In Which I Hunt Bluebells on a Whale of a Ride

Bluebells in my garden. A nice flower that appears after the early flowers of spring have faded. I was seeking wild plants of this type on today's bicycle ride.

Over the course of two years, I have planted maybe 10 bluebell plants in my gardens. They’re a nice flower for several reasons—the flowers themselves are pretty, blue being a slightly unusual color for flowers. The buds are a pretty pink, and the transition from pink bud to blue flower is nice. And the plant itself is a burst of spinach-like greenery that shoots up quickly in the spring—leaves appear as little red tabs before going dark green.

Bluebells are a color shifting species—and a native flower in North America, too, if you plant the native kind (there are English and Spanish bluebells, which are pretty blue spring flowers, too, but not native).

Sky was mixed--sometimes mostly blue, sometimes milky, sometimes with baby thunder clouds. Sun has just gone into hiding during the final mile of my ride.

Anyway, one of the trails I ride fairly often is the Krumbholtz Trail, which now serves to connect the Boyson Trail in Marion to Menards. Plans are for this little stub of a trail to become more important—a connecting trail which should tie it into the main trails running through Cedar Rapids is in the works.

But for now, this limestone trial, best ridden with a mountain or hybrid bike and only when the ground is dry, is a pretty, quiet, partly wooded ride not far from my house.

Today was sunny and warm in Iowa, but also Monday. As far as work productivity goes, it was not one of my best. I did work today, but my heart was not in it.

Pretty spring sky on Boyson Trail.

On the Lindale Trail, final leg of the ride, some clouds start to hide the sun.

So by 5 p.m., I was willing to write off Monday as a sad, lost cause, and enjoy the sunshine. I knew I wasn’t going to take a long ride, and the weather has been dry lately, which means my hybrid bike could easily handle the limestone of the Boyson and Krumbholtz trails. So the nearest trails to my house were the choice today.

I also expected that this trail may be fairly heavily used, so I tied on a face bandana after getting my bike out.

I knew form previous years that the woods at the west end of the Krumbholtz Trail has clumps of bluebells, and I hadn’t seen them in bloom, yet. So my quest today, besides riding to get away from manic, moody Monday, was a quest to find the wild bluebell.

Well, the quest was successful. Those pretty little harbingers of spring were commonly visible on this fine spring day.

Along the Krumbholtz Trail, above and below, bluebells in the woods beside the trail.

 

Why it was a "whale of a ride." The picture on my riding app.

In Which Some Rides Turn Wild and Pretty

It was a cool, damp week in Iowa. Friday in particular was a gray day, and I spent most of the day working. After a Zoom class meeting, I finally decided it was time to get outside.

But, what route to take? These days, I’m trying to minimize time on crowded trails, yet there are a limited number of street rides that work at that time of night (around 6 p.m.).

I had taken a longer ride not long ago to the Grant Wood Trail. The route that I used to get there involved leaving the Boyson Trail at the Marion High School football complex (not at the actual school) and heading east on streets from there.

Waldo's Rock at Waldo's Rock Park. Spoiler alert, I found a new route.

It’s an OK route, but I don’t like crossing the gravel lot at the complex, and the streets, while rideable, are not ideal.

Today, I decided to see if I could find an alternative route by going to the end of the Boyson Trail, and, from Hanna Park, heading to Grand Avenue. That street is marked for bike travel, and is a bit wider than the streets I used on an earlier ride.

The good news? The route works. Cate, sometime we’ll have to try your trike on the Grant Wood Trail, if you have not been there yet, and this second route is probably more trike friendly.

Do not leap off the rock. Do not drink bleach. Do not stare at the sun. Do not ride in front of  semi trucks. Do not die.

Dry selfie. Left my water bottle at home. Yes, I wore the bandana over my nose and mouth (and also wore my helmet) when riding. And yes, I used hand sanitizer before adjusting the bandana. This was socially distant break time in an empty park, but for me and several ducks.

Turning on all light for ride home.

The exploration wasn’t completely direct. I ended up on a street called A Avenue (an odd name, which maybe was a hint, most streets and avenues in Marion are numbered) which eventually left me circling in one of those edge-of-town suburban neighborhoods with deliberately confusing tangles of Drives and Courts intended to keep masked, slow bikers at bay.

Still, if I head down Grand Avenue and turn on the street where Marion High School is (the school, not the football complex), it’s clear that I can get, if I avoid the siren song of A Avenue, far enough east to catch the end of the trail that leads to the Grant Wood Trail. (Is the city trail actually just also called the Grant Wood Trail? I don’t know, but “the Trail that Leads to the Grant Wood Trail” would be whimsically accurate.)

The Boyson Trial had a few bikers/walkers on it, but on this cool, gray afternoon was fairly quiet. There was far less traffic on The Grant Wood Trail and TTTLTTGWT (city trail’s suggested name even better abbreviated), so keeping distant was fairly easy.

On my way out of town, a herd of deer were mostly on the south side of the trail, with one straggler that ran across the trail maybe 15 to 20 yards in front of me. The ride was turning wild. Later, on the way home, I would encountered a bunny. So wild.

Deer bounding across trail in front of me. Camera is fairly wide angle--object may be closer than it appears.

This, on the other hand, is on the way home. Took the Lindale Trail and bunny bounded across trail and then tried to look invisible in grass. Grass is getting too green for your brown coat, bunny.

Anyway, I made it to Waldo’s Rock Park. I parked there for a brief break, and discovered that I had left my water bottle at home. It’s sitting on the mantle in my family room now as I type this, and I may liberate the bottle and take it for a Saturday spin soon.

All in all, Friday’s ride was a success. Thursday was also a bit gray, although sunnier in the afternoon. That day featured two rides, a short one with a grandson, and a longer, later ride in which I shot many images of flowers at Mount Mercy University. Because I never grow tired to seeing those pretty gardens, and just wish that students and faculty and staff were all there to see them, too.

Bike Thursday late afternoon at garden on MMU campus.

Almost home Thursday, sun setting at Collins Road.

End of the longer, second ride Thursday.

Low sun at Cedar Lake April 23.

Gosh, students can be aggravating. But I do miss them.

So, the week ended with some satisfying rides. And I did find a new route to The Grant Wood Trail.

I’m amused by the maps of the rides, for some reason. They look like very crude stick figures, don’t you think? The ride summaries, first from Thursday and then Friday:

In Which I Recall RAGBRAI Memories

2011--First day of my first RAGBRAI with my oldest son Jon and his friend Nigel.

2011--End of first ride in Davenport, Iowa, with Jon. I accidentally dumped my basket into the river, but was able to fish everything out of the Mississippi.

Team Joe at a host house the night before starting the ride in 2014. We gained Susan on our team that year.

Team Joe finishes in 2016. My sister Cate had fallen in a shower and had a concussion two days before, but was able to join us on the final leg of the ride into our old hometown of Muscatine.

2017-Riders and support drivers. My son Jon and his wife Nalena rode that year.

Team Joe at a lunch break midweek 2018.

In fall of 2010, I bought myself a new bicycle. It was a rather heavy, tall black hybrid bike that I intended to use for commuting.

Looking back, it’s hard for me to believe it took me 10 years to start regularly commuting by bicycle in Cedar Rapids. I had purchased a 1974 Schwinn Continental 10-speed bicycle with money I earned working at Dairy Queen in Muscatine, Iowa during high school. Like my father, I enjoyed biking, and engaged in it, on and off, over the years.

In 1990, when I got a new job in Storm Lake, Iowa, I brought that 1974 bicycle with me and enjoyed riding it. I kind of miss that bicycle. By 2010, I guess I was ready to ride some more. In my 50s, controlling my weight and staying in shape were no longer easy, and I needed some regular exercise routine. Biking was an easy and pleasurable choice.

Anyway, in January of 2011, I made the poor choice of riding my relatively new bicycle to work when it was a bit icy on the streets. About a mile from home, on F Avenue, I hit a bit of black ice, fell from the bicycle and badly banged my right knee.

It was sore for months. In March that year, my wife and I traveled to Seattle to visit my son and daughter-in-law, and I was still hobbling around painfully. Walking in Seattle that spring was a challenge.

My oldest son Jon then worked for Microsoft, and told me during that visit that he and some friends from work were planning to ride RAGBRAI that summer. Was I interested?

Although a biker, I was not serious about it, and had always avoided RAGBRAI, which I thought of as a roving, noisy, drunken party. As an introvert, and not a heavy drinker, it didn’t seem like my scene. But when your son invites you to be one of the guys and hang out with him and his young adult friends, what can you say?

I said “yes.”

I discovered in 2011 that it was possible for a man in his 50s to ride a bicycle more than 400 miles across Iowa, if he can get pie very 15 miles or so. I discovered that year that RAGBRAI is really multiple rides. There are the young hard chargers, the heavy partiers, the people who don’t pass up a beer garden in any town and have vodka with their morning tomato juice.

But there is a whole crowd of other bikers who are enjoying Iowa, seeing small towns, quietly turning in at night. In fact, as an older biker, I was probably in a more common demographic on the ride than my son was. He and his friends went to the concerts, I went to bed. We rode together now and then, but mostly touched base in midday meet towns and at supper each night.

I rode every mile of RAGBRAI in 2011. I decided to do it again in 2012 as a solo rider, and it nearly finished me. That was a year when a severe heat wave hit Iowa, and early days of the ride were in 100-plus heat. I didn’t need that, and I missed the loose social connection of a group.

But on the final two days of 2012, two of my sisters and my brother-in-law joined the ride. We finished in Clinton, Iowa, and ate a victory meal at a great Italian restaurant there.

They enjoyed those two days so much that they wanted to try to the full week in 2013. I wasn’t so sure—I had done that. But they named their group “Team Joe,” and my sister and brother-in-law volunteered a support vehicle. The plan became that we would trade off driving, so started in 2013 I  rode about three-fourths of each RAGBRAI.

It has been quite a ride. One year, on a ride from Cedar Rapids to Iowa City, several of my children took part. Both of my sons have done all or parts of some RAGBRAIs. And every year, Cate, Brigid and Eldon have been the backbone of Team Joe.

I have met people from many states and countries. I served last year as a sort of mentor to a California family riding for the first time. I’ve been, like many riders, rescued by the Air Force team who are the true angels of RAGBRAI. I’ve eaten my share of corn provided by the Iowa Corn Growers, and bananas handed out by the Iowa Department of Conservation. I don’t get drunk, but I have discovered the joy of the Iowa Beer Tent that features quirky local brews. I replaced the heavy hybrid with a lighter, more nimble road bike.

And don't get me started about the small-town Iowa food. Ice cream and raisin or rhubarb pie. Pork chops and chicken with noodles. Fire department pancake breakfast. RAGBRAI is the only week in summer when you can ride a bicycle 400 miles with 20,000 friendly strangers and possibly gain weight.

The weight of my heart is heavy today, as the COVID-19 pandemic has robbed us of yet another part of our lives. It was announced April 20 that RAGBRAI 2020 will not take place. RAGBRAI will be back in 2021, but not having it this year is a sign of how strange 2020 is.

I don’t object to what RAGBRAI planners announced today. I don’t see that they had any choice. And I do take some comfort that Team Joe will ride again.

But I am a bit sad. I have to mourn. There have simply been too many good memories. And now, buckle up, buttercup—a long line of images from RAGBRAIs I’ve ridden:


2011:

Finished first ride in Davenport. I have lots of roots on Iowa's east coast--lived in Clinton and Muscatine while growing up, went to college in Davenport. Final day in 2011 was so hot, asphalt on road into Davenport was melting in the heat.

Food is a RAGBRAI theme. Jon and I independently discovered the hamball sundae (potatoes, beans, ham ball and cherry tomato that I already ate on top) at fire station in Oxford.

2012:

Flowers on final day of ride.

Tire dip in Mississippi River in Clinton at end of ride. Tradition on RAGBRAI is to dip rear tire in Missouri River at the start, front tire in Mississippi at end. I don't always bother with dip, but did this year.

 2013:

Rode by state Capitol in Des Moines on a fine morning.

Bike windmill in Pella.

River (Des Moines or Iowa, not Mississippi) in Bonaparte.

2014:

Iowa chow on RAGBRAI. Sweet corn, butter, salt and pepper.

 2015:

Typical view from RAGBRAI bathroom. Yes, if you ride this ride, you will learn to pee in corn fields.

Crossing Coralville Dam. Rode this day with several daughters and youngest son.

Ride of the century. There is an optional loop each year that gives you more than 100 miles if you choose to ride it, this year my sister Cate and I did it.

 2016:

Typical Iowa scenery on RAGBRAI, although Iowa is not flat, mostly rolling hills.

Campground in Ottumwa. In the morning, Eldon will rescue me by extracting an ear plug for me.

Rick Springfield concert in Ottumwa. I don't usually go to concerts--I do not stay up that late, but they happen every night on RAGBRAI and I did go to this one.

RAGBRAI rainbow in Shenandoah, Iowa.

 2017:

Snack stop on RAGBRAI. Amish pie and pretzel.

Arch of bikes in New Hampton.

Sister and brother-in-law ride recumbent trikes. They arrived a bit muddy in Charles City on day that had some rain.

2018 (for some reason the year with the most images):

19th century style bike up ahead.

Early in the week, Air Force team leaving camp. They are RAGBRAI's guardian angels, aiding anybody who needs help.

Atalissa Fire Department breakfast. I try to eat local, and fire departments often serve chow like this. RAGBRAI meal!

My sister and I are crossing the Mississippi River--one of the RAGBRAI end points is actually in Illinois this year. Riding to Rock Island.

Iowa has three state universities, and the ride this year visited the two biggest, ISU and University of Iowa. Here, we ride around Cyclone Stadium in Ames at ISU.

Milkweed balls. To aid monarch butterflies, you can get clay balls loaded with milkweed seeds to toss in ditches. I always grab some and toss some.

My sister is in front (she usually is, I'm a very slow biker). Leaving Iowa City.

Cate had a flat. Major Caroline (and a random helpful stranger, RAGBRAI spirit is like that) stop to help. We decided we were ready to follow Major Caroline anywhere. Go Team Air Force!

Another day, another chance to load up on clay balls to toss. This  is in West Liberty.

Morning hills, more typical of Iowa.

Why there is no ride in 2020. Typical RAGBRAI town scene.

View from campground in Sigourney.

Typical water station.You rarely buy water on RAGBRAI, you water up at stations like this.

 2019:

 

A coolnicorn in Chariton.

Day 1 was rather damp.

I managed to lose my sunglasses at a cornfield stop between towns, but I was in luck at a small drug store in the next village. The glasses I got are rose colored, as they should be.

Supper site in Indianola. Chruches are a good bet for suppers, fire departments for breakfast. Methodists in Iowa, for some reason, are great cooks, although Catholic churches can feed you well, too.