In Which More Than 67 Mile Creep By

Morning break at Waldos Rock Park.

Grant Wood Trail in morning ride.

So last week, I took advantage of a nice Saturday to go on my longest ride of the summer, heading south to Ely and finding the trail to Solon.

That was a 50-mile ride. Today was sunny, gorgeous and cooler, with a morning in the 50s and the afternoon high in the low 70s. So I decided my goal would be 60 miles. I new that the end of the Grant Wood Trail contiguous leg was 10 miles from my house, so there and back would be 20 miles, and I figured getting the rest of the miles by heading north.

Tool--fixed loose mirror 10 miles into ride.

Mirror after fixed. It was loose. I tightened it.

Painted rock at base of sign at end of trail.

I was a bit faded soon after I started. I felt a bit ill on the Boyson Trail only 3 miles from home, and worried that my plans were derailed. I stopped, drank, rested a minute, and started riding more slowly.

When I got to the section of the Grant Woods Trail in town, I was more than 5 miles from home, and starting to feel better. I decided to keep going, and rode to the end of the trail. I decided to rest at Waldos Rock Park in Marion, adjacent to trail, just to be taking care.

Then I rode past home and headed to the Cedar Valley Nature Trail. At the Hiawatha Trail Head, I thought it would be snack time. But it was close to 11, I was at 20 miles by that point, so I decided to eat the peanut butter sandwich, Cheezits and raisins.

I then got water at the park in Robins.

The ride north was pleasant. Maybe too pleasant. I started making good time, and I knew what that meant.

Flowers seen on ride today.

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Bikers, you know what I mean. If you find yourself riding, and you feel powerful and are making good time, eventually you figure out you have a tailwind. Which means when you turnaround, the wind will no longer be your friend.

I snacked at Center Point and kept going north, intending to turn around when I had gone far enough to get 60 miles in on the ride. I also wanted to pass under the interstate, just because that’s a fun tunnel. Dong the math, I figured 17 miles on the trail, 3 miles from the trail to home, if I was at 40 or more at miles it was time to turn around. And that was my plan, so I parked my bike at mile 17 and did a bit of a  photo shoot.

But a family rode by. It reminded me I was close to Urbana, exactly how close, I was not sure. So I rode on, and it was only a couple of miles away.

I rested for a few minutes in Urbana and then headed south. I took several breaks on the way—the afternoon was wearing on and I was tiring. At one trailhead, I even lay down on a bench for a few minutes, not to nap, but to elevate my slightly swollen feet.

In the end, despite, the weird start, I went well beyond my goal. It was a good day for a ride.  Views of my bike today during the ride:

In Which a Long Ride to Solon isn’t Sullen

New stretch of trail on top of a new flood control levee south of Cedar River in Cedar Rapids. Not the first stretch of new trail (at least, new to me) that I would ride Saturday.

This was the perfect summer weekend in Iowa. It felt hot in the afternoon on the sunny Saturday and Sunday, but never too hot. Saturday in particular was beautiful.

The week before had featured hot, muggy days and stormy nights, so Saturday was the post-storm gorgeous day we are sometimes blessed with.

I tried to get up early Saturday, planning to ride at least 50 miles and still have time to attend a protest in Cedar Rapids late in the afternoon. I got up fairly early, but between fixing breakfast and prepping the bike (airing tyres and lubing chain) it was getting close to 9 when I left.

When I got on the trail, I decided to head south. I had ridden north to Lafayette recently, and my sister had reported previously that she had ridden to Solon, which made me curious.

I made good time headed south. The day was blue-sky gorgeous, not humid and a little breezy. By noon I’m sure it was in the 80s and feeling warm, but still summer nice. I stopped at the last park in Cedar Rapids for a quick break (and to find out the water was still off, but luckily had the foresight to bring 2 bottles with me). I took out my Hello Kitty snack box and ate a banana.

Then it was time to continue south. I rode to the end of the trail south of Ely, and took a second break at the rest area near where the trail apparently ends. I made some images of a pretty butterfly there.

My biking motto: I will stop for butterflies.

And then it was time to investigate the unknown. The paved trail ends, but a primitive, partly graveled path leads up an embankment to a busy county highway.

I rode the gravel up the embankment to find that, across the road there was another old man on a bicycle headed towards me. Traffic was passing by, and we waited. There was a big ugly black pickup towing a boat (Lake MacBride is nearby) that honked at us as traffic cleared.

Then we crossed the highway in opposite directions. As strangers do in this odd summer of 2020, we greeted each other like old friends, at a distance. “Honk if you love bikers,” I quipped, which he seemed to appreciate. It’s good that old men can share bad jokes.

Across the highway, not even down an embankment, across a short gravel access point, there it was, like the yellow-brick road to Oz—the Hoover Trail continued. I wonder a bit about this. There must be some future plan for another way to cross this highway. It’s odd that the trail is unconnected, severed by 20 yards of highway and gravel, with no sign to alert bikers and no crossing markings on the roadway.

Honk if you love bikers.

Nevertheless, like Elizabeth Warren, I persisted. The trail was wide, cement and fairly new. It went up a hill parallel to the county highway—not a steep or daunting hill, mind you, a rather easy to climb incline. After a bit, it approached a roundabout intersection between two busy county highways. The trail swung to the right of the roundabout, where there was a crossing.

Not, mind you, approached by gravel, but a real road-grade crossing even marked like a crosswalk. It was a little dicey to navigate due to traffic and the proximity of the roundabout—the fun thing about a roundabout is that you really never know what the cars in it will do, when they will exit it—but it just required normal caution to cross there. And no honking pickups, either.

Bridge I had not crossed before on the trail to Solon I had not ridden before. I had gone to that town via county highway before, and riding there via trail is much, much nicer.

The trail bent sharply to the left, passing by a horse farm where there were horses (and warning signs that the horses are privately owned and should be left alone—frankly, I think if the steeds were public property they should still be left alone, but that’s just me). A bit further on, a sign enjoined me to do something to support the Solon Fire Department, which I would be happy to do, but I don’t remember what it was.

The trail, after a bit, turned a bit to the right and passed through some public wetlands. There were only a few miles between the faux “end of trail” south of Ely and the secret, nice trial leading to a big park in Solon, but they are interesting, scenic miles.

Bike in Solon Park. The park is connected to conservation areas, and this bird statue is near a wetlands.

My bike parked at lodge at park in Solon.

I arrived, circled the park, rested and made some images, and then headed towards Cedar Rapids again. I had packed some snacks but was losing steam. And I was growing low on water, but in Ely, the water was on in the park, so that was good. Next time, I will pack both more water and more food.

I never got into Solon proper, but could see a church steeple and houses and signs for the high school, so I knew that I had arrived in that small village. Further trips may involve more exploring of the town, especially if I get on the road closer to 8 rather than 9 next time. This route may well be one of the days of faux RAGBRAI later on this summer.

My evening plans fell through, due to an unfortunate tragedy. One of my daughters has had a small dog that she adopted shortly after she graduated from college 15 years ago, and this year that aged dog has been fading. Another daughter was watching the dog this weekend while the dog's owner was camping with her kids.

And Saturday was the day that the poor old dog gave out. She curled up under a chair in the basement, went to sleep for a nap and never woke up.

As I was biking, about 5 miles from home, I got a text.

Would I be willing to help bury a dog?

The loss of the pet hit my daughter pretty hard. A dog is often a member of a family. Even an anticipated death can be devastating. Of course, I said “yes.” (Credit to the dog-watching daughter who did most of the digging, while I helped by cutting roots).

So instead of marching with a peaceful crowd of thousands in downtown Cedar Rapids, which had been my plan, I helped play undertaker to a gentle soul who on that day departed the planet.

Stuff happens, and I hope my daughter doesn’t feel bad about me missing the march. I was happy to have a small part in helping to lay that well-loved dog to rest.

Well, what a roller coaster of a day Saturday was—the un-sullen ride to Solon followed by the unexpected departure. That’s they way life is, I guess. There must be some wisdom there, but what it all means escapes me.

On the way back north--stopped at a wetlands near Solon. More butterflies to make images of.

Saw several bees and butterflies on flowers near wetlands. Including this one. I like that you can see its long tongue.

Saturday ride--got my 50 miles.

The night was a bit restless. It was my first 50-mile ride of the summer, and my body didn’t exactly appreciate it. I had some leg cramps—but fortunately mostly before I went to sleep, which was a blessing. I've been awoken by cramps before, and I am glad it didn't play out that way this time.

Today, once again, the sun was shining. The day was warmer, but pretty. I puttered about the yard, cutting some limbs on trees (my yard is a regular sized suburban lot and it has 25 trees in it, if you can picture that, and trust me, you probably can’t). I mowed, too, and then watered.

A butterfly bush, purchased by a daughter, is planted in a quiet corner of the backyard over a suddenly important spot, and I was giving it and some other new plants a drink.

My wife and I are doing some home projects and needed some supplies, so we went to a home goods store, too. After that, it was nap time, and something about Saturday meant that my Sunday nap was a long one.

All in all, it was getting close to 5 by the time I was ready to think of getting on a bicycle. I wanted a ride, but knew I was not going for a long one—and I decided it was time to use a bike that was left in my garage by my youngest son.

When you keep a bike for someone, you have to use it a bit now and then. A bicycle is not a machine that’s happy if it is left alone too long—parts rust together, air seeps out of tyes. So occasional short rides are called for to keep a stored bike fit, and today was this bicycle’s day.

The stored bicycle that I used for today's short ride.

I aired up the tyres, lubed the chain, and climbed aboard. The ride was not all that long—I don’t want to over-use this bicycle—but it was nice. My son’s bike doesn’t have bike clips, so I wore sandals. That’s OK, I don’t mind not wearing my bike shoes. It also doesn’t have a rear-view mirror or bell, and I missed those a bit more. Finally, it only has one set of brake controls—my road bike had dual brake levers, and I had to remind myself to lean way over and reach down when stopping was called for on this borrowed bicycle.

So, I think I will enjoy cycling on my own road bike a bit more after I get it fixed. But it was nice to be on a road bike after the long, warm ride the day before on my hybrid bicycle.

And youngest son, I hope you can get your bike sometime soon. I think it misses you.

Most of today's afternoon ride was on nearby trails. This is the Lindale Trail, looking very inviting on a sunny summer afternoon.

Shorter ride today. But more interesting shape ...

In Which I Wonder at a Sign During 30-Mile Day

Swallowtail butterfly on flowers in my front garden. Saw one at park on early bike ride, and this one appeared when we got home from that ride.

Friday was another warm early summer day. Thursday, we had gone to a county park with grandchildren in tow, and almost melted in the humid heat. I ended up with no time for a ride Thursday, and only regretted it slightly.

Today was another warm one, but not quite as hot and breezier, which helped. One reason I did not ride yesterday was that my wife and I were caring for five grandchildren. Today, we had one—and he’s the 4-year-old who is my biking buddy. I asked him if he wanted a ride.

He said OK, and at first wanted my wife to go on another ride—his idea is that he and grandpa would ride somewhere and grandma would ride somewhere else.

These days, his closest buddy is grandma, so I think he was just being ornery, and he relented and conceded that both my wife and I could ride with him (it’s automatic in my case since my bike is the one that has the towed seat he can ride).

We headed out late morning. There was a fair number of people at the first city park we passed, and we kept going, looking for a more isolated place to play. On the way to park two, which proved too muddy to play at (we had rain last night), just before we hit the 2-mile mark on the ride, he started to ask to go home, but that’s normal. He loves a bike ride, and also loves it when it’s short.

We reminded him that we had packed snacks, and he was willing to continue. We rode out to park three, more than 3 miles from the house. A drink and a snack and some play worked wonders. While there, I spotted a 4-leaf clover, which he picked and took home. Such a clover is supposed to be lucky, but most of this clover’s 3-leaf cousins are still growing in the ground, which made me wonder about the whole premise. It’s the same as the age-old question about a rabbit’s foot—if it brings good luck, why isn’t the rabbit still doing well?

Grandson (above) holds clover. The lower one has four leaves. Wife (below) holds the same one. I found a second one when putting the bikes away.

Anyway, after play and a snack, we headed home. It was a slow ride—I was towing him, and it was hot and humid. We reached 7 miles, which was by far this young dude’s longest pedaling ride so far, and he did quite well. I am sure he rode more than 7 miles when he was small enough to sit on a toddler seat, but this was his longest with pedals under his feet. Although my wife reports that when she was following us, she noted he wasn’t using those pedals all that much.

After he went home, I headed out on a solo ride. I note I’m the same rider on the same bike, but my average speech was much faster on the evening ride. It was not as hot, for one thing. I wasn’t towing a grandson. And I rode north on a trail—country trail miles always go faster than in-town miles.

On the second ride, I saw that the city has placed new signs at the crosswalk where C Avenue crosses Collins Road. That sidewalk is a recognized dual walk-bike route, and the signs instruct bikers to dismount. I complied, but I also question the wisdom of the rule.

New sign. If I dismount, but then get back on bike to ride across the street, am I OK?

I have to hoof it to get across the four lanes of Collins Road in one light “cycle” on foot. It’s sure easier to roll across. And I’m taller, and I think, more noticeable when mounted—why would I be safer on foot? Hmmm.

Maybe it makes walkers feel safer because they’re not worried about bikers while crossing the street—but I use this corner frequently—every day when I rode to work in a former life—and it’s rare to have a walker and rider at this corner at the same time.

Well, whatever. Between the two rides, I made it to 30 today. I hope to ride many more tomorrow.

Today's rides. Tadpole with long tail and tadpole with very fat head.

Bunny on Cedar Valley Nature Trail--rode north to Lafayette and back.

Computer at end of second ride.

In Which Insects Make a Timely Appearance

May 30--Middle of roundabout at intersection of Tower Terrace and 35th Street in Marion, Iowa. Quick afternoon bike ride with wife, daughter and grandchildren.

 I’ve not yet had a long summer ride. My weekdays are busy, and weekends have been too, so far. I hope to start increasing my bicycle mileage, though, as summer has arrived.

Despite wishing for more rides, I’ve had some pleasant ones recently. On Saturday, May 30, for example, I rode with a daughter and some grandchildren on a fairly short, but satisfying, ride.

And on Sunday, the final day of May, sort of to welcome summer, I rode into the night. I started my ride around 6, and pedaled first to the Mount Mercy University campus. I wanted to take some final flowers images there, since I have posted a gallery of campus shots this May—mostly, I think, because I missed all of the usual end-of-semester hoopla, and felt a bit sad that seniors and other students could not be there as the campus turned pretty in the warming weather.


I then headed down to Cedar Lake. I was not sure of where to go from there, but decided to make it a lakes day, and headed over to the Prairie Park Fishery via the downtown trail.

I was a bit startled on Otis Road, the street that leads to the fishery, at how high the Cedar River is. Otis Road is the canary in the coal mine for flooding here—it’s the first important street that gets closed when the water rises, and water was lapping at the edges of the road. We had less rain that usual in May, but enough, possibly north of us, to have the river fully full.

Sun breaks through clouds at MMU campus, May 31.

Clouds reflected by Cedar Lake.

High water of Cedar River seen from Otis Road.

Well, the worst flood in Cedar Rapids history was in June of 2008. I hope June of 2020 doesn’t rival that yea—if feels as if we have enough to contend with even without one.

Anyway, it was a pleasant ride. The sun was getting low as I headed north again, using the trail route home this time. It was a very summer feeling evening. My main headlight ran down before I got home, but I have two headlights, so like the Wallflowers, I can make it with one headlight.

As I got close to home on this final day of spring that is transitioning into summer, it occurred to me that something was missing. I hadn’t seen any lights twinkling in the grass—when will the fireflies appear?

Maybe they heard me. As it grew darker and I made the final turn to home, little lights were winking at me from the grass of my own front yard. Just in time to say goodbye to spring and hello to summer, the fireflies appeared. More images from recent rides:

May 29:

Afternoon bike ride. That's my daughter's bike, although the grandson shone did ride on a similar seat on my bike. Rode with three grandsons that day, and the 7-year-old did 4 miles on his own small bike and kept up with us.

Later, longer ride down part of the Grant Wood Trail.

My bike at turnaround point in Linn County along Grant Wood Trail.

On the trail heading towards home.

May 30:

Cedar Lake

Geese create traffic slow down along lake. Geese with goslings demand the right of way.

Goslings.

Duck swims in Cedar River.

Prairie Park Fishery lake.

On the way back home, pink light on Cedar River.

Sunset at Cedar Lake on the way home.

Along Cedar River Trail, heading north, deer crossed the trail in front of me and pauses to watch as I take her portrait.

 June 1:

Grandson ready to ride. Green bike is my wife's, mine is blue bike with blue Tag-A-Long.

Sunset at Lowe Park.