A Moose, Kitty Hawk, and Friends Along the Way

There are moments between scorching heat, the battering of tropical storms, and the glichy nail biting tension of fussy routing software that are just, well, nice.  On Leg 2, riding in the full moon light in the Vermont mountains, a young moose wandered onto the road.  Kirsten stopped.  The moose stopped.  She put her foot down.  The moose looked at her.  “Holy crap!” she said into her helmet and started laughing because the moose looked so confused.  He was huge and gangley, probably a teenager wandering away at midnight for a snack.  After nosing grass along the side of the road for a few minutes, he finally went back into the woods and she was on her way.

Her route took her past home at the end of the leg, just in time for the rest bonus.  As the rally pups and I have decamped to spend some time with family elsewhere, I texted friends close to home to see if they could come up with a surprise.  Being skilled at marathon race sign making, a friend whipped up this fantastic sign, with lights!, and had it waiting at the door when she rolled in.  She had a quick bite and a restful rest bonus and was her way before anyone else knew she had been through town.  Inspired, my mom and nieces sketched additional signs which we sent via text to her at Checkpoint 2… and the signs might just may make an appearance in Provo. 

Sunday morning found a gaggle of DMV locals (from DC, MD, VA) gathered at Kitty Hawk for the opening of the bonus.  What do IBR riders who find themselves in the company of others do while awaiting a bonus window to open?  Tell stories and fuss with their routes.  Later, Kirsten told me that somehow in the conversation a state bonus came up and she saw Bob Lilley busily rerouting on the way out of Kitty Hawk.  “Lilley owes me a beer for that state!” she said.  {Me thinks this is why Jim Owen just smiles and nods if anyone ever sees him at a bonus for more than 2 minutes.}

Along the way, Kirsten’s R1200RT decided to give up its headlight to the cause, having her rolling with aux lights only.  She sent me a text for help.  With a few additional cross-state texts to confirm the type of bulb needed, IBR veterans Cletha and Eric Vaillancourt were on the mission to bring the necessary bulb to the Huntsville checkpoint.  Kirsten rolled into AL with minutes to spare, and within minutes I got a photo of her arrival (thank you Lynne Carey!) and soon, of the offending bulb being replaced.  It takes a village.  And rally spouses appreciate this community of friends and riders as much as the riders.

Leg 3, as promised, has been challenging.  There were several bikes still in the lot hours after one would normally expect to see them depart.  Rally gremlins have been gnawing on the ankles of several of the big dogs.  Bike issues, computer issues, and then Tropical Storm Danny decided to sit over the Southeast.  If you’ve been reading daily reports this week, you’ll see that some riders have paid the toll and are out of the rally for one reason or another.

Tomorrow morning will find me and several other spouses and families flying over riders across the country on our way to Rally-HQ Provo.  Tonight is the Leg 3 rest bonus, and for many, it will be an all-out haul to the finish Friday morning.  Penalty points begin at 8:00 a.m.  It’s hard to describe being at the IBR finish on Thursday night – it is quiet, full of anticipation as riders come in all night long.  There are people to greet them at all hours.  This is our 10^th anniversary of the IBR with Kirsten riding in 2011, 2015, 2017 and 2021.  After 11 days of hard miles and hard SPOT watching, the final night as Day 10 turns into Day 11 is one of the things I love the most about the rally.  This year, with all of the separations caused by COVID challenges, it feels extra special.  Ride hard my friends.  See you at the finish.