In Which Stormy Biking Brings Egrets

Big bird on Cedar Lake late Tuesday afternoon. Is it a Great Egret, blog reading bird fans?

Not regrets—egrets, I think. Anyway, as you can see, I encountered big, white birds.

It’s been a warm, muggy time in Iowa, and I rode Clarence to campus today in the knowledge that I might have to call for rescue this afternoon, as thunderstorms were possible. While radar said my sisters in the Quad Cities and Des Moines may have been getting soaked this afternoon, when I was ready around 4 to head home, most of the sky in Cedar Rapids was still blue.

Note that there is another Egret on the other side of the tiny peninsula. And, yeah, the sky.

 Just most of the sky—at its edges, both north and south and a bit in the west, the firmament had some very interesting white, grey and black peaks, as if thunderstorms could roll in at any minute. Still, I decided to take the trail ride home and gamble with the weather.

I have no regrets—and I did get to see some egrets. Along with that, there was some track team practicing by running on the Cedar River Trail, which was fine by me, although a large number of runners congregated on the south shore of the lake, creating a bit of a hazard for a passing biker.

Runners—you are pretty, thin little things. You don’t want 270 plus pounds of bike and old man to slam into you at trail speed. I did slow down, but still. If we do collide, it’s probably going to be worse for you than me. Physics says so—mass times acceleration and all that. Still, it won’t be great for me, either, and I would rather not run the experiment.

Biking south along Cedar River Trail at Cedar Lake. Cotton balls in the sky.

Anyway, although it was uncomfortably muggy and I got damp, I did enjoy the ride today. Odd bird sightings continued later in the ride away from the lake—I went home via the Harding Middle School route, wherein I cross Noelridge Park before heading through the middle school grounds. Behind the school, in what appeared to be a dry field (although, to be fair, it was also near small creek) a bunch of geese had congregated.

Hiding out, I assume. They gather geese and feed them to poor people in this town.

Geese flee feast behind middle school. Geese flee being feast.

As I neared home, the northern sky got really dark and gloomy. I was half expecting a twister at any minute—not kidding on that point, the area saw a tornado during similar warm mugginess yesterday—but the raindrops held off and I arrived quite dry.

Well, no. I actually arrived very damp, but from sweat, not hail nor rain. And I don’t regret that.

Wicked Witch weather, but I didn't end up in Oz. Corner of C Avenue and Blair's Ferry Road.

Mad Dogs and CR Biker in the Mid Day Sun

Egret in Cedar River today.  I volunteer to wade in the polluted waters too.  It was hot, hot, hot!

Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of bird, so cute and so tall.

A closeup. From the lion bridge, so we're zooming a lot.

How hot was it?  Well, I’ve never web-enabled my not-so-smart phone, and although my bike computer has a thermometer, I don’t know how to use it.  The actual temperature today was in the upper 90s, but the heat index, taking humidity into account for the mischief it does for human comfort, was in the three digits.

Did I ride?  Well, I can’t control the weather during RAGBRAI, so, yes, I did.

Slowly.  I’m usually slow anyway.  Today, I must have seemed glacial.  I snailed along the trail, taking my time, drinking my wine.  It was white and alcohol free wine, made exclusively of two parts hydrogen to one part oxygen (amounts not given by weight).

Anyway, I did about 30 miles total today in 3 rides, one of them in the hottest part of the afternoon.  Hit it, Noel:

The ride was hot, windy, and fine.  As was the case during RAGBRAI last year, I found myself surprisingly uncomfortable but otherwise OK in the heat.  This year, the techno bike jersey helps, so the ride was doable.  Good practice for any especially hot RAGBRAI days that I hope don’t happen because they would really suck.

The most uncomfortable part of by body was the wettest.  My head.  The helmet is good at building up a storage of liquid so that when you pause and take it off, you go EWWW.  Maybe I should shave my head for RAGBRAI?  Naw.  Sunburn.

The heat in my head had a poor impact on my brain, I think.  Anyway, I had ridden on the downtown trail, and was headed back toward campus to say hi to Audrey, when I was stopped by a train at the construction site of the new central library.  I could have gone north on streets, but that would have violated my strict “take it easy in the heat” biking rule, so I parked Old Blackie and was idle while the train snailed by (it seemed to be taking it easy in the heat, too—maybe the whole world was).

As I enjoyed the hundred-degree heat, I idly inspected the artist’s rendition of the new library.  It was amusing to me partly because it was exactly backward from my point of view, but OK.  Anyway, as I looked at the image, I started to have questions.

On a sign at the site of the new library, what the other side of it will look like.  Weirdos on the roof.  Depressed pedestrians.  A woman in yellow so confused she's air fishing at a piece of art that resembles a giant, mangled bike chain (clearly an homage to nearby trail).  A spooky sitter hiding behind the tree.  But, most spooky of all, what is that man/woman in the skirt/kilt next to the giant pile of art?

Why do so many people hang out on the roof of the library?

Why does that pedestrian look so depressed, shoulders hunched, watching the ground as he walks along?  Did the library not have his favorite Bill Bryson book or the second installment of “The Hunger Games?”

From a distance, a school girl.  But on second thought, a burly Scot in a kilt,
and he looks neither harmless nor happy.

And then there was her.  Or him.  At first glance, a school girl in a plaid shirt.  But a rather large, burly looking school girl, who the more I looked at her, she became “him.”  A rather muscular Scot kilt-wearing psychopathic murderer, looking for the next victim whose eardrums and brain s/he can shatter with his pipes of death.

No wonder Mr. Pedestrian is depressed.  With Jack the Mac Ripper nearby, he’s not expecting to get out alive.

Finally, the train moved on and so did I and the handful of other Mad Dog Englishmen bikers who were out on this scorching day.