In Which I Cross Bridges New and Newish

New trail bridge over Big Creek east of Marion, Iowa.

Up ahead, the new bridge, with the county highway on the right.

For a bike trail bridge, it doesn't seem all that narrow, but thanks for the heads up.

I got a text this afternoon from a family member, who was out of town and whose trip home was being delayed. At their request, I went to their house and let out a dog for an afternoon break.

It was a pretty, sunny Saturday, but windy, too—I wasn’t sure it was ideal biking weather. I decided to use the mountain bike—I knew I was going to be heading east on the bike trail through Marion anyway, and there was always the potential to ride on the mountain bike trails by the Boyson Trail.

As I headed south to the trial, I was zooming along. It’s a climb up a modest hill from my house along C Avenue to the Lindale Trail, leading to the Grant Wood Trail, but I felt I was zooming along.

When I turned east to head to the relative’s house, I continued to bike at unexpected speed. I was going 11 to 12 mph, a fairly normal trail speed if I was riding my road bike, but greased lightening on my slower, heavier mountain bike. The Fancy Beast wanted to fly and did.

And I knew what that meant. I’m no babe in the woods at biking. If you head out and everything clicks and you’re suddenly powerful and fast—watch out. The hidden force is almost always wind, and if you head east on your ride, you may want to save your life you’re going down for the last time. (Sorry, old 1970s Head East party song makes inappropriate appearance). If you're zooming east on the way out, on the way back as you ride west you’ll be going into the teeth of the gale.

Ah well, enjoy the ride when you can. I overshot my route to the house I was aiming at, and had a foretaste of what I might face on my ride home when I had to do a little back tracking.

The dog got his relief and then I was again on my way.

The stiff blustery wind was mostly from the north, but also a bit northwest, so when I got to the trail and turned east, I was again riding at backwind speed.

It was late in the afternoon, and a bit cool with the wind, but I was enjoying myself and decided to head over towards Waldo’s Rock Park and continue east. They’ve put in a new extension of the Grant Wood Trail this year, and last time I rode out in that direction, it wasn’t open yet. Bike tracks in the dirt then showed that many biker’s don’t care but I didn’t ride on the new trail then.

Would it be open now? When I got there, there was a large “sidewalk closed” sign, but it was placed parallel to the trail, not blocking it. Moved by bikers or the county? I decided it could mean that the trail is open for use when there’s not work being done, but they have the sign handy to close it when there’s workers putting some finishing touches on it.

In the old days, you rode east to a county road, then headed over to a paved county highway and rode for a bit, down a hill, across a bridge, before getting to a trailhead where the unpaved part of the Grant Wood trail begins. With the new trail, you still ride a tiny bit of the gravel road, but it’s to a new, paved trail segment that parallels the highway.

So, I rode it. And it seemed done, to my uneducated eyes. It’s interesting that the new bridge that they installed is higher than the roadway, so you start the trail in what seems to be a ditch pathway beside the highway, but you don’t go as much down into the creek valley. While there’s still a bit of a dip and climb involved, the new bike trail is nice not just because you avoid the scary experience of riding on a busy road, but also because you’re on a more level route.

As far as I road. This woodsy trail will be easier to get to and enjoy next summer!

Bike parked at the far eastern end of my ride.

Above and below, my bike on Grant Wood Trail on windy, cool fall afternoon in Iowa.

 

Although it was windy, I was a bit surprised I didn’t see more bikers out. While not hot, it was long-sleeved shirt cool, not jacket or sweatshirt cool. Well, I suppose one reason I chose the Fancy Beast over Argent for this ride isn’t just the chance I might go on a mountain bike trail (which I did not), but the Fancy beast is lower and heavier and harder to blow over.

The paved new trail segues to a short section of limestone trail that, in a few hundred yards, converts to a grassy trail through some woods. I paused there. On the mountain bike, I could continue, but it was getting past 5 p.m. in late October, the light was fading, and I didn’t fancy a dark ride in the woods. So I paused, got off my bike and used my phone to make a selfie.

I had my good camera with me, but missed recording an amusing incident. There are lots of Walnut trees in the woods where I was, and as I stood there tapping on my phone, a chipmunk popped out of the trees to my right, grabbed a nut at the edge of the trail, gave me a stern glance and proceeded to march across the trail directly in front of me. It didn’t run, I would have had time to kick it if I were a chipmunk kicker (which I am not), and it for sure came in range, passing inches from my feet.

While it didn’t run, it didn’t dilly dally either, and I didn’t have time to open my camera bag and get out my good camera. My wife says I should have just used my phone, but honestly, opening the camera app on my phone takes me a minute, too. Whatever. Chippy was off with its nut, its whole body practically stiff with disdain for the tall intruder in its woods.

As a consolation prize, I made some images of plants in the low sun. It’s a great time to make plant images, when the sun is low. The light is bright and golden and the angle backlights seed heads that can shimmer and shine.

Above and below, pretty woodland plants shining in afternoon sun along Grant Wood Trail.

Well, enough time wasted. Time to face the music and the wind. And an odd thing happened. The wind was more from the north than the west and had aided me on my way out. I expected it to resist me on the way back, and I did start a little slow. As I continued heading into the fading sun, however, my speed picked up. I was getting some miles where my speed was topping 10 mph—again, not the 11 or more I was doing on the way out, and not very fast if I was on Argent, my road bike, but decently moving on the old frame of the Fancy Beast.

On the way home, I did circle Waldo’s Rock pond and make a picture of it—it’s one of the prettiest sunset spots for biking riding in Cedar Rapids metro area. I stopped again at the first of the bridges near the western part of my ride, just under two miles to go to C Avenue. The curve bridge there is also pretty in the late light.

Not a new bridge, but a newish bridge. Curve bridge on Lindale Trail in Marion at sunset.

Waldo's Rock pond.

Heading home on Grant Wood Trail.

Heading west on new trail section, road to the left of me, corn to the right, stuck in the middle with you. Ear worms continue.

Seeing new bridge from the other side on the ride back to town.

New bike trail, resting on old bridge base over Big Creek, higher than county road.

When I finally got to C Avenue and turned towards home, I did feel the full force of the wind. But heading towards home meant going down the hill on C Avenue, so wind wasn’t that much of an impediment.

Map My Ride informed me that I took about 2 hour and 20 minutes to go 22.25 miles, averaging 9.4 mph. Since some of those miles were in the 7 mph range, whenever I stopped to take pictures, that meant others were faster. I had an 11.8 split, and several others in that range—plus one mile where I zoomed along at 13.5 mph.

Not fast for a fast biker. CR Biker, however, is old and slow—I would call 13.5 fast even on my road bike. It was a sign that the wind surely was blowing at my back for that mile.

As of Oct. 21, 168.43 miles for the month, 2,905.86 for the year.

In Which Google Tries to Strand Me in Minnesota

Oct. 11--Morning on trail near Stillwater, Minnesota. Pretty, sunny fall day, I am on a bike ride with my wife.

Fall break at the university where I teach—three days off classes—has come and gone, and I’m back. No thanks to those high-tech wizards at Google.

My wife and I visited our oldest daughter and her family in Minnesota over break. We took bicycles and a Tag-a-Long seat that hitches to my hybrid bike, Clarence.

On Wednesday, it rained in Iowa, but we weren’t in Iowa. We were hundreds of miles north near the Twin Cities in a town called Mahtomedi. And on this day, we drove a short distance from our daughter’s house in that suburb of Saint Paul to Stillwater, on the St. Croix River between Minnesota and Wisconsin. We took out our bikes in our minvan and enjoyed a 10-mile ride along the river and into the countryside.

We then put our bikes back in the van and walked downtown for a nice lunch.

Wednesday morning ride.

Later, after my grandson got out of kindergarten for the day, I attached the Tag-A-Long and we headed out.

And got lost. We had found a trail, rode along it for a while, but on the way back didn’t recognize the turnoff. We both noticed it about the same time.

“I don’t think we were here before,” the child said.

Grandpa agreed. And didn’t have the address of his daughter’s house. But that’s why cell phones were invented, a quick phone call and text later, and the address was put into Google maps.

And then I had to try to follow the Google map directions home. I don’t have a way to hold the phone in view while biking, so I had to depend on its feminine robot voice directing me, which was, frankly, a true pain.

I can’t say I don’t like Google maps. The systems works far better than the first generation of GPS devices, and we use Google all the time when driving—it’s how we found our daughter’s house on Tuesday.

But have you ever tried to bike with Google maps? It sort of works in that it will show you a route, but the timing is all wrong. In the car, we had a navigator to watch the map while the driver drove, which helped, but the voice gives usually timely instructions on which fork or exit to take.

Usually. Google’s directions aren’t 100 percent, but they’re pretty good.

For driving. Not so much for biking. The robot voice doesn’t seem to grasp when to tell you something on a bike. Distances and speeds are all different, and it feels like the voice tells me things I don’t need too far in advance.

Anyway, the Google voice didn’t help much. But by pausing and checking the map now and then, I was able to suss it out. Eventually, I recognized the name of the street that leads to the street my daughter lives on, and we were on our way home.

Fortunately, my 5-year-old grandson loves biking and didn’t mind the extra distance. As we drew near the end of the ride, he informed me that, however, he didn’t want to stop at a neighborhood park we had planned to play at anymore; he wanted to go straight home.

Until we got right by the park and he could see it. His tune changed, which was fine by me, it was a cool but pretty, sunny fall day and if he wanted to play at a park for a while, well, why not?

He unexpectedly met a girl in his class there and they enjoyed running around, playing quick games on the equipment. At some point, he wanted to use my camera to try to take a picture, and I let him. (It was a portrait of me that I did not save since it was just my blurry forehead with some trees in the background).

My grandson and I ready for our afternoon bike ride adventure.

After 30 minutes or so, he was ready to head home and his classmate was ready to leave, too, so we said our goodbyes, she to go with her mom to pick up a sibling from dance class, my grandson and I to ride to his house.

It added up to a 5-mile ride, which I enjoyed, aside from being briefly misplaced.

The next day, Thursday, was cloudy and windy and cool. It was supposed to rain that afternoon, but I headed out on a morning bike ride. There is a trail that leads from my daughter’s suburb to Saint Paul, and my goal was to ride in that direction. I had no intention of going into the city, I just wanted to ride on a prominent trail I hadn’t been on before.

And Google’s directions, in this case, were an epic fail.

I had put in what seemed like the nearest trailhead on my chosen route and informed my phone that I planned to bicycle there. And I was off. At first, the directions took me along streets that weren’t bad, more or less in the direction that I thought I should go, although to be fair, my sense of direction is useless in the spaghetti of streets in this suburb.

I rode by a park and through a four-way stop. The robot voice directed me that, in 1,000 feet, I would turn right.

However, the block that I was riding on ended in a dead end. There was no street off to my right. I rode back to the park, and decided to try again. I ended my ride and picked a different trailhead along my target trail. The robot voice told me to go to the street and turn right. Which I did.

And then it took me down the same dead-end block. On my way back out of the block, it told me to turn right onto a street that wasn’t there. However, there was a gravel trail off to my right, so I figured, why not?

At least I could turn, even if the imaginary street wasn’t there.

Selfie of a lost biker.

I was clearly in a large park, crisscrossed by limestone trails. I found myself wishing that I was riding my mountain bike, The Fancy Beast, but at least I wasn’t on Argent, my road bike. The hybrid’s slightly wider tyres weren’t the best on these trails, buts still better than skinny road bike tyres.

Near a pretty pond, I paused and took a selfie with my phone and posted it to Instagram and Facebook and a family group on Whats App. “Where is Joe?” I asked. Seriously, where was he? He didn’t really know.

My son-in-law helpfully replied that I was in Minnesota. Thanks, man. I think I was in Katherine Abbott Park, although, to be honest, that's a guess.

My bike in a park in Minnesota Oct. 12. Based on later research, probably Katherine Abbott Park in Mahtomedi. Maybe.

Another view of bike on trail somewhere in Minnesota. I didn't mind, it was a pretty ride, but I would have preferred a bit of clarity on where I was.

Up ahead, a downed tree limb. Even on the hybrid bike, it wasn't hard to go around, and most of the trails were clear, even if I had to take it easy on this bike. Mountain Bike would have been better for this part of the ride.

Sign near school in Mahtomedi. From bike trail, the "or" was too small to see, so to me, the sign said "No hunting trespassing." Since this school area was marked that way, I assume hunting trespassing is allowed in most of the state.

I made it to school and am ready to turn back. From here, I can find my own way, which is good news considering my recent experience with electronic navigation.

I made my way through the park to a street on the other side. Eventually, by accident, I made my way to the bike trail my grandson and I had been on the day before. By now, I had shut Google down, because Ms. Biker Robot Voice was being less than helpful.

I cycled through downtown, just enjoying the day despite the chill and grey. Eventually, I ended up outside of the elementary school where my daughter works, and took another selfie, just to show that the biker who was lost had again been found.

No thanks to Google.

Several years ago, when my small family team was riding on RAGBRAI and was seeking a host house in a strange town, my sister entered the address into Google maps and we were off. Way off. We ended up on an odd, roundabout route that involved, for one thing, an extensive detour along a gravel road. Google, way back then, was not all that reliable for biking. Ironically, the next morning, using directions from our human hosts, we had a relatively easy paved ride back to the big ride.

What's a lost biker to do in a park? Take plant pictures, clearly. Milkweed seeds above, fall colors below.

Maybe it should be a sense of comfort, in this era of rapid change, that some things seem to remain the same. For biking, at least for me, Google is a very poor tool.

Well, to be fair, I do like it for driving. And my idea on Thursday was to ride with no particular goal in mind, and if I got lost and ended up getting some extra miles but still made it to my daughter’s house in time to make cinnamon rolls to go with the chili my wife was creating in a crock pot for dinner—well, no harm done.

Maps of the longest of the Minnesota rides:

The crazy Thursday ride.

The two days of bike rides was followed by an all-day cold rain. Saturday, we went a local pumpkin festival, and then my wife and I drove home.

Using Google Maps. Which, as usual, was fine. For driving.

Sunday, I took a quick ride along some local trails. It was again cool and sunny, a pretty fall day in Iowa. I love cools days for rides. And while I like bike adventures, it was nice to be in a place where the internet wouldn’t try to strand me in the wilderness.

As of Oct. 16, 114.71 miles for the month and 2,852 for the year. And thanks, Google, for arranging a few extra of those miles. Images from pretty Sunday ride:

 

In Which I’m Happy to be a Little Damp

Above, C Avenue Pond Thursday morning, Oct. 5. Below, C Avenue Pond on Friday morning, Oct. 6, just as it starts to rain on me.

When I got ready for my bike ride to work Friday, Oct. 6, I decided to use the mountain bike. I lubed the chain (because rain was possible) and aired the tyres first, then set out.

The morning was cloudy and cool, and I was riding with lights on. Less than a half mile from home, the air became misty and a fine rain began to fall. And it made me happy.

No, I’m not a crazy person who takes rain as a challenge and rides no matter what. I typically avoid rain because, while not a wicked witch who would melt, I do prefer the dry life.

Life lately has been quite dry, extraordinarily dry. The entire state of Iowa, where I reside, is in drought, but a little pocked in east central Iowa recently moved into the highest drought category. We’re not bone dry, because bones aren’t the driest thing anyway—we’re approaching Moon dry.

And so, there was a minor chance of rain Friday. And when I checked the weather app on my phone that morning, it looked like it could be rainy for most of the morning, but wouldn’t start until 8:30, after I had arrived on campus.

Sept. 26--Bikes at Warde Hall loading dock. Seeing more bikes this fall on campus.

Sept. 27--Bikes at Basile Hall bike rack.

Sept. 26--My bike parked at MMU.

The app was wrong, the rain began early, ended early and never amount to much more than a hint or memory of rain, raindrops fell but nowhere near enough to put a dent in desert Iowa. Still, rain is rain, and I’m glad for what I get, even if it slightly dampens me on my way on two wheels to work.

I was wearing a sweatshirt, protection against the cool breeze but not much defense against H2O, but I had no need to worry. I keep a sweatshirt in my office and was thinking I could swap when I got there should I get a bit uncomfortably hydrated, but the rain was so sparse I saw no need for the change.

Well, at least some rain fell.

Weather app image of Friday. Have not seen many colorful days like this during this drought.

And this fall, even if the gardener in me would prefer more clouds and rain, has been ideal biking weather. It was warm in September and is finally, in October, starting to feel the season—cool mornings. We’re getting to the point where a sweatshirt may even be comfortable some afternoons.

For this high BMI biker, cool is indeed good news. The bad news is my time for biking is too constrained this time of year, but what person who loves riding a bicycle doesn’t feel their saddle time is sometimes constrained by life?

This fall has featured another helpful biking sign, too. I’ve seen more bikes parked at Mount Mercy University, the college where I teach. That’s nice. A few years ago, we had an active Bike Club at the school, and maybe we’ll reach a critical mass where that group can be revived.

Whatever. Most of my biking is solitary, although I enjoy a good group ride now and then. And if it helps appease the rain spirits, I’ll willingly take some risks.

Never thought I would have this attitude on my biking blog—but more rain, please.

September miles totaled 308.83. 57.56 miles so far in October as of Oct. 7. Year-to-date: 2,794.99—500 miles or so to ride for annual goal and almost three months to go! I hope they aren’t all dry months.

Oct. 7--Rode with grandson to Lininger Park in Marion in late afternoon. Pretty day for a ride!