In Which RAGBRAI Will Follow the River

Photo posted on Facebook by RAGBRAI. The Jan. 26 announcement.

The big surprise is now out—I wondered if they would do something really new, like a north to south route—but no, the surprise for RAGBRAI 2019 is the final day—Burlington to Keokuk.

Honestly, I’m not 100 percent on how I feel about that. I do like the idea of a day along the mighty Mississippi, but it ends in Keokuk. Granted, that’s a city of some size, not some isolated hamlet like Guttenberg or Lansing, but by accident of geography (being at the tip of a peninsula formed by the Des Moines and Mississippi rivers) Keokuk manages to be geographically isolated. We’ll have to mount an early summer scouting mission—how hard will this city be to get into and out of?

And it’s just way, way down there. Clinton-Davenport-Muscatine, heck, even Burlington—those are easy cities to get to for CR Biker, and easy to enter and exit. Keokuk is way the heck down into Missouri, a strange, exotic and (maybe) isolated town.

2019 RAGBRAI Logo from DesMoinesRegister.com.

Which may not be entirely bad news. I have been by the city K often in my life, but never into the city (no major north-south highway leading from parts of Iowa to parts of Missouri goes through Keokuk—it is a city that is not on the way to anywhere). So for me, it is an unexplored corner of Iowa.

The start in Council Bluffs is not bad—that’s a big place with lots of ingress and egress options, and they have a pretty cool by-the-river facility to start this sort of thing.

Other overnight towns include Atlantic, Winterset, Indianola and Centerville, in addition to Burlington.

Ah. And Fairfield. A nice little town, with a pretty town square—but last time RAGBRAI stopped there, ape excrement cray-cray, too. The was the city where an officious gate guard would not let our clearly legit support vehicle in because we could not name a team on her odd little list, and so others in town had to conspire to sneak us in via a back alley to get to the official camp site we were entitled to in the first place.

Fairfield—the land that brains forgot.

OK, OK totally unfair and not accurate, either. That was an uncalled for rant—an unfair smear against a fine, slightly off-balance, Iowa town. One crazy gate guard does not a crazy town make, although it says something about the level of Fairfield Crazy (one step below Trump Crazy) that the other organizers, instead of correcting crazy gate guard lady, found it easier to sneak us in a back way.

Never argue with a crazy lady wielding a clipboard in Fairfield. That’s a rule, like never get involved in a land war in Asia.

One of my images from RAGBRAI 2018.

Anyway, I’m a bit mixed at many levels. RAGBRAI is a southern route this year—not the far south route of a few years ago through the most impoverished areas of Iowa, but close enough to Missouri that it will feel a little less like Iowa.

And I’m just a bit up in the air in riding the whole thing, anyway. I’ve done the whole RAGBRAI for enough years now that I’m starting to look for the off ramp. Not that I want to give it up—I would like to celebrate the year of my 80th birthday with a full RAGBRAI, if I’m physically able, and if I’m will probably ride part of the route most years—but the time, expense and sheer wear of an entire week seems less attractive to CR Biker as he ages.

I don’t need that mark on my bucket list. Been there, done that, it was great fun and I think I’ll do it again sometime, but do I need to ride the full week every year? How about starting in Winterset or Indianola?

What do you think, Team Joe? Are we ready for a more truncated ride?

Group photo of Team Joe, Boone, 2018.

This was the year that I might have missed RAGBRAI completely. We are planning to visit our daughter in England, and had thought of doing an Ireland tour and meeting her in Dublin. Given their school breaks, late July was looking as the time to do it.

Then, we decided that while we do want to tour the emerald isle, it will just not be this year. We want a little more time to plan that adventure. So our England trip this summer may not conflict with RAGBRAI (although, to be honest, it still could because dates are not firmly set yet).

Still, between registration, bike maintenance, meals, travel to the start and finish, etc., I probably invest something around $750 in RAGBRAI each year, not counting the training cost (and I should not count the training cost because I would plan to spend my whole summer on a bicycle even without RAGBRAI). I’m good for the money, but my wife and I had a ball traveling to Missouri last year—we’re getting to a life phase where doing more joint travel is a priority, and my wife is not interested in riding RAGBRAI.

Maybe it would make sense take $300 or so of the RAGBRAI fund and use it for the elderly couple travel adventure fund. I bet I could do 3 to 4 days of RAGRAI for around $450, give or take.

Anyway, I still have to confer with the team (and the spouse). I did buy two camp chairs just for RAGBRAI use. But I would like to have part of my late July week back home, too.

Still, there is Keokuk. Hmm. I might enjoy seeing you on two wheels.

The route was announced tonight, and I watched it live on The Gazette’s web site. Here is RAGBRAI 2019:

• Day 1, 58 miles, Council Bluffs to Atlantic.
• Day 2, 68 miles, Atlantic to Winterset.
• Day 3, 39 miles, Winterset to Indianola.
• Day 4: 68 miles, Indianola to Centerville.
• Day 5, 65 miles, Centerville to Fairflield.
• Day 6, 57 miles, Fairfield to Burlington.
• Day 7, 62 miles, Burlington to Keokuk.

It’s 427 miles total, with 14,735 feet of climb, according to the announcement today. That may alter slightly as details of the route are fleshed out, but there you have it.

In Which I Enjoy the Coral Twilight

Pretty late day light on Cedar River Trail Jan. 21.

This has not been a bike friendly week. A pretty good snow fell Tuesday into Wednesday, and the forecast is for some serious artic chill Thursday and especially Friday.

There had also been snow Saturday, and I wondered how the streets would be Monday.

Well, there was snow, and I had to be careful, but the ride was not bad. Except it was very, very cold—my feet suffered despite the boots. Then again, I had left the boots in the unheated sun room, due to snow on them from Sunday snow play with grandchildren, and I think the major problem Monday morning was the boots were so darn cold to start with.

The ride home was late in the afternoon, as the sun was going down. It was cold again, but not as cold as the morning. And my feet were far warmer. I decided to take the Cedar River Trail home, thus avoiding some of the less-traveled streets that had more snow on them.

It was a good move—the trail was a bit snowy here or there, but largely clear—and even where snowy, there was no anxiety about slipping near auto traffic. In fact, while I had to slow it down, the mountain bike performed well. There was no slipping.

It was quiet and the light was going from golden to coral, a pretty pink, as the sun sank. At one point, some deer paused after crossing the trail, looking at me as I looked at them.

Cedar River Trail, ride home in fading light, deer watching me approach.

After an oddly mild start to winter, January has turned harsh. But now and then, there is a milder day, like Monday. It may be a while before I get the winter bike out of the garage, but when I do, I can only hope for such pretty light and such a peaceful ride.

Late afternoon light reflected on McLeod Run, Cedar River Trail.

In Which I Contemplate Snow on the Ride

A dusting of snow on C Avenue sidewalk Wednesday morning. It turns out (below) I was not the only biker.

On C Avenue Thursday morning looking back at sidewalk between me and Collins Road. CR Biker is not amused.

I took a quick ride Tuesday afternoon, assuming it would be the last ride of the week.

As it turned out, the snow Tuesday night was no more than a very light dusting. And so Wednesday morning, I donned the warm underwear and snow boots and wheeled out the mountain bike.

For the most part, while I had to be a bit careful, the ride was not eventful. Except at the corner of C Avenue and Collins Road. A sidewalk was installed on C Avenue there, and the office complex there has not learned to clear snow.

I had to walk the bike for about half a block. Otherwise, the ride was cool but uneventful.

Friday the snow apocalypse was scheduled for the afternoon. So in the morning, I needed to go out to get some gas for my snow blower, and took the hybrid bike because I could strap the gas can to the back rack.

And I rode the Lindale and a part of the Boyson Trail. It was quiet and cool.

Frozen and bumpy trail. But nevertheless I persisted.

This one is for you, Cate Sheller. A testament to man's ability to generate electricity.

View from bridge on Boyson Trail, and then I turned around and went up to Boyson Road, rode on bike lane to Casey's and got some gas. Ready for the snow, snow blower willing.

I had to go to campus then, and drove, expecting that snow would be falling the in afternoon when I came home. I was wrong, the snow was late, but whatever.

I got two rides in for the past two days, and three in for the week. During the winter, that’s not bad.

The snow has finally arrived and is piling up outside—it’s not clear when I will be able to ride again.

All in all, it was a nice biking week. But business at the corner of C and Collins? Shovel your walk.

In Which Before Snow I Take a Short Ride

Lindale Trail, about 4:30 p.m., Jan. 16. From the woods, below, a deer watches as I pass by on the trail.

Snow Saturday was followed by temperatures in the 30s, so I had some hope for biking this week.

Mother Nature had over plans. Cloudy, cool weather included bouts of freezing drizzle, making this a week for driving rather than riding.

Drove to campus Sunday to work on the newspaper--a bike in the rack by the library. Not my bike. Winter is hard.

By today, I thought “maybe,” but did not have time this morning (students gave speeches yesterday and I was up late finishing all the grading). And mid-day, something odd happened—a bright source of light appeared briefly in the milky Iowa winter sky, bathing us with visible star radiation. I drove home about 3:30 and felt a bit sad that I had not biked.

Snow person at the top of the hill.

I stopped to gas up the van—I’m picking up my wife at the airport tomorrow, if all goes well (knock on wood, and I feel for you, unpaid TSA agents). I also picked up some groceries. By the time I got home, it was still just a few minutes before 4. I had planned to feed the birds, so I filled the feeders in the back yard—and it was still light out.

The days are getting a bit longer.

I wheeled the mountain bike out of the garage. I didn’t plan a long ride, I have more grading tonight. I rode up to the Lindale Trail and went back and forth on the paved part of the trail. And then, because it was such a short ride, I went up the Hampden Hill, down the back side of the Crandall Hill and then back again.

Snow is expected tonight, with more in the next week. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to ride again, and I’m glad, even if it was short, that I did take a ride today.

Another view of snow figure at the top of the Bowman Woods hill.

In Which the Wind Comes Whistling Across the Lake

Cedar Lake late Tuesday afternoon--calm north end.

The week started warm and wet, and I drove on Monday. By Tuesday, a cold front was passing through and winter was on its way back into Iowa—arriving with buffeting wind.

It was still damp Tuesday morning and flurries were possible that day, so I rode my mountain bike. I need not have bothered—the sky, in fact, in Cedar Rapids became increasingly clear as the day went on, and even if it was windy and cool, at least the light was good.

Cool, windy Tuesday morning, sunrise at Collins pond on C Avenue.

Late in the afternoon, I left work. Despite the chill wind, I was in the mood for the longer trail ride, and I headed over to the Cedar River Trail and circled Cedar Lake before heading home.

I was not unhappy to be on the mountain bike. It’s my slowest bike, but in the wind I would not have made much speed anyway (and you all who know me are thinking “you would not make much speed in any case, CR Biker,” and to be fair, you would have a point). It does feel like a very stable bike on a windy day.

I had my good camera with me. I had photographed a basketball game Monday afternoon, and for some reason felt it was important to photograph the first sunny ride of the week. When I got down to the lake, the sun was very low. Geese were all huddled at the north end of the lake, where the water was fairly calm. But anywhere else, especially on the south end, the lake was choppy. I was impressed with the sound of the wind and the water smashing against the shore.

You Californian family members who see actual waves on an actual ocean would be amused, I’m sure, but I was impressed with the surf.

Water splashing against rock at south end of Cedar Lake.

I was also surprised that, unlike geese, some ducks didn’t seem to care to hang out where the water was calm. There were several duck pairs bobbing up and down on the choppy lake, sometimes with feathers ruffled by the wind. There are silly sayings about wet weather being the kind of day that would only make a duck happy—but in this case, despite it being sunny, I’m sure these ducks were getting quite wet and sad. A duck’s face does not have expression, but I could only imagine them quacking vague duck curses under their breaths as they questioned the wisdom of wintering in balmy Cedar Rapids.

I headed north to home and thought the flag at Harding Middle School looks pretty in the late golden light, so I shot some images of it—not realizing until I looked at them how frayed the flag seems. Then again, maybe it wasn’t frayed so badly when it was raised Tuesday morning.

It was that kind of day. Every once in a while, I shifted into a climbing gear on flat ground to ascent the wind hill. I was thoroughly chilled by the time I arrived home, but still rode my bike up to a dinner invitation a half mile or so from home.

The mountain bike has lots of lights. Why not?

Today, it was getting colder and was still breezy in the morning, but luckily not so windy. Winter was back, but there are mittens and warm boots and long underwear, and your biking correspondent was still on two wheels, although today I rode the hybrid bike.

Here are more images from my windy Tuesday ride:

Geese in golden light on lake.

A great wave hit the little ship. "Hold on," Captain Jim told his men.

Flag waves vigorously at Harding Middle School.

Cedar River Trail north of Cedar Lake--pretty sky and golden light of late afternoon.

Ducks, riding waves on Cedar Lake.

More lake waves.

In Which Dinosaurs Prove Elusive

I could hear them and see them—at one point, in a group of about 5 or 6 males, chattering in the bushes, flitting about—but scattering when I unlimbered my camera. Even with a long lens on the good camera, I didn’t do well in photographing them.

There were birds on the bike ride Friday, but elusive ones on this warm winter day, including this elusive flock of male cardinals who were there, but preferred not to be photographed.

The best shot I got, just one of the boys hiding in the bushes, Cedar Valley Nature Trail, Jan. 4, 2019, maybe 10:30 in the morning.

I was scheduled to take my wife to the airport that afternoon, but Friday morning I took advantage of the sunny January day—temperature in the morning in the 30s—to ride north on the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. My original plan was to circle the city park in Robins and head back—but the side trail to the park was too shady to be cleared of ice and snow.

Maybe with my mountain bike, I might have persisted, nonetheless. But in this case, he did not persist because he was riding a road bike.

The trail to the park in Robins does not appear road bike friendly.

So instead, I just made a quick ride up to Tower Terrace Road before turning towards home.

Shortly after I turned back, a hawk that had been on the power line took off to soar across a field. Aha—another photo opportunity! But alas, my phone rang just at that second, and like Pavlov’s dog, I gave my conditioned response, although not a slobbery one. “Hello,” I dryly said.

Am I in the market for cheaper health insurance, the robo lady inquired. No, in fact, I would pay much higher taxes to have a national health plan that covers everybody so nobody would have to ask that question, but that’s a rant for another blog.

The hawk did not wait. In the few seconds I was pointlessly listening to robo caller, the dinosaur slipped away.

Well, even if the dinosaurs on this bicycle ride proved elusive, at least the sunshine did not. It was a very pleasant morning for January, and I did ride about 16 miles or so. It was a morning well spent.

What the Cedar Valley Nature Trail was like Friday morning--mostly clear, a few other bikers and walkers out, very sunny which made the winter drab even a little pretty.