In Which I See the Snake of Hope

Sidewalk on Council Street--lots of little pieces of wood on the sidewalk.

Easter decorations seen on the ride.

Hope appeared on the bike trail several times today.

I rode west from my house into the town of Hiawatha to get to the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. My plan this morning was to ride north. I briefly had toyed with the idea of doing the ride to Center Point, 13 miles away, but I did not have time for a 30-mile round trip, and besides, there was rain in the forecast midday.

In front of my house and along other stretches early in my ride, the pavement was clogged by many downed twigs, ends of branches ripped off trees by a hailstorm yesterday.

If I didn’t have time to ride all the way to Center Point, at least I could do the shorter one to Layfayette, a tiny village 7 miles north on the trail. In past summers, after storms, there has been a lot of debris on this trail—but not today. I assume I must live near the northern edge of the hail damage, as the trail was quite clear going north.

Near Robins. Time to deploy face cover.

Lafayette. Impressive sign for tiny village.

The day was fine, a bit cooler than yesterday, but nice. In Robins, a suburb just north of Cedar Rapids, the trail was a bit busy, and I put the bandana over my face as I rode that stretch. It cleared out north of town.

Bike wheel gate in Lafayette.

Signs of the pandemic, restroom closed sign (above) and abandoned bike gear on table (below).

When I go to Lafayette, someone has chalked messages on the trail—something I’ve noticed in other stretches in Cedar Rapids, too. “Hope” is said at the turnaround point of my ride. Also “wash your hands.” Both good advice.

Bike near the end of the ride in Lafayette.

Advice from the trail, above and below.

I rested for a minute and then headed back south. I had not gone very far, was just crossing the first road, when I noticed a rather bendy looking stick. Maybe not a stick? So, I stopped to look.

A snake! Well, in my part of Iowa, these snakes aren’t rare and aren’t dangerous. In fact, as a gardener, I always assume snakes are a good omen—they eat insects. If Genesis had been written by a Midwestern gardener, the snake would have been an angel that hadn’t fallen, and the part of Satan would be played by a rabbit.

Snake on the trail (above and below).

Two sky views (above and below)

Well, I hope you don’t get squished by a biker, serpent of hope. Somehow, a spring ride just feels much nicer when I find a snake. Maybe it was a good omen. Once again, the skies started to cloud up, and midday rain did fall—well after I had gotten home.

Daffodils in a yard seen on my way home.

The bike computer mystery: If I start and end at the same point, why do feet climbed and feet descended not match?

Corner of Council Street and Boyson road--I'm headed north to 74st Street bike lane. Sky starting to cloud up--rain coming, but not before I get home.