In Which I Become the Vampire Rider

Sunday night on C Avenue on the way to Noelridge Park.

Sunday was very windy in Iowa—the windy day after the storms of Saturday.

So, I waited until late in the day, when the wind let up a bit, to take a very short twilight ride. I ride over to Noelridge park and back—leaving home at 7:10 or and getting back in time to join an 8 p.m. Zoom meeting of the campus newspaper staff that I advise.

It was quick but pretty. Many views:

Computer at end of Sunday ride.

Collins Road looking quiet about 7:40 p.m. Sunday as I head home.

Corner of Blairs Ferry and C Avenue about 7:15 p.m. I am heading south from home towards the park.

Noelridge Park Sunday night.

Sign at closed playground in Noelridge Park.

Monday, I was able to leave a bit earlier, so I set a more ambitious goal—riding out to Lafayette. However, when I got 5 miles north of Hiawatha, it was getting pretty dark and chilly, so I decided to turn back. All-in-all, I rode almost 20 miles, which wasn’t bad.

Sunday’s ride was on the hybrid bike—more stable in wind. Monday was rather liberating, going faster on the road bike.

One Sunday, I was impressed at how little traffic there was, particularly on Collins Road (which I did not ride along, but crossed). Monday, the Cedar River Trail was empty at times, but between Robins and Hiawatha, there were a fair number of people. Some, I think, were family units, so it was pretty legit for them to be close to each other since they live together. But there were some teen clusters that made me wonder a bit.

Stay apart, my friends, it is what we can do. Even if you think you’re young and will live forever, this disease has made some who are not in the vulnerable groups very ill-don’t do the field experiment to find out if you’re one of the unlucky ones.

And even if you are lucky, you have parents, uncles, grandparents, young relatives with asthma or other conditions—there’s lots of reasons to not cluster in social groups right now.

I was riding alone. I did my best to maintain distance. Let’s keep it together and remember to keep it apart.

Many, many biking images:

74th Street Monday about 6:30 p.m.--fair amount of traffic and people out on the sidewalks. I have the bike lane to myself.

Maple tree in bloom on Council Street.

Bike (above and below) on bridge at Robins.

Sunset seen from Cedar River Trail north of Robins.

Some traffic on the trail.

Very Iowa scene seen from Cedar River Trail--barn as sunset.

Horse near barn in sunset glow.

Cell tower at sunset on Cedar River Trail. Or is it Cedar Valley Nature Trail? Whichever is north.

Sunset.

Barn and windmill as sunset.

Lights seen on the way home in the dark.

Computer at end of ride.

Bridge in Robins.

Bike at sunset.

Last look.

In Which The Moon Shines At Dusk

Dry Creek at dusk. The light is pretty low, so I had to rest the camera on the rail of the C Avenue bridge. It looked darker to the eye than this photo captures.

When I was young, dusk, especially in summer, was my favorite time of day. The world turning slowly cooler and mysterious, the sky in darkening shades of blue until finally fading to black. It somehow was the time when play was most random and fun, when my sisters and I would have a “caucus race” around the VW micro-bus.

And so the time change has enhanced my rides. I teach until 6:50 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Because I have an exam tonight, I got out just a few minutes early and rode the trail route home, just as dusk was descending.

Moon in the darkening sky--another image on the C Avenue bridge.

It was the first official “spring” ride—no winter jacket required, no gloves, just a sweater. The morning ride was still winter cold, the afternoon ride was spring warm.

At the magic hour of dusk. I rode with lights on, but it was still fairly light out. The sun was just touching the horizon as I left campus, and the sky steadily became darker. The moon is not yet full, but was large enough to lend some light as the sun faded.

I can’t describe how it feels. A ride in twilight is somehow more peaceful, even with other bikers and walkers and traffic around. The worlds just seems fresher and quieter and cool. The day closes down, and whatever stress it brought is ebbing.

I rode fairly quickly, I think, and didn’t take the full trail route, but instead cut through the middle school near Noelridge Park. And I arrived home with a twilight smile.

Looking west at sky just past sunset.