89 Day 6 In Independence

I don't know about you beavers, but I am getting a little blog fatigue. Still, I promised a century of blogs and a century of blogs there will be, by ragby-gods. Though, I can tell from the number of comments I've gotten from readers about "needing to catch up" that I am not the only one faltering at the end. Send me some positive beaver vibes to get me through the end! 

Independence, and all

The Deb, of course, had made friends with our hosts, the parents of one of my sister's friends from college...yep, that's ragbrai. Everyone was hanging out on the back deck, drinking beer, playing with the tiny dogs, and eating snacks while we cycled through the showers and organized our camps for the last night.

The funny thing about ragby is that by the time you actually start getting into a groove, like knowing exactly how to set up all of your stuff and where to put your toothbrush etc, it is almost over. The beavers were planning on an early morning as Saturday's ride was the not-fun-kind of 69 (miles, har har) and the hilliest day we'd see on this ride. We needed a good night's sleep to get us through the following day, and I needed a good night's sleep to get me through the melancholy of that last day of camp feeling. 

The beavers decided, after hearing there was a shuttle pick up, that we'd walk up to the hospital, just a couple of blocks away, and head downtown for our last night of our senior year. It was dusk and we weren't sure exactly where we were going. We found the hospital, but there was no one there. And, no shuttles. 

We hung around for about 15 minutes, some of us laying in the grass, or picking pebbles with our shoes. We could hear the bands playing at the bottom of the hill, but no shuttle arrived. Finally, we gave up and walked back to the house. 

After we turned on the street to our hosts, we heard a noise, turned back and saw a shuttle bus pass by, heading down town. FMD. Too late.

The beaver tide had turned, only, we didn't have supper. Now what? Noting our predicament, our hosts kindly opened their fridge. They had some cold burgers and hot dogs, cooling in white-meat fat, some salads and chips and a big bowl of chocolate. We fell upon the food and destroyed their kitchen, happily saying yes to all that was offered us. 

Demoralized from our failed attempt to get downtown and exhausted by our long, and in some cases, vodka-soaked day, we retreated to the comforts of our little tents and went to sleep.