In Which Mama Nature Finally Relents

Late in ride, seen from Lindale Trail. Quiet winter woods. I will love the pretty greens of spring and summer--but winter has it's charms, too.

Do I call it a winter ride or a spring ride? It was in the 20s today (American 20s, still well below freezing but warm enough that there was some melting where sun hit pavement), and there is a lot of snow around.

On the other hand, we are on the cusp of the final week of February, and my daughter in Norwich, England, is seeing spring blooms. Despite it still being winter here, there is a hint of spring in the air. The sun is slowly moving north and slowly visiting longer each day, the horny birds are singing their avian spring Tinder tunes—there are signs that good changes are coming.

It’s been a long time, a couple of weeks, since I donned my helmet and headed out to move two-wheeled in the world. The streets between here and campus, being in Cedar Rapids, are still packed with slick white ice, and they won’t be rideable until we have a string of warmer, sunny days. Snow is expected Sunday.

But today, the morning was too pretty. I had other stuff to do for a while, and honestly other stuff to do this afternoon, but I decided I needed some two-wheel mind and body therapy. Spring—when young birds think sex and old men think bicycles.

Bike on Boyson Trail, in top image, winter walker approaching. The Iowa road and trail game--find the road in winter. Honestly, eyes are better than cameras, the trail was really pretty obvious. Covered in packed snow, but passable if one rides The Fancy Beast slowly.

I figured I would need a short ride that didn’t involve streets—as even where there are bike lanes, they are often covered in snow and ice.

But I also thought that a ride on neighborhood trails using The Fancy Beast might be possible.

It turned out I was right on all counts. It was tough going climbing the hill on C Avenue to get to the Lindale Trail—technically I did slide and fall at one corner, but it was such a slow-speed “fall” that all it meant is that I ended up standing over my bike. No harm done to cold bike nor cold bike rider; the bike even ended up still upright between my legs. Would that all my bike falls would be such nonevents.

Just climbed C Avenue hill. The pavement here does not look bad, but it's only this clear by Walgreens--most of the way was 100 percent snow and ice covered. But I managed at a slow pace.

The morning sun had given way to clouds and the wind was chilly. I regretted my foolish decision to not wear long underwear, but it was still OK. Frankly, despite becoming cooled, I have to say that this little winter adventure was great for lifting my mood.

Once I got the on trail, the ride conditions improved dramatically. The CR parks workers—and those in Marion—did a great job of clearing the Lindale Trail. It was not 100 percent dry pavement, but good enough for a slow biker on a mount bike.

Two views of Lindale Trail--snow on the west end, clearer just beyond that. Most of the trail was in good shape, easy to ride.

I got to the end of the trail and turned to head through a residential neighborhood to the side trail (which I named the Joe Trail in an earlier blog post) of the Boyson Trail. Again, I was enjoying this cloudy, cool ride, but I could not help but be a bit sad at the state of streets in Marion, Iowa.

These quiet residential streets were clear of snow—bare pavement, totally safe to ride on. It’s like this town has discovered snow plows and uses them—I wish CR could do that.

Two views from the ride--the sad state of Marion Streets (above)--sad only because CR streets do not look like this. End of side trail (below) approached by a beast. A very reserved, quiet beast whose walker quickly leashed and walked by. "Beautiful day," he said--the biped, not the dog. "Yes, comparatively," I replied.

I met a few dog walkers on the Boyson Trail. Its limestone surface was totally packed with snow, but I was actually kind of hoping for that. When it gets warm enough for melting, this trail will be too mushy to ride—but the white ice covering meant on this slightly warmer day, the trail was still frozen and rideable with a mountain bike. I rode in a loop, leaving the trail where it’s closed for construction and looping back to the Lindale Trail though the neighborhood again.

I don’t really know my miles—not many, maybe 4 or 5. I guess, to me, that wasn’t really the point. I’m not sure when Iowa’s winter will relent enough for me to resume normal bike commuting operations. But I enjoyed today’s preview of spring.

Probably not as much as the birds, but still, I liked it. Three final images, contrasting the Lindale Trail with the C Avenue sidewalk:

East end of Lindale Trail, I'm ready to ride west towards C Avenue. Again, the east end. like the west end, is more snow covered than the trail in general, but this surface is OK with a mountain bike.

C Avenue sidewalk (above) covered in snow. Bridge over Dry Creek (below) is also not in great shape--but I was able to navigate both.

In Which I Do Not Feel Lucky

From Des Moines Register, their map of 2021 RAGBRAI.

“You've Got To Ask Yourself One Question: 'Do I Feel Lucky? ' Well, Do Ya, Punk?”

Hello, internet, it’s been a while. It’s me, CR Biker, a committed bicycle rider who has not been in the saddle for weeks.

Side eye glance at grey, windy arctic day out window.

The weather app on my smartphone says it’s 1 degree below zero—for you non-USA Celsius users, that would be minus 18—at 1:25 p.m. If the sun can break through, we may reach 0 today, still rounds to -18 in the UK and the rest of the metric globe.

Our high temperature is not expected to break zero Fahrenheit until Tuesday. We’ll see some lows in the teens below zero, and I don’t mean wind chill, I just mean chill chill.

RAGBRAI 2019--riding into Chariton, greeted by the "coolnicorn." We needed it that hot July day. We don't need it today!

When I was a wee biker of 60 or so, I sometime would ride at temperatures close to 0 (again, Iowa zero, which is way, way below what some of you think of as zero) if there was no wind and the pavement was good. I would dress in layers and have at it.

I think my event horizon is shifting. As my body ages, I am much more sensitive to cold, which seems strange to me as I seem to be accumulating more natural insulation. Whatever. I might still ride a bicycle today on a day in the teens—above zero—with my winter layers on. It will be a while before it gets that warm here.

And I would ride only if pavement allows, and one complication of this extraordinary February in Iowa is that pavement does not allow. We’ve had frequent snow—are way above average in seasonal totals. We have a snowpack that’s starting to be measurable in feet. Recent snows have been at very low temperatures, which means the stuff blows around fiercely but at least does not pile up.

But those dustings fall on streets that are in terrible shape for riding. Main roads and well cleared sidewalks are OK, but the quiet residential streets I ride on are not passable for me, even on my mountain bike. The slick white ice shows no signs of abating and won’t until sunshine and temps near the melting point of water creep into the picture.

So, there you have it. An enforced biking pause, caused by the snow cops. I will ride in cold, although maybe not as extreme a cold as we are having now—but not on an all-snow route.

Sunrise on the road, the day in 2019 we rode to Fairfield.

Let’s look ahead. RAGBRAI has announced for 2021, and is mostly using the 2020 ride route that was not used last year.

And I do not think I will be there. I want to be, but I don’t yet feel that it is time.

Last year, I recall posting about remote, alone riding, and someone in the Social Distance Bike Club said that we would all be riding together in summer. I was posting in spring 2020, and he meant summer 2020, and even at the time, I thought “I don’t think so.”

Ten thousand bikers from all over the world gathering in Iowa—it’s a wonderful thing. When a pandemic is not raging.

Yes, I know, there are vaccines now. My wife has been vaccinated. I have not. I don’t know when I will be. And I don’t feel like paying a registration fee for a bike trip that I do love, but do not want to get sick for.

RAGBRAI, I wish you well. I also wish I could be there. But 2021 seems too soon, to me. Small towns in Iowa will be the last places inoculated, and some “Iowa nice” people are too not-nice to take a shot for the team.

I do want to be around other bikers again. Just not until it’s safe. Maybe it will be safe by July 2021—I hope so. Still, in the dark cold of February, I don’t find myself able to convince myself that’s yet a safe bet. This biking punk just does not feel lucky.