In Which Priscilla and I Teach Life Lessons

 

Back of my bike.

 So, the week before last week was RAGBRAI.

I am part of a RAGBRAI team called “Team Joe” (named by two of my sisters in a clearly successful attempt to keep me riding along with them). We have our own support vehicle and trade off driving duties, so it was never in the cards that I would ride all of this year’s route.

Still, I hoped to achieve something like half the miles, maybe topping 250 miles for the week. Mother Nature and fate had other plans.

Saturday in camp at Morningside University--Team Joe has donned our RAGBRAI wristbands and are ready for the week.

First life lesson: I am not the center of the universe, and sometimes I have to play the cards I’m dealt rather than the ones I wished I had.

On July 21, I packed up for the long ride, and on July 22, my wife and I embarked on the drive across the state to Sioux City. The rest of Team Joe, my two sisters and a brother-in-law, were to drive from Des Moines.

My wife and I arrived first. It’s an old rule of life that whoever is coming from the farthest often arrives first. We used GPS to get the to park listed as the main camp site, but when we arrived, all we found near the parking lot were lots of “no camping” signs.

GPS on Google leads me here in Sioux City, to the park listed as the main campground. Something is missing.

Now, I know that the park was probably a large one that stretches along the Missouri River, and I’m sure there was another area we simply couldn’t see from where we were that was used for RAGBRAI camping.

But, in the meantime, we discovered online that Morningside University was listed as a camping area, too, and we assumed (correctly) that it may be less crowded that the main campground anyway, so my wife and I drove there and I picked a shady spot and pitched my tent.

After lunch in a nearby Dairy Queen, my wife left for the drive home, leaving me on my own. Not for long, I only had a short wait until the crew from Des Moines, driving the support vehicle, arrived.

It was a comfortable camp spot, despite the motorcycle group that cruised by repeatedly at night. Supper was at a decent Mexican restaurant and we were in our tents, asleep, by soon after 9. At 5 a.m. Sunday, my sister Cate and I arose and began prepping for the ride. We were the first riders of the first day, while my other sister, Brigid, and her husband, Eldon, were the first drivers.

Cate and I knew we were in for a climb because we were going through the Loess Hills, a hilly region of western Iowa where the majority of the more than 3,000 feet of climb set for that day would take place. We hoped to leave camp by 6 a.m., but peddled off about 6:30.

Second life lesson: Most things take longer than you think. It applies especially to two old night owls early in the morning.

We had a 5-mile or so ride to get to the park where RAGBRAI was to start. And when we did find it, we almost regretted finding it. Camping vehicles were attempting to leave the park using the same road that was clogged with bikers. Bike traffic was chaotic and heavy, and it was a hairy cruise getting out of the park. Once we were finally in the city proper, we had to dodge traffic cones that Sioux City inexplicably lined the whole route with. I suppose it was to try to squeeze us into one lane, but given the crush of riders (this we a difference RAGBRAI, the 50th ride, and there was far more biker than in most years) that was impossible.

The crowd was so large that several walking “scrums” formed in the first few miles of countryside, something unusual on RAGBRAI. A scrum is normal in a town. In a town, there is usually a point where bikers have to dismount and walk for a few blocks, but such is not expected out in the countryside.

Day one, walking scrum in the countryside. Walk Across Iowa.

We were expecting to find breakfast on the road. But there were very few vendors in the 29 miles to Kingsley, where we finally were able to stop to eat. And they were hilly miles.

However, there was good news. While the week would turn hot, the early days, particularly in the mornings, were pleasant. And while the graph of elevations made this first half of the first day look very daunting, it turned out many of the hills were “rollers,” where one hill is followed by another in such proximity that the downhill momentum from the first one helps you climb the second.

Our breakfast involved a nice waffle in Kinglsey, but a long wait in a hot line to get to food. Crowded RAGBRAI.

Day 1 ended for Cate and I in the tiny hamlet of Washta, the “meet town” where Brigid and Eldon had parked “Chuck” the Honda Pilot that was our support vehicle (yes, named after Chuck Yaeger because it’s a pilot …). We used an app called “What3Words” that gives detailed coordinates to any location, and it worked well to share the location of the support vehicle.

Scene from Monday ride.

Sunday’s ride ended in Storm Lake. On Monday, the ride was to Carroll. The route was to go through Early, a tiny town I lived in during the 1990s, and I was kind of looking forward to riding through there. But we had a host couple who lived on a small farm near Sac City, and their gravel road abutted the route just south of Early, so on Monday my ride began there.

On Monday, Cate was to hang out with the college pal who was our host while I, Bridgid and Eldon rode. Cate and I had missed pie the first day—we only passed through two towns, after all. On day 2, the pie drought ended in a big way.

We merry band had eaten breakfast at our host house, so we passed through the first town, Lake View, and headed on to the second, Breda. And at Breda, the Lions Club was selling pie. It was apple, cherry or peach—a slightly narrow selection by RAGBRAI standards (no rhubarb!), but it looked good. “And we have a shady area for you to sit,” one of the ladies said. Sold.

I carried my pie to a shady table. I was the quickest of the team to pick my pie (peach) and as I sat down, another sweet lady said: “We have a flusher inside, and would you like a cup of coffee?”

A free cup of coffee served in an actual mug and a bathroom with indoor plumbing? It was some kind of RAGBRAI pie nirvana.

We also enjoyed a stop in Mt. Carmel, where we each ate a great BLT sandwich and checked out the huge, fancy Catholic church in the tiny town. The church volunteers all dressed as angels, which was a cute touch.

Brigid and Eldon, half of Team Joe, ride their trikes in front of me.

The afternoon was growing a bit warm as we finally entered Carroll for the end of day two, just a taste of what warmth was to come.

And my throat was getting sorer. I started to notice a scratchy throat on Sunday, and it was worse on Monday. By Monday night, I was feeling really under the weather. Foreshadowing: If you are in close proximity with your RAGBRAI teams, sadly, it’s not likely your personal virus will stay all that personal.

We stayed that night again with our Sac City host, and took off in the morning. The host was taking Cate and Brigid to the start of the route, while Eldon and I were to leave Chuck in Rippley, the meet town.

With the packing up and drive (the driving route maps RAGBRAI posted were terrible), it was late morning by the time we got to the meet town. We were in for a hot ride. It was miserable in town, but improved a bit when we got out to town and got a bit of a breeze.

Eldon assists another biker for part of the ride.

It was 22 miles to Luther, but lunch at a local barbecue joint, Whatcha Smokin BBQ, was excellent. Another long line, but worth the wait. It’s one of the nice aspects of RAGBRAI that can keep you coming back—the opportunity to discover aspects of Iowa towns you weren’t aware of, whether you’re from here or somewhere else.

Third life lesson: Everybody everywhere are living interesting lives, and every place has its own story to tell.

The ride ended in Ames, where we had an adventure getting to our kind hosts’ house. It’s fortunate that Cate and Brigid, my sisters, went to ISU, worked there, and still have contact with an ISU mafia that can house us on RAGBRAI.

Anyway, the host lives on the north end of Ames, while we entered town from the south. To get us there, Google decided to give us a tour of the ISU campus, which was both weird and kind of nice (it’s a very pretty campus). We skipped the stadium ride, because, honestly, why do non-sports fans like us care?

We knew that Wednesday would be a hot day. That night, we would be at Eldon’s and Brigid’s house, so they volunteered to drive. Cate and I got a fairly early start, hoping to beat the heat.

Because our hosts had again fed us, we planned to keep cycling past the first town. But shades of day 1—the crowd was so intense that the walking scrum for Slater, the first town after Ames, formed almost a mile from town. The Great Walk Across Iowa once again appeared.

In Slater, town one on road from Ames. Scrum forms early.

Thus, we entered Slater slowly, and walked our way for a while. Near the edge of town, the county conservation department had set up a nice stop featuring water and free bananas—but despite our early start, all the bananas were gone by the time we got there. Yes, we had no bananas.

We watered up and continued our stroll across Slater. After the vendor area, we got to the mount point, started to ride away, but suddenly stopped.

A Lutheran church. A long row of tables with no lines. Pies. And yes, strawberry rhubarb was an option, which I think we both chose.

They didn’t have free coffee, nor a designated shady sitting area, but it was so unbusy that the retaining wall of the church provide pleasant, shaded seating.

It was already feeling warm. As we rode on through the morning, it kept getting warmer and a warmer.

Polk City had a bright idea—they opened some fire hydrants to spray in the air. Since they weren’t horizontal, they didn’t have the force to knock you down, but a hydrant provides a very intense, cooling shower, an appreciated and maybe needed shock to the system.

And the corn growers were there, too—free sweet corn! We did the obligatory corn promo truck tour, managed to fish out a fact to earn both corn and a corn necklace, and also purchased a “biker brat,” which was a bun-less bratwurst. We bought a Tailwind IPA, the official RAGBRAI brew, at another booth and enjoyed the quintessential RAGBRAI lunch.

And then we rode off into the increasingly hot day. It was afternoon now, and as we approach Ankeny, the heat was getting brutal. When we left lunch, our intention was to ride all the way to Des Moines, but as we approached Ankeny, our intentions quickly changed.

We texted the rest of Team Joe to come get us. After a hot ride across Ankeny to a pickup point, we rode into Des Moine in the comfort of Chuck’s AC.

See the first life lesson.

Cate rides ahead of me on Ankney bike trail as we seek pickup point beyond RAGBRAI traffic.

Our plan was to enjoy a night in a house in Des Moines, and ride to Tama-Toledo in two shifts for our final night of camping for RAGBRAI 2023. I would then ride part of the day to Coralville and be delivered home on Friday, while the team would continue to at least Muscatine on Saturday.

But again, fate decided to take a hand. The minor virus I had brought to the team was starting to spread. Cate was starting to feel a scratchy throat that night, which by Thursday morning was very uncomfortable.

I slept later than expected Thursday, because they did not wake me. The mood was serious when I awoke, “we need to meet” someone said. Hmm. And there were COVID tests on the dining table.

The day was expected to be even hotter, and the team had lost the will to camp on a hot, hot night. With the onset of Joe’s Disease, which I was mostly recovered from, Cate had also lost the will to bike. Brigid had a job interview scheduled for the week after RAGBRAI, and was feeling like being rested and healthy was a priority.

We did the nose swabs and took the tests. We didn’t really think it was THAT virus, and the negative tests seem to back up that impression. But the team didn’t want to bike any more. And I don’t blame them, in the context of all the factors, it felt like the right decision.

A kid handed me a new bike bling as I rode past on final RAGBRAI ride.

And I had family visiting this week, visits scheduled without regard to RAGBRAI based on other plans. By returning home Thursday rather than Friday, I got to at least briefly see a daughter and her daughters that I would have otherwise missed.

They were in town from Minnesota because my oldest son, who lives in San Francisco, was visiting. And he was partly in Iowa to fulfill a life goal. A pig roast had been planned in California, but did not take place—and the trip to Iowa provided another opportunity to feed a crowd by roasting a whole hog.

My children are, for some reason, into food and cooking, and the oldest son was determined to fulfill this life goal. He arranged to buy a rotisserie, rent a large barbecue to put it over and purchase a whole hog.

And, on top of all that, he decided to ride the final day of RAGBARI with some college friends who live in the area. Another ISU mafia.

His ride didn’t completely go as planned—yadda, yadda, life lessons, etc. What with one thing and another, including an early flat tyre, he got home later than expected Saturday, and we had prep work to do for the big post-RAGBRAI hog roast, set for Sunday.

Set up the unit. Discover that it was good Amazon had by accident delivered two different units, because one had a piece welded on upside down, which made it impossible to assemble.

And get the pig out of the fridge, clean it, inject marinade, and rub it with spices. My wife and I acted as the support crew, and after staying up till close to midnight Saturday, we were up again around 5:30 a.m. Sunday to help our oldest son get the pig going.

It took some time and several loads of charcoal, but before 7 a.m., the hog was on the spit, being turned slowly over smoldering charcoal.

Image make by Cate--Priscilla has been roasted, my oldest son and I are getting ready to remove her from the cooking area to the carving table.

One of my daughters-in-law, the wife of my younger son, came out early in the morning, and we were the fire crew who prepped new loads of charcoal using a chimney starter and applying them to the bed of coals.

It was Stefanie, the daughter-in-law, who helped name the hog. Jon, the oldest son whose pig roast this was, determined that the animal had been female, and it became Priscilla Hogsley.

Jon’s young son, who speaks primarily Spanish, had an interesting set of observations. I speak a little Spanish, but it was handy to have Jon to translate. “Why did the pig have to die?” my grandson inquired. And in the next breath, “I’m hungry for the hog.”

Fourth life lesson: Food we eat comes from somewhere. If I’m going to eat meat, I have to be prepared to make peace with the idea that something died so I can eat.

I sacrificed some sleep for a post-RAGBRAI celebration. My wife sacrificed more—not just the sleep, but while I was mostly sitting in a lawn chair arising now and then to light or pour coals, she was very busy, cooking up a storm in the kitchen to have a mountain of side dishes ready. And, of course, Priscilla sacrificed the most.

My biker sister in town, another sister who had planned to be a support driver for the final day which we didn’t ride and my son plus his riding friend and his family, as well as more of my kids and grandkids, enjoyed a fine feast Sunday afternoon.

Priscilla’s sacrifice was not in vain.

And so, we close the book on RAGBRAI L. It was an L of a ride. Enjoyable, but way more crowded, and the size of the ride seemed to overwhelm the new crew that was organizing it. In total, I rode 157.5 miles in four days on RAGBRAI, short of the over 200 that I had planned, but it was still a good ride. I had more than 500 miles in June and, at the end of RAGBRAI, 2,227 miles for the year.

Bike bears bands of many RAGBRAIs--not all of them, I rode a hybrid bike on several early rides.

But wait, there’s more. Two more life lessons.

I’ve gone on several rides since RAGBRAI, the most eventful being Aug. 2. The weather was nicer, warm but not brutally hot, and continued dry. I decided to enjoy some riding on The Fancy Beast, my mountain bike. A park a couple of miles from my house, Noelridge Park, includes some natural flower areas, and one has a grassy walkway. I circle that area often on bike rides, and on this day, I decided to ride the grassy part on the Fancy Beast.

That part of the ride went well. And I returned towards home and rode down the Lindale Trail to the Boyson Trail. There are mountain bike trails there, although one was blocked by a fallen tree from the thunderstorm that had blown through before the final day of RAGBRAI.

I thought that was the glitch of the ride. But just like the movie Apollo 13, the minor problem wasn’t the major problem.

Tree that fell in storm blocks mountain bike trail in Marion. As it turns out, one of the final images I made before a bike accident claims this camera.

I was ready to head home, and decided to use a side trail I don’t normally ride since it’s slightly rough limestone. It’s a piece of cake, or so I thought, on The Fancy Beast.

And just ahead of me on the trail, a whole group of wild turkeys and a deer were fetchingly crossing the trail. I was zooming along and wanted to stop to make an image.

A bit of bike knowledge. When you brake, you either have to brake only with the rear wheel or with both wheels, never just the front wheel. But I was distracted and not paying adequate attention and I am also left (front-wheel) handed. So, I squeezed with my left hand first, not simultaneously with my right hand.

Big mistake. I knew it was a possible hazard, but had never personally experienced it in more than five decades of bicycle riding.

Fifth life lesson: If you stop the front wheel of your bicycle too abruptly, you can flip a bike end-over-end.

It’s not a maneuver I recommend. I realized what was happening as I flipped dramatically into the air and had some time for speaking choice cuss words before the inelegant, rough landing.

Luckily, I let go with my hands, which meant I extended my arms as I flipped and didn’t land on my head. In fact, my left knee took the hardest jolt as I ground my heavy body into the planet through a rough limestone surface.

Ouch. Way ouch. But not as ouch as it could have been.

Sixth life lesson: When it goes wrong, I should count my blessings that it doesn’t go wronger.

Sure, I had just had one of my rare accidents. Sure, I was stunned, scratched, out of breath. Sure, the small Cannon camera that had recorded all of my RABRAI experiences fell out of my pocket and got broken on the hard trail surface.

But I was more OK than I thought I was. I was scratched but not bleeding badly. I had a sore knee but zero broken bones. Head and neck and face were all intact. The bike lost all of its lights (luckily none of them broke and just had to be clicked back into place), but was otherwise undamaged.

I stopped to collect myself and send my wife a text—I didn’t need rescue, but was wasting a bit of time to ensure I was OK. Then, I mounted The Fancy Beast and pedaled, slowly, home.

It turned out by next day my knee was quite painful, but I was intending to go to campus to work, and of course, I rode a bicycle there. And had my second fall in two days.

Quite a rarity for me—I still think I would need only the fingers of one hand to count up all of the falls I’ve had over the years.

Anyway, the Aug. 3 fall from Argent, my road bike, was way less of a deal. I was stopped at a stoplight, and it was cloudy enough that I thought riding with lights made sense. I went to hop off the bike to turn on the lights, and, partly because my knee was acting up, didn’t quite clear it with my leg and tumbled into the grass beside the sidewalk.

Luckily, only my ego was injured in this second mishap. In fact, in the ensuing days, it turned out the knee injury was minor—I know from experience that a banged knee can be very sore for months, and I was lucky this one was only sore for days.

All in all, I would have some advice for the new crew running RAGBRAI now—such as do a much, much better job on maps and don’t force everyone to use an app for maps—but I enjoyed the ride. And the hog roast.

Can’t say I enjoyed the tumbles from the bikes—yet, even most of those rides went well.

And I like to think that I learned some life lessons. Maybe that’s all we can ask.