In Which We See New Bridges

First look, heading east to go under First Avenue on new underpass.

Heading back, going west under First Avenue.

New bridge and underpass, looking west to First Avenue.

My sister asked me if I had ridden under First Avenue yet, in response to a Facebook post. I had not.

So today, on a quick late afternoon ride to campus, I decided, on the way home, to head over to the trail.

Shadows on the street in front of MMU as I cycle to campus.

Riding up the Hill at MMU, arriving on campus. Pretty afternoon sunshine on Warde Hall.

A murder on campus! Of crows, which I see while leaving campus.

Well, it was a very nice digression. Passing under First Avenue, going from a residential neighborhood through a light industrial area, then by a cemetery, to where the trail ends.

It was a very pretty afternoon—late enough I had lights on, as it gets dark early in late November. But, the low sun made everything glow, the new underpass is very nice. And even if the trail doesn’t lead anywhere yet, it’s another sign of how trails are growing in the Cedar Rapids area.

Approaching First Avenue at 29th Street on new part of Cemar Trail.

Approaching underpass, riding north on new trail beside First Avenue.

Riding east on short let of trail after passing under First Avenue.

Turned around, now heading west back towards First Avenue.

Almost back to Fist Avenue, bridge in front, Raining Rose Factory on my left.

It was the second time in one day that I saw different ends of one part of that growth. Earlier, an afternoon walk took me along the Boyson Trail to the Lindale Trail. A new bridge is being built over 7th Avenue in Marion as the Lindale Trail is being joined with the Grant Wood Trail.

Within a couple of years, the Boyson-Cemar-Grant Wood Trails will join central Cedar Rapids with uptown Marion. Thus a new almost all-trail route between my house and Mount Mercy will also be open.

New bridges. New trails. A good time to be a biker in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Seeing new Milwaukee Road Bridge from Boyson Trail--"Live Like Ur Dying."

New bridge viewed on afternoon walk. Some months before it will be opened.

 

 

 

In Which I Enjoy Windy, Cool Late Fall Rides

Thursday of last week, getting ready to head home, bike at loading dock of Warde Hall, MMU.

When it’s in the lower 30s (around 0 for you wacky Europeans and your fancy rational measurements) and the wind is blowing in gusts that exceed 40 mph (60 in kph? 120? Who knows, not an old Iowa guy), you do feel the cold.

It pokes at your skin, chills  your nose, makes your finger feel frigid and causes your feet to telegraph uncomfortable messages about potentially poor life choices you have made. Jack Frost nipping at your nose is truly not a cozy notion, despite what Christmas singers sing.

Such was my early afternoon on Sunday. It was a chilly, grey, breezy day. We’d had our first snow in Iowa Friday, although it didn’t stick. Saturday was devoted to indoor play with a young grandson, and it was a good day (blustery and cold) for such activity.

By Sunday, however, I was done. Although it was windy, it was grey, I was overcome by the itch to get on a bicycle.

I felt a bit judged on Sunday ride. Side lights, that have never shined before, suddenly lit up. If I went under 10 mph, they were unhappy yellow (above). A more cheery blue (below) over 10 mph. Not sure why computer suddenly felt the need to rate my riding.

So, I did. I wore two pairs of socks and regular shoes, which insulate a bit better than my bike shoes. And I wore my older bike helmet because it fits a bit more comfortably when I have a headband on and thin hood up.

I got my road bike out, aired up Argent’s tyres, and headed off. My plan was to ride to Lowe Park because it’s not a great distance, but still feels like a ride. Just for the challenge, I climbed the Bowman Woods Hill before heading east into Marion.

A stiff wind from north and west was blowing on me. When I faced it, it was a chilly ride. Riding with it, it wasn’t that bad. I cycled to the Lowe Park Trail, rode a bit and made a few images, and then turned towards home.

I decide to turn down 34th Avenue to come to Lowe Park by crossing Tower Terrace Road at the light by the new first station. For some reason it always amuses me that ordinal numbers are in such short supply in Marion that street signs have cardinal numbers. Isn't the road named "34th Avenue" and not "34?" And "3" Street?

Reflecting ball on Lowe Park Trail.

Another look at the ball and the trail.

Bit of a selfie in the ball--can you see me?

No green leaves nor bright flowers, but milkweed seed still is pretty.

Another look at Milkweed.

A few leaves still linger on Lowe Park Trail.

On the way back, I took the Boyson Road Trail—I was gambling that despite the recent snow and muddy ground, the limestone would be relatively dry. The gamble paid off. I could see tyre tracks where earlier bikers had encountered mushy conditions, but the little bit of limestone trail I had to ride on was firm enough, even with the road bike.

I rode to the new Milwaukee Road Bridge and then headed west on the Lindale Trail.

Late fall view of Boyson Trail.

Leaves on Lindale Trail.

I enjoyed the Sunday ride, which was a good excuse to fix some hot chocolate. And honestly, late fall rides in Iowa may require gloves and head covering and many socks, but we’re not into the long john underwear season of winter, yet. Despite the chill in the air, I enjoy riding at this time of year.

My rides in the last week have been cool, but nice. I don’t like to ride great distances in the cold—but Sunday’s ride was 14 miles, a modest distance even for this old, slow biker. On work commutes, I’ve been using the Fancy Beast because grey skies have threatened occasional sprinkles or flurries, and my mountain bike is my winter beater/bad weather bicycle.

The road bike excursion Sunday was a change of pace.

And today, again a cool day, a late afternoon meeting at work was cancelled, so I took advantage of leaving work around 4 to cycle over to Cedar Lake. Much of the trail around the lake is closed, and will be for the next two years, as a big flood control and lake project are underway. But the south side of the lake is open, and the lake it still the prettiest place in Cedar Rapids to see the nearest star reach the horizon.

The moon is not quite full yet. Seen over rail car at Cedar Lake.

Much of the trail around Cedar Lake is closed.

South side of Cedar Lake.

At small city park on east side of lake--the other end of the closed trail.

View from the street that runs east of the Lake.

Never grow tired of Cedar Lake at sunset.

I wanted to capture Milkweed seed taking flight. Didn't, but still like the attempt.

More seedy images.

Sunset on seed pods, Cedar Lake.

Cedar Lake as I arrive.

A vertical view.

A truck carries rock that I assume will be the base of a flood control levee being created at Cedar Lake.

It was, from a biking point of view, a good day. The scenery is not summer green anymore—we’re in the late fall brown phase of nature were most of the leaves have fallen and the world can seem drab. But it’s still pretty, with the shapes of trees emerging, the landscape of hills easier to glimpse without the curtain of leaves, and milkweed seeds taking flight from dried pods.

I was in a contemplative mood this afternoon. Cold weather biking is quieter, more solitary—and that suits an introvert like me.

Monday brought an interesting and pleasant biking incident at the university where I teach. The grounds crew last week had been cutting back the dead flowers of 2021, and had moved a bike rack that I usually use. The rack was placed behind a bush, beside a scrubby tree—and required a bit of a hike to get to.

The rack was always backwards anyway, with the “bike” end facing the building rather than the walkway. So, I sent a message to the Mount Mercy University Facilities Department, whining a bit about the misplaced rack.

I emailed them around 9 a.m., at the start of an office hour for me. A bit past 10 a.m., I headed out to walk across campus to the building where I have a Monday morning class—and, surprise! The helpful workers from facilities had wasted no time. The bike rack (and my bicycle that was locked to the rack) had been lifted, turned around and placed at convenient proximity to the sidewalk—in a better location than it had been before the gardens had been cleaned.

Well. Even in the cool late fall, biking can restore your soul, and sometimes, your faith in fellow humans.

I park my bike in a bike rack hidden behind a bush.

Mount Mercy Facilities crew quickly moved rack (and bike) after I emailed them. Nice!