An Ironbutt Rally here, in Australia!? That's just too good to ignore (like I would ever miss an opportunity to go out and play this game!) So I left home on Friday headed for Taree, the Rally start and finish. It's a 7.3 hour trip and includes 83 km (as measured on my way home) of 60 to 80 kph roadworks. Mind you, just getting through the lights and traffic of Coffs Harbour always seems like an hour. Into Taree by 5:00. For sentimental reasons, and the fact they let me park in the carport (and it's only $99) I stayed at the Taree Motel of Medieval Banquet fame (the first Rally I ever rode in, in 2014). A short nanna-nap and I was ready for the Chinese Buffet, and a very fine repast it was. Quite a gathering of notables, too, I might add, presided over by Milady and her wounded Lord who recently came second in a jousting tournament wherein he ended up under his steed.
Saturday morning saw a motley crew ranging from a Rally Virgin to four Ironbutt Rally Finishers gathered to share wisdom and skills. The structure of this one was a training opportunity, wherein the experienced rally riders shared their preparation and planning expertise with the competitors. By the time the call went out to go to the bikes, I had achieved the least pre-rally preparation ever! I had decided to head north because it feels vastly safer than heading for Sydney, and there were a couple of big bonuses up there. I loaded every bonus into the GPS and headed off to get as many as possible and scrounge points off sending Check-in SMSes and sleeping. That should get me close to the minimum requirement of 20,000.
The nervous wait for the starter's 3:00pm signal:
The first bonus was just down the road .
However, it had a snag in it- it had a 15:15 to 15:45 timeframe and those who raced in, grabbed their 15:10 photo and raced on to the next bonus just burned 1500 points. Rallies are like that! Once through the first hurdles, I hitched my wagon to Martin Little's highly experienced nouse and threaded through roadworks and up a dirt track to get a winery shot, then tried to match his big Beemer's pace up the Waterfall Way (closely followed by legendary Ironbutt #202, Derrick). Dorrigo photos snapped, and on to Ebor, arriving at dusk.
The bonus in the bag, then off to Grafton for fuel. The sharply winding road down is made more hazardous by serious surface damage in many of the hairpin bends. It was on that section I saw the only roo of the evening, and it heeded the roo whistles and went bush. It was strange riding in the pitch dark and coming upon a house now and then near the road with Christmas lights glowing through the scrub.
After refuelling in Grafton I sent off the first Call-in SMS for 500 points and then headed up the highway for a big bonus on the border. There were two, but I couldn't see myself getting both, so went for the bigger one. Just after midnight, rolling the GPS destination down to zero put me in a parking bay of a Shell servo looking through the window at an ATM. But the Rally book specified an NAB ATM. The protocol calls for a check call to the Head Torturers and a very sleepy assistant Rally Master assured me the Coles ATM docket would qualify for the bonus. It was a short ride to the associated (essential) school bonus and an accidental meetup with Derrick.
That put me within striking distance of home, so I headed there, naturally to the surprise of my wife who, at 1:20am local time added further evidence to my charge sheet of insanity. After the minimum four hour rest break, I headed over to Redcliffe for a decent bonus. Approaching the target with 150 metres to go, there was a barrier across the road for a street market. I parked the bike and walked down to get three required three photos of the threesome.
Note the Rally book to the left, and just out of shot, was my helmet. A brisk walk back to the bike and ready to roll- but no helmet! So an even more brisk walk back to retrieve it and the final leg of the 600 metre sprint to get to the bike. That's rallying for you!
The time stamp shows 07:07 DST. On the road with Taree as destination, the ETA was 14:15 which stood me to forfeit 1500 points for a late arrival, totally wiping out the 910 points I'd just earned. An anxious trip, monitoring the ETA as it trimmed back to 14:00 by Halfway Creek, south of Grafton thanks to the beautiful extended Ballina bypass. I stopped there for fuel and to send in my second Call-in SMS for another 500 points. I agonised through the roadworks, following legalistic Sunday drivers staying 5 kph below the posted limit as per their speedos, which put them 10 kph below the speed limit as measured by the GPS.
I could see my hard-won gains evaporating but the excellent Urunga by-pass recouped some. Just south of Port Macquarie the road opened up, and any attempt to claw back a few precious minutes were thwarted by a plague of highway patrols. One laser gunner on the north-bound side gave me a very long hard look as I rode south a little enthusiastically.
I rolled into the Holding Pen at 13:58, stopping the clock without penalty. Into the "school" to face my Inquisitor. To settle my head at home, I'd spent a little time typing my Ride Log in an attempt to cadge the 1000 points for a tidy Log. Thus I only had to write in the Redcliffe bonus and Call-in bonus and I was ready to front up, having checked several times that my envelope contained all the evidence I needed.
John "Enterprise" sternly asked if I was sure I was ready for the assessment and I began my defence. I lost 800 points soon after for a missing photo- one I'd carelessly deleted from my camera. Further down the sheet I was denied another 500 points for not having the letters "NSW" after "Halfway Creek" in my second Call-in. By then I was grovelling shamelessly, but was finally relieved to be assured he'd found 25,300 points for me and I qualified as a Finisher.
Whew! That's all I was hoping for. The Big Dogs could have the top positions. I am happy just to keep my record of finishes intact. I rode 1482 km in the 23 hours (the 24th hour was the penalty point zone, with a DNF after 15:00).
I only glimpsed the amount of work that had been put into producing the Rally book, and reading its producer, Annette Cudlin's, account of the other issues she worked through while creating it only adds to my admiration for her resolution.
Perhaps my account will encourage others to participate, or equally likely, might serve as a warning to regard such outings as folly. FarRiders have one planned for May next year.
