RAGBRAI '13 Recap, Stage 6.0 July 26, or Day 31 of the 31 Days of Ragbrai

Ahh, so true.

Day 6 dawned, well, fairly cloudy. And, just as the Ragbrai exhibit reminds us, our "crowd thins" as Goldie, Rrryan and Grandpa headed back to the Big D. But, I was excited for Day 6. 

Remember how Goldie left at 5:15am???

A) It was flat.

Day 6! Home stretch.

B) Tonight, the Spazmatics were playing. I totally love the Spazmatics. I heard them in Las Vegas for the Blackboard World Conference earlier in the month, and they totally rocked those nerds and teachers. I knew they would do the same thing for the ragbrai crowd. 

Here's a little preview of what I was looking forward to: 

I love 80s music kind of more than anything, and so does Ragbrai. I was pumped.

But before we could get to the Spazmatics, we had to leave Osky. I am not going to lie, that was a little rough.

Our awesome hosts, who seemed to ignore our occupying their living room, disturbing other ragbrai-ers, and puking in their kitchen sink, were sweet enough to ply us with coffee and a delicious breakfast. Then, we had to find our bikes (someone put them in the garage so they wouldn't get rained on), and pump our tires, and make friends with the old guy from Florida and his hot wife, among other morning tasks. 

Finally, we were about ready to hit the road. At 7:45 am.

It did not escape the Mayor and me that we probably could have left whenever we wanted and the Ranger would have caught us, but we still felt the need to leave as a group. And, so, we rode out of Osky together.

Here was the mood in the morning.

Soon, though, we were out of Osky and riding under overcast skies. I imagined this is what Belgium would be like in just a few short weeks. The Ranger decided to throw us a bone, kindly, and the Mayor and I tucked in behind him (believe me I have to do a lot of tucking to fit in that wind stream) and rode through the crowds.

We skipped the little town of Cedar. It didn't look like anything was happening. We kept riding on to Freemont. At one point the Ranger peeled off to pee in the corn. Of course, there are consequences after a rain storm to this strategy.

A little mud for the shoes.

We stopped in Freemont for coffee and pie and to try to get some money for the Mayor. For a man that has more interest in money than Warren Buffet, he has a hard time getting it. My conversation with Steven continued after the pin she sent didn't work:

Fish you were here.

I was having a bit of money problems myself when I purchased my pie and coffee and was charged 3 bucks for a tiny 10 oz cup of cheap coffee and they didn't even fill the cup. Bastards. 

While the Mayor took another shot at the ATM, I took a picture of this sweet custom bike.

White tires, yes please.

And then we rolled out towards Hedrick where we would meet Masinga. 

While we were at it, on Day 6, we were thinking about where we would stay that night. We were supposed to stay with the friend of my friend's cousin, who lived in Lawrence and seems to enjoy the ganja. He lived a mile outside of town and wouldn't be there to greet us because his band was playing.

We wanted to see the band that night (mostly because if we didn't I would die), but we didn't want to have to drive. Dilemma. So, we started cooking up a plan. 

We arrived in Hedrick and found not much. The boys went into the community center to see if there was pie (there wasn't) and I got the coordinates for Masinga, just down the road. We sat in a parking lot, brainstormed our strategy for where to sleep that night, and ate our snacks.

Still about half full.

Meanwhile my head was starting to clear, and so were the clouds. It was becoming a really nice day. When we left Masinga, we tasked her with doing a little recon on our housing situation and reporting back to us. 

Off we rode. 

It wasn't long before we were at the Mr. Pork Chop/Back Pocket Brewery stop, and, as had become our custom, we stopped. I was pulling up the rear and saw the Ranger in line for a pork chop. He yelled that the Mayor was over there, somewhere, so I parked my bike and got in line to buy some beers. I found some shade and sat down. Soon the Mayor found me. He had also bought beers. We had plenty of beers. 

I alluded to this problem in a way earlier blog entry about being slow. When you are the slow person, you never get to buy the beer, or you end up with way too much beer. Or maybe not. Is there too much beer? The brewery 100 would say yes.

Flat Steven, start drinking.

Did I mention how nice it is to drink craft beer on ragbrai? Back Pocket makes some really nice beer, and they sponsored a band of kids who would ride their bikes and stop and play music. It was fantastic.

This ragbrai also offered a lot of firsts for me. Way back on day 1 I had my first Beekman's ice cream. Today, I would get to sample my first pork chop from Mr. Pork Chop. Both the line gods and the weather gods were with us, and it didn't hurt to have a rookie looking to get the full experience.

The Ranger shares a pork chop with Steven.

They are good pork chops. I am not going to lie, but I am not sure I could have waited in line for the 45 minutes that the ranger managed. We did take him infusions of beer to get him through the line, though.

While we were enjoying our pork chops, and our beers, and shady spot with a cool breeze and mellow music wafting over the breeze, two dudes came over and sat down near us. I am not sure how we started chatting with them, perhaps we offered them one of the 9 beers we had, but I was so glad we did.

Jersey! And Flat Steven.

The guys were from New Jersey, and they had thick Jersey-accents. And, they were hilarious. As we got to chatting, it became clear that the guy in the yellow was not enjoying himself.

His friend had convinced him to do ragbrai. "I am never going to do this again! Why did I do this?" he kept saying.

"What's the problem?" we asked.

"Oh, the weather. It is so hot. And humid," he replied. We looked around stunned at the glorious sunny 75 degree day and were baffled.

"Don't get me wrong, the people are so nice here. I just can't believe it," he continued. "In Jersey, if you were riding your bike, people would try to hit you. I am serious. They would swerve to hit you, or they would throw bottles at you. Not here. I just can't believe it."

Then, somehow, he started showing us pictures of all the things he had done on ragbrai. There was a picture of him eating a huge turkey leg. There was a picture of him going down the huge slip-n-slide outside of Des Moines (the one we missed, dammit!) There was video, yes video, of him riding the mechanical bull! Still  he seemed to think there was something not right.

The Mayor turned and looked at him in all seriousness and said, "Sir, you are winning ragbrai."

And, you could almost see the wheels turning. All he needed was a different perspective. He wasn't just filling the time with turkey and bulls until the end of ragbrai, he was doing ragbrai!

We made them promise that they would come and see the band that night. They said they would.

Soon though, it was time to roll. After 9 beers, we took a little potty break and then remounted.
 

He's got nice form even climbing out of a ditch.

Not much was happening in the town of Packwood. There wasn't really anything to buy or drink, so we filled our water bottles and continued on. 

Soon we saw a sign that read, "Welcome to Lizard Country." 

The Lizard Kings were having a party, oh. yeah.

(Side note, the Tiger loves the idea of the Lizard Kings. He is always threatening to join their group ride on Tuesday nights--though they are based in Cedar Rapids. He also has a friend at work that offered to lend the Tiger his shorts when he heard he was going on ragbrai for the first time in 2012. The Tiger declined but he does repeat all the guy's advice about cycling. We call that guy "The Lizard King.")

Picture if you will, a huge arching curve in the road, and in the embrace of the curve, is a little hollow. At the bottom of the basin, is a wide, deep pond with a small pontoon boat and a fountain. Above the pond, a sprawling house and green lawn. Behind a new barn, hemmed in by waving corn fields under fluffy white clouds and blue sky. All over this lawn, corn, pond, and field are hundreds and hundreds of people and bicycles. A Led Zeppelin cover band played on the back of a truck trailer and a line stretched down the long driveway almost to the road with people waiting for beer. The ultimate ragbrai party. We had arrived. 

We ditched our bikes and got in line. The beer was "free" but they included the price of beer and the band and asked for a donation. We happily coughed up some money and took our spoils to a nearby tree and proceeded to just chill the f. out. It was amazing. 

As we sat and enjoyed our Busch Lights, so many events unfolded before us.

Beaver fun!

Some of the folks that we had "met," if you can call it that, in Osky came and sat with us for a while. And, a bunch of folks got half naked and hopped in the pond. The barn ran out of beer for a while but soon a pallet more arrived. We peed in the corn, texted our friends, and listened to Led Zeppelin music. Also, a very handsome young man, wearing only his bike shorts, came over to the house to our right and proceeded to flush out his bike shorts with a hose. At the risk of sounding like a dirty old cougar, I won't say anything more. I will just leave it to your imaginations, ladies.

How does the mayor get so freaking tan?!?

Meanwhile, back in the beaver-mobile, Masinga was taking charge. She couldn't really get to the house where we were supposed to be staying because the road was kind of on the route. So, she decided to punt. She went into Fairfield to scope out some places where we might be able to squat.

I am going to say, she is a freaking natural because the camp site she found was perfect. Near the elementary school, and close to a bunch of other campers and kybos, and in the shade, the new spot was perfect. I texted the bad news and thanks anyways to the friend of my friend's cousin and we proceeded into Fairfield. 

I could have stayed at that party for ever, but the Mayor told me that more fun was to be had and I could just take a road beer. So I did. 

The road into Fairfield was fine, and soon we were arriving in town. Frustrated that I hadn't even had a chance to open and drink my road beer, I opened it while riding into town and drank it while riding one-handed. Awesome idea.

We got in to town, found the address, and soon we were in our glorious campsite. Masinga, because she is amazing, set up our tents for us too. We all took a seat and had some brews. 

Beer drinking with Steven.

A very cute young gal was coming around asking of anyone needed a ride to the showers. We did, so we told her to come back in 10 minutes while we got ready. Soon we were all loaded up in her golf cart and headed towards both Ranger Dave's and Masinga's first semi-truck shower. 

I have to say I love the semi-truck shower. There is something so communal about it, and also, it is like taking an outdoors shower, and there is always abundant hot water and clean smells. It is so refreshing. Also, I like to take a beer with me so I can enjoy one of the great pleasures of life: cold beer, hot shower. Try it. You'll like it.

Clean and fresh, and in our sexy beaver tshirts, we waited for our lady to return and take us back to camp.

"So," I asked. "How far is it to downtown?" 

"Oh, about a mile," she said.

"If we made it worth your while, do you think you could give us a ride?" I was remembering the ride we had gotten from camp to downtown in Charles City, way back in 2010. It had been glorious. 

"I am not supposed to, but okay," she replied.

We asked that she come back in 15 minutes. On the dot, she arrived. We all loaded up into the golf cart and sped downtown. I knew she might get in trouble, so when she dropped us off, just a block off the square, I gave her $20. She didn't want to take it, but we insisted. Happy Ragbrai! The spirit of the Mayor was wearing off on me.

We walked downtown in search of food. The Mayor really, really, wanted to have Indian food. And, the choices were abundant in Fairfield, because it is a semi-cosmopolitan hub of the Maharishi, who started the town of Vedic City in 2005. But, as we walked by restaurant after restaurant we noticed they were nearly empty. Not a good sign on the ragbrai. Finally, we decided to go to this good pizza joint just off the square, called Torino's. 

Both Masinga and I managed to spill our water and get taunted by the locals, but we all stuffed ourselves with pizza and beer and enjoyed our free ice cream cone on the way out. It was magical. 

Steven not crying over spilled water.
Alternative caption: yes, I have to bite my lip when I take a selfie. Same as when I dance. I am a dork.

Then, we headed over to the square to get ready for what would be the climax of the ragbrai: the Spazmatics!

Here's what Masinga looks like in Fairfield.

Here's what I look like.

 On the way over to the stage, we made some friends.

Steven's second new boyfriend.

And because Fairfield was having a festival of mustaches, trying to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for most fake mustaches, I took a lot of pictures for the other blog.

Not plussed stache.

Wearing our team t-shirts was the best decision we ever made. Folks were so impressed. And, we made a lot of friends who shared our love for the mighty brown creature that is the beaver.

Well, that's sort of friendly.

Then, the Spazmatics came out. And, I am going to brag here, the first thing they said was "Team Beaver! Team Beaver!" Y-E-S. Beavers rock.

Then, we proceed to rock out. I was near the front, making friends, dancing, getting stickered, and having the time of my life. Masinga joined me and we danced up a storm. 

I think even the Mayor and the Ranger caught Spazmatic-Ragbrai fever.

 

Here is an accidental picture of some guy's butt.

Here are two cool dudes with mustaches.

Here's another cool dude with a mustache.

The Spazmatics said that we were "the best audience ever." I would have to agree. Before the show started, by way of awkward introduction, the MC said that they did some research and discovered the average age on ragbrai is 47, and so they thought this band would be appropriate. Finally, finally, are we getting to the point where we are in the ragbrai band demographic. 

When the band was over, we stumbled back to camp through the streets of Fairfield, "oh please," I begged, "let's just have one more beer to celebrate the last night of ragbrai." And, because the beavers are awesome, they indulged me. Finally, we were off to slumber land, dreaming of high waisted pants and Led Zeppelin and Busch Light. It was the last night of ragbrai. Just one more ride to go.

RAGBRAI '13 Recap Stage 5.0 July 25, or Day 30 of the 31 Days of Ragbrai

Returned exuberance? Sounds about right.

Welcome to Day 5! Knoxville to Osky.

A shorty, but a goodie.

I am going to attempt to be brief and knock this bad boy out in one day, as Masinga already covered some of the important events.

We left our little basement den in the hills above Knoxville, later than the Mayor would have liked, of course, and headed to Pella. Aunt Jackie's husband, who worked for Pella Windows, told us of a little short cut, so we could get around Knoxville, without the 7 hills into town. The road was glorious, long, low hills, the rising sun, no crowds, just delightful and just the six of us: Goldie, Rrryan, Grandpa, The Ranger, The Mayor, and Me. Steven was there too, in spirit. Masinga was at the helm, and being her usual kick ass driver self.

Let's all have some beaver fun.

We found ragbrai just a few short miles and a few long hills later and joined the swollen masses as we headed to Pella. The road was glorious. Winding, tree-lined, and shady, but because there were so many people, it was pretty hard to navigate without high levels of anxiety.

Just outside of Pella we stopped. The line for Farm Boys was super short, so we pulled over and had breakfast. Then it was on to Pella, where the Beaver-mobile awaited. 

I caught up with the Mayor at the turn into town. He was standing waiting for the rest of the beavers. Apparently, he had sent the Ranger back to fill up water bottles, a quarter of a mile back. The Mayor pointed out that in the may ways that ragbrai is different from bike racing, such is the role of the "fast guy." In a race, the slower folks would be filling and fetching bottles for the fast guy. On ragbrai, it's the opposite. If you are fast, you have to pick up the slack for the rest of the team.

We plodded down the brick streets into Pella and found the spot where Masinga was parked and enjoying a bit of a beverage. It was a glorious spot, close to downtown, shady, grassy, and pleasant. There was just one problem: 

The Ranger phones in his coordinates to the Ranger Katie.

The ice cream truck.

Two blocks down, at a place where the riders turned towards the square, an ice cream truck/trailer was parked. It was a massive, mobile food dispensing vehicle, with big signs and whimsical cartoon figures, and whathaveyou. Normally this would be a good thing. Ice cream blocks away, sounds like a score. But, this ice cream truck had a soundtrack.

"Do the ice cream freeze,

you shake your bottom and you move it all around.

The ice cream freeze, shake shake shake,

ice cream freeze." 

Or something like that. Turns out, after further research, this is a work of Miley Cryus, from her pre-twerking era (PT).

So, just imagine that, blaring out of a truck, on a pretty loud decibel level. Over. and over. And over. Son of a....

We had to evacuate, just for sanity's sake. So, we headed downtown. I personally had a mission. I needed stroopwaffels. A stroopwaffel is a delicious Dutch treat that is a cookie like wafer with caramel in the middle. A student had brought me some as a gift from Pella. They were delicious, and I thought they would be a good addition to our food stache. So, we headed into town to escape Cryus and find waffles.

For reference, here's a mega sized stroopwafel that I would be eating just a few weeks later on the streets of Amsterdam.

We stood in line for the bakery/waffles, then we wandered around downtown Pella. We crossed the fake canal and found the drinking area outside the hotel. There we bought a couple bloody marys. The Mayor made a crack about the "other Dutch" in Sioux Center the year before, and the gals in line scoffed with us about those "lame Dutch." I am not sure that the Mayor will ever forgive Sioux Center. But soon we were sitting down in an brick paved alley and talked smack. It didn't take long for the rest of the beavers to find us. We hung out for a good line while. The bloody marys were good, and in the 52 miles of today's ride, there were only two more towns. We had to divy out the fun nice and slowly.

It also didn't take long to hit my next item on the scavenger hunt. Whiners.

More than happy to help me out.

Had to get flat Steven in there too.

Finally we decided we needed to move on, so we used the nice, clean hotel bathroom once more and started walking back towards the bikes and the beaver-mobile, but not before the Ranger stopped to buy some flour for Ranger Katie. The flour is ground in the windmill, old-fashioned-like. Sometimes it pays to have written that silly book about Iowa.

People in bike clothing standing next to a windmill.

Also birthplace of Wyatt Earp.

The road out of Pella was pretty great, a hilly, winding country road, with a crazy descent into a little valley, then we back tracked west for a while before climbing up and out of the little valley. Did I mention that the weather was absolutely glorious? It was. Perfection.

In between Pella and Bussey, thank goodness, was the Mr. Pork Chop/Back Pocket brewery stop, in a farm yard under some amazing trees. We took a little beaver break and had some adventures. 

First, we met guy. Clearly I needed to get a picture for my other blog. We got to talking and it turns out he is from my neck of the woods, and he loves the high trestle trail. In fact, they call him Trail Bob, or something like that. I said I would look out for him.

Glasses, belly, fanny pack, carabiner? What's not to love?

Based on his stance, he might in fact be the reincarnation of Wyatt Earp.

Love. Runnells-style.

So, we were hanging out, beaver style. The Mayor was buying beer. I was drinking beer and taking pictures of mustaches. Grandpa was applying Ben-Gay. (I took a hit). The Ranger was sighing. Goldie was making friends. Before long, I heard her signature squeal of delight that rang over the crowds. 

"It's my friends!"

It was her friends. And the Mayor and I's friends too. It was the dudes that had drug our sorry asses into Knoxville. Here they were, again. The Mayor bought them a beer, then proceeded to daydream about how fun it had been to ride their wheel, and how great it would be to do it again. As the week of Ragbrai goes on, the Mayor's dreams of riding fast grow and grow.

Goldie and Flat Steven with our Fairy God Dudes.

More bike riding. The day was getting hot and we still had to make it to two more towns. We rode on.

Flat Steven with the coolest Trooper!

We tried to meet up with Masinga, but the troopers wouldn't let her hang out. We rode on.

Outside of Bussey there was an intriguing stop. A pond, beer, and other refreshments. We decided to stop. There was no beer, but it was "on the way." But there was a huge pond in the back. As the day was growing hot, we decided to stop, have a drink and relax in the shade.

Goldie and I went for a swim. There's nothing like swimming in your Team Awesomeness bibs, by the way. In the middle of the pond, like those seals in San Francisco, were a bunch of beached ragbraiers hanging out on a collection of inner tubes, rafts, and kayaks. They were waiting for beer to arrive. When it did one of their compadres paddled it out on the paddle boat. Goldie and I tried to score one, but it didn't work.

We squished out of the pond and rode on. We were passed going down the hill by a guy on a penny farthing. He was drinking a beer and coasting with his feet out. Nice.

Soon we were in Bussey, which had the wrecked, nearly the end of the day feeling about it. I parked my bike and bought a bunch of beer. Then, the Ranger bought a bunch of beer, soon we were inundated with beer, so we found a shady spot to relax and enjoy the ante-penultimate town of the day.

All week I had been telling Goldie about my "friends" at Team Awesomeness. I was wearing my too-tight bib shorts that very day, freshly scented with pond water. As I drank my beer and hung out in the shade, who should walk up with two hunks from Team Awesomeness besides Goldie!

Oh, these guys? I used to babysit for them! She knew the guys from way back in the day, so when she saw them in town, she insisted that they come over and hang out for a bit. Of course, Goldie knew them. She knows everyone.

Flat Steven and Goldie with Team Awesomeness.

Boeding, the one on the right, is the team leader these days. His brother (sigh) is on the left. We also got to meet some other members of the team, including Captain Nemo (I think that was his name) who insisted on wearing a bandaid below his eye.

Here's the whole team. Might I just add, me-ow.

I just love Team Awesomeness. Not only do they have the coolest kits and are willing to let me buy one every year, but they also are just handsome and funny and super charming and goofy. Team Awesomeness, we salute you.

Then, we rode on. I feel like I rode with the Mayor and the Ranger out of Bussey, but I can't recall. It was a long stretch, late in the afternoon, fueled by Coors. I saw the guy on the unicycle stop to help a couple ladies with flats, which was cool.

Then, we had a lot flat stretch through a little river valley. I actually got cooking for a while, what with a tail wind and some flatness. It was awesome. I caught up with the Mayor hanging out by a DYI petting zoo in a yard, but we didn't meet up with any other beavers, so we pressed on (I have to give it to the Mayor, he knows just where I like to stop).

Soon we were rolling into Beacon, which, conveniently was just 4 miles outside of Osky. I tried to put my bike in a ditch, for safe keeping, and almost broke my leg. I chose a better spot. Then, I ran across the street to a trailer with a camel in it to get a picture of Flat Steven. I had guessed that this would be another scavenger hunt item, but I didn't know yet, so this was a preemptive picture.

Camel.

Flat Steven.

Then, we proceeded to party. The beer garden in Beacon was happening, so we went in, found a corner and rocked that joint, beaver style. Needless to say, we made a lot of friends.

Steven's new boyfriend even got up on stage.

Not to be out done, Goldie joined him.

And then this happened.

Meanwhile, the Ranger needed a little re-group.

Not sure what this was supposed to be...

But soon, he joined us in full force.
Alternative caption: On ragbrai, fast guys need a regroup before the drinking, rather than the hills.
Alternative caption 2: a party ninja is born.

Some of the awesome things that happened at this party:

1. Goldie danced on stage, with Flat Steven's boyfriend. The DJ had to have attendants stationed next to the speakers to keep them from being danced right off stage.
2. There was a fire sale on beer about a half an hour before the party got shut down.
3. There was a guy doing yoga, or something, just behind one of the amps.
4. Masinga, like an f-ing champion, got on her bike and rode to the party to join us. There, she proceeded to make some friends too, wink, wink. To read or re-read Masgina's amazing recap of this day, go  here.

I bet he wanted to trade more than just coozies.
Alternative caption: I'd like to make sweet, sweet bike love to you, baby.

From that moment until 5:17 the next morning I don't have any pictures because what commenced was the biggest, craziest, beaveryest sh!t show that I have ever seen. 

When we left the party, we rode to a bar, straight to a bar in Osky. I think there was some sort of craft beer festival happening, and some music. We drank beer and rode on into the dusk.

Next we headed to a friend of Goldie's. All of this gets pretty confusing because the house belonged to one friend-couple, but the food was made by Tammy, who happens to be the mother of my massage therapist. We rode, en masse, to the house and turned sharply on to the street. The Mayor, who was not turning as sharply as usual, missed the turn, and in dramatic, Mayor-eque fashion toppled into the shallow ditch between a yard and the street. He was chuckling while he was down there, and his bike was fine, so I think he was alright.

Then, we went into the house and pretty much destroyed it. We were such a hot drunken train wreck, reeking of beer, still in our sweaty clothes, and starving. We fell upon the food like ship wreck victims. I don't even remember what we ate. Sandwiches? Better-than-sex cake? Who knows. I don't even remember if I took my helmet off, but I do remember that we pretty much scared off everyone else who was there. 

Then, we took off into the night to find the house where we were staying. We arrived and there was a party going on, of course, with a team bus parked in the driveway. We started to bring our stuff inside, and the host, grabbed the Mayor and said, "guys sleep on the bus. Women inside." 

I don't know if this is actually true, but I recall the Mayor saying, "no way. Beaver stick together." 

We all agreed that we needed to all sleep in the same den so we took up residence in the living room. 

There we arrived at an impasse. Half the beavers wanted to go out and see the Nadas. Half the beavers wanted to say, "go f yourselves. I am sleeping." So, the party-beavers, Goldie and Rrryan and Grandpa (who mind you were scheduled to leave at 5:15) along with the Ranger went out on the town. 

The Mayor, Masinga, and myself all bunked down. I did sneak up stairs for a shower. It wasn't clear if that was an option, but I took it anyway. It was glorious. Then, I tried to sleep. I think I got to bed around midnight, but not before trading messages with Steven:

The party ninja is born.

I woke a few hours later to the sound of a huge rainstorm and scruffling. I lifted my eye mask and saw the grinning face of the Ranger peering down at me. They had just arrived home. It was like 2am. 

Since I was already awake, and they wouldn't be beaver bunking down for a bit, I got up, went to the potty, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. There I found Masinga, looking sheepish. 

"I threw up," she said.

"Oh no," I said.

"In the sink," she said.

"Oh no," I said.

"Don't worry. I ran the disposal.," she said.

Oh Masinga. You are so good at all of the things.

Then I returned to my sleeping pad for a fitful night's sleep. I didn't wake up again until 5:07 when Rrryan, Goldie and Grandpa were packing up and leaving. Holy hell. I didn't think they do it. It just proves, they are amazing.

Flat Steven in front of the clock that says 5:15am.