In Which December Brings Rides Cold and Warm

Dec. 8--I ride mountain bike to campus due to possible snow. It did flurry in the morning, luckily no accumulation. I'm in full winter gear (my helmet strap is fastened when riding, I've arrived and unsnapped it before snapping this selfie by vehicle my wife drove. I stowed some bags in it so I didn't have to carry them on the bike.) I was hoping some snowflakes would show in this image, but I don't think that they do. Winter on this day--one week later a summer storm would strike.

A derecho—a weird, unexpected, December derecho.

Multiple tornadoes, a powerful, bow-shaped storm, winds of hurricane force—once again, Iowa saw a derecho sweep across the state on Dec. 15. I had decided not to ride my bike that day, despite a pleasant morning, because strong thunderstorms were in the forecast.

I know Iowa was lucky. Kentucky had a high death toll for storms the day before, and although there were some fatalities associated with this December weather disturbance, we got off lucky. The line of storms was thin, moved through quickly in the evening, and weren’t as strong as the derecho storm that severely damaged much of the state in August of 2020.

But it is December. Iowa gets storms like this—in June or July. This December derecho was very weird. The day set record highs in the 70s, with warm humid air from an unusually hot Gulf of Mexico drawn up to the middle of the continent in a month where we worry more about ice and snow than tornadoes.

Well, Dec. 15 was just one day. And I rode quite a bit this month, I just was too tied up with work and Christmas parties to have time to write posts about those rides.

Dec. 3 early evening bike ride to campus--December featured many pretty sunset skies, so if the sun left us early, at least it left us pretty.

Dec. 3--I rode the hybrid bike, here I pause in the parking lot behind the building where my office is.

Dec. 8--It melted later in the month, but C Avenue pond covered in ice in the morning.

But a lot happened in December, from a biking point of view. Early in the month, during winter weather that was more normal, I rode with my full winter outfit for the first time—long underwear, long shirt under a warm sweatshirt, two pairs of socks, insulated boots, a thin headband under a thin hood under my helmet, mittens and a jacket.

Even if the middle of the month briefly and weirdly warmed up, it was a month of winter rides, of using the low gear for the occasional “wind hill.” This is the darkest month of the year, and lights were important in both morning and afternoon rides.

Right now, the semester has ended and, while I have to do prep work for a January term and spring, I have fewer bike commutes to campus. I got a short bike ride in today (going to a store in search of a Christmas present), but I’m not sure how bike friendly this winter break will be.

At least, I hope there won’t be any days where I have to avoid rides due to a summer storm …

Dec. 9--Another morning view of C Avenue pond.

Dec. 17--Sidewalk on my route has been blocked for weeks, but now is open, as is new gas station.

Dec. 19--Quick Sunday afternoon ride on Boyson Trail, pretty December winter view.

In Which Hazy Sunshine Means Pretty Rides

Hazy sunshine on Monday morning as my biking week begins. I rode every day this week.

Sorry, West Coast. I wish you were not burning. Even more, I wish Ruth Bader Ginsburg was OK—but that’s probably a topic for a different blog.

This week was full of disturbing news. At least it was also filled with nice weather for a bike commuter. Our sunrises and sunsets were pretty, even if the reason is sad.

Lots happened this week, at least not all of it was bad. The giant pile of brush in front of my house was cleared away. Many streets on my commute are still constricted by derecho storm debris, but the piles are slowly melting away as trucks trundle away with tons of wood.

This week, I saw an egret and a pelican together on Cedar Lake. I saw the sun prettily reflected in the C Avenue pond. I enjoyed morning glories smiling at me from a yard near Kenwood School.

So here is my week in biking, present in images I made:

Hazy Monday morning sunshine on MMU Rohde Family Plaza.

Tuesday, I think. I have serious morning glory envy.

Geese at Kenwood School, far from any water. Not sure what the plan is.

Street sign on side street--not sure these are official signs.

Favorite place to shoot morning sun--C Avenue Pond at Collins Aerospace.

Bike on C Avenue, waiting to cross Collins Road.

On Tuesday, they had started to cut away fallen ash tree in front of my house. As I leave for morning bike ride to work, trucks pulling up to haul pieces away.

Morning shadow. Note equipment by C Avenue loading brush.

And I get home Wednesday. Sidewalk is a mess and broken in places, equipment damaged retaining wall by my driveway--but the big tree is gone. Progress.

Thursday morning, truck removing debris near MMU campus.

Took long way home Thursday afternoon...low sun at Cedar Lake.

Above and below--I've seen egrets and pelicans before, but not together. Cedar Lake Thursday afternoon.

Friday morning--work closes sidewalk on C Avenue where I usually ride--moved into street before start of bike lane.

Debris removal Friday morning on Prairie Drive a few blocks north of MMU.

Street felt a little small Friday morning.

I pause before riding up The Hill at MMU. Tree rodent on utility pole does not appreciate the company. It was chattering very angrily at me.

Friday morning biker shadow.

C Avenue pond Friday--another day, another sunrise.

Leaving for home Friday afternoon. Interesting sky.

In Which Rides Slowly Improve

Mount Mercy University campus Sept. 3, 2020. Parking my bike at bike rack, Warde Hall. Classes start Monday and the regular routine of commuting to work by bike is underway.

The wall of tree debris still stands like a gap-toothed barrier between me and the street. Riding a bicycle in recent week in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, has been both a bit dicey—avoiding flats requires constant attention—and sometimes a bit of a downer. It’s a reminder of how damaged this town is by an August act of violence by Mother Nature in this strange, scary year of 2020.

But the derecho doesn’t have me completely down. In fact, the weather has turned September beautiful, which I appreciate. And the rides are thus getting more satisfying.

I suppose it helps that, although most streets are still clogged, you can see the recovery starting to take hold. As I rode to campus last week, it was almost startling to have some of the streets look, well, almost normal.

Well, good. Here’s hoping that your fall cycling brings some smiles to you, too.

Bike rides Saturday (left) Sept. 5 and Friday (right) Sept. 4. I rode Sept. 3, but didn't bother to record miles--probably 7 to 8 miles, regular commute. Friday I had a meeting, s near campus so a few more miles than usual. Saturday's ride was a just a quick one.

In Which I Consider the Smell of Wood

Mid-morning commute on C Avenue, truck carting debris, utility truck at work.

 

Monday’s hot summer ride to work featured a hazy sky.

Not due to impending rain—hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico are setting up dry weather in Iowa. Much of the state is in a slowly worsening drought, and gardens, grass and the surviving remains of trees are drying out.

At least we’re not on fire—yet. California is. 2020, right? The haze high in the atmosphere is from those California fires. As dry as it is here, I worry about the piles of drying wood along our streets which sure seems like they could fuel some magnificent blazes, but hopefully all that fuel will be moved out before rapid oxidation causes more problems.

Anyway, the ride today was a lot like my weekend ride—except even hotter. I’m getting used to the odd scenery of the ride, but I will like it when the city is done carting away all the storm debris.

Central campus MMU--not open to visitors yet, but debris is gone.

As I thought, when I rode to work, the central campus looks better than the edges—all that debris on the edge came from the middle.

I am still getting used to minor changes in my route due to Prairie Drive being closed for a block, I assume by wires that are hanging low. And I had a bit of a near miss when a debris-carrying truck dropped some limbs on C Avenue during my ride home.

One impression I had of the ride is the odd smell in the air. A bit of burning smell is in the Iowa air from the California ash, and that has happened before, but the smell of this ride was more than that. Cut wood, drying leaves, an odd high-summer intense taste of autumn is in the air. That and the almost constant buzz of saws in the background. Rides are a bit different now.

But the fall bike commuting has begun. I worked from home Tuesday, but most days this week will be back in the saddle of the hybrid biking, riding to campus.

On F Avenue, American flags planted on top of the wall of storm debris.

The truck that almost did me in. Riding home on C Avenue, passed by fast-moving DOT truck carrying storm debris. Happy the government is taking the debris--not quite as happy that they don't cover their loads. You can see large branch about to tumble off truck, what you don't see is that just a second ago, a big branch barely missed CR biker as he cycled along the sidewalk. Cedar Rapids--use some tarps on your trucks!

In Which I Ride the Narrows

Stump on lawn at Collins Aerospace on C Avenue. Large trees that were removed were painted with an L. Feeling sad for the loser trees.

Waiting for light to change at Collins Road. Raindrops pattern the sidewalk, first rain since the derecho storm. We only got a little.

First corner, Blair's Ferry and C Avenue. Off to the left, that open grassy area. It had many mature trees on it, all are gone now.

Riding south along C Avenue by Collins Aerospace. Near Collins Road--another empty lawn that used to have many mature shade trees.

It has been not quite a fortnight since the derecho storm blew through Cedar Rapids.

My first bike ride since then was a short tandem trip with a granddaughter. It’s been dry since the big storm, although there was a chance of some rain today. But, since wifi was down at my house and accessing work files would be difficult, on Saturday I decided to take a morning ride as my second post-derecho bicycle adventure.

My goal was to check out campus. Volunteers have been clearing the devastation there, and offices are to open Monday.

I started my journey south. The campus of Collins Aerospace is poignant to see—it was a pretty grassy area with mature trees, most of which were blown away by the 140-mile gusts of the derecho. It’s open and sunny now, and feels naked. Fortunately, the young trees recently planted in a line along C Avenue, although a few are leaning, largely survived.

After crossing Collins Road, I got to the place where C Avenue had a bike like. “Had,” although the lane is still there, just mostly buried under tree debris. That was not terribly surprising, and I planned to turn off C Avenue at the first intersection, rather than riding almost to the end of the bike lane, which in the past was my usual route.

Bike lane on C Avenue has disappeared under wall of cut branches.

Mail truck passes me along suddenly narrow C Avenue. I turned off as soon as I could.

The neighborhood I turned into was surreal. The storm was wildly inconsistent—it hit and damaged the entire area, but in some places it’s mostly downed trees, while in others roofs were damaged, sheds demolished—the winds of chance blew a bit more in places, and this neighborhood west of C Avenue featured the usual piles of debris stacked by the thereby narrowed roads, plus some wires still down and many roofs a patchwork of tarps. Today was the first that those tarps were important, as a few sprinkles came down.

And Mount Mercy University is in one of those hard-hit places, too. I was riding on familiar, quiet residential streets, but the ride was a still more than a bit eerie. The piles of former trees plus the more open skyline, the occasional downed wires—it’s still a revelation to move through this space, at once so familiar and so strange.

After turning off of C Avenue--the neighborhood of quiet streets and quiet devastation. Many trees down, those standing look shell-shocked and shorn of leaves.

Sure.

Another street scene I saw.

The space between houses is part of small neighborhood park, apparently used as a staging area for trucks.

 

 

No one will play in this park for a while. In fact, the city has closed all parks and said they are not even safe to walk across due to unstable trees.

A few unexpected turns on my route--some streets closed or filled with equipment.

I got to campus. Signs on the drives announced it was closed, and I could hear equipment moving. I know it will be open on Monday for work, and I decided it was best to satisfy my curiosity then. I rode partly around campus (a blocked street prevented a full circuit) and made some images from the edges.

I am betting a lot of cleanup has been done on central campus, and it will help a lot when the city can cart away the fences of felled wood, but at its edges of The Hill (local term for MMU campus) there is still a lot of reminders of the recent storm.

Unexpected detour of a few blocks.

Striving statue on MMU campus, seen from Prairie Drive.

Campus view, post derecho.

I decided it was best to obey the signs.

Not every tree in front of Warde Hall is down. Just most of them.

I paused here to pluck two drying hickory nuts off of the downed branches.

In our backyard after the storm, my 4-year-old grandson found some hickory nuts, although I don’t know where the nearest hickory tree is. He has planted some in his sandbox and in gardens, explaining that he hopes to grow “hickory dickory dock” trees.

At the end of the MMU campus, some drying hickory nuts were attached to fallen limbs laying by the street. I grabbed a couple. May as well try to see if I can get a hickory dickory dock tree out of this mess.

It was a somber 9-mile ride. The grey sky matched the mood. The sprinkles, which started early in the ride, held off, however, even as the sky darkened.

At Regis Middle School, people were clearing the lawn by the street. I wish that they had been wearing masks, although that would be hard to do such work on this warm, humid day. Yet I was glad to see them. It gave me some hope. Power is on back on campus, or so I’ve heard (I had no wifi this week, so I haven’t really seen any campus messages). We’re coming back. Slowly, it will be a long road back, but we’re coming back.

And then I rode back home. Longer and more pleasant rides are clearly a way off in the future. Here’s to those future bicycle rides.

Seen on my way home.

Nuts from campus.

On the way home I went up F Avenue to avoid C Avenue traffic. Just crossed Collins Road at F, entering Collins Aerospace bare lawn that used to be well shaded by mature trees.