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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)
I thought this might make an interesting longer-term Thread for folks to contribute to. Doesn't matter, for this purpose, if your longest-ever one day ride was 100 miles (or kilometres) or 1000+ - others would, I'm sure, enjoy reading about it, the where, when, why, how, and any interesting things arising, plus many pix, of course.

Here's my kick-off contribution, being my Journal notes from the solo round-Oz GS trip I took too long ago and that I mentioned recently. Enjoy...

Day 13 – Thursday October 7th – Kununurra to Broome. 41°C on the road, 44° in Fitzroy Crossing.


I intended to ride only as far as Fitzroy Crossing today, about which I had heard a lot of negative reports – even the friendly quarantine officer at the NT/ WA border said not to stay too long at either Halls Creek or Fitzroy Crossing. He was right about Halls Creek – dirty, grubby place full of dirty, grubby aborigines, including lots of kids – why aren’t they at school?

I’d booked ahead at the Fitzroy Crossing Inn, which was about three ks off the highway along a rutted track. It must have been pension day as the Inn was surrounded by scores of aborigines, all with their wine casks and slabs of beer. I didn’t even stop – just did a u-turn and headed back to the highway, determined not to give them a chance to play with the bike in the night! After a second stop at the Fitzroy Xg servo for yet another drink of milk I set off for the extra 400ks to Broome.

Luckily I had started very early, getting up at 4.45am and on the road by 5.15, first light. An easy ride, with less of the Kimberley landscape to see, but still some of it among a lot of plain, small trees and shrubs, etc., with hills in the background.

The road was pretty good, although it fell away a bit after about 150ks west of Kununurra. But at least there were hills and valleys to see, and some bends, to re-learn how to ride!

Had several stops for petrol, five in all I think, and the day got HOT - 41°C indicated on the bike gauge, although the oil-temperature gauge never went past four bars. Bike still running perfectly – and next to no other traffic.

Had many drink along the way – realised just out of Kununurra that I had left my two drink bottles behind in the ‘frig, but they were easy enough to replace, I just bought 2 x 600ml bottles of water and clipped them in.

About 35ks from Broome (and the ocean) the temperature fell quickly and dramatically to only 30°C or so – lovely! It was very hot off the bike, but OK while on it and moving, but I’ve got a couple of sore spots (heat-rash?) on the upper underside of my thighs, I guess from sitting in damp underclothes all day as a result of the high humidity. Five days in Broome will fix that!

Arrived in Broome at 5.20pm, after exactly 12 hours in the road, including five stops just for petrol and drinks. 1046ks for the day, so that equals an average of 87kph. Most of the way I pinned the throttle open to 120kph and kept this up literally for hours. Needed to slow down often, though, to 80kph or so for the many one-lane bridges across the hundreds of creeks here.

Entered Broome just on dusk, so saw nothing: straight to the motel, where the manager gave me a huge upgraded apartment, air-con, cooking facilities, the lot. I left the bike outside overnight on the tiny verandah, and plan to take it to Annie’s for safer keeping tomorrow morning.

Showered (beautifully refreshing) and shaved, unpacked and cleared away, then walked about a kilometre to the Roebuck pub – had a nice salad, two beers, glass of wine. Not too bad a price – salad $17, wine $5.80 or so.

Tomorrow (Friday) I’ll just relax a bit, get the bike away, do a little grocery shopping for five breakfasts, do some overdue laundry, have a swim, and generally relax.



After-note: there were two lots of unintended and unexpected consequences from this day’s marathon ride. First – happily, the mate I was to stay with in Perth, another 2400km further south of Broome, and seven days more riding, is a pharmacist, and he made me up some witches brew that fixed my sore thighs – although some minor blemishes remain to this day (pix on request). I also learned the importance of proper underwear as well as ATGATT on long distance riding.

Second – much more importantly: as one does on long and undemanding hours in the saddle I had the chance to think, and ponder the plight of our many disadvantaged aboriginal (indigenous) inhabitants in these very remote areas. I’d also seen something of this on other trips into the outback. What I saw disturbed me, but what could I do?

Well, I found I could do something, and not long thereafter, on returning home, I signed-up as a volunteer to work with indigenous families, communities, individuals, work that took me to some pretty remote parts and that exposed me to some experiences I’d not otherwise have had. I like to think I made a tiny difference.
 

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Documented Iron Butt Saddle Sore 1000 (1000 miles in 24 hours), Arlington Virginia to Branson Missouri USA, April 1997:

IBMWR Past Events: The 2nd Annual Blitz To Branson, April 12th, 1997 My story's at the bottom, natch'. I did just shy of 25K miles that year. Those were the days my friend... Dave M.
What a great write-up of what must have been a memorable ride, Dave - many thanks for posting. I'll re-read the others again later. 1000 MILES (1600km) in 24 hours - that's quite a challenge. Here in Oz we have a group/ club called the FarRiders - one of their events is to ride 1000 kilometres in 24 hours, but your's outshines them greatly!

I well recall 1997, the year of your report. Wow - that's over twenty years ago! In that year I bought my first new boxer twin, an R1100 R Roadster, and never looked back! Happy days indeed! :grin2:

More on this Thread topic please folks!
 

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My longest ride was in 1976, I lived on the isle of Benbecula in the Outer Hebrides. My father was in the RAF and had been posted to Gibraltar but all my friends were in the Plymouth area so I used to ride my little Suzuki GT250 from Benbecula to my mates house in Cornwall, 770 miles and two ferries slipstreaming lorries most of the way.
 

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Discussion Starter #5 (Edited)
Wow! That's quite a trek, mj! That little Suzuki must have been buzzing its head off! How long did each N-S and return S-N leg take, I wonder? FWIW - we lived for a short while not far from St Mellion in Cornwall, very much before I was even aware of BMW motorcycles. My doggie, of course, is Scottish in origin...

Thanks for input! :nerd:
 

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My mates dad used to own the Sun Inn at St Mellion before the golf course and pleasure centre opened, he sold up just as the building works started. They were very kind to me allowing to stay with them for almost free while my parents were in Gib. We used to ride around the area often calling into the Sun pub in Hatt, the landlady used to sell cheap scrumpy to anyone who could reach the bar.
I had to time my ride to coincide with the ferries but I think it used to take about 20 hours, slipstreaming saved a fair bit of petrol but was very dangerous. I often grabbed some sleep in a layby sleeping under the bike with the exhaust running down my back. Those were the days when I was young and indestructible :wink2:
 

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Documented Iron Butt Saddle Sore 1000 (1000 miles in 24 hours), Arlington Virginia to Branson Missouri USA, April 1997:

IBMWR Past Events: The 2nd Annual Blitz To Branson, April 12th, 1997

My story's at the bottom, natch'. I did just shy of 25K miles that year. Those were the days my friend...

Dave M.
I like to do the Iron Butt challenges as well - within reason. I've done a few 1000s, and I think my max was just over 1200 in a day - but I've yet to attempt the Bun Burner 1500 Gold.

This fall I'm hoping to do the 48 states in 10 days challenge, which I've started planning a route for. Hopefully my work schedule allows...
 

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1235 km

It was the summer of 1980-81 and I was heading from Brisbane Qld back to see family in the Adelaide Hills SA for Christmas, a distance of 2035 km. No, I wasn’t going to do it in one day – after all, long distance touring wasn’t my bag and my bike was a hard core sports bike. The plan was to split it in two, and a colleague was to be my travelling companion. He’d recently had the head re-done on his Ford Escort RS Cosworth twin cam and wanted company should something go wrong after the refurbishment.

With his maximum revs limited, we doodled off out of Brisbane towards Warwick at modest speeds until at Cunninghams Gap where I couldn’t resist the curves and overtook him to have some fun up the climb. By the time I got to Warwick, a couple of hours after our departure, I was in dire need of a pit stop. At the first servo on the outskirts of town, I parked the bike out front in good sight and dashed away for a quick splash (or not so quick). I came out and sat on the bike, ready for my travelling mate to catch up. I waited. And I waited, imagining him by the side of the road with the bonnet up.

After half an hour I concluded the worst had eventuated and retraced my path to where I last saw him—a distance of 50 kilometres, only to find that he was nowhere to be seen. He later told me that when he saw me head off up The Gap, he stepped on it a bit to ensure he didn’t lose me, and failed to see my bike out front of the servo. So I’d lost an hour and a half or so and had the rest of the journey to myself.

By evening, I’d made it to Gilgandra, a distance of 800 km from Brisbane, plus the 100 km loop searching for my companion—a couple hundred short of the plan, and leaving a tad over 1200 to do the following day. I found a cheap bed for the night at the Royal Hotel, a venerable red brick establishment with an upstairs verandah and shared ablutions for house guests. Being young and fit, I slept fine in the single bed that was likely much older than me.

There’s little to say of the next day’s ride—there isn’t much out there. I got to Broken Hill at four in the afternoon and figured my destination was just down the road. Well, it turns out just down the road was 515 km and the road kill was getting thicker. My mount wasn’t as uncomfortable as some might think (and as mentioned earlier, I was young and fit). It had a friction lock on the throttle so I could sit up and rest against my Army duffle bag that was strapped to the home made rear rack (1” flat steel, painted in Cold Gal). A suit bag with my uniforms lay on the tank, with the handle looped over the steering damper knob—I was heading on to a training course after leave, hence the extra luggage. The bike would slow marginally as it climbed a rise, then gather speed again on the downhill then across the dry ford to climb again. Creeping past cars was quite amusing with the bike stretching out in front of me while I sat almost at the back wheel; there were a few double-takes at the apparently riderless bike at the driver’s window.

In the warm summer I was riding in two-piece leathers and as the night cooled, I became rather chilled. This led to frequent stops to warm up, making my day longer than it might otherwise have been. I arrived to a dark house around midnight, quite weary by then. Rather than wake Mum, I climbed through my old bedroom window and hit the sack.

After a good sleep, next day I decided to ride down through the Adelaide Hills to the city. It was the era before 530 O-ring chains and I hadn’t looked at my bike’s chain after leaving Brisbane. What I didn’t realise was how loose it was, and on the winding Lobethal-Norton Summit Road, the rear wheel suddenly locked. I immediately pulled the clutch, to no effect, and slithered to a halt. The side of the chain had caught on the chain guard bracket and pulled the guard into the spokes. Nothing catastrophic like a gearbox failure that had immediately sprung to mind before I alighted from the bike.

I’ve done quite a few Canberra-Adelaide trips in a day since then (about 1160 km) but have not since eclipsed 1200+ km in a day, notwithstanding having owned a couple of bikes much more suited to the task. But then I’m older and a little wiser these days.
 

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Great idea for a forum thread!


My first overnight road trip was the summer of 1977 ...... I bought my first road bike (a 71 R50/5) for $900 to ride from Detroit to Alaska and back with 2 high school buddies who also bought /5s also just for the trip. I was 22 at the time and it seemed like a good idea, why not? how hard could that be.....it would be an adventure! right?
I duct taped up my windshield and front fender in Detroit to survive the Al-Can Hwy stones, bungee corded my back pack, sleeping bag and tent on the back of the bike and took off Aug 1st. We rode 9000 miles in 30 days including one 900 mile day across Montana, North Dakota and Minnesota on the way home so no 1000 mile award but close. Camped out every night...saw the northern lights in Saskatchewan while sleeping in a cow field between the cow pies ....great trip!!


....I still own the bike! ....retiring next week so I will have more time to fully restore it.
 

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Discussion Starter #10
Great story, trialsalot! I guess we were all 'young and foolish' - and unbreakable and immortal - at some past time in our lives! Best wishes for your retirement.
 

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Discussion Starter #11
Great idea for a forum thread! .
Thank you, trialsalot - I do my best! :smile2:

As I said in my opening thoughts to the Thread, it doesn't matter if your longest ride to-date was only 100 km (or 60 miles) - or even if only ten! - let's hear about it please! They don't all have to be marathon gruelling adventures.

That said, I'm enjoying these tales from the distant past!
 

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Discussion Starter #12 (Edited)
Stimulated by the interest in this Thread I began to look back through the rather thick photo album and Journal I wrote up after my round-Oz trip. I now find that the 1046km leg from Kununurra to Broome was not, after all, my Longest Day: that came on the penultimate day of the ride, when I travelled from my son's home in Little River, halfway between Melbourne and Geelong, Vic, and Narrabri, NSW.

That leg of the trip was 1123km (673 miles), and unlike the Kununurra to Broome distance was this time quite intentional, albeit much less interesting!

My notes for that day are very brief - a mere five lines. I guess that I was just looking forward to my own home, my own bed, and my wife (no doggie then!).

Arriving home the next day after a mere 600km, my sole comment is 'And very glad to be home!'. Mrs Suburbia had pinned a large 'Welcome Home' banner on the garage wall, alongside a large map of Oz on which she'd traced my progress. Happy days! :grin2:
 

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Discussion Starter #13
By evening, I’d made it to Gilgandra... I found a cheap bed for the night at the Royal Hotel, a venerable red brick establishment with an upstairs verandah and shared ablutions for house guests. Being young and fit, I slept fine in the single bed that was likely much older than me.
I can relate to that, Pz! I'm not sure of the year, but recall that it was marred over the New Year period by howling gales in the Southern Pacific and Bass Strait which played havoc with the annual Sydney to Hobart yacht race, and sadly several competitors' lives were lost. This was all unknown to me at the time, for I was on a loop from Melbourne (home then) along the Murray and back - but I do recall very strong headwinds. I too found a cheap pub for the night in Echuca, and clearly recall that a room and bed like yours cost a princely $18 - doubtless breakfast was an extra!

I will forever remember that, as the room was beyond any doubt the barest and most stark you could possibly find in any 'hospitality' establishment, irrespective of cost. There was the aforementioned single bed, but nothing else. No chair, no bedside table, no mirror, mirror on the wall, nuffink!

The sole concession towards a place to stow one's clothes overnight was a rusty nail hammered into one wall - that was the wardrobe! Everything had to be piled on the floor, and I gave my clothes a good shake next morning to dislodge any vermin that may have crept in overnight - though no self-respecting cockie (roach), mouse, or rat would surely have been seen in that joint! But again - happy days (and nights)! >:)
 
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I can't match everyone for distance or time, but maybe the foolishness of youth. When I was 16 or 17 my friend wanted to go to see a Morini and I wanted to go and see a Kawasaki. So, on our trusty Puch mopeds we set off from Hull to York for the Morini and then to Scarborough for the Kawasaki, then back to Hull. Only around 120 miles but with all the hills on the way back (and 1st gear to get up at least one of them) over 6 hours riding. Even downhill my Puch would only do 35mph but coasting on the steep hills could manage a little bit more.

My friend never got a Morini but I bought a Kawasaki.
 

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Discussion Starter #15
We live, we learn, Keith1200rs! Nice tale.
 

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Philadelphia, PA to Daytona Beach, Fla for Bike Week in the late '70's to mid '80's on a 1977 BMW R75/7. 980 miles on mostly I-95. Would take about 17 hours. Stop for gas, quick bite of food and take a whiz.


Many 800-900 mile days when I owned the Gold Wing with auxiliary fuel tank. 11.4 gallons gave me fuel range of near 500 miles if I kept the RPM just under 3K.


With today's traffic fueled with inattentive crazy drivers and crappy roads, my long distance motoring on two wheels is coming to an end.
 

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And here is the moped.Keith
I dimly recall that my very late father had one of these, or similar, which he bought to get to and from work in Lunnon, in the (guessing now) early to mid-1950s. We were so poor that church mice looked down on us, and thoughts of one day owning a car were pure fantasy! The little Puch was so - well, little - that it was able to be kept in the hallway of our modest family hovel.

I stole a few surreptitious rides on it when able to, and recall that it was started by vigorous pedalling, then - God knows! Nice pic, keith. I see you affected the Panzermann hair-style of the era, much like Pz himself when he had some hair. :grin2:
 
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.... Nice pic, keith. I see you affected the Panzermann hair-style of the era, much like Pz himself when he had some hair. :grin2:
My forehead was always much higher than that, Lawrence :frown2:
 

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I stole a few surreptitious rides on it when able to, and recall that it was started by vigorous pedalling, then - God knows! Nice pic, keith. I see you affected the Panzermann hair-style of the era, much like Pz himself when he had some hair. :grin2:
The pedal cranks were so short that even furious pedalling wouldn't give you enough speed to stay upright. The back brake was the back pedal type.

My girlfriend (now wife) rode pillion. The footrests were mounted on the rear axle so she felt every bump.

Keith
 
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