In Which a Long Ride to Solon isn’t Sullen

New stretch of trail on top of a new flood control levee south of Cedar River in Cedar Rapids. Not the first stretch of new trail (at least, new to me) that I would ride Saturday.

This was the perfect summer weekend in Iowa. It felt hot in the afternoon on the sunny Saturday and Sunday, but never too hot. Saturday in particular was beautiful.

The week before had featured hot, muggy days and stormy nights, so Saturday was the post-storm gorgeous day we are sometimes blessed with.

I tried to get up early Saturday, planning to ride at least 50 miles and still have time to attend a protest in Cedar Rapids late in the afternoon. I got up fairly early, but between fixing breakfast and prepping the bike (airing tyres and lubing chain) it was getting close to 9 when I left.

When I got on the trail, I decided to head south. I had ridden north to Lafayette recently, and my sister had reported previously that she had ridden to Solon, which made me curious.

I made good time headed south. The day was blue-sky gorgeous, not humid and a little breezy. By noon I’m sure it was in the 80s and feeling warm, but still summer nice. I stopped at the last park in Cedar Rapids for a quick break (and to find out the water was still off, but luckily had the foresight to bring 2 bottles with me). I took out my Hello Kitty snack box and ate a banana.

Then it was time to continue south. I rode to the end of the trail south of Ely, and took a second break at the rest area near where the trail apparently ends. I made some images of a pretty butterfly there.

My biking motto: I will stop for butterflies.

And then it was time to investigate the unknown. The paved trail ends, but a primitive, partly graveled path leads up an embankment to a busy county highway.

I rode the gravel up the embankment to find that, across the road there was another old man on a bicycle headed towards me. Traffic was passing by, and we waited. There was a big ugly black pickup towing a boat (Lake MacBride is nearby) that honked at us as traffic cleared.

Then we crossed the highway in opposite directions. As strangers do in this odd summer of 2020, we greeted each other like old friends, at a distance. “Honk if you love bikers,” I quipped, which he seemed to appreciate. It’s good that old men can share bad jokes.

Across the highway, not even down an embankment, across a short gravel access point, there it was, like the yellow-brick road to Oz—the Hoover Trail continued. I wonder a bit about this. There must be some future plan for another way to cross this highway. It’s odd that the trail is unconnected, severed by 20 yards of highway and gravel, with no sign to alert bikers and no crossing markings on the roadway.

Honk if you love bikers.

Nevertheless, like Elizabeth Warren, I persisted. The trail was wide, cement and fairly new. It went up a hill parallel to the county highway—not a steep or daunting hill, mind you, a rather easy to climb incline. After a bit, it approached a roundabout intersection between two busy county highways. The trail swung to the right of the roundabout, where there was a crossing.

Not, mind you, approached by gravel, but a real road-grade crossing even marked like a crosswalk. It was a little dicey to navigate due to traffic and the proximity of the roundabout—the fun thing about a roundabout is that you really never know what the cars in it will do, when they will exit it—but it just required normal caution to cross there. And no honking pickups, either.

Bridge I had not crossed before on the trail to Solon I had not ridden before. I had gone to that town via county highway before, and riding there via trail is much, much nicer.

The trail bent sharply to the left, passing by a horse farm where there were horses (and warning signs that the horses are privately owned and should be left alone—frankly, I think if the steeds were public property they should still be left alone, but that’s just me). A bit further on, a sign enjoined me to do something to support the Solon Fire Department, which I would be happy to do, but I don’t remember what it was.

The trail, after a bit, turned a bit to the right and passed through some public wetlands. There were only a few miles between the faux “end of trail” south of Ely and the secret, nice trial leading to a big park in Solon, but they are interesting, scenic miles.

Bike in Solon Park. The park is connected to conservation areas, and this bird statue is near a wetlands.

My bike parked at lodge at park in Solon.

I arrived, circled the park, rested and made some images, and then headed towards Cedar Rapids again. I had packed some snacks but was losing steam. And I was growing low on water, but in Ely, the water was on in the park, so that was good. Next time, I will pack both more water and more food.

I never got into Solon proper, but could see a church steeple and houses and signs for the high school, so I knew that I had arrived in that small village. Further trips may involve more exploring of the town, especially if I get on the road closer to 8 rather than 9 next time. This route may well be one of the days of faux RAGBRAI later on this summer.

My evening plans fell through, due to an unfortunate tragedy. One of my daughters has had a small dog that she adopted shortly after she graduated from college 15 years ago, and this year that aged dog has been fading. Another daughter was watching the dog this weekend while the dog's owner was camping with her kids.

And Saturday was the day that the poor old dog gave out. She curled up under a chair in the basement, went to sleep for a nap and never woke up.

As I was biking, about 5 miles from home, I got a text.

Would I be willing to help bury a dog?

The loss of the pet hit my daughter pretty hard. A dog is often a member of a family. Even an anticipated death can be devastating. Of course, I said “yes.” (Credit to the dog-watching daughter who did most of the digging, while I helped by cutting roots).

So instead of marching with a peaceful crowd of thousands in downtown Cedar Rapids, which had been my plan, I helped play undertaker to a gentle soul who on that day departed the planet.

Stuff happens, and I hope my daughter doesn’t feel bad about me missing the march. I was happy to have a small part in helping to lay that well-loved dog to rest.

Well, what a roller coaster of a day Saturday was—the un-sullen ride to Solon followed by the unexpected departure. That’s they way life is, I guess. There must be some wisdom there, but what it all means escapes me.

On the way back north--stopped at a wetlands near Solon. More butterflies to make images of.

Saw several bees and butterflies on flowers near wetlands. Including this one. I like that you can see its long tongue.

Saturday ride--got my 50 miles.

The night was a bit restless. It was my first 50-mile ride of the summer, and my body didn’t exactly appreciate it. I had some leg cramps—but fortunately mostly before I went to sleep, which was a blessing. I've been awoken by cramps before, and I am glad it didn't play out that way this time.

Today, once again, the sun was shining. The day was warmer, but pretty. I puttered about the yard, cutting some limbs on trees (my yard is a regular sized suburban lot and it has 25 trees in it, if you can picture that, and trust me, you probably can’t). I mowed, too, and then watered.

A butterfly bush, purchased by a daughter, is planted in a quiet corner of the backyard over a suddenly important spot, and I was giving it and some other new plants a drink.

My wife and I are doing some home projects and needed some supplies, so we went to a home goods store, too. After that, it was nap time, and something about Saturday meant that my Sunday nap was a long one.

All in all, it was getting close to 5 by the time I was ready to think of getting on a bicycle. I wanted a ride, but knew I was not going for a long one—and I decided it was time to use a bike that was left in my garage by my youngest son.

When you keep a bike for someone, you have to use it a bit now and then. A bicycle is not a machine that’s happy if it is left alone too long—parts rust together, air seeps out of tyes. So occasional short rides are called for to keep a stored bike fit, and today was this bicycle’s day.

The stored bicycle that I used for today's short ride.

I aired up the tyres, lubed the chain, and climbed aboard. The ride was not all that long—I don’t want to over-use this bicycle—but it was nice. My son’s bike doesn’t have bike clips, so I wore sandals. That’s OK, I don’t mind not wearing my bike shoes. It also doesn’t have a rear-view mirror or bell, and I missed those a bit more. Finally, it only has one set of brake controls—my road bike had dual brake levers, and I had to remind myself to lean way over and reach down when stopping was called for on this borrowed bicycle.

So, I think I will enjoy cycling on my own road bike a bit more after I get it fixed. But it was nice to be on a road bike after the long, warm ride the day before on my hybrid bicycle.

And youngest son, I hope you can get your bike sometime soon. I think it misses you.

Most of today's afternoon ride was on nearby trails. This is the Lindale Trail, looking very inviting on a sunny summer afternoon.

Shorter ride today. But more interesting shape ...