Nice Cloudy Day - La Grange, MO.

Lost some info...

I did neglect to mention the raccoons at Nauvoo. The first night there, they got into my trailer. Shamefully, I had left the bear barrel not entirely quite shut tight, and they made off with what they pleased. I lost all my hoagie buns, a bag of sugar, the smaller of my two containers of oatmeal, spiced soybeans, ramen, and probably a few things they carried off and left no trace of, of which I have forgotten. Last night, they didn't actually get into the shut barrel, but they did spend the better part of the night making a ruckus in my campsite. Not the best nights sleep I've ever had, for sure.

I took off early in the morning, to better enjoy the scenic part of today's ride. The road clung tight to the river, with many historical markets and pullouts. The wetlands near the river were filled with water lilies, and the roadsides where a white and blue pallet of queen ann's lace, chicory, and wild bergamont. Trumpet creepers are becoming more and more common, as well.

I made a detour through Keokuk in order to restock after the raccoon-thievery. It added a few miles of white-knuckle biking in heavy traffic, but I found a Wal-mart. Say what you will, but I'm learning to love Wal-mart supercenters. The greeter kept on eye on my bike and trailer while I shopped, the bathrooms where clean, and the water fountain was good and chilled. They still had the day-old bakery goods out, and I picked up a huge french roll for a dollar, and six doughnuts for one-sixty. Beat that... Loaded up on plenty of other food, too, but I doubt you all want my complete shopping list.

After Keokuk, I crossed into Missouri, and the route threw me onto a long, flattish stretch of four-lane divided highway. The shoulder was wide and mostly smooth, so it wasn't horrible. For a while, wildflowers continued to bloom, but soon enough I encountered mowed roadside. What is the point of that, anyway? If anyone can tell me, please do comment.

After missing the turn-off for my planned camping spot, and rejecting a $15 campsite in Canton, I ended up pitching my tent just outside of La Grange, in a grassy lot maintained by the local gardening club. There wasn't much there - a river with a road and train bridge crossing it, some concrete steps down into the river, a small plaque. A good spot for me. A young fellow was fishing, but soon left. A man stopped by and chatted for a bit, confirming that I shouldn't run into any trouble camping here. A few trains passed during the night, but trains have never much bothered me.

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A hedge of hibiscus near some restored buildings in Nauvoo.

At a roadside display just outside Nauvoo.

Wetlands blooming.

Baldcypress, a new tree to me.

Ever-present trumpet creepers.

Crossing the bridge to Keokuk, IA.

This time I get a sign!

Making my way to the Wal-mart.

Never been here before...

RAGBRAI Recap - The Towns

Pork Belly Tent Village

RAGBRAI recap - The ride

With the long days of cycling, the overload of food and noise and people and bikes, the parties, and the lack of sleep, I pretty much lost track of everything past the first day I joined up with ragbrai. Recaps must suffice.

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A Greener Iowa - Burlington, IA

60.78mi
7.0avs

Bugs and odd dreams kept me from sleeping too deeply last night. I slept on the shelter floor with no tent, feeling a bit insecure about my tent being spotted. The night passed with no slamming doors or flashlights in my face, and the river looked lovely in the morning mist.

Road construction changed my plans, once I was on the move. on a bicycle, 'road closed' most often means 'no traffic, nice ride', so I tend to ignore the signs. What safety regulation dictates to be deemed 'impassable' tends to vary wildly from reality. In this case, though, I ran into a indeterminably long expanse of pitted, rutted mud and loose gravel. The detour ran through roads not shown on my Iowa highway map, so it was a matter of giving up on any expectations and following the orange signs.

The detour turned out to be the best part of my day. It ran through a wildlife refuge, or maybe a large conservation area. I never found out what exactly it was, other than a sizeable tract of undeveloped woodland. Flooded woodland, with stripped silver trunks on one side, and dark green on the other. Very unlike the Iowa I've come to know.

I found a place to camp just inside the Burlington city limits, in a mostly-dry, wooded floodplain. The mosquitoes were present, but not nearly so many as one would expect. A stream passed through, but it was muddy and clouded, so I washed with bottles of water instead of bathing in it. Ate dry ramen for dinner, and slept comfortably in my hammock.

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A detour through woodlands and wetlands.

For all the noise about cycling in Iowa, this is the first cyclist-related roadsign I've seen in the state.

Home for the night.

The Trains are too Quiet - Fairport, IA

19.05mph
6.7avs

Left the sad little campgrounds at Davenport. A few loaded cyclists where departing, but none headed in the same direction as me. I'd not have been able to keep up, but it would still have been nice to know I wasn't leaving alone. I think I'd have felt better if Ragbrai had ended as intended, but I kept thinking about the bitter-sounding volunteer lady. Seven months for nothing. It bothered me that something as grand as Ragbrai ended with disappointment.

The flooding along the edges of Davenport was much apparent. I had to shove my bike through mud and foot-high heaps of algea left behind from the retreating waters. Debris floating through the river-side woods. I left it behind quickly and got onto the Great River Road national route, which I'll be following until I veer off to catch the Katy trail through Missouri. Near the city, the shoulders where badly paved and full of debris, but after passing out of the riverside industrial sprawl, which was interesting in and of itself, I was surrounded by field, grass, and wildflowers on gentle hills.

By 3pm, I called it quits. I was worn out from ragbrai, sore, and it was(of course) sweltering out. In Fairport, a tiny speck along the Mississippi, I spotted a little shelter by the river. The facility belonged to a civic club I forget the name of, and I relaxed there, ate, and read until the sun went down and the people went home. After five days of washing myself and my clothing under Ragbrai's communal water-stations, immersing myself in the river felt amazing. The Mississippi flows south, and I'm going with it - there is a comforting thought. A tugboat bore its many barges past. Several trains passed through, 50 feet from my camp. Compared to the noise and activity I had become accustomed too, these where unobtrusive guests.

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Swamped bike trail in Davenport.

A thistle of some description. I'll have to learn more about these new wildflowers.

Road sample #1"

Flooding on the Mississippi

The river at Fairport, just next to my home-of-the-night.

Gruelling ride to Boone - RAGBRAI

78.56mi. 9.4avs.

Way too much happened today to actually remember much of it a week later. Rode hard, fell asleep in a few towns, met Tracy and her sisters and got along great, scored some beer, and limped into Boone exhausted at 9:30pm. Should have slept, then, but I ended up running around town till midnight.

RAGBRAI - Party in Carroll

I'm right now in tent city, Carroll, Iowa. Just back from the concert lot, and even with all the warning, I've got to say - I'm astounded by what a -party- this is.

The city of Carroll doesn't stick us in a park, no. They take all these cyclists pouring into the city and spread us out. Every park is a tent village, every street full of blinking lights and RVs. Folks are on their laptops in the churches, sleeping in the school hallways, crowding in the rec center. Every shop has bikes parked in front, team buses are parked in driveways all over town. Seen from the school bus shuttles, its clear that RAGBRAI has taken over the whole damn city.

Downtown, the open space is given to the concert stage, vendors, bikes bikes bikes, and hordes of party-goers, well supplied with alcohol. A pair of pretty blond girls flirt with the state troopers, who seem to be enjoying the attention. A young man bursts through the beer garden gate on his bike, blinking lights and panniers and all. There are people jumping, shouting, grinding and line dancing. Women in tank tops, tiny skirts and boots, old men in bib shorts, young men with mullets and tweed vests, a whole crowd of men strutting in kilts. Every once in a while, a monsterous coal train blasts its horn and thunders past the stage as the band plays.

All this excitement is nothing I'm used to, but I need to get to sleep and haul out early. Heres to tomorrow being so crazy....

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Loaded bikes waiting for their people. Recognized a few of these from the folks in Breda.

Men in kilts on bikes(well, with bikes).

I've seen this bike before...

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Convergence of Baggers - Breda, IA

59.55mi

All along, I've been wondering if, as I approached the RAGBRAI route, I'd run across a convergence of baggers and bandits making their way towards the nearest overnight town. Today, I finally did.

After a restful night on Faith and Robert's sofa, breakfast, and some lounging around in front of the Tv, I got moving sometime around 9:30am. The plan was head down the Sauk Trail Trail and camp where the trail crosses through Carnarvon. With a easy rolling trail and a tailwind, I got there a bit too early in the day to feel enthusiastic about stopping.

I was feeling pretty much awesome, so I decided to just head towards Carroll and see what would come of it. Passing by Breda, I spotted -bikes-. Lots of them, at least fifteen loaded touring bikes, some road bikes with trailers, a couple of big dummies. Someone had a bike-mounted stereo blaring. Everyone was drinking beer, eating, rummaging through panniers, setting up and tearing down camp, hanging up clothing... For someone who has never seen more than two touring cyclists together at a time, this was pretty nifty.

As it turns out, I had run across a loosely associated groups of riders, most from the Des Moines area. There where riding their own alternate RAGBRAI route, and partying in town parks every night. They'd been having a good time of it - this morning, they woke up to find a lady come down from church, cooking a pancake and bacon breakfast outside their park shelter. I got a beer, delicious chicken wings, and plenty of conversation out of the encounter.

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The road this morning.

River! For reals!

The Sauk Rail Trail. It's nice, yes.... but whose big idea was it to use paving blocks? It's like miles and miles of sidewalk. With four wheels, that's a lot of bumping and jarring.

Bikes in Breda.

More bikes.

Dude in a kilt. The first of many.

Pay it Forward - Lytton, IA

48.10mi.
7.7avs.

One of these days, I'm going to have to balance out my karma a touch. People have been awesome to me, and I would really like to pay it forward eventually. Around 5pm, while grinding up a hill into a headwind, I had my first flat. I brought tools I'll probably never need, but in the flurry of packing I managed to forget tire levers. The amount of futzing around it takes to get the tire off a loading bike has me fervently hoping that this doesn't happen often. Off comes the trailer, off goes the map holder, batten down the hatches, flip it over, scrape my shins and stab myself with the gears, then finally wrestle off the wheel.

I did manage, thankfully, to get the tire off using the back of a spoke wrench and a small carabiner. The next problem was getting it back on. My tires have always seated poorly, and even with a powerful air compressor, it takes a lot of mucking around to get them fitted on right. I've never had to do it on the side of the road, in blasting hot sun, while listening to pigs frantically squealing across the street. It didn't go well. As I was working on it, a couple stopped by to offer help - tire levers and an air compressor if I could make it to Lytton. I could, and squeaking and wobbling away, I did.

I ended up spending the night at Faith and Robert's house. They both have a history of all kinds of adventuring, but if I try to write it all down, I'll never get back to the campground. They fed me spaghetti, breadsticks, and sangria, washed my clothes, and let me bring my wheel into their tidy living room to work on. When the tire refused to seat, they gave me a new one! Faith was putting together a presentation of her own touring experiences, and showed me her pictures and scrapbooking. All in all, it was a great time with great people who had great stories. They're not on warmshowers, but after that experience I think I may look into it.

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A comfy shelter on the intersection of nowhere and nothing. Wish Iowa had a few more of these.

Bet these guys agree.

Windmills. Miles and miles of windmills.

Skipping ahead a bit, Faith's tire boot.

Handmade cycling shorts for me!

Faith and Robert. Thank you!!

Frog legs in Rolfe, IA

18mi.
7.5avs.

Took my sweet time leaving West Bend. As per the recent norm, it was hot. I might have stayed another night, but this nice little campground had more than it's fair share of gnats, and a few more miles now would make the next two days easier.

Where West Bend had a surplus of gnats, the small park I stayed at in Rolfe was overrun by bullfrogs. I'd never actually heard a bullfrog before, and some confusion ensued until I spotted the massive frogs all around the pond. With so many, I can only hope the fine folks of Rolfe, Iowa, don't miss the one I ate. It was surprisingly easy to catch one in the dark with a bright light. I've never actually killed and eaten anything but fish before, so I'm a bit proud of myself. The legs where gigantic, and I cooked them in butter and salt. It took forever because I could only maintain a weak fire with damp wood in a grill, but it was pretty tasty when at done.

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Storm clouds heading out of West Bend. With the heat, some rain would have been welcome, but they never reached me.

Sunrise Ridge Park in Rolfe, IA