St. Augustine, Florida to Huntington Beach, California in 46 hours, 11 minutes.
by Herbie Saint

Thursday, August 5, 1999
Packing For The Rally
I packed my bike like I never had before. After all, I was packing for the Iron Butt Rally. True, it was still three weeks away, but I was about to ride across country, store my bike and fly home. Then back to Ojai, CA for the start of the rally in three weeks (due to my work schedule). So everything had to be there, except for the clothes which I would return with (hopefully). And what better time to try again for that 50cc that I had to abort due to weather last December. (A 50cc is an Iron Butt Association ride which requires a rider to ride from Coast to Coast in less than 50 hours).



Arrangements had already been made with John Laurenson in St. Augustine, FL to verify my paperwork for my departure the next morning and with Terry Smith in California for my arrival. For some reason, my wife, Catharine didn't understand why I had to go to "St. Augustine, FL" from North Carolina, in order to ride to California ?! I can't exactly explain it either.

So I spent the better part of the morning packing and making sure everything was on the bike in the most efficient manner. The trip to Florida would also be the last test ride for "the freshmaker's" readiness and modifications. One week prior, I had spent an entire day with the good folks at Morton's BMW in Spotsylvania, VA (between Richmond and DC), who gave the bike a complete 9 hour makeover for the Iron Butt Rally. I have to say that the GS has never run better!

My buddy, Dallas and I had also just finished some final metal fabrications for the bike (including my new home-made backrest) and this would be my last chance to make any changes before the rally. They worked perfectly.

I finally left the house around 9am and spent every minute of the short trip listening to the bike. Everything was in tune. I had a wonderful ride. The weather was in the low 100's. But at least it was a "wet" heat. And actually, while I rode down the east coast, the temperature seemed to drop drastically into the mid to upper 90's. I must have ridden through a cold front.

I arrived in St. Augustine around 4:00pm and checked into the Camachee Harbor Inn near John's home. After I unloaded the bike and took a quick shower, I called him and let him know I was there. He told me to walk on over and in a few minutes, I was there. Of course, the first room we went to was the garage where we talked at length about the upcoming Iron Butt Rally. Now...I'm not going to let the cat out of the bag, but John has a (legal) secret weapon that I wish I had set up on the GS. You'll just have to wait and see it in Ojai.

Later that evening, I had dinner with John and his lovely wife at the Harborside Cafe near the hotel. The food and conversation were great. We sat at a table outside on the harbor and I had a glass of wine with dinner to help me sleep a bit. As usual, it didn't help much. I was too excited about the ride. We left the restaurant around 10pm and I went straight to bed.


Friday, August 6, 1999
BunBurner Gold!
I was awake before the Screamin Beakin went off, and my wake up call from the hotel office came after my shower. I was ready. I packed the bike and called John at 2:30am (ET). He was still awake. I believe he sleeps less than I do. I rode over to his place and he signed me out at 2:57am. I rode over the bridge to Vilano Beach to a 24 hour Chevron Station and pumped my first fuel. 3:05am official starting time. My starting mileage was 25,789.

I rode a few hundred feet up the coast to a turnout and collected some east coast sand. 3:10am Next, I pointed the bike west and rolled on the throttle. California or bust !! (in less than 50 hours). It was already warm in Florida and my shield kept wanting to fog up from the humidity so I left it open and wore my glasses.

I rode though Florida mostly in the dark. I stopped for gas in Quincy, FL at 6:40am (ET) having ridden 245 miles.I felt great so I wolfed down a Powerbar for breakfast and pushed onward. Back into the darkness. The sun didn't come up until after 7am. I suppose that's because I was running away from it at that point.

By 9:48am (CT), I was in Mississippi and growing very tired. Guess that lack of sleep was working on me. Usually, as I ride into daybreak, I have a renewed sense of awareness but not today. So I stopped in Ocean Springs, MS at 9:48am (CT) and fueled up the bike and myself. I gulped down a coffee inside and went back out into the heat with a Gatorade and a pack of Twinkies. While fueling the bike, a man walked over to me and said, "you wouldn't happen to be one of those Iron Butt riders, would you." Holy cow! I'm famous. I've been recognized! I proudly said, "yes, and in fact, I'm in the process of riding a 50cc to California right now." His name was Gary and he turned out to be a great guy. Really interested in the Iron Butt Association. He said he had never ridden a 1000+ mile day but I could tell...it won't be long before he does. :)) We talked for about 10 minutes and I pardoned myself to the highway. He understood.

As I rode through Louisiana, I took the I-12 around New Orleans. In Jennings, LA, I stopped again for fuel at 1:28pm (CT). I ran into a lot of construction during the last 50 miles or so which slowed me down quite a bit. I don't like this stuff when I'm on a timed ride !!

Texas must have been having Trooper awareness day. They were waiting at the front entrance and all along the way. I have never seen so many state troopers. I was most certainly aware of them. I decided it best to run close to their posted (way too low) speed limit.

The sky turned dark and it began to storm before Houston, but I must have been on the edge of it because 20 minutes later, my friend the sun came back out...just in time for Friday afternoon Houston traffic.

I missed the HOV lane as I drove into the city. So I worked my way over to the left, figuring I would just catch the next entrance onto it. There never was a next entrance. Apparently, if you don't work in a specific section of downtown and don't get on I-10 at a very specific onramp, you don't get to use the HOV lane, no matter who you are! I couldn't believe it, as I sat in traffic with my feet on the ground, listening to the engine bake itself and watching other motorcycles whiz by...those bastards. I also noticed that the vents on my helmet and my Aerostich don't work so well when it's 100+ degrees and I'm not moving. And the truck drivers on the CB weren't too happy either. Such language...my word !!

About an hour later, I began to break free from that cluster-muck and stopped for more fuel in Brookshire, TX. I had ridden 1007 miles at this point and still felt great. 5:07pm (CT). I ate one of my meal bars (that I bought from a health food store). At this point I should also mention I have a 1/2 gallon water cooler that I sip from all day to stay hydrated. I dumped the old water and filled it up again with ice and new water. Next stop...San Antonio, TX

I also realized at this point that I was riding at a BBG pace. I had promised myself that I would not try for one in order to stay focused on finishing the 50cc. But I'm not always the sharpest knife in the drawer so I began to focus on the BBG naturally (A BunBurner Gold requires a rider to ride more than 1500 miles in less than 24 hours).

So onward I went...in search of a dual prize. A 50cc and a BBG! Through San Antonio and into the darkness once again. In my route, I heard a trucker on the CB mention how unusual my motorcycle looked to another trucker. I chimed in and proudly began to tell him about my Auxiliary fuel tank and other accessories. His handle was the "Bald Eagle" and he also rode motorcycles. He and his wife, "Sparky" were a driving team. I briefly described my quest to them and he solemnly asked me to "be careful." I said I would as I rode out of range. I have always promised myself that I wouldn't push too far. I usually know when to call it a day. And today was no exception.

I still felt great as I pushed on to Ozona, TX. And as the sun went down, I began to see deer! Lots of them. Thank goodness for the PIAA lights I got from CBT Imports earlier this year. They may not guarantee me anything, but maybe I'll have just two more seconds to react and that may be enough to keep me alive. Luckily, none of the deer ever did anything. I don't know if it was the blinding light, my cheap deer whistles or my ugly face that scared them, but I don't care. Whatever works.

Now pulling into Ozona was a treat. Something like I had never before experienced. It was 10:52pm (CT) in total darkness. I had been riding through the vast expanse of Texas in the dark for a couple of hours now and I needed more fuel. At this time of night in unfamiliar territory, I try to buy fuel every 150-175 miles. Well, as I left the interstate, in the dark at 70 miles an hour (roughly), onto the exit ramp, I found dirt. That's right...the exit ramp was a Dirt Road! What a nice surprise. The Freshmaker and I did a little dance as we slowly brought things back under control. Every road in this town was dirt.

I found the only open gas station (which also billed itself a truck stop...maybe so...way out here) and filled up. 1390 miles into the day. Only 110 more miles for a BBG and I still had 3 hours to get it. I asked the clerk if there were any more fuel stops before and after Ft. Stockton. His reply was "I dunno." Oh good, I'm riding I-10 in Texas in the middle of the night and he "dunno" where the next gas station is. It actually reminded me of how most people keep themselves confined to such a small piece of their world (i.e. their comfort zone). But not me. I'm a long distance rider so of course I follow the dirt road back to the interstate and head off into the darkness once again.

The CB radio continued to be my best tool at night. Truckers warned of deer and patrolmen parked in the median in the middle of nowhere. I would also radio ahead and ask the drivers if they minded me burning the PIAA's. They were amazed that I would bother to ask and always obliged. They understood that I needed them for deer sightings.


Saturday, August 7, 1999
My 50cc Quest
Sometime after 1:00am (CT), I crossed the 1500 mile mark just before Fort Stockton, Texas. My second BBG !! I pulled into Fort Stockton, Texas at 1:23am (CT), fueled up and collected my prize BBG receipt. 1515 miles in 23 hours, 18 minutes. I rode over to the Motel 6, rented their last dirty little cheap room, unloaded the bike, left my wife a message and went to sleep around 2:30am.

I slept four solid hours before that freakin Screamin Beakin reared it ugly noise at 6:30am. It took me a few minutes to get going. So I showered, made a few phone calls, loaded the bike and checked out at 7:50am. Not my best time but today was only going to be an 1100 mile day and I had roughly 20 hours to do it in. Shouldn't be a problem. And lucky for me, it was already hot! (so I wouldn't have to worry about snow in the desert :) I usually like to be on the road before the sun comes up, but I felt that getting enough sleep was most important to finish a ride like this.

A rider's view of Texas...all day long

By El Paso, the temperatures were in the high 90's at 10:17am (MT). I stopped to refuel and add new ice and water to the water cooler. At El Paso, I had ridden a total of 1764 miles since leaving St. Augustine the day before.

As I crossed over into the Land of Enchantment, I was attacked by an army of Alien's who were shocked at the burns to their sensors when they probed the freshmaker's exhaust, and left earth rapidly. Not really, but it sounds good. Actually, not much at all happened during my short time in New Mexico. Except that I could feel the rise in temperature almost immediately after entering the state. And one of the only things I really noticed along this desolate stretch of highway was this welcomed sign to let me know that I'm not alone. And believe it or not, there were several hitchhikers along the road. I saw these signs all the way to California along I-10. Mental note not to sleep beside I-10.

"Welcome to I-10"

Then came Arizona. Hot, hot Arizona. My little Riderwearhouse thermometer said 112-114 degrees. I believed it. I was constantly sipping water from the cooler. Sipping the cold water actually kept me cool all day long. The Aerostich got a good workout that day. There's a lot of truth in staying insulated out there. I was never uncomfortable. Never tired or exhausted. I just kept moving and kept drinking water while riding and gatorade at gas stops.

At 12:50pm (MT), I stopped in Willcox, AZ for fuel and a lunch bar from my tankbag. Mmmmm. I don't know what people could possibly see in steak and lobster when they make these things!! Delicious.

Not long after leaving Willcox, I came upon an overturned minivan in the eastbound lanes blocking traffic. The family seemed alright and there was plenty of help around. One of the truckers on the CB said he had been behind the van when the right rear tire just exploded and the van lost control and flipped. That made me think twice and three times about riding anywhere close to tractor-trailers (never a good idea). Lots of dead tire carcass on that stretch of road. I also noticed in Arizona that the highway patrol spends most of their time assisting motorists. That's a brutal heat out there and it loves to kill cars.

My next fuel stop was in Phoenix, AZ at 3:38pm (MT). I hated stopping that motorcycle. It was so miserably hot in that city that I don't know how people live there. Oh yeah..."it's a dry heat." Well, your oven's a dry heat too. I fueled up, added more ice to my water and quickly returned to the interstate once more. By now, I was riding into that intense desert sun for which sunglasses are no good. I rode for more than an hour before it started getting on my nerves. I needed some sort of visor to block it. Eventually, I took a metal paper clamp and secured an extra glove onto my open faceshield which I could adjust up and down. Damn, I'm brilliant. Actually, desperate was more like it because there was no way I was going to stop riding at this point.

Red Rock in Arizona, as seen from "the freshmaker"

I crossed the California border around 6pm (PT) and stopped for fuel in Blythe. 2374 miles in just over 42 hours so far. I was about 4 hours from the California coast and I still had 8 hours for my 50cc. Things were lookin' good...well, kind of...

I returned to the highway with my last tank of fuel before my prize fill-up and receipt. Just as I entered the highway, there was a flashing sign which read, "Strong crosswinds, delay advised." Huh? I've ridden through these southwest crosswinds before. They can be a little unnerving. But I don't have time for a delay. I'm riding a 50cc...and I'm almost there!!

Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, the wind and gusts became stronger and stronger. Truckers were asking each other if it was safe to continue on. But they just weren't that bad for "the freshmaker." She rode right through it. I just tucked in close to the tank and kept going west, bracing myself for invisible gusts of wind.

"the freshmaker" watches sundown with me in the California desert

Just before Palm Springs, the sun finally settled into the horizon. I managed to grab my little disposable camera and click this shot just before the sun disappeared. Desert sunsets are magical. Particularly when you're delirious from riding across country on a motorcycle :)

As I entered Palm Springs, the winds were gusting wildly, spinning (at supersonic speed) the hundred's of futuristic windmills which surround the city's hilltops. I began to think I'd crossed over some undefined threshold into The Twilight Zone. A dense fog-like haze was also blowing through the city. I wasn't sure what was going on and I began to have a sinking feeling that my 50cc might once again be in jeopardy due to weather conditions. But not yet. With only two hours to go, I would endure most anything.

About 30 minutes later, the skies began to clear and the winds calmed a great deal. But traffic began to pick up as I reached the outer limits of the Los Angeles area. Near San Bernardino, I left 1-10 for the first time since Florida and merged onto CA60 through the hills. From there onto CA91 into the Los Angeles area.

Traffic on CA91 was intense and fast. It's a hard road at night on a motorcycle when you're not very familiar with that area. Freeway exits around LA are subject to be on the left or right without warning. And highways merge together and split off about every 10 miles. It's fast paced fun, but I was ready for this trip to end, safely. The temperature had dropped suddenly to somewhere around 70 degrees which was freakin' cold after riding all day in the desert. But very welcomed nonetheless.

From CA91, I exited onto CA39 (Beach Blvd.) and started my slow quest down to Huntington Beach. CA39 is a 4-lane city street with stoplights for about 50+ blocks.

I finally reached Huntington Beach, CA around 10pm (PT) and drove straight for the beach to collect my finishing sand. I had 4 hours to spare and I was wired. I rode to a public parking lot and quickly parked the bike, collected my container and ran out onto the beach, still wearing my helmet and Aerostich suit. I fell to my knees to collect my prize sand and realized that there were these little campfires all around me. And at all of the little campfires were these young couples making out, at least until they saw me. I looked around and had all eyes upon me. I just collected my sand and walked back to the bike. C'mon, I thought....this is California. Surely, they've seen stranger things than this.

I immediately went back up Beach Blvd and found a Chevron station with pay-at-the-pump. Fueled up the freshmaker and collected, "MY PRIZE RECEIPT." 10:16pm (PT). Ending mileage 28404 (2615 total miles). I had completed my first 50cc with a bonus BBG to boot in 46 hours, 11 minutes. What a good trip and confidence builder for the Iron Butt Rally. I needed that. After logging my necessary final information, I went inside the store and bought a six-pack of cold beer and a pack of cigarettes (I like a smoke once in a while). Then I went in search of the hotel for which I had made a reservation.

And thank goodness for reservations. They were holding the last room for me. I'd sorta figured that Saturday night at Huntington Beach, CA might be busy. I stayed at the Best Western on Beach Blvd. And they were very nice about allowing me to park in front of the office, and behind a wall blocking a street view to 'the freshmaker." I unloaded the motorcycle to my third floor room (via elevator), and ordered a pizza to go with my beer. Then I called Terry Smith to announce my arrival. I don't think I woke him up at 11pm but I was certainly more wired and awake that he was. He just laughed and told me to drink a couple of beers and get some sleep. "We'll take care of the paperwork in the morning."

So that's what I did. After leaving Catharine another message, I popped a top on a beer and the pizza arrived as if on cue. I wolfed down a couple of slices to get the taste of those wonderful meal bars and powerbars to go away, drank a couple of beers and fell into a deep sleep before I ever got to smoke that victory cigarette.

Sunday, August 8, 1999
Homage To A Friend
No Screamin Beakin today. I woke up at my leisure around 8am. Sleeping that much felt so good, I thought I had done something wrong. In the moments after waking, I began to re-enter reality and realized that I had indeed accomplished a 50cc. I've wanted one of these a long time. I called Terry and arranged to meet him at his house for the ceremonial signing of the paperwork, then onto a real breakfast.

At breakfast, I told Terry that I had been thinking about something I wanted to do on the trip to California. I had been thinking about Ron Major during most of the trip. For those who don't know, Ron Major was an icon in the long distance riding community, having finished several Iron Butt Rallys including a first place win in 1991. But more than that, he was always a source of encouragement and advice to anyone who asked. I had only met Ron a few times in my life before he passed away, but some of the things I learned from him, I still utilize every ride.

Although the rules for a 50cc don't require you to actually visit the beach and collect sand, Ron always encouraged riders to do just that. He felt (and I strongly agree) that it defined the spirit of the 50cc experience. Ron ran countless 50cc's and it is well known among the long distance riding community that he collected vials of sand from each coast everytime he rode one. What I wanted to do was visit Ron Major's grave in Long Beach and say a few words. I hadn't been back since his funeral almost two years ago and with the Iron Butt Rally just weeks away, I couldn't think of a more appropriate time.

We went back to Terry's house after breakfast and called Jim Robertson (Narley) who Terry was sure would remember how to get to Ron's grave in Long Beach. Jim remembered and I met him in Long Beach about 30 minutes later.

We searched and found Ron's grave and stood by him for a few minutes in silence. I took some of the sand I had collected from each coast during my ride and sprinkled it over his grave, asking him to watch over each and everyone of us during the upcoming Iron Butt Rally. I know he will be there with us.

**I thought for several days whether or not to mention this part of my journey in this ride report, but I came to the conclusion that if it reminds us to think about Ron Major and his contributions to our sport, then I should.**

I said goodbye to Jim and rode to Ojai where I met up with Pat Widder (Widder Lectric Vests) who graciously offered to drive me back to LAX Airport for my flight after storing "the freshmaker." We had some time so we had dinner at Wakiki Willies in Marina Del Ray (that Pat Widder is one good guy to us LDRiders!).

I flew back to North Carolina that night on the red-eye, arrived around 10:30am (long layover in Cincinnati), went home, took a shower and was sitting back in my office by noon on Monday. I couldn't believe it was over that quickly. But for now, at least I have the 1999 Iron Butt Rally to look forward to...and I do. See you in Ojai.

Herbie Saint