It's not just about the jets

Sea & Shore, Fall, 2004 by Kevin R. Sandlin

It started with a good-deal squadron guns detachment to Key West, Fla. during the winter of 2004. This evolution was the squadron's first one after the holiday stand-down, and everyone was looking forward to some good flying and "warmer than we were used to this time of year" weather.

As soon as people started talking about Key West, I started thinking I should take some leave before the detachment to visit family and friends all along the East Coast. I figured I would need to make this journey on my bike: a 2003, 100th-anniversary-edition, Harley-Davidson Fat Boy.

In making plans for this adventure, I went to the Harley-Davidson website. My biggest concern would be the cold, and I had just the answer: one government-issue, anti-exposure suit, complete with aramid liner. Don't worry, we'll revisit that decision later.

With my ride planned, bike packed, seabag (with clothes) strapped to the sissy bar, and saddlebags loaded, I set out for Key West by way of North Carolina; Atlanta, Ga.; and Ocala and Palm Bay, Fla. The round trip would total more than 3,000 miles, and I really was looking forward to the ride.

The reason I'm putting this experience on paper is because I learned a lot from it. First, I learned that Map Quest is a great thing. It's accurate for directions, mileage and time--for a car. With a motorcycle, you can bet it will take longer than planned. I was getting 40 mpg on my bike, but, on a 200-mile tank, you just can't drive very long without stopping. You also can't ride very long when it's 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside, with 70 knots of wind in your face.

I left Virginia Beach at 0645, and my first goal was to reach Atlanta by the end of the day. I wanted to pull in at a respectable hour in the late evening, so I'd be rested and ready to go the next day. This goal, though, proved to be the first of many that didn't work out as planned.

Because reading a map on a motorcycle isn't as easy as reading one in a car, I took a scenic tour--more accurately, an unplanned detour--through North Carolina. I drove through dinner, finally arriving in Atlanta at 2334. I didn't hit the rack at my cousin's house until 0400, which meant an early start the next day was out of the question. I decided to sleep the day away and travel at night for the next seven-hour leg of my trip to Ocala. I wanted to be there by Saturday morning--I had a hard commitment I couldn't miss.

Twenty-five hours after arriving in Atlanta, I hit the road at 0100. The traffic was very light, the weather extremely cold. The anti-exposure suit was holding up well, but the gloves and boots weren't working as well as I would have liked. This problem goes back to always preflighting your gear or having the proper equipment for your job. I had my usual Harley half-shell helmet and a woolen ski mask for my face, but they weren't enough. I needed a full-face helmet or something much better than a scarf and a towel wrapped around my mouth. I pushed myself to go at least 50 miles before stopping to thaw out and to get gas. I finally made it to Ocala at 0845 that morning. I took the next week in Palm Bay to recover from the past days on the road and to get ready for the final push into Key West--so far, so good.

I left Palm Bay on Sunday afternoon in the middle of an overcast sky and slight drizzle. This first exposure to rain wasn't too bad now that I was in warmer weather. I was able to ditch the dry suit and enjoy the ride. By the time I made it to Key West, I had had the sun in my face for six hours and was thinking I might be a little sunburned. The next morning, I looked like an Indian raccoon, with a red face and very white eyes. "Should've packed the sun block," I thought.

Aside from the cold, this first half of my trip was pretty good. The return leg, though, is the one that really brought out the learning points.

I decided I would take a straight shot back to Virginia Beach, only stopping for gas and to rest here and there. With no detours for family or friends, it would be a 1,200-mile trip, compared to the 1,900 miles I traveled to get to Key West.

It turned out that the weather in Oceana was going to be nasty the next day, so the jets were going to hit the road early in the morning to beat the weather at home base. I thought I would get a jump on the jets and hit the road while the guys were briefing to fly out. This time, I was fortunate enough to get the parachute riggers to carry home most of my gear, so all I had were full saddlebags.

Once we finished up our kangaroo court and did a final farewell for a couple of our aircrew leaving the squadron, I was ready to hit my rack for a few hours before getting on the road. One of my squadronmates came up and asked when I was leaving. I told him after I had gotten some sleep and had checked out of the BOQ. He also asked about the weather, and I told him I would be fine since I had my dry suit with me. He wanted to know, though, if maybe the weather was an ORM issue. "Naw, it's just a little cold--I'll be fine," I said.