In Which We Journey Well Beyond Norwich

The kind of day it was in eastern England. Quite gorgeous.

Like me, my son-in-law is a bicycle commuter. He works at the Sainsbury Laboratory in Norwich as a plant scientist, and use a bicycle year-round as his mode of transportation.

He is younger than me (not exactly a shock), in better physical shape and has a nicer bicycle than the one I rented for use this week during a visit with the family, but today I learned that the bicycle ride that we went on together to Beccles, a small town of a bit more than 9,000 people some 18 miles southeast of Norwich, was his longest in the UK so far.

Our route took us a bit more than 20 miles to get there. By the time we returned to the house in Norwich, we had ridden 46.74 miles at an average speech of a bit under 10 mph. My son-in-law often had to wait for me or return for me—I was using a heavier, slower bike, but also brought a heavier, slower rider.

It was a beautiful sunny day in England. A bit cooler than Saturday—while yesterday got into the low 80s and the locals were convinced that the world was melting (this is, apparently, considered hot in Norfolk), today the high was around 70. There was a refreshing breeze and bright sunshine, a few clouds in the sky but nonetheless about the bluest skies I’ve seen in England.

We began the ride just after 9 a.m. We rode through central town, where some large local bicycling event was starting. It was amazing, however, how quickly we left Norwich behind and were in pretty countryside, punctuated by a few villages, farms and churches. Some places looked almost like Iowa, with a rolling landscape fading into sunny distance.

We ride by start of big bike race as we pass through Chapelfield Gardens early in our bike ride.

Those farm fields weren’t exact matches—Iowa grows corn and soybeans, and that’s about it. It seems like English agriculture is more diverse. I did see a few corn fields, but also many crops that I could not identify. There were plenty of fields of what or barley, too.

At one point, a barley field by the road was waving fetchingly in the breeze, and Matt, a scientist whose main research area is barley genetics, stopped to shoot some video.

Matt makes barley movie history, shooting opening scene of "Grow the Right Thing."

Beccles, when we got there, turned out to be a pretty town. Matt had checked reviews online and selected the pub that we were to eat, but it was not yet open, so we walked for a while and paused to rest on a bench.

It was not a long wait. We went to the pub and sat inside—they have an outdoor seating area, which would have been nice on this pretty day, but I suggested we sit inside because it would be good to get a break from the sunshine.

Business street in Beccles. My great lunch, below. Unsure of pub, I think it was called "Graze." It used a zebra as its logo, but there is no pub of that name Google could find.

The lunch was very good. Matt said his surf and turf burger was filling and tasty. I ordered the pork Sunday roast, which came with veggies, potatoes roasted in goose fat and pork gravy. I added a Yorkshire pudding as an extra, and I don’t regret it in the least. The food was filling and delicious.

The ride home was a little more taxing—we were in a food coma, and maybe the pint with lunch was not as helpful as it could have been, but then again, we did need hydration.

The kind of narrow road we road most of the time (above). Fortunately, most drivers are polite. A British water tower (below) seen on the way. These are not as common to see as towers in America, I think they are sort of bigger and more scattered--and guarded more, too, apparently.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t all that late when we got to Norwich. By some magic of local knowledge, Matt plotted a route that did not take us through downtown, and suddenly we arrived.

It was a very nice bicycle ride. It was not as many miles as the 60 I rode Thursday, but I think almost as intense a ride—there was more climb today, plus the pace was faster than when I rode alone.

The ride today followed 15.6 mile solo journey I did on Saturday, the “hot” day. I plotted a route out west towards the edge of town, intending to ride there and return via the same route. However, I managed to not recognize all the turns on the way back, and got a bit lost.

I did have my cycle map with me and was able to figure out where I was—but the streets in England are a spaghetti mess and knowing where you are is not at all the same as being able to figure how to get to there from here. But I did my best, which, with my poor navigational skills, is honestly not all that well.

On my Saturday solo ride, a trail for pedestrians and bikers. This is well before I got lost.

Anyway, as I was trying to find one of the bike routes, I saw a sign pointing to Marriott’s Way, the bike trail I’ve used most often. The ride there took some time, and there were many signs and turns on the way, but I got there, rode for a while, and then returned home. When I left the house shortly before 4, I expected to return by 5, but got back around 6.

No harm done. Matt was barbecuing that night, and I texted about a mile out that I was on the way, so he could light the fire.

I missed riding Friday, which was the first sunny day in a while, but it turned out to be followed by more sunny days. All in all, with the long ride today and the 60-mile ride Thursday, I feel a bit better about RAGBRAI. I can survive two RAGBRAI-like days, and I logged well over 150 miles this week.

The rental bike gets returned tomorrow, but I do feel like I got good use out of it. It was a decent, serviceable bike, good for the riding that I used it for. I may do a quick morning ride tomorrow before returning the bike, but my biking adventures in the UK are coming to a close.

At the start of Sunday ride--the rental bike. The Bike Shop in downtown Norwich is a good place if you ever need to lease a bicycle here.

Despite navigational difficulties, it’s an activity I do recommend. Seeing the land around you from the seat of a cycle gives you a more intimate view than if you toured in a car or bus—and you can cover so much more ground than if you hike. It’s a nice way to tour a little patch of another country, as long as that country is biker friendly, which England mostly is.

In Which I Get Lost and Found

Me, with son-in-law's bike, ready for first ride.

Wednesday, June 19—my son-in-law is off on a business trip and gave me permission to borrow his bicycle.

Today is the first ride. I grab my new helmet and his bike. The immediate problem is that he has odd pedals—specialized toe clips that I assume fit some shoes he wears to ride. Comparatively, I have large, fat feet. Getting those big feet into his clips in my wider shoes proves challenging. Alternatively, I could ride with my feet on the uncomfortable back side of his pedals, but I worry I may be damaging his clip straps by scraping them on the ground, and the back side is clearly not intended for use. Or, I can sort of mash down his clips with my big feet—but again, I don’t want to cause any damage to these clips.

I compromise—use the back side in busy situations where I don’t have time to mess with the clips, but ride in the clips on a trail when I have more time. (On my second, Thursday ride, I was more used to the clips and it was far less of an issue).

But my main issue on this ride was to find Mariott’s Way (spelled with an apostrophe on a sign on the trail, without on the trail map, so I don’t know which is correct but then again, neither do the British), a large bicycle path that slices through Norwich from northeast to southwest and continues for miles in the countryside in either direction.

It is not far from my daughter-in-law’s house. But navigating English streets is a challenge.

There is the obvious problem of remembering to ride on the “opposite” side. I did have to constantly remind myself of that, although I didn’t ever forget. Of course, my instincts of how to watch for traffic were all backwards. However, that made less difference than I thought—by-streets are so narrow that traffic basically moves down the middle anyway, so the difference between the American right side and British left side was only theoretical.

Narrow British street (above) and narrow walkway behind house (below).

Anyway, I had my map and I was off. Very off. Getting lost proved quite easy.

Not too lost, mind you. The issue was finding Mariott’s Way—I never had the sense that I would be unable to get back to the house. I was trying to be careful to minimize turns and to recall landmarks whenever I did make a turn.

The problem was reading and interpreting the map. Now, I am old. That means I grew up long before Google, and map reading was a skill taught in my elementary school days. But interpreting a map in Norwich was different. For one thing, as an old Roman town, the city is arranged with a center from which roads spread out like the spokes of a bicycle wheel—there literally is no street grid. Finding a route that follows a compass direction is not the same as it is in the U.S. where most towns have rectangular grids of roads.

And the British are cute and coy with signage. On the main “spokes” from city center, street signs are rare. Their attitude seems to be that if you’re on a main road, you ought to know where you are, so there is no need of intersection street signs. Side streets are sometimes marked—now always—but the location and appearance of the signs are not in any way standard.

Is “Bobs Your Uncle” the name of a pub or the name of the alley-wide road? Well, if it’s also on the map, it’s a road—and the street signs, various as a they are, are lower and smaller than the signs for commercial establishments.

All in all, the first ride was mostly spent in going back and forth and failing to find the main, most obvious bike path in all of Norwich.

After some back-and-forth, complicated by the idea that I would never be able to repeat the route since I could not figure out how I got there in the first place, I found what seemed to be Mariott’s Way. Or at least I think I did. Hard to say. Mariott’s Way, in Norwich, is apparently a “main” bike road, which means there isn’t any reason for a sign to identify it, because you wouldn’t use it if you didn’t mean to, right?

Some scenes along the trail Wednesday. On Thursday, I could confirm that it was indeed the trail I was looking for.

I may sound like I’m whining. I suppose I am. I miss wide American streets, but mostly I miss rectangular street grids. Beyond that, I truly appreciate the American penchant for uniform and almost universal street corner signage. I suppose one reason the Brits don’t do this is because their walkways and streets are so narrow that such signs would take up valuable space at corners, but trust me English cousins, it’s totally worth it.

But despite the whine, it was a cool and pretty afternoon—cloudy but nice, and I did enjoy being out and moving on the bicycle. I rode a mile or so down the bike trail, presuming it was the one I wanted, and vowed to return the next day (by more direct route) for a longer ride.

Thursday, June 20—We have minor travel plans today. After dropping the kids off at school, we head over to the Coop to get a sim card for my wife’s phone. In preparation for today’s ride, on Wednesday night my daughter and I installed a new card in my phone—and wonder of wonders, I have now a fully functioning mobile phone in the UK!

The attempt to do the same for my wife ended in frustration, for now. Anyway, after the morning shopping, my daughter drove us to a bookshop somewhere in the Norfolk countryside. It was an interesting place—a shop that appeared to be located in someone’s country home, with a longish room stuffed with a dizzying array of children’s books. Our luggage for the return flight home may be a bit heavier.

We stopped at a tea room at a nearby sort of shopping mall for arts and crafts. By the time we got home, it was time to think of the afternoon school run—which I didn’t go on. Bicycle time!

Walkway along a river, somewhere in Norwich. I feel I should not be riding Matt's bike here, but then again I got innocently lost.

 Everything was a bit easier, this time. I had a plan to manage the toe clips. (Matthew, they were frozen by rust in your settings, but rust will respond to vigorous force—check the clips before you ride again, they have been made looser to fit much larger feet).

I got to the trail and cycled north. It was a sunnier day, some broken clouds, but some blue sky, too. I brought my sunglasses, but hadn’t worn then on the half-mile trek to the trail, partly because I wanted the best vision possible to the spot the subtle bread crumbs of signs left by the British. The trail was so shady that I ended up sans shades for the whole ride.

I rode as far as the village of Darby, probably a 4-mile journey. Half of that was on dirt, and recent rains had made parts of that ride a bit muddy, so I decided to stick to paved, urban trail in Norwich proper. I headed towards city center next, and somewhere near a river I lost the trail. I had a short ride along the river, which was pretty, and I apologize to all the fishers whose walkway I inadvertently intruded upon, but then again, Brits, if you don’t want wandering Americans lost on your sidewalks, you might consider more obvious signs.

I rode back and forth on several miles of paved trail in town. Next week, when I will be riding a rented bike, I intend to go farther, paying more attention to the trail and hopefully making it through Norwich to explore in the southern direction—but did not today partly because I wanted to avoid City Center in rush hour. Still, the Thursday ride was nice.

Map My Ride functions again, and in an hour and 50 minutes I rode 18 miles. I hope to top 50 on at least one day next week, but for now I feel a sense of success. I have found the trail! Way out in Darby I even found a sign that confirmed it as Marriott’s Way!

Hooray for signs!

A sign! And below, seen from the trail Thursday, a horse!

In Which Plans are Made for UK Adventures

Purchased at the bike shop, a bicycle map of Norwich.

I’m still finding my way around Norwich, England. My wife and I are to handle the school drop off Thursday morning, and there are two challenges: It may rain. And we may struggle to find our way back again.

Hopefully, the granddaughters will help us find their schools. If I were the kid, I might intentionally get my grandparents lost—“Oh, darn, can’t find the school today, guess I can’t go”—but, fortunately, I don’t think my granddaughters are either that devious or my wife and I that seriously directionally impaired. Then again, we do have a talent for getting lost.

And I’m set to begin another phase of my English adventures, too. Today in a bike shop, I scheduled to rent a bicycle next week. And my son-in-law leaves for a trip tomorrow, so before then I may be able to borrow his bike (I packed a new bicycle helmet for this vacation in the UK).

Map of Norwich, England, bike routes. Unlike many American cities, arranged in a rectangular grid, this  is an old Roman city arranged as a wheel with spokes. May that be a good omen. Wish me luck.

Stay tuned. Hopefully, your biking correspondent will figure out how to navigate the streets of Norwich well enough that you’ll hear from him again. The map may help—I hope so! Because no google on the fly—I can check my phone at my daughter’s house where there is WIFI, but otherwise the phone is merely a pocket watch and camera while I am in the UK.

Well, wish me luck. You’ll know if I achieve it, because I’m sure I’ll report on my English biking adventures.

In Which Baby J Rides a Bicycle

Trying on the helmet. Baby doesn't seem to mind it.

Baby J is just past 6 months of age—a bit young for the toddler seat I use on my commuting bicycle.

But he is visiting from England and won’t be around all that long—and we, his family, wondered if he would enjoy a bicycle ride.

The Wee Ride seat that my wife and I purchased at Wal-Mart some 5 or 6 years ago has seen a lot of use. Each grandchild, from about the age of 11 months to about 2 or 2 ½, has been able to use the seat to go on bicycle rides with grandpa. The only exception has been the ones who life across the ocean—J has two older sisters who have started to bicycle in England, which seems a rather bike-friendly place to get started on this adventure.

8-year-old granddaughter ready for a ride on Monday. It's a different attachment on a different bike--she is ready to ride a Schwinn attached bike borrowed from another daughter. She rode the blue one shown below on Tuesday, too.

Anyway, with other grandchildren, results have varied. All of the children have enjoyed rides now and then, but some have been more addicted to biking than others. My next youngest grandson, for instance, often wants a bicycle ride—sadly, this is probably his final season using this system, as he is approaching the size where the toddler seat won’t fit him anymore, but in another year he will have graduated to the Tag-A-Long attachment.

Tuesday, late in the afternoon, for some reason, the curiosity bug bit all of us. I had inquired about taking the older visiting granddaughters for bicycle rides—the idea was approved, but I can’t remember who asked—my wife or my daughter—is it time for J to try a ride?

Well, we don’t know if we have a helmet for such a tiny head. I found one of our smallest, adjusted it down, and we fit it on his head. Turns out he has a large head for a baby, and it seemed big, but snug enough.

6-year-old grandchild rides on Lindale Trail. She seems to be liking the ride.

What about the toddler seat? There are two in the garage, one that I have used for years on my bike and a second one that another daughter used with her sons. My daughter’s Wee Ride seat is newer, so we chose to try that seat (the newer model seems to have a bit more padding than the older one). I adjusted the feet rests up for shorter legs, and my wife and I spent some time shortening the torso and shoulder straps.

And then J was placed in his throne. He seemed to fit well, and we strapped him in. The concern had been, at age 6 months he can sit, but would he be stable enough to not flop over too much during a bike ride?

I rolled up the street a short way and returned so his mother and grandmother could check on him. He was sitting in front of me, and I could hear that he was not making any unhappy sounds, but I could not see his face.

According to mom and grandma, he looked happy, so we left on another short ride, just a few houses up the street and back. I don’t think J is ready for long rides yet, but little excursions seemed to please him.

It’s a pleasure to play a small part in introducing another generation to the joys of biking. After J’s short rides, I took his two sisters on pre-supper rides, too. The younger one rode the Lindale Trail, just the paved part near C Avenue since it had rained earlier in the day. The older one doesn’t like to cross the C Avenue bridge, so we looped through some neighborhood streets.

The sky was growing grey as I finished riding with the third grandchild. We put the bike and Tag-A-Long attachment away, and headed in for supper before the raindrops fell.

There weren’t a lot of miles on Tuesday, but it was still a great biking day!

J and I return, smiles on both of our faces.

In Which a Change is Made in Biking Wardrobe

First ride in the new jacket--a quick run to HyVee Drug Store.

The Canon jacket, my biking jacket that I have owned for a decade, is no more.

I go the jacket in 2006 when I purchased a new lens at a local camera store. I don’t recall the details, but there was some problem, some misunderstanding over the price. The store was being nice to me, and offered the jacket as a “sorry for the hassle” gift.

I rode a bike now and then 10 years ago, but wasn’t really a regular bicycle commuter. It was a couple of years after I got the jacket that my wife bought Francis for me, and that, plus an invitation from my oldest son to ride RAGBRAI, turned me into CR Biker.

Well, nothing lasts forever. The Canon jacket was convenient—water resistant enough and wind resistant enough to be wearable in many types of weather, and usable, with layers, in the coldest winter days. I liked that it also had a thin hood that fit under a bike helmet.

This March, my wife and I flew to England on a wonderful trip to see our daughter and grandchildren. Since March in England can be cool, I packed the jacket.

Something odd happened on that flight. In the cold of the cargo hold, somewhere over Greenland or the Atlantic Ocean, the zipper on that Canon jacket somehow lost its grip. All during that week walking around Cromer and Norwich and London, in sometimes cold winds and rain, the coat was a problem. Every day, I would try to zip it up, and each day the zipper would fail and the coat would fall open.

We tried soaping the zipper and we tried washing it to see if something that we couldn’t see got stuck in it. But nothing worked. When a zipper fails that’s curtains for the garment.

And I got some beer at the store--a toast to jackets old and new.

Well, so long Canon jacket. We went out today and bought me a new biking jacket—very similar in style, even if it doesn’t bear the name of a camera brand.

It’s black and water resistant and even has a hood, too. CR Biker hopes this new biking jacket lasts 10 years, too.

In Which I Assess UK Biking

Granddaugher and daughter out on long walk with me in the UK.

Lego bikers--I was playing
with a granddaughter. And Legos.

I’ve got to get ready to register for RAGBRAI—the deadline is coming soon—and in preparation, I’ve taken the week off of biking.

I’m visiting my daughter in the UK. I’m not exactly UK bike ready, and there isn’t a bike for me to ride, either. I’m making up for it with extensive walking this week.

So a few brief, random observations on British biking:

• Despite narrow streets and sidewalks so narrow that parked cars half block them, bicycles are more common on British streets. And because cars are smaller and go slower, I doubt despite the lack of space that British bikers are more in peril. Probably the opposite. And in going to school to pick up grandchildren, a fair number of parents have a kiddie bike attached to the back.

• Bike racks in busy areas, such as downtown, are often full. Many bikes have baskets and carry bags, as well as fenders. British common bikes seem built for serious use, rather than the main purpose of American bikes, which is recreation.

Bike rack in downtown Norwich, England. Grey, cool weather does not keep these bikers home.

• Helmets and reflective vests exist in Britain, but are not quite as commonplace as in the U.S. On most points, I would say the Brits are ahead of us in biking, but on this point, I would say Americans are ahead. Yay.

Anyway, I do feel that the week of intense walking is doing me some good. I have a sore left knee that actually seems to be getting better. Walking in the UK is challenging enough—you have to train yourself to look in the opposite direction when crossing the street—I suppose it’s OK I’m not trying to bike here. But I am looking forward to getting back to the states and back on my bikes!

Daughter and wife on walkway of 1,000 year old cathedral. I guess this is one place I would not bike. And below, view from upper floor while riding double deck bus. More busses as well as bikes in UK.

In Which A Daughter Draws Some Bikers

My oldest daughter Amanda is, among other things, an artist who resides in Norwich, England.

As you may recall, she created the “Team Joe” RAGBRAI shirt design.

She also did some drawing for fliers that promote a charity biking event in Norwich. I’m posting some samples of her bike drawings here, just so you can enjoy more samples of her biking drawing style.

If you like her art, you can see more of it here.

Bike on!

In Which CR Biker has a humble plea for Mother Nature

March 5--a fun day to be outside badly building a snowman with a granddaughter, but not so great as biking weather.

Well, surprise, surprise. It’s Wednesday and I have not commuted as God intends—on two wheels—yet this week. I might, on Thursday, fingers crossed.

I posted some snow photos on Facebook yesterday, and my oldest daughter, who lives in Norwich, England, commented on one photo: “So. Much. Snow.” According to her, just a bit northeast of London it’s already looking and feeling like spring.

Not so much in Iowa. Frankly, it’s not deep winter—we don’t have highs (or lows) in negative Fahrenheit temperatures, for example. When the sun shines (which it does every other day or so) our big, bright day star is high enough in the sky to have some impact—to make you feel warmer and to warm and to melt some of our snow, at least a little bit.

But it will be a number of days (weeks?) before the deep snowpack recedes. Amanda and family are visiting our continent for a few weeks beginning next week. Let’s hope those from England don’t have too much of a shock when they enter the land of ice and snow.

I still have not yet done anything to get a second bike in riding condition, although I hope spring break allows me some jaunts on two wheels with my son-in-law, maybe even with a grandchild on a bike seat.. Audrey pointed out that we do have my youngest son’s bike at home—which can quickly be oiled and up to use—but, on the other hand, we will also soon have my youngest son, whose spring break at ISU coincides with MMU’s spring break. I hope he wants his bike again for his own use.

Anyway, if the snow continues it won’t be much of an issue. But, I don’t think it will. I promise you, Amanda, it will be more like spring when you’re here than it is now. (Such an extravagant promise for me to make—don’t’ listen Mother Nature, it’s not hubris, I know I don’t control the weather, just trying to play the odds.) March in Iowa is like that—it’s every season of the year rolled into one, days of cold and snow, slightly warm days when the crocus blooms, and a few actual warm days that make you remember summer is coming.

Or, so I hope. We don’t want our visitors from England to dislike Iowa now, do we, powers that be?

We want them to welcome an opportunity down the road to move back to this continent. We want to go biking with them when they are here—to show them all of our pretty flowers that will be in bloom, and the majestic eagles we’ve found down by the river.

Right, Mother Nature? Right? Knocks on wood.

Grandchildren with their new snow shovels, which they have used enough already this March, thank you very much.