In Which An Accent and Digits Betray Me

MMU campus, flowers by library. I'm pausing to photograph a garden on campus maintained by a librarian, who planted the tulips last fall.

It was a slightly breezy but warm and pleasant spring Saturday today in Iowa. I rode to the Mount Mercy University campus in the afternoon to do some work, and then headed south on the Cedar River Trail.

The trail was a bit busy, which was not a big surprise, but when I got to the south end of town, some sort of biking party seemed to be going on. A small city park there was crowded with people, and house backyards by the trail featured clusters of people who seemed to be sort of tailgating.

It was, to me, odd. I know people are tired of social distancing, but the virus doesn’t care, and Linn County, where I live, is a hot spot of infections. So, what were socializing crowds doing on or by the trail?

Crabapple seen on ride in downtown Cedar Rapids (more later on the way home, this is on the way south).

Sky on ride. Some sprinkles but no real rain.

I had planned to take a break in that park, but decided distancing would be a challenge there, so I rode on by into the countryside, and took my break at a more secluded bench, far from the crowd.

I think I’ll avoid that trail on weekends from now on. Having made it to May apparently virus free, I aspire to remain that way.

Bike parked at turnaround point a bit out of town on the Cedar River Trail--actually, the Hoover Trail, since we're out of town now.

View of Cedar River on the way home.

Anyway, the ride started with a slightly odd note. When I was riding up the hill on C Avenue near my house, I spotted a young woman who I though was pushing a baby carriage, but as I got closer, it turned out to be a tricycle with a handle attachment.

As I rode by, she said “hi,” in what I thought was a British accent. And her cute child had a very nice helmet, made to look like Nemo from the movie “Finding Nemo.”

Huh, I thought, my grandson has a helmet that looks just like that. I had no idea they were so popular. I said hello and continued on my ride.

Then, after the bike ride I got a text from my daughter. “How was your bike ride today, Mr. Joe? Did you recognize anyone along the way?”

One bridge over the river was closed, but the trail just detours to another bridge.

Lane on bridge where the detour is.

Because the child wasn’t just wearing a helmet like my grandson’s. It was his helmet because he was my grandson. And Ms. British accent didn’t really have a British accent, it’s just the way my own daughter’s voice sounded to me in the moment.

Well, I think I’ll just pop down to the pub for a pint or two or four. Except this is Iowa and there are no pubs and the bars are closed and I don’t want to go to the biker party on the south side with other virus petri dishes.

The ride also featured a bit of a traffic stop by Cedar Lake, were a group of geese with young here hogging the trail. One does not disturb geese with children in Iowa in spring—trust me on that. So, we—me and other random trail users—waited until the bird traffic cleared.

Waiting until the geese allow us to pass at Cedar Lake.

Goose traffic.

Not the same geese, these are south of the river and didn't block the trail.

Then, I rode down to the bench south of town, and paused to eat a bag of nuts. I was 15 miles from home, and it was past 5 p.m., so I decided to head back.

As I neared home, the odometer on my bike computer read 29.9 miles, so I rode down the street a little way before stopping so that it read an even 30 miles. And then when I downloaded the bike map from the linked phone app, it was actually only 29.98 miles, but since the bike computer only shows tenths, it was rounded to 30.

Well, shoot. Foiled by the digits—0.02 miles short. Not as big a calamity, I suppose, as riding obliviously by my own daughter and grandson.

Flowering trees along the trail in downtown Cedar Rapids seen on the way back north. Besides crabapples (above), redbuds (below) were also in bloom.

In Which Geese Break the Ice

Early in the ride today, sunshine in Hiawatha on Cedar River Trail.

Another warm winter ride today. I was going to campus to work on a winter term syllabus, and before heading over to work, I took some time to swing down to Cedar Lake, riding the Cedar River Trail.

The lake is partly frozen and geese and ducks where packed together in the open water at the lake’s north end. But other patches have opened, and the geese seemed to struggle to judge where to land or walk.

They would totter across the ice until it got so thin that it broke under a large bird’s weight. Since they are well-insulated water fowl who swim in ice water all the time, it wasn’t like a March sister breaking through the pond while skating.

Views of Cedar Lake on a relatively warm, sunny winter morning.

Still, they looked a little ridiculous.

I shot some images of the birds on the water, and then climbed the back way up the MMU hill by the library. I rode about 15 miles by the time I got home, and then took three granddaughters on three separate Tag-A-Long rides in the neighborhood late in the afternoon.

On two of the those rides, we checked out the pond on C Avenue at Collins Aerospace. The goldfish were inspected, especially swimming under thin ice by the bridge.

With the extra few miles, I get I probably rode a bit more than 18 on this day of ice and water rides.

C Avenue pond--late afternoonn sky reflection (above) fish below ice (below).

In Which the Cool Night Sky Honks at Me

Above and below--data from my Wahoo bike computer and linked phone app on today's ride.

We’ve had a run of warm weather this Christmas week, which is set to come to a temporary end as rain and winter temperatures are moving in. Saturday is supposed to feature a cool rain all day which may end with a bit of snow.

Today was cooler than it’s been for a while, but it was still much warmer than usual. My wife got me an electric leaf blower for Christmas. I had always been anti-blower—a rake is quiet and provides more exercise—but she was of the opinion that heart attacks are something I should avoid, and I guess I kind of go along with that sentiment.

Anyway, starting about 11 a.m., we spent the middle of the day “raking” the backyard with the new blower. In about 3 hours, we got it done. She actually did most of the blowing while I used our yardy cart to transport leaf piles to the woods behind our fence.

The main thing is we got the job done in about 3 hours. I have to admit, it would have been a much longer job with strictly rake power, and while I still wielded rakes and lifted a lot of leaves, I don’t think it was nearly as physically taxing. with the aid of the blower.

Still, we both, after a quick lunch, took longish naps—I went to sleep a bit after 2 and didn’t wake up until 4 p.m.

My plan all along was to take a bike ride today. I went in the backyard to retrieve a jacket I had left there earlier when the chores of the day had warmed me up. By after 4, it was notably cooler. I next wheeled my road bike out of the garage, lit the lights (it was getting to be nearly sundown) and headed out towards the Lowe Park Trail.

Along the way, I made some images. There are three great spots to watch the sunset that I know of. One is the campus of MMU, which features a central green space overlooking woodsy hills, which has a nice view of the afternoon sky. But the best local sunset spot, in my opinion, is Cedar Lake, where one can look west from the east shore and enjoy the sunset sky reflected in the water. Well, not when the water is all frozen, but it’s still a good sunset watching place.

And the other great spot is Lowe Park, which features expanses of flat land that display a pretty sky very nicely.

Christmas lights on fence seen on the way to Lowe Park. These are either on Geode or Third  Street (Geode becomes Third Street when it crosses 29th Avenue in Marion).

On this short, late bike ride, I took my good camera, planning to make images of the pretty sky of Lowe Park. I was entertained by flying flocks of geese--at one point, two flocks intersected and intermingled in some twilight flight of theirs, making quite a noise. It was a pretty ride in which the sky was often honking at me.

And the sky did not disappoint. I’ll up a whole bunch of images after these words.

Seen on Tower Terrace Road on ride to Lowe Park.

The trail at Lowe Park might be a bit dicey to ride in the dark. I was a bit concerned, because of two significant dips I knew of, and I didn’t particularly want to hit them while flying along at 12 mph or more. Turns out, both of the dips have been recently repaired and the trail was actually quite nice, even in fading light. Good on you, city of Marion.

More images from the pretty sunset and post-sunset ride, starting with a pond on Irish Drive and then going on to the sky at Lowe Park. These are in time order, so you will note the sky getting darker. The final image is on the way home from the Trail along Geode, Christmas lights and Venus:

In Which H is for Harrowing

Looking south from north bridge on Cedar Lake. Very pretty day--peaceful, once I finally made my way to the trail.

Linn County Trail Association map.
Part of my route along H Avenue.

It was such a sunny, nice afternoon, and I have a mountain of work to do, but I really, really wanted to get a few extra bicycle miles in today, which meant I really, really wanted to ride the Cedar River Trail home rather than taking my shorter street route.

But, J Avenue, the usual route from Mount Mercy University to the trail, is closed by a street project. I noticed, in the UK, by the way, that when they tear up a street and sidewalk, they actually provide a sidewalk detour—something to consider, CR, rather than just blaring “sidewalk closed.” Back to my story. What the H, I figured—they probably wouldn’t close a busy street with an interstate exchange like H Avenue. I’ll just ride along the east edge of Daniels Park, turn right at H and end up at Cedar Lake. It will be a piece of cake.

And, honestly, although as is my right I will whine some soon, it wasn’t bad. I am amused by the “CEMAR Trail” signs that seem arbitrary in the Daniel’s Park neighborhood, marking random streets in a confusing manner, leading anybody who would follow them down strange, bike unfriendly paths.

Take Maplewood Drive NE, for instance, the street I used to get from J to H. It’s quiet enough that biking isn’t too dicey, but so strewn with bumps and potholes that it sort of makes up for the lack of traffic by including other fun obstacles. And, as far as I can tell (the signs are confusing so I’m not sure), it might even be designated as part of the “lost CEMAR Trail,” the trail that is theoretical and aspirational near Daniels Park, not the tiny actual trail leading from nowhere to nowhere near MMU.

And then there is H. H is for harrowing. H Avenue NE is a rather busy street at about 5 p.m. The first two blocks I rode were marked “share the road” with friendly street signs nobody seems to pay attention to. Once I got past Oakland Road, things did improve due to a bike lane, but it’s a kind of dicey bike lane, full of refuse, broken glass, and even, at one point, killer street drains—you bikers may know the ones I mean, large metal grates with slots parallel to the direction of travel on the bike lane. I’m glad I didn’t come up upon them after dark—and I wondered why I came up upon them at all, in a bike lane.

So I was a bit unraveled by the time I passed under I 380. Then I was at Cedar Lake.

A comely lass was rolling north along Shaver Road NE, riding a skateboard in the street. I was startled, a bit, for some reason—riding a skateboard in the street, even along relatively quiet Shaver Road, seems like a gutsy or clueless move when it’s shortly after 5 p.m., and CR Biker, who uses trails in CR fairly often, is used to gangly Sk8er Bois, not comely Sk8er Girls (or would it be Gurls? Some hip misspelling).

She was, if anything, a portent of calmness to come. The beauty of the afternoon meant a few people were on the trail, but I think I was there early enough that commuters weren’t home yet and the trail was still relatively quiet. And the lake was still and pretty. Even the parent geese , walking along the path with their goslings, seemed to have a placid attitude. A few honked at CR Biker in an unenthusiastic way, but I heard no hissing, saw no neck weaving and encountered no wing displays—clearly the placid afternoon had the geese by the lake in a somnolent state.

They must not have heard the city’s plans to feed them to homeless people. Shhhhh.

On bridge at end of Cedar Lake, looking north at creek that feeds into Lake. Ahh.

The rest of the ride home was mostly uneventful, except that I decided to use the bike lanes at 42nd Street to head towards Noelridge Park—I was getting into a “get home” mood. To ride on 42nd Street is no bicycle picnic, although, on the other wheel, 42nd Street NE has nothing on H Avenue NE.

On the way home, I added about 2 more miles to my route by taking the Lindale Trail loop just so I could climb Brentwood Drive hill. I did it this morning, too, in the other direction. I don’t know that I can do it on every ride—Thursday morning is jam packed with urgent grading—but it does feel good to be getting in a few extra miles a few hill climbs. RAGBRAI will be here soon enough.

Anyway, this is Bike to Work week, which means some local media attention for bikers. The Gazette just posted this interesting story about some biking plans the city is making. So CR wants more than a bronze? Well, even if today’s ride on H was a bit harrowing, I would agree that the city has noticeably improved in recent years for cyclists. Bravo, CR.

Now, about those bike killer street drains … couldn’t the slots be perpendicular to the street? That would make H a bit less Harrowing Avenue and a bit more Harmony Avenue.

In Which Our Biker Hero Rides Off Into the Sunset

Sun sinking to horizon seen at Cedar Lake. Appreciate it, I took my mittens off just so you could see this, too.

Well, not really, because: A) I am not a real hero, I just play one on my blog and B) I was riding north, and I think west is by definition where the sun spends her nights.

But, I was leaving campus around 5 p.m. It was cool, in the 20s, and it had been a bit of a grey, cool, dreary afternoon. While the morning ride was nice and bright and sunny, midday treks across campus were sad affairs.

As luck would have it, the cloud cover was breaking at sunset. Well it would, wouldn’t it? In Iowa, if you want it cold at night, it’s best for it to be clear.

But wait, there is more! Same sun and same lake, but a few minute later at a different spot.
Old Sol sure is purty, ain't she?

Anyway, despite the chill, I enjoyed the evening sky, so I did the extra miles to loop down by Cedar Lake, an asset that I hope this city can enhance and preserve.

A bit of open water at lake's north end, as there often is. In other years, eagles have crowded this open patch of water. Not so far this year--but geese and ducks sure like it.

Final look at the pretty evening as light fades. I'm heading north, having left the lake behind. This is a trail bridge--is it near J Avenue? Or is J where the park is? I forget, anyway a trail bridge near some street. And a sun. And some lights from traffic.

I still have had no eagle sightings, but as you can see, it was nonetheless a very pretty evening to be riding a bicycle on the Cedar River Trail.

Feb. 11 Update: A groovy member of the Joe Correction League (my sisters) points out that the bridge is at 29th Street, while the Park With A Name Nobody Remembers is at J Avenue. She's right, so shout out to Cate, today's winner of the JCL Badge of Honor. It made me think of this song, which of course, is about the 59th Street Bridge, but still explains how the Cedar River Trail and the 29th Street Bridge makes a biker feel:

In Which The Fancy Beast Rides Almost 50 Miles

I knew I was going on a longer ride, so I ate a biker breakfast.

The bike. What shall I call it? Fancy Beast?

I took a bike we inherited from the Moscou’s storage shed, a Raleigh bike, out for a test drive.

I wasn’t expecting much. It’s a mountain bike like the beast. But it felt fast, a nice ride. It’s lighter than the beast, but when I was pumping along the trail just north of Boyson Road, it felt like I was going fast, faster than I do when riding Francis.

Which was weird. The Beast is a slower bike than Francis. And this mountain bike had a top gear of 6—it’s only an 18-speed bike, not 21 like Francis or the Beast, although it was travelling fast in 6.

I was not always moving fast. A long train late in the ride had me waiting for a while.

And I made a mistake. I don’t recall exactly why—whether there was a slight upgrade I started to climb or it was because I was coming to the first road—but I shifted. And since I was not used to the bike, I made my mistake.

I thought I was shifting from 6, the highest year, to 5. Instead, a number that had not been visible—hidden after a little gap.

7. Holy guacamole, this is a 21-speech bike, and there’s a faster gear than 6. And when I was in seven, the fat tires sung on the trail and I zoomed towards Lafayette. It was 7 miles and took about 35 minutes to get there.

Selfie at Tait Cummins before heading home.

So, what a surprise.

The long test drive of the new beast-style bike produced unexpected results.

I rode to Lafayette and down to Tait Cummins park. I don’t have a computer on this bike, but I think it was around 45 miles.

And they went by faster than I expected.

I saw what I thought was a swan  on the Cedar River, but it honked like a goose, and besides the white feathers, acted like a goose, honked like a goose and was handing out with geese. Well, there are species of white geese, but why was this one here?

It was the second day of new rides. Friday, Audrey and I rode out to Culver’s. That time, I rode the beast because it’s a closer match to my wife’s bike. I think it was our first ride of the summer, and it was really nice.

Two days and two new rides.

Friday night at Culvers. Our bikes parked at the rack.