine!
Wolfe Bonham, the creator of this rally, is keen to put on more. As he said in the introduction to the inaugural Birds & Bees Rally, if you're interested in doing more than just riding to a coffee shop and would like to discover new and interesting locations, long distance rallying might be just what you're looking for. I, for one, prefer to ride with purpose, and this certainly gives you one. You can make this as hard or as easy as you'd like and the sense of satisfaction you get at the end is infectious. We're already aiming for a possible October Hallowe'en themed ride that's in the works, maybe with a slightly shorter route this time. Hope to see you there!
Think this sounds like a good time? Keep October 15th open, there is another!
Photos From the Rally (anything with a rally flag in it was actually used for the rally)...
Our first stop 500 feet down the road from the gas station we filled up at. By 4pm we were over 500kms covered, but we also went further than anyone else.
I had no idea this was on the way to Stratford. I intend to go back and have lunch!
Ya gotta hit a lotta apiaries to win top bee keeper!
How to hold a rally flag down at a windy big bird on the Avon in Stratford - no swans out yet though, so no swan bonus :(
A welcome sign to a town starting with B! 100 points! The grass was all trampled down around the sign, we weren't the first.
The closest I got to a bee beard.
Another spot I'd like to return to. Some prime objects d'art for the garage in there!
The last stop before our final highway bombing run to the Brantford finish line.
One of only a couple of stops that were biological rather than rally targets. Jeff's Super10 and my Tiger were flawless.
The difference between these patches and others you might see is that these patches denote hardcore motorcycling skills over astonishing distances and times.
The good cheer was infectious after the rally. It didn't matter what you rode, only that you rode it.
Jeff never says no to free gas! We plotted the longest route, but we spent very little time looking at traffic lights.
Iron horses of many colours - you'll find everything from the RTW adventure bike to big cruisers and tiny nakeds on a long distance rally.
He's been everywhere man, he's been everywhere.
After riding hundreds of kilometres during the rally, everyone saddled up for the last ride home (or to a hotel - a number of riders travelled up from The States to participate, including one who did an 800 mile ride the day before to get there!).
From tiny Yamaha WT200s and KTM 390s to 1600+cc cruisers... there is no 'right bike' for a long distance rally.
We all rode off into the twilight as rain started to fall lightly between lightning strikes. A suitably dramatic finish to an epic day.
We bit off more than we can chew, but still made it in with four whole minutes to spare!
It now has pride of place next to the wine rack, and has left me looking forward to future rallies.
The Inaugural Lobo Loco Birds & Bees Summer Rally Final Results
Jeff does more burn outs than me, so he got longest route.
We were aiming for mid-pack. It doesn't get more mid-pack than 17/18 out of 34 finishers.
The Iron Butt Rally is long distance motorcycling's most challenging endurance event. It runs once every two years in the continental US and Lobo Loco Rally Master, Wolfe Bonham, is a veteran of the event. Wolfe ran the 2023 IBR and has been sharing his ride on Facebook, but he said he's OK with guest posting on TMD, so here is parts 1-3! Eleven thousand miles in eleven days? Getting ready for this, let alone doing it, is an epic undertaking... enjoy!
The Iron Butt Rally is the Superbowl of long distance motorcycle endurance competitions. In the 11 days of the event riders will cover anything from 9000 to as much as 14000 miles (14-22,500kms!), depending on their routing. It is a delicate balance of miles vs. rest. Get it right and you could find glory. Get it wrong and you could find a hospital bed, or worse.
As entrants into the Iron Butt Rally we know more than a year in advance that we've been accepted into the challenge.
Most riders begin preparations at least 6 months in advance making sure their motorcycle is up to the task, entering other smaller competitions to practice routing skills, and doing a bunch of progressively longer certification rides to get your body used to what you're about to put it through.
In my case I had been so caught up in new home renovations and building a massive workshop that I wasn't able to do any of this. In fact, in all of 2022 I didn't do a single long distance certification ride. And, due to border closures, it had been more than 3 years since I had entered a scavenger hunt style rally.
With a mere 2 weeks before the IBR, I put the final touches on my shop, pulled my motorcycles out of storage, and began the process of building a Rally Bike.
I had three 2003 BMW R1150GS parts bikes, one of which had low kilometers, but clutch issues. That was to be my competition bike.
I spent the next 2 weeks twisting wrenches 18+ hours a day, scrambling to get parts ordered and delivered on such short notice.
I ran into clearance issues with my auxiliary fuel tap into my main tank which had me scratching my head for 4 hours. Turns out my other tank, being plastic, was able to flex just enough to clear the frame. Filing down the brass fitting as much as I dared got me closer but I still needed about 1/16". Desperate at 2am, out comes the big sledge hammer. I'm sure that a 16th of an inch bend in the motorcycle's frame won't matter!
Two days before I need to leave for the start line in Pittsburgh I get my first test ride on the bike. I get home after 30 minutes with a long list of things that need to still change or be fixed.
Some parts are not available in time or can't be shipped to Canada before I leave so I opt to have them shipped to the hotel in Pittsburgh. I can do a few last minute installs in the parking lot. These will include my hydration system and some needed wiring for my heated gear.
I'm packing the bike honestly worried I've bitten off more than I can chew.
The bike is untested. Other than little 250cc bikes on the teaching lot, I haven't ridden any big bikes AT ALL this year, and hardly any kilometers last year. Oh, and I'm 20 lbs heavier than I've ever done an IBR in my life, and I'm still recovering from a bad cold/cough with a ton of meds on the bike hoping it all clears up before the start....
Part Two - IBR 2023
Sitting on the Launch Pad
The ride to Pittsburgh was really my first ride of any distance this year. As I settled into the saddle I began to assess potential long term issues. Relearning how to relax my shoulders, relax my grip, sit more upright, etc. Proper body position would become the key to enduring 20+ hours per day on the bike for 11 days in a row.
Arriving at the hotel parking lot in Pittsburgh was a very emotional experience for me. Most of my life has been lived as a nomad, and as a result my base of friends is spread around the globe. With all the CoVid lockdowns of the past year not only did that mean I couldn't compete in the 2021 IBR, but it also meant that I had been cut off from so many of my friends. Seeing them all after so long meant tons of hugs and a few tears.
But I still had work to do on the bike, and the next morning would be the whirlwind of tech inspections and registrations. I went to the lobby to retrieve 2 important packages that were shipped there in advance... and they were nowhere to be found!
The lobby staff said to check back in the morning. This was unacceptable to me. I had tracking numbers that showed both packages had arrived. The morning wasn't going to make them suddenly appear!
After getting more and more insistent, and involving no less than 5 hotel staff, the packages were finally found.
I proceeded to get my hydration system installed, confirmed the new wiring functioned correctly with my heated gear, and made a few more ergonomic adjustments to the bike that had popped up on the ride down.
After some drinks and an excellent Reuben Sandwich with long missed friends it was time to sleep before the chaos of tech day.
The next morning found all the competitors proceeding through a series of lines and inspections; a mini-rally in and of itself. The lead up to the start of the competition is 2-3 days and includes things like a 30 mile ride to calibrate everyone's odometers against each others, safety and capacity inspection for the plethora of different auxiliary fuel cell set ups, confirmation of our satellite GPS tracking systems, insurance, medical evacuation confirmations, and the sobering video deposition of death, where we acknowledge the risks of this competition and wave all liabilities to the organization.
The whole process takes several hours to complete, and my only hurdle was that "Warchild" didn't like the way my fuel cell was vented. An easy, but necessary fix, as you never want to be on the bad side of Dale Wilson.
The rally poster was put on display beginning the speculation by all the riders as to what the overall theme would be. There was a prominent chicken in the poster, and I was convinced the final leg "hero run" would be from Denver to Chicken, Alaska, before returning to Pittsburgh. Running the math it was 6600 miles... just barely doable in the 5.5 days of the final leg if you managed back to back 1200 mile days.
Greg Camp surprised me showing up with Bam Baker, so we all went on an ice cream run after clearing inspection. We were now off the clock until Sunday's rider meetings.
However, on the ride to the ice cream shop I couldn't help but notice the ever present smell of burning clutch from my bike. The clutch didn't appear to be slipping at all, but something definitely wasn't right inside. Would it hold up for 11 days? Would I have to baby yet another bike to an IBR finish, or would it leave me stranded in some place like Chicken, Alaska?!
Part Three - IBR 2023
Cleared for Launch
Sunday afternoon has our standard rider's meeting, following the rookie rider's meeting. After that we just have to anxiously await the dinner banquet where we're finally given the Rally Book that will dictate our fates for the next 11 days.
And before you know it we're all opening our Rally Packs, which seem oddly thin.
The theme this year is food, and while there are not a lot of locations to choose from in the first 2.5 day leg, we are all given identical Bingo cards with 25 restaurant chains on them. To claim each we'll need a photo of our motorcycle with our Rally Flag in front of the restaurant along with a receipt for a purchase inside. This will prove to be quite a time suck. A normal photo stop can be done by an experienced rally rider in under 2 minutes, including photo and paperwork... but going inside for a receipt could take 5-10 minutes each. They aren't worth a lot of points, but if you start to score Bingo rows or columns the points start to add up quickly. Blacking out the entire card is worth an additional 2000 points. I think I'll go for it.
Back in my hotel room by 7pm I start the planning process for my route. We are now on the clock and decisions about time spent planning/routing vs sleeping the night before begin to set in.
The Rally Book is scanned into a .pdf that I can search through while riding. The points, time limitations, and notes are added to the location codes so that I don't have to look that up later... it all comes up on my Garmins. Weather is checked and locations are grouped by point values. It becomes obvious there are 3 distinct routes: Maine, Florida, and Denver. Given our required 2nd checkpoint in Denver I discount that one almost immediately. Maine looks more promising than Florida, but includes several locations in downtown NYC, which always makes me nervous not being from that area.
I opt for the Florida route, with the goal of getting to the daytime only high point Cedar Key location right at sunrise. That will mean skipping a few lower point locations on the way south, and only getting 1-2 nap on the first night. But, doing so opens up some options on the 2nd day to scoop up everything along the Gulf Coast and end up with some restaurants in Houston before pulling the first leg mandatory rest on night 2. Fingers crossed that sets me up to get to the big points group photo just north of the Leg 1 Checkpoint in Tulsa.
I'm happy with my plan, and in bed by 11pm.
The morning comes sooner than expected after a restless night of barely sleeping, laying in bed playing the "what if" game in my head.
Breakfast is shared with fellow riders, some not saying much about where they are headed, and others sharing ideas and concerns.
Bikes are loaded and we are required to be standing with our bikes from 8am until our final odometer readings are taken.
Cory Ure, parked beside me, is nowhere to be seen as rally volunteers are coming down our line. I look everywhere for him, but it's too late. They bypass his bike, and now he'll be held from leaving until all other bikes have left.
Following a brief last minute rider's meeting we all mount our bikes and nervously await the start. Next to me is Lisa Cover Rufo and her daughter Molly, who is calmly sipping on an iced latte! The luxury of being pillion!
Before we know it we're off! This is my 3rd IBR, and it still brings me to tears every time I start. It is such an honour and privilege to be amongst this elite group of riders.
Pulling onto the highway we all start to spread out on our own individual plans and routes.
Who will have the best plan? Who will find glory? Who will struggle just to make the finish, and who won't get back? Will everyone be safe, or will tragedy strike?
I take the ramp to I-79S on a beautiful sunny morning. My die is cast. Little do I know the next 2 days will be some of the toughest, most dangerous riding of my life.
Here's a link to a video of the start. This is not my video, but enjoy.
That's the end of Parts 1-3. Check out Parts 4-6 so to see how Wolfe gets along on the road! And if you want to find the original story itself, you can find Wolfe on Facebook here.
If you want a taste of long distance riding to get started, Wolfe runs Lobo Loco Rallies, some of which you can run from anywhere in the world (the local ones are based in Ontario, Canada). Check it out here: https://wolfe35.wixsite.com/lobolocorallies
I did a 360km-ish kilometre ride on Saturday. All back roads and as twisty as I can find in the farm-desert we live in. I was gone shortly after 8am and had a coffee at Higher Ground before ripping up and down the Forks of the Credit. I was then up past Orangeville to Hockley Valley Road, back through Mono Hills and up to River Road into Terra Nova before coming back down to Horning's Mills and north to Noisy River Road into Creemore. All in all I crossed the escarpment half a dozen times on my way north. By now it was well past noon and into the high thirties with humidity. After a great lunch at The Old Mill House Pub in Creemore I was out to Cashtown Corners to fill up and then past Glen Huron and over the escarpment one more time before heading north to Thornbury Cidery and the cooler shores of Georgian Bay.
Nothing Cools you down like the shore of a great lake on a hot, summer day.
From Creemore on I was soaking wet and sweating freely, monkey butt (red and sore on my backside from wet, aggravated skin) was soon to follow. It wasn't so bad by the lake, but inland it was sweltering. I was standing frequently to try and get wind under me, but by this point my big ride was just uncomfortable. The Macna vented pants did ok on my legs, but where I needed it the most they were just trapping heat and leaving me dripping. I bombed south down Beaver Valley, stopping once at an overlook to finish the Gatorade I had and then on to Flesherton for a stop at Highland Grounds before dodging and weaving south on back roads towards Elora and air conditioned nirvana.
Before I left that morning I learned that Wolfe and Robyn, the founders of Lobo Loco long distance motorcycle rallies, had already started the monumentally difficult Bun Burner Gold, the seemingly impossible fifteen hundred miles (2400kms!!!) in twenty-four hours - yes, that's a 100km/hr average for a whole turn of the earth. You'd need to be making time every hour so you'd have time to get gas, eat, drink and toilet; it's madness!
By the time I'd seen what these two superheroes were going to attempt that morning they had already done more miles than I was going to do all day (monkey butt and all), and they still had the better part of two thousand kilometres to go... in a day! Part of this is making sure you've got the right gear for the job. I'm going to address that in another post, but the other side of this is do I think I can actually pull something like that off. I'm months away from turning fifty and I'm starting to get a sense of what getting older is going to feel like. Doubt is what starts you thinking that you have to act your age. The two doing that epic bun burner are fifteen plus years younger than I am and much more experienced riders. My starting to ride late grates on my nerves. Despite numerous opportunities, events beyond my control conspired to prevent me from finding my way back to a hereditary hobby. Those lost years still haunt me. No point in moping about it. I've gotta grab the opportunities as I find them and not let doubt weaken my resolve. If I want to get an Iron Butt done then I need to get it done. You don't get shit done by moaning about it. But first I've got to get my seat and kit sorted. No point in trying to do a job without the right tools.
