Feb. 6 sky, corner of Blair's Ferry and C Avenue, riding to campus.
Feb. 10, morning sun in Dry Creek Valley, seen a few minutes into my bike ride. Pretty light.
It was sometimes warm, more often cold, in Iowa this week. Today, for example, when I left campus to bike home, the temperature was about 10 degrees Fahrenheit.
Which, honestly, is not super cold if you’re dressed for it and it’s not windy. Sadly, today it was plenty windy and my ride home was into the north wind. I unlocked the bike from the rack at Regina Hall, across Mercy Drive from the library, where the newspaper office is. I had been helping students edit materials for next week’s paper.
Super cold is not always bad news, in one way. In a week like this, when there have been a few days warm enough to cause melting of our rapidly receding snow cover, the pavement can get wet and can, of course, freeze. However, if the melting is modest because it’s not that warm, what happens is the colder air will dry the pavement out, and instead of ice, you end up with nice, bare pavement.
Which, largely, we did. Friday started warmer, and the day grew colder in the afternoon. Wet pavement from overnight light precipitation dissipated, and the streets were largely dry when I rode home.
So, today, it was super cold overnight, but I didn’t plan to go to campus until the afternoon. It was “warm” by the time I left home, as in, it was above zero. With a windchill well below zero, but on the ride to campus, I was riding with the wind, which makes the chill far less of a factor.
The Fancy Beast, my mountain bike, parked Friday Feb. 11 at MMU. Had an early meeting with students in the library, so am at the Regina Hall bike rack, the nearest one to that building. Below, my bike is the one that's not leaned.
Anyway, so I don’t think my decision to ride with the hybrid bike today was all that crazy. Yet, I rethought the wisdom of that very early on the ride home.
It was shortly after 5, the light growing dim, but not yet dark. I had my lights on as I peddled across campus, exiting down the drive by Warde Hall—the gentlest slope on campus, and thus my standard exit point, no matter which route I use to ride on to campus.
Where the Warde Hall drive meets the street, there must have been some running water that was too deep to evaporate in the dry air. I didn’t really see it well. I was flying down a hill. I had slowed for the corner, but there were no cars on the street, so I didn’t slow as much as usual as I attempted the right turn from the drive to the street.
And that’s where I slipped.
The only times I’ve had falls in winter have been riding a hybrid bike. On my previous bike, over a decade ago, I took a bad tumble on F Avenue, hurt a knee and was in pain for months. Ironically, I went to Seattle that year, was barely able to walk, and yet that was the spring when my oldest son invited me to ride RAGBRAI for the first time, and I agreed.
Back to today. I turned. The bike hit the ice, it slipped and I lost my balance.
I was lucky. The bike slid sideways to the left, and hit dry pavement. There was a jolt, and I easily could have flipped to the left. But I did not. The front wheel badly wobbled, the bike thumped hard, and I kept control (barely) had kept on riding.
It was one second of terror in an otherwise cold, but satisfactory ride. I had been enjoying the hybrid bike, Clarence is a nice change of pace compared to The Fancy Beast. It’s a quicker bike, lighter with a slightly speedier cruising speed.
Speed, I decided, may be overrated. Although I had no other trouble with ice on the 7 or so miles I rode today, I frankly decided that the clunky old back mountain bike may serve me better until there is less freezing weather.
Fatter tires. Lower center of gravity. Slower rolling speed down hills. There is something to be said for being on a mountain bike when there may be some unseen ice on the winter streets.
Feb. 12--Hybrid bike, Clarence, at bike rack, MMU, above and below.
I didn’t ride Monday, but did ride six days this week (yes, I have been to campus seven days in a row—at times in the semester, that’s what a professor’s life is like).
I rode 44.76 miles. In summer, that might be a modest one-day ride, but it’s not bad for a week in winter. In February, less than halfway through the month, I’m at 70.99 miles so far, 186.29 for the year.
That feels pretty good. Despite the second of fear. May the miles continue to add up for me, and for you, too—and may we avoid those near or actual falls.
OK, after my whiney snow post lament yesterday, March 1 was a new day.
There had been a chance of snow yesterday and a minor chance today—but only for potential flurries.
It was, by the standards of this bitter winter, a relatively pleasant morning. My garage door was embedded in ice and sealed shut by Mother Nature, but I sprinkled some deicer at the edge of the door Thursday night.
Friday, I wondered—would the door open? I pressed the button, and there was a brief noise, and the door stuck. And then I worked my way through the cold garage, gripped the door and gave it a brief tug—and pop. It moved up an inch—just an inch, but enough to completely break the ice seal that had glued it to the pavement, and when I pressed the button again, the door went up.
The driveway is a sheet of ice, as is the first half mile of the C Avenue sidewalk. But I knew from drives this week that streets, in general, while unusually narrow, are mostly bare pavement. Despite a forecast for possible snow, the milky sky was actually sunny. Too nice of a morning to entomb myself in metal, if I could find a route.
I wheeled the mountain bike out of the garage and prepared for the trip to campus—long underwear, two pairs of socks, warm winter boots. But it was not a really the full winter regalia—I didn’t bother with a scarf, didn’t put on three layers under my coat, did not even take a hat, depending on the thin hood of my biking jacket to protect my ears.
Halfway to campus, I mildly regretted that final decision, but still, overall, it was a nice ride.
Milky sunshine behind Kenwood School this morning.
Near the golf course at the end of Eastern--the leaning snow person of Cedar Rapids seen in a yard.
It's looking even sunnier as I climb the MMU Hill on Mercy Drive.
I rode my bicycle 40 yards or so west to the corner of Brentwood Drive and C Avenue. The C Avenue sidewalk was, as expected, in terrible shape, with this corner particularly treacherous because a bit of melting had created a smooth ice rink there. Nevertheless, I rode—very slowly. It’s my one biking superpower. I can’t ride fast, but I can balance at incredibly low speeds.
When I got to the first corner, I decided to cross C Avenue and ride the back streets up by Target—adding distance to my ride, but avoiding the C Avenue sidewalk hill climb on ice.
Once past that one small stretch of sidewalk, the ride was uneventful and, except for uncomfortably chilled ears, quite pleasant. An earworm started, U2 singing about streets with no name, although in my mind the chorus was “streets with no snow.”
And the day, while still too cool for the start of March, turned sunny and pretty. I made some images of campus on my way from here to there today, enjoying the sunshine and, for once, not being a mole person, not going everywhere in the tunnels.
I grabbed a coffee on my way across campus--view as I climb the hill to the library early in the afternoon. Despite the snow, it does look a little like spring.
The ride home was similar. The afternoon sky had turned a bit cloudy, and I did turn on my lights and put away my sun glasses—but the day had been sunny enough and warm enough that the streets were, if anything, in better shape.
Bono left me alone, and maybe I missed him. I took a more direct route home, heading over to C Avenue through the Collins Aerospace parking lots from F Avenue. I knew the C Avenue sidewalk would still be terrible, but figured I could walk my bike for a half mile.
The sidewalk by Collins Aerospace was just fine. And as I neared Blairs Ferry Road, near the pond on C Avenue, a large hawk landed on a street light. I took out my camera, but the hawk flew off—but not far, just down to the edge of the frozen pond. As I neared that spot, the bird looked at me over the snow and took to the air, landing on a picnic table kiosk.
Well, cool.
Hawk seen on the ride home on C Avenue, above and below.
On to home. The C Avenue sidewalk was indeed a sheet of ice, and I did walk my bike. I was glad for the winter boots—if I had regular shoes on, I’m sure I would have slipped more than once, but with a slow old man stroll down the hill, I was fine.
True, an Arctic Vortex will again chill this corner of the world—and it’s very unlikely I will try for a repeat ride Monday. True, the C Avenue bike lane south of Collins Road is pretty much covered right now, and thus my usual bicycle route is unusable. But I didn’t have too much trouble biking today, on March 1.
Let’s hope that’s a sign.
Front wheel on C Avenue, I pause briefly on the final walk home. Lots of slick ice and the bike kept trying to skid away from me, but happily no falls. I think I was wise to walk down this hill.
Cedar Lake is mostly iced over, but birds congregate on the patch of water at the north end of the lake on a cloudy Dec. 26, 2018.
The day after Christmas, 2018—rain was in the forecast. An Arkansas winter was the theme of the week, with sometimes bone-chilling wet rains, sometimes freezing drizzle and now and then a bit to snow.
Frankly, at this time of year, I would prefer the white stuff, thank you.
Anyway, skies were grey and rain was in the forecast for the afternoon, so I decided to go for a morning ride. My original plan was to start early and head south, maybe going far enough to check out a bit of the new trail on beyond Ely.
It was not to be. Christmas had been grand including mulled wine, a large feast and family games—I was not exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed the next morning. I was not in bad shape, mind you, just tired and slept in.
By the time I puttered around, had a nice breakfast, read the paper, showered and dressed it was pushing 10. My weather ap said rain would start at 12:30 p.m., which proved wrong, but I still jettisoned my original plan and set out on a more modest ride.
I rode Argent, my road bike, figuring I need the practice on it, and I could cover the maximum distance in the shortest time. I pedaled down to Cedar Lake and circled it. A few hardy, brave souls were out jogging or walking around the lake, but I saw few other bikers and had the rest of the trail up and back to myself.
It felt damp and chilly and was also very cloudy—but despite the dullness of the day, I felt almost euphoric. I had not ridden in several days, and it felt grand to be on the bike, pumping away. Despite the whine of traffic on Interstate 380, the Cedar River Trail felt tranquil. I enjoy the quiet of a winter ride.
As it turned out, while the rain held off until later, it was the start of several wet or icy days. The morning after Christmas was my one ride in this, the last week of 2018. Given the snow and ice today, it's likely to stay that way.
Which makes the 16 miles I rode that day all the more delicious. And when I go home, my wife and youngest son were out on a walk. I texted them, picked them up and we headed to Taste of India for another post-Christmas feast. It was a nice after-bike ride celebration and a warming meal for the start of the cold, wet season here in Iowa.
North! I was thinking RAGBRAI would go through the center of the state, but they are going way north.
So maybe next year they can use my other idea and include Iowa’s 5 largest cities in the same route. RAGBRAI, how about it?
RAGBRAI 2017, whose overnight towns were announced Jan. 21, apparently will be a pretty easy route this year, third least hilly and third leas in miles. That’s OK with me. I’ll try to maximize my miles somehow, but Team Joe will require some driving shifts.
Nalena—your first RAGBRAI won’t be too bad. Jon—no Pizza Ranch in Carroll, but also no World’s Least Prepared Mexican Restaurant in Grinnell. Susan, does the route go close to your home?
And, anyway, the route does through the far north of Iowa that I’m not very familiar with. I have not seen the Surf Ballroom yet. Been to Spencer many a time, but otherwise many of the towns will be new to me.
Lansing? That’s a place in Iowa? It’s not isolated like Guttenberg, I hope …
Anyway, it wasn’t the greatest biking week. I think Friday was the only day I commuted, and it was a pretty damp commute. Too much rain and ice this week. Here’s hoping for a bit more riding next week!
Photo I took of Busse Library on Monday Jan. 16. I was waiting for a pizza to be delivered for newspaper staff. We had an ice storm that day and classes were cancelled. So was bicycling.
Ten degrees this morning—it was a bit warmer than Monday, when last I bicycled. Tuesday, there was a slight dusting of new snow on the ground, plus a wind chill of 20 degrees below. So I drove then, but rode today.
It was grey and cool in the morning, but not bad. I was ready to head home at about 4. The cloudy morning had turned into a warmer afternoon, still below freezing, but warm compared to recent days.
So, I decided to take the longer bike trail route home. The city has done a decent job clearing the trail of snow—unlike in past snowfalls, even the places where the trail crosses streets are clear. I had a fairly pleasant, scenic ride. There were a few joggers on the Cedar River Trail, but for the most part I was alone in the fading, pink light of day. On McLeon Run, a group of ducks (what is a group of ducks called?) was swimming in the still open water.
Dry Creek behind my house is mostly frozen over, but McLeon Run is still running, With ducks.
To get home from the trail, I took the route that leads to the St. Pius X neighborhood, in which I cross Noelridge Park via its northern sidewalk. While the sidewalk has been fairly well cleared, the park is where I ran into trouble.
I took some pictures of the park’s creek, where the city is installing some native vegetation—but just east of the creek, there had been some thawing and refreezing after the sidewalk had been cleared. A sort of shallow pond had formed, and but froze over the sidewalk, and I rode across it.
Francis on the bridge at the park--shot this before the near death experiences.
That was a mistake. There is an icy spot on the sidewalk of C Avenue that I walk each morning, and I should have done that here. As I rode on this icy sidewalk, my bike gave a sudden lurch—it lost traction and slipped.
Well, blog fans, I’ve hurt myself that way before, and I have vowed never to again ride a bicycle on ice. I guess the pond was so small, and I just wanted to get home.
The potential tale of broken tailbones has a happy ending, however. The slip did not lead to fall. I crossed the ice intact, if a bit shaken, and paused to make an image of the tracks made by my snowy transit.
See my tracks? They are the set on the left leading directly cross that ice. Silly me.
Then, behind the middle school whose grounds I cross on this route, there is a sidewalk that has not been cleared at all in recent snows. I wasn’t foolish enough to even try biking there, I simply walked my bike. I walked it very slowly. Actually, I sort of slid my feet and kept a grip on Francis, who kept trying to slide away to the right and tumble. I honestly think I came closer to a banged up knee walking across that slick layer of snow topped by ice than I did when riding on the ice of Noelridge Park, and I was glad I was wearing rubber snow boots rather than my usual biking shoes—I had donned them for warmth, but I appreciated the extra traction. Again, despite potentially offending the Angry Demons of Winter Falling, I successfully negotiated the icy walk with only hypothetical, imaginary falls.
The imaginary falls terrified me, to be honest.
Creeks seem to be the theme of this post. This one is just east of the middle school. I'm pausing on a bridge, screwing my courage up for the slide across the rest of the tundra, because, below, you can see what my route looked like. I slid my booted feet across that landscape, hanging on to an unstable bike that just want to lie down. We both made it, but holey moley it was exciting.
Ninety-five percent of the ride was quite pleasant, on bare pavement through quiet, pretty winter scenery. The other 5 percent convinced me, however, that—until the spring thaw—I won’t be taking the middle school-Noelridge Park route to the Cedar River Trail.
There are other ways to get there that won’t involve crossing school grounds or parks on frozen ponds. It might be a few days before I try one of those routes—I probably won’t have time for a trail ride Thursday, although it’s pretty likely I will be riding my bike. Friday the weather gets dicey—and if I did have one lesson reinforced by today’s exciting frozen water adventures, it’s don’t mess with ice.
Someone is out on the lake being towed by a parachute. Some man, I assume.
March 1—start of spring. Well, true, it’s a few weeks until the equinox, but this is the month when we usually see the first flowers.
Not that there were any flowers, or signs of them, today. We had snow last night, but luckily it was very light. In fact, with temperatures in the 20s and bright March sunshine for much of the day—the pavement was pretty clean.
So I rode my winter beater bike to campus. First, however, I indulged in a little detour by taking the Cedar River Trail. There were a few snowy and icy parts, but the trail was fairly clear. There were a small number of joggers and bikers out. I don’t know what it says about my gender, but the tiny number of trail users on this cold late winter day were mostly men—I think I saw one woman in a group of mostly male bikers, and otherwise it was just guys.
I wasn't close enough to confirm his gender, but one man, I assume, was even using a parachute to tow himself across the ice of Cedar Lake. He was at the south end, far from the tiny patch of open water at the north end, and the ice pushed out of the lake on the short seems quite thick, but I still don’t think I’ll take The Beast across the lake.
At the north end of Cedar Lake, many ducks congregated in a tiny area of open water. As I approached, many of them flew up and then walked along the top of a nearby train. Where is Samuel Jackson? Wherever he is, perhaps he's very tired of all these ducks on a train.
Anyway, it was still refreshing to be out. The later dark ride home at night was a bit more harrowing—on the quiet streets there are more icy or snowy stretches then on the trail—and the temperature was dramatically dropping.
Still, all in all, I got at least one day of biking in. I hope I manage more biking than in the cold February that is mercifully over.
After all, it is time for spring!
Creek that runs into Cedar Lake--some open water. I just thought it looked nice.
The world is winter brown, but there are a few tiny signs of fresh spring green. One of the photos I snapped during my mid-ride break. Yes, it's a plant, it is growing, it is green.
Ice on shady embankment of Cedar River. It's several feet thick.
Spring on Cedar Lake. There is ice halfway across, but much of the lake is open water now, reflecting a warm spring sky.
Spring! When a young man’s fancy turns to what apparently snakes may be thinking of, too.
But, let’s save the love, if love it was (maybe it was totally platonic and I’m misreading reptile behavior, or maybe the little snake though it could eat the big one?) for later.
Today, I graded all morning, and felt pretty brain dead by noon. At lunch, my wife discussed taking an afternoon walk. “I know you’ll want to go on a bike ride,” she said.
She is wise and she was right. I got Francis out and lubed and inflated (him, not me), and headed out by about 1:30 p.m. I could only ride until about 4—we planned to go to church at 4:30 tonight—so I wanted to get some quick miles in.
Looking out over railroad bridge that crosses the Cedar River from a fenced trail bridge.
I headed over to the Cedar River Trail via the Noelridge Park route, and turned south. And peddled and peddled. In about an hour and 15 minutes (the time I had allotted until I had to turn around) I rode 12 ½ miles. I thought 25 miles would be a nice number, so I stopped just after Highway 30 at the T intersection where the trail to Kirkwood diverges, intending that to be the turn-around point. I hopped off the bike to take a short break and walked over to an abandoned rail line which runs right next to the trail at this point, and snapped some photos.
A middle-aged mixed gender couple who had been riding from the other way had also stopped. “What are you seeing?” the man asked.
“Just a little green,” I said. “Signs of spring.”
“It’s about time!” the woman exclaimed.
Old rail line near trail.
Well, who can argue with that? The world is still largely in its winter brown, but I don’t think I was imagining a tinge of green on some grass, a swelling of pregnant maple bulbs, a shift in “things.” There was a caterpillar crawling across the trail. A bit of ice can still be seen beside the river, the but the river runs free and the eagles have departed the patches of open water that sustained them in winter—there is lots of water to fish in, now. Today still looked like winter, but felt like spring, and there were signs of the coming season.
I agreed with the woman, it’s about time. On my return ride, I snapped a few more photos, which are what illustrate this post.
But, time was running short and, after I passed by Cedar Lake, I decided I had no more time to snap photos. I must hurry home.
But then I spied something that stopped me.
It was a snake. The first snake of the season, which was somnolently sunning itself on the warm asphalt of the trail, was just off to my left.
Snakes alive! Who put these mother-loving snakes on a trail?
Well, whether I was short on time or not, I wasn’t going to pass up snapping an image of spring’s first serpent! I was a little worried about said snake, which was so still I was thinking maybe it had been run over (fortunately, not by me because I would have felt terrible at crushing the first reptile of the seasons). Anyway, as I paused to snap said snake's photo, it slowly lifted its head and slow-mo flicked its tongue at me in a totally ineffective threatening manner.
Just then, ,as if on cue, another, smaller snake burst from the cover of the grass across the trail, and rushed to the first snake. I thought there was either going to be a quick attack on the paparazzi, or snake-on-snake violence.
Hey pinkie! Why you taking his picture? I want my picture taken, too!
No. There ensued some rather unseemly snake snuggling. I’m not a studier of snakes, so I don’t know what it means, but I felt as if I should gently suggest that these two find a hole.
Well, there you have it. A 25-mile bike ride complete with, maybe, snake foreplay. I saw other bikers, dog walkers, runners and others out enjoying the trail, but I only saw two snuggling snakes. While I would have rather seen eagles, I have to admit it was a very nice ride.
I found these keys on the creek bridge that leads form the Boyson Road Trail to the track-football complex in Marion Iowa. You can have them, if you lost them.
Well, blog pals, I got one set of speech papers graded, and decided it was enough to reward myself with a bike ride.
The ride was slightly delayed while I did some minor work on Francis. The front basket was missing a bolt, and my wife found a nut and bolt that could act as a replacement. The chain had some rust spots from icy-salty winter rides, so it was a lube time. I also pumped up the tires.
What with one thing and another, it was after 5 when I began my ride. Knowing that it wouldn’t be a long one, I decided to take the nearby Boyson Trail in Marion. Also, knowing that there was both a trail hill at the end of the Lindale Trail and that I wasn’t too thrilled at the idea of tackling the C Avenue sidewalk, I went over the Brentwood Drive hill, one that I’m sure I’ll often do in RAGBRAI training rides. I went over it again on the way home, so this was a good training ride—rode the hill twice.
I survived the hill transit, both ways. The street had a few icy patches, but was largely clear. Next, at the start of my ride, I rode to the Boyson Road sidewalk that leads to the trail.
And found ice. Ice, ice, baby, plenty of it. The little descent from the bridge over a creek that feeds into Dry Creek was a bit dicey.
Sidewalk on Boyson Road leading to Boyson Trail. This is a little hill leading to the creek bridge.
Although, to give the city of Marion its due, most of the trail was clear, and where there was ice, it wasn’t because snow had not been cleared. It was clearly due to melting snow that froze.
So I proceeded slowly. I rode all the way from one end of the Boyson Trail to the other. The worst spot was the hill by the Frisbee Golf Course, which was a sheet of ice. There were also icy patches at the start of the trail, where the Lindale Trail enters the Boyson trail (and from the look of the hill on the Lindale Trail, my route choice appeared wise).
Hill by Frisbee Golf Course on Boyson Trail--solid ice. I'm sure melting snow just runs out of the woods and freezes on the trail--not much the city could do about it except wait for spring or maybe posting a sign saying, "hey, crazy CR bikers, this stuff that looks like ice? It's very slick because it is ice. Good luck going up or down this hill."
I saw some walkers, and a jogger. I also saw, at a distance, one biker who wiped out on the icy hill by the golf course. I am pleased to report, blog pals, said biker was not I. I would have rendered aid, but said biker got up and was gone long before I got there.
On the way south, I paused at the bridge that leads from the park parking lot to the Marion High School track complex, when some bling caught my eye. Shiny. Someone had lost a set of keys. The only people in sight were a child and adult at the ice rink, and I checked, the keys were not theirs. So I put them in my basket and brought them home. I e-mailed the Marion PD, in case someone is missing them, but the picture is here, too. If you lost your keys and these look familiar, call the Marion PD and they will contact your biking correspondent, I hope. They have my number, anyway.
All in all, it was a bit unnerving to be on the trail in fading light with so many ruts and icy places. But I am glad I got out and stretched those biking muscles a bit. If I had a bit more time, I would have headed to the Cedar River Trail. Its paved surface is in slightly better winter riding shape—again, no knock against Marion which has done what it can, but at this time of year, a limestone trail is a bit rough.
I pause at the end of the trail. Note how rough it looks--it's been a hard winter on this limestone surface. After snapping this photo, I turned on my lights and headed home. Slowly.
I made one serious error. I wore my light winter biking gloves. They insulate my hands down to about 25 degrees, and it was around 11 degrees when I rode. I did have warm boots, double socks, two layers on my legs—I was dressed well for winter biking, with the important exception of my hands, which got painfully cold. My right thumb is still sore—I got pretty close to frostbite, I am afraid.
But, I would do it again, just in warm mittens.
Sun sets over Indian Creek near north end of Boyson Trail. Why I would do it again--you'all don't see this if your stuck inside in winter.
27th Street near Eastern this morning. The darker color is not pavement, it's ice. And this was actually one of more cleared streets on my route. It was a slow ride.
Bike tire shortly after I arrived. Sorry janitors, my hall parking will make a mess, I'm afraid, when the ice holding this sand in place melts. No outside parking available right now--all bike racks snowed in.
The garage door was frozen shut and I had to chip ice to get Francis free. Then, I had to lube my chain and the lube was very thick. The one thing I wasn't on the ride was uncomfortably cold--despite a bitter wind, I was well dressed before the trip. Here is my bike in my driveway before I put the bag in the basket and begin my ride.
Well, darn. I actually watched my odometer on my bike during my ride this morning, perhaps I should not have done so. It informed me that the ride from my house to my office at MMU is pretty much 4 miles.
I used to claim it was 5. I realized that was too much, and thought it was 4.5. Nope. Just the big 4.0.
Well, shoot. I may take the trail route home today, just so I can see what the longer ride is, since I’ve finally discovered the odometer.
The ride this morning was the first of this week. Winter has settled in deep in this corner of the north central US. Winds, snow, below zero temperatures—not ideal biking weather, but it has been 48 hours since the last storm, and my sidewalk wasn’t too bad, and I was itching to ride, so I did.
As it turned out, I did very slowly. Almost all of the streets were snow and ice packed, especially everything in the Kenwood area where it appears they plow the one block around Kenwood School and call it a job well done. I wonder how the plow even gets there. Is it dropped by helicopter and retrieved the same way? Because it seems to reach that one isolated block of clearing without much discernable impact on any road that approaches the school.
Well, I my heart isn’t really in my occasional rant about city snow clearing or lack of it. Given the weather this week, the fact that there was ice and snow on the roads can’t be called a surprise. We didn’t get a lot of snow, but it’s been so windy that snow is just going to be packed into just about any paving.
Still, I managed to get to school safely. I was so not used to riding that I forget my vest—which means I’ll have to leave early enough to ensure it’s full light out. Given that there is snow forecast for later, that’s probably a good idea on many levels. Still, it should warm into the 20s today. It’s hazy cloudy, but that’s warm enough that some melting can take place where the sun hits pavement.
Not sure that’s a good idea. I wonder if that will simply make these snow packed roads more icy? Hmm.
This was actually last week, Jan. 13, but I didn't post it on my bike blog yet. I saw an eagle in the morning during my ride along Eastern Avenue, and I think that was pretty cool.
Cedar River Trail near Collins Road underpass--my bike tracks in snow. Below--just had to walk the bike over a short distance on Council Street sidewalk due to drifts--bub those were rare.
Add caption
The irony is, I forgot to check. My mileage estimates for my
trips so far this year are pretty rough guesses, but I should be able to do
better because my bike’s computer has an odometer. I figured out before my ride
home to how access it, and noted that the mileage ended in “76.”
So, since I was going to take the trail home, I could simply
note the mileage when I got home and do a bit of math, and voila.
I recall figuring out that I had gone 6 miles note long after
I left the trail. But when I got home, I did not check the final miles.
Oh well. For now, we’ll just go with the rough guess. I rode
12 miles today, I think, and have ridden 46 miles so far this week.
Streets were largely OK, and the trail was mostly clear, but
there were a few spots where I had to get off and walk the bike through minor
drifts.
Quite street during my afternoon ride Jan. 12. I think this is H Avenue. Note that despite the wet, which promises some ice issues that plagued my commute home Monday night, it's still refreshing to see pavement.
Sunday’s bike ride was an illustration of what a January thaw can do.
Just last week, most of the roads in the Kenwood neighborhood were covered in ice and snow. But by Sunday, when the sun peeked out now and then on a partly cloudy day, and when the temperature flirted with 40, all busy streets on my route were mostly bare pavement, while side streets has a mix of wet, slush and some ice--but were no longer covered completely in snow.
Riding conditions have vastly improved over last week. During my Sunday ride, on the way down to Mount Mercy University, right after crossing Collins Road on F Avenue, I saw two women jogging towards me. I idly wondered about whether it was worse to try to run on sometimes iffy streets than to bike on them—and, I have no idea what the answer is—when I noticed that I knew these two. They’re both MMU students. And they were at least 4 miles from campus.
H and maybe 37th Street? 38th? Not the busy one by Rockwell Collins, one street north. Some very cold looking water and ice--but most of the ride was better than this.
It was a fine afternoon for a longish run. I think both of these young women are on the track team, so maybe a 10-mile ride was just par, for them. I was glad that others were taking advantage of this spring-light break from our long, cold winter.
After I got to campus, I met a student at the campus newspaper office, and then spent some time working in a computer lab, printing papers to grade. By around 4:45 or so, I was ready to head home.
This is last week, Jan. 8, just for contrast. Not sure of the street, but it is a quiet one in the Kenwood area, and yes, I rode my bike on this.
What a difference January makes. It’s the dead of winter, but there is change in the air. At 4:45, it’s no longer the dark night it as in late December—there is a bit of light until well after 5.
The sun is coming back. We even have a 40 degree day. Well, hooray for the change!
Miles today, Jan. 13: 12. Year-to-date total: 33. I won’t get many, or probably even any, more this week with snow forecast for Tuesday, but at least it’s nice to know that the white stuff can become wet stuff.
Here are some images from my ride home around 5 Sunday evening:
One of two new lights my wife got me for Christmas. The other, a red one, is on the rear of my helmet.
I'll use some sunset pictures from Jan. 13 on my other blog. This is Jan. 12 as I head out. In late December, it's full dark by 5. Nice to see you coming back to play in our sky, Mr. Sun!
The evening was so fair, I took the longer trail route home Sunday. Saw some joggers. These are not the two MMU students I wrote about, since I saw them on F avenue. This is the Cedar River Trail, and I did see several walkers, bikers and runners on the way home.
I don't think I'll be using the Harding Middle School bypass until there is a more sustained thaw. I briefly had to walk Francis around this ephemeral lake.
On the sidewalk at Noelridge Park, Sunday around 5:30. Still barely light enough to take a shaky photo with a long expsure. I think I caught all of the lights on Francis flashing--the smear of brighter white on the corner of the basket is the new light shown earlier.
