One Last Thing Before I Go....

This morning I have: 

• Worked out
• Drank coffee
• Lounged in the bed
• Hung out with the Tiger on the deck
• Walked the dog
• Paid bills
• Cleaned up last night's dishes
• Made the bed, ish.
• Cleaned up the green room for Tad's upcoming stay. (Hope he's not allergic to dog hair).
• Fussed with my ragbrai gear
• Ate breakfast
• Pumped up my tires
• Gave the dog her ear drops and heart worm pill.

What else can do I do to procrastinate leaving? 

This same feeling overtook me before I left for Utah/Colorado. It is sort of a combination of sad + nervous. Sad because I truly hate leaving my little family. And, my brain starts telling me that it would be better to hang out here, and watch the dog nap (she's so cute!) than to leave on a pointless adventure. 

Nervous because it's a long ride. The route is a bit sketchy to me. I don't want to get hit by a car, and I am doing it all by myself. And, being alone for that long, well, it can get lonely. And, it gives me a lot of time for my mental demons to work mischief.

Of course, I know that I will be fine. The dog and the Tiger always get along just fine without me. And, the Tiger is very supportive of my need to roam. Also, what would I do if I stuck around? Probably nothing that noteworthy, except spend some time with Steven and watch more Sons of Anarchy. 

And, I know this is going to be fun. It's going to be hard, and scary, and challenging, in a lot of ways, but it will be a great deal of fun. And, when it's over, I'll get to ride even more bikes with my friends! 

Yet...here I am, considering writing 3 or 4 blogs to post automatically while I am gone. And, when was the last time Holiday had her teeth brushed? And, so on, and so on...I could go visit the Tiger at Modern Bike and get a mirror for my bike...do I have enough snacks? 

Okay, okay, I am going. I am just going to shower, and load my bike, and hit the road. Perry here I come, in a bit.

Roll Out

So, I am going to do the ride out to Ragbrai this year. I have to keep saying it, otherwise I might chicken out. The ride out is when people ride bikes to the start of ragbrai. Then do ragbrai. Most people ride out, then ride to central Iowa with ragbrai. Then go home.

It's always sounded like fun. And now I have both the time off and the bike. Emotionally, I am torn. I love the idea of a solo tour, and lots more time on the bike, but I am worried about leaving the team to fend for its self, and getting hit by as car, and gravel.

I am going to leave Tuesday afternoon, ride to Perry, then try to hit Lake View, Cherokee and arrive in Rock Valley Friday night. It's 235 miles.

Goldie and Masinga are already worried, so I am going to try, TRY, to update y'all on my whereabouts on Twitter. Lrrice.

We'll see what happens. I might get to Perry and just turn around because I miss my puppy too much.

Anyway, that's where I will be on the count down to Ragby! Hope there's tons of fun in your future week too.

Hiking is Walking

There's a moment in seasons five of Sex in the City, when Sarah Jessica Parker's Carrie is hanging out with her dreamy high school boyfriend, played by David Duchovny (why don't you love me?!), at his insane asylum. She points out how nice it is there, despite the fact it's an insane asylum and blah blah blah, why am I describing this?! I found the video....

Anyway, it's true. The part before the "feces!" Hiking is walking!

Whenever people are like, oh, "I went for a great hike!" or "do you want to go for a hike?" I imagine this: 

And, I'm all like: "meh."

But, if you think of hiking as walking, just walking, then it's cool. (If you have been reading this blog long enough, you know I have some weird mental blocks). In fact, it's even more fun if you call it a "walk about," a la Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee. 

So, I did some of that while I was out west. And I would be remiss not to mention it. My walking. 

I had a couple nice walkabouts in Bryce Canyon. One morning I saw prairie dogs, got coffee and a bagel from Vahalla Pizza (you know that whole Viking-Bryce Canyon thing), then saw some horses, and contemplated the rim while eavesdropping on tourists speaking foreign languages. Then, I found a campground, got a bit lost, then backtracked and saw more prairie dogs. 

Another time, I went out to the rim with some loose dogs and a baby. Awesome. 

When I left Bryce, I headed back towards Moab, but I had plans to stop at Goblin Valley State Park. Lexi showed me her pictures from her romantic southwestern engagement trip and it looked like a lot of fun! Weird rock formations! 

Goblins!

So I went back to Hanksville and turned north. The park was about 14 miles off the main highway. No one was at the gate house, so I paid my $8 fee and drove in. The goblins were awesome. The wind was not. Hot, ferocious wind was blasting across the desert. I hopped out of the car, eager to stretch my legs and got an exfoliating facial instead. But, I had paid eight dollars, so I went for a short walk around the park. Hiking: fail!

That night, I stayed in Canyonlands National Park, the Island in the Sky District. The problem with naming it "Island in the Sky" is that all I could think for the next 15 hours was this: 

I got the last campsite, thank goodness. I went for a bit of a walkabout. Alas, the wind was still blowing a gale. I did a few little walks before the wind and the gathering chill drove me back to my campsite. 

Splendor!

I spent a chilly night in my new tent. The wind was blowing and the temperature dropped like crazy, so I was completely tucked into my mummy bag. By morning, though, the wind had died, so I packed up and drove out to the Grand Overlook. 

There was a short hike out from Grand Overlook, so as the sun came up and before the other visitors arrived, I took a little walk out. 

#waitineedtotakeaselfie

Then, I went back to Moab and repeated the entire pre-Rockwell process: Love Muffin, gas, ice and snacks. Then, I drove to Colorado, dodging those cute little prairie dogs the whole way. Didn't hit a one. 

The only problem with the solo-road trip, is that I get "road fever." I talk myself out of stopping more than I should. My thought process goes: "well, if this looks good, what's around the bend?" Then, I never stop. 

I did stop to take this picture.

Especially true when it comes to uranium

I drove through Telluride, got lost, and then found my way to Monroe and eventually The Black Canyon of the Gunnison. The lady at the gate told me that I could drive to the bottom. What?!

"It's a five mile, steep road to the bottom, but the roads are good." I asked if there was camping down there and she assured me there was. I couldn't pass that up!

Top of the canyon.

So, I drove to the bottom. Oh my Lord. That was a road. 

I had to take a break driving down this road: it was so steep!

Once I drove all the way to the bottom, and changed into clean drawers, I wasn't eager to leave again. It was still pretty early and I didn't have good beer or anything besides a huge block of Tillamuck for dinner, so I was tempted to drive back out to Monroe, but a kindly fisherman convinced me to stay.

I met this guy. He was from Iowa, but lives near my parents in Arkansas now. Also a college professor. He convinced me to camp at the bottom.

I set up my tent and went for a walk down the road towards the dam. I didn't get the to the dam, but I saw a lot of cool stuff.

So many dead things.

Dinner and a show, only dinner was Tecate and hummus

By the time I got back the sun was setting in the canyon, so I ate my dinner out of the back of the car and watched the light on the walls. I didn't want to bring my food close to the tent, for fear of bears, but the people next to me in the campground left a bunch of beer and food out, so I figured they'd get mauled first.

And, that's the story of my "hiking" if you will. I saw a lot of stuff, got stretched out after long drives in the car: it was great. So, here's my words of wisdom, for this manic blog post, sometimes your mental images (hikes must be painful) get in the way of fun. If that is the case, feel free to call the above said activity whatever makes you happy.

3 Rides in Bryce Canyon: Over the Rainbow (Point)

Monday, June 16th, was my last day in Bryce Canyon, and perhaps, the best day in Bryce Canyon. I did it all: hike, bike, ride-along (more on that later). 

In the morning, I woke up, enjoyed more delicious aero-press coffee and strawberry yogurt with Ms. Katie. Then, Danielle and Parker and their dog, Duke, came over and picked us up. After a brief stop at the post office, we went for a hike just outside the park, where Duke and Cooper could be off leash. Alas, Parker, the 2-year-old, had to be in his baby-basket. The hike was to the rim through the cross country ski area. RD had mentioned it to me a few months before, and it was cool to see it first hand. It was also fun to be hanging out with really smart, cool, adventurous ladies, and some cute dogs. The kid was alright, too. 

After the hike, we went back to the house. RK had to work on an essay, for a special project. And, I ate some food and drug my feet and got ready to go on my last RRR: the ride out to Rainbow Point and back. I knew this one would be a a doozie. RD recommended I take three water bottles. He told me t he ride was "not too bad, mostly rolling hills. It is generally uphill on the way out, and so, therefore, generally downhill on the way back, though, one of the hardest climbs is on the way back." Okay. Good to know.

Finally, I was ready to go. I said good-bye to RK (RD was working, sucker!), and told her I might call her for some emergency assistance. 

It was a windy day, blustery, but warm-ish. I rode out towards Bryce Point, and then down an awesome mile long hill through a meadow. RK mentioned that I might see pronghorns or deer there, and I DID! Not just pronghorn, but baby pronghorns. They were so freaking cute. Immediately, I knew, that no matter what this ride was worth it because I got to see baby pronghorns. 

Baby Pronghorns!

At the top of the hill, there's an NPS sign. It read, "Rainbow Point: 15 miles." I looked at my computer. I had ridden 1.5 miles. "Cool," I said to myself. "16.5 miles out." And I mentally prepared myself. Both Dave and Katie mentioned that it wasn't "too bad" of a ride, but the last mile and a half were a bit harder, so I tried to prepare myself. 

Beyond the meadow was a woodsy area, with some deer sleeping in the shade. Then, the road turned and headed downhill and into the wind on a nice little flat section. Then, it turned slightly uphill towards the Swamp Canyon look out and trail head. Not feeling too bad, I pulled over and had a look. And a water break. 

Next stop: Whiteman Bench. Oh, lord. From here the road went up, and up, and curved, and then went up again. I had to break out all the old climbing tricks: just look for an interesting shrub aways up and watch it until you get to it. Then pick a new shrub. I also sang The Lion Sleeps Tonight to myself. I also had to resort to the old tried-and-true method of "pull over, bananas thirsty," riding into the gravel, putting a foot down, having a drink, and then chugging along some more. I hate to admit how frequent these stops were becoming. 

Finally, the road turned and I could see the top of the hill. Then, I was riding through a forest that looked like it had burned. The wind was blowing in all sorts of directions, and I thought I could heard a forlorn hollering off in the distance...the ghost of chubby cyclists past, I thought. Moaning up the hills ever more. 

At Whiteman's Bench, I had a snack and walked down the trail a bit, but I was chilly, and I spooked myself with all the warnings of bears and mountain lions. Back on the bike! 

Don't know why this is turned this way. Couldn't fix it. 

From there, the road was mainly flat until Farview Point. I pulled in to check out the view, and shook my head as a 20-something-dude hopped the fence to get a picture. "Doesn't he know how dangerous this is?" If only I had my junior ranger's badge. 

Don't feed the ravens.

After Farview, I was looking forward to seeing the Natural Bridge. The road curved around and quickly I realized we were going downhill. "No!" I thought. That means I am going to have to climb this stupid hill again on the way back. "Keep going up!" I yelled, in my head, at the National Park. (I know, I know: crazy). 

Fake Natural Bridge.

The Natural Bridge was awesome, but of course the Park Service had to point out that it wasn't actually a bridge. It was an arch. Sigh. Just like Bryce Canyon is not technically a canyon. Talk about false advertising. 

From the Natural Bridge I rode on to Agua Canyon, Ponderosa Canyon, and Black Birch Canyon. All lovely, all kind of a blur. Up and down I went. Mostly up. I stopped at each of the look out points. They were really nice little breaks on the ride. And, though I was huffing and puffing, I couldn't help but appreciate how beautiful this ride was: swooping roads through pine trees, views for forever, and a companionable wind that came out of every direction. 

More splendor. Geez, it gets old. 

Eventually, I couldn't help but notice that my computer was approaching 16 miles. "Okay," I thought, "just another half mile. This isn't so bad." Then, I hit 16.5. Then, I looked up. 

The road kept going up hills, slightly to the right, and around a massive rock outcrop, hundreds of feet overhead and in the distance. I pulled over and peered up at the rock outcrop. Then, I saw something move. It was a human. That, on the monolith, was Rainbow Point. 

Sonofa....I still had another hard mile and a half to the top. Let me assure you I spent that hard mile and a half cursing the gods, and the maintenance crew at the Park Service. And myself for not being more in shape. And myself for believing that sign when Ranger Dave told me it was 17.5 miles. Sigh. 

I stopped a lot and I rode very, very slowly. "Whatever." I thought as yet another RV whooshed by me. "Let those jackasses think what they want. I don't see them riding no bike." 

Made it!

Finally. Finally, finally. I made it to the top. I dumped my bike along the fence and went to check out the view. I had a snack. It was absolutely spectacular. Then, I overheard someone whisper to their friend, just behind me: "She's here," with more than a bit of surprise and shock in the voice. 

She's here!

"Yes," I thought. "I'm here." And, I was inordinately proud of myself. I took some pictures, went potty, and then began the other hard part of this ride: going down hill. 

Those of you who know me, know that I hate going down hill. It is a white knuckled heart-in-the-throat-experience that I do not relish. Maybe I am a bad bike handler? Maybe I need more confidence on the bike? But one this is for sure, gravity acts a little more strongly on me. Eeep. 

So, I tried to not brake so much, as I swooped back down from Rainbow Point. And, RD was right. There was a terrible climb on the way back. There was much "pull over." But, after that, I couldn't believe how fast all the landscapes I had traversed zipped by, the canyons, the points, the mountain lions, the ghosts, the swamp, etc. Finally, I was in the meadow, chugging uphill past even more baby pronghorns frolicking. 

I zipped past the other points and tried to break the speed limit near the radar machine. I only got up to 29, so no ticket, RD!

Back at the ranger ghetto, RK asked me if I got a chance to stop at some of the look out points, "oh, yes," I said. "I stopped at all of them and then some." My average for the ride was like 8.9 mph. Impressive, but I had done it. I had ridden my bike to 9,115 feet. 

Boom!

Inside, I told RK that I was going to have a shower and a beer. "And I hope you will join me!" I said. 

"I will," she said.

"Uh, for the beer. Not the shower. That'd be weird." Hypoxia does weird things to the brain. 

She laughed. 

By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, and ready for my beer, RD was home and getting ready to go out on his evening shift. He had been training folks in search and rescue since 8 in the morning, and now he had to go patrol the park until 9pm. The guy works hard! 

"Okay, Dave," I said, half joking. "My bike ride is done. I am cleaned up. I am ready for my ride-along." 

Then, he gave me a shrug, like "okay."

"Wait. Really?" I had been teasing. I assumed the NPS wouldn't love the idea of yahoos riding along with their rangers. 

"Yeah, sure," he said. 

"Whoo-hoo!" I yelled. Then, I turned to Katie, "Can we wait on the beer?" She said sure. 

I put on some shoes for kicking ass, just in case, then followed Dave out to the car. 

Oh man, we did everything! We went over the the maintenance yard, where he showed me the firetruck! And the S&R vehicle! And, all the features in his car! Then, we drove around, casing the parking lots for suspicious folks. We chatted with some folks who were leading a trip into the park and needed some parking advice. We drove really slowly to slow down traffic and save the prairie dogs. We busted some fun and shooed some pronghorns away from the road. We patroled a couple of the look out points and saw the best sun set. We locked up the VC, oh, that's visitors center--you would know that if you had been on the ride along, sucka! It was awesome. 

Then, we returned to the house, where the amazing RK had prepared us a dinner of rice, and broccoli, and chickpea burgers--delicious! And, I had my beer, and we watched soccer. Then we went to bed. 

Definitely, in the running for one of the best days ever. 

3 Rides in Bryce, Part 2: Red Canyon Meltdown

I celebrated Father's Day at Bryce Canyon with more coffee and relaxing. Before RD and RK woke up I went for a walk-about around the park. I checked out the prairie dogs. I got a bagel and a coffee from Valhalla Pizzeria (what is up with that name?), watched the horse tour depart, and contemplated life at sunrise point.

Tasty view.

I got another coffee at the general store, and I couldn't help but admire the exuberance with which the icon on the bath house sign was showering.

What joy! Four dollars for a shower!

After getting just a tiny bit lost, and extending the scope of my walk-about, I found my way back to the ranger ghetto for more coffee and hang out time. Eventually, though, I got my sh!t together and went for another Ranger Recommended Ride (RRR): The Red Canyon.

Next to Bryce Canyon National Park is Dixie National Forest. The slogan for the National Forest Service is "land of many uses," or as some wise-asses would have it, "land of many abuses," because there are a lot of things you can do in a National Forest that you can't do in a National Park: mountain bike, log, mine uranium, etc. 

The Red Canyon was like Bryce Canyon, but you could drive through it. Go America! And, this part had a bike trail that ran parallel to the road. The trail starts outside of Bryce Canyon City and runs downhill for about 7 miles, past red canyon walls and hoo-doos, and a dry river bed, to a parking lot. Then, it's 7 miles back uphill to where you parked. 

(Eventually, this trail will extend into Bryce Canyon. It won't be a bike lane, or anything, because NPS doesn't want people to use bikes for transport in the National Parks. Cars and shuttles are for transport. Bikes are for "wilderness experience." But, I digress.)

The first part of the trail are rolling hills through scrubby fields. There was some sort of bell clanging event going on, but I couldn't see it. Then, the trail turns away from the road a bit and swoops down into the canyon. Boy, that was fun. Six miles of blissful downhill fun, with only the slightest fear of smacking into a mountain biker who might be lingering beyond a blind turn that Dave had warned me about. Okay, not one particular mountain biker--that syntax was weird. 

It wasn't long before I reached the promised parking lot!

As parking lots go, it was a beauty.

I had made some good time headed downhill. 

Nice! If only my computer always looked like that.

Then, I got my game face on for the ride back up.

No, I don't have white lip disease. It's a highly potent lip balm.

And, then I played the little mental games that one plays when one is riding uphill, though I had to make them up as I went because we don't really have anywhere you can ride uphill for 6ish miles. First, I told myself, I would stop at the campground to pee and get more water. Which I did.

Then, I kept riding. The funny thing was that it wasn't even that steep. It was just chugging along uphill. To be gentle to myself, I keep my computer set on average, so I don't know how slow I am going. I just see the sad little down arrow that indicates I am somewhere below the average, and then I watch the average speed tick down. Thankfully, I am too slow at math to figure out what speed I would need to ride for my average to go down at said rate. I am not a wizard.

A couple times, like the day before, I'd pull up and take a little breakie. Drinking water and trying not to dwell on the cruel realities of physics. At my last "breakie," a mountain biker was headed down hill. He yelled as he went by, "almost to the top!", so I powered up the last little bit and there I was, back on the little prairie area, now with a bit of a tail wind! Huzzah! I cruised up and down the rolling hills back to the car, feeling better. 

I did stop to take this picture, because this was a bit like how I felt.

Death Ride!

I got back to the car and made note of my new readouts:

Wha-whaaaa

That was slow.

Lip balm holds up though!

As I loaded up my car, and headed back into the NP, I couldn't help but linger on some negative thoughts, such as: 

• That was hard.
• I was soo slow.
• What does this mean for the Copper Triangle?!
• What does this mean for my final RRR tomorrow: the ride to Rainbow Point?

Thankfully, when I arrived back at the Ranger Ghetto, I got to have a lovely Father's Day meal of sausages and sweet potatoes on the back patio with Ranger Dave and Ranger Katie, and the other Ranger Dave and his wife, Danielle, and their kid, Parker. That distracted me from my brooding...for a while.

Rides of the future were weighing heavily on my mind. Would I be able to pull it off? We'll see!

PS: Happy 4th of July, dear readers! Thanks for making America awesome!

3 Rides in Bryce, Part 1: Bryce Point by Bicycle

I woke up late on June 14th. After a dream-like bike race crewing experience, I had arrived at Bryce Canyon, slipping in while the park slept. And, what a wake up. Ranger Katie makes amazing coffee, and we had plenty of strawberry yogurt on hand, and there were just the nicest pets in the world to hang out with. And fancy cable!

T.K and Clarke survey their estates.

I have to say, if you want to have a stellar National Park experience, make friends with a park ranger or two. Then, you get all the natural splendor of the park, with all the comforts of home! At Ranger Dave and Katie's house, I had my own room, a hot shower, tasty food served to me three times a day, craft beer, and access to the Criterium du Dauphine on TiVo. Plus, cats and a dog to play with! It was one of the best b&bs I've ever stayed in.

Everyone was feeling a little sluggish after our Rockwell Relay experience, so we hung around on the sofa, drinking coffee, eating breakfast, and watching cable. But it was a glorious afternoon, so after some dawdling, I got my bike out and went for a quick ride to check out the park.

Dave recommended I first ride up to Bryce Point, then work my way back checking out the other look outs. "The last half mile up to to Bryce Point gets a little steep, but it's not too bad after that," he told me. So, that's where I headed. From the main road, the park just seems like trees and blacktop and prairie dog meadows.

But, nearly immediately, I noticed that something was missing: oxygen. BC is about 8,000 feet above sea level, so the air is thin and you can damn near touch the sun and there's no moisture.

I love to read snarky Yelp and Google reviews of places that I love. I only found one negative thing about Bryce, though.

Ho-hum.*

"A Google User" wasn't wrong about the "high up" and the "difficult to breath at times." I knew that because, there I was JRA towards Bryce Point when all of a sudden I was overcome with panting, "bah, bah, bah," I bleated as I tried to "spin it out."

Finally, I pulled over and took a drink of water and caught my breath. Then, I continued on. RD wasn't lying about the last half mile, and maybe I took a few breaks on my way up, pulling over to drink water, catch my breath, then, riding into the road, going downhill just for a moment before turning sharply and heading back up hill. It was worth it, though, because at the top, I saw this!

Natural Splendor, bitches!

While I stood around with all the other tourists at Bryce Point, catching my breath and enjoying the scenery, I heard a voice next to me say, "where did you ride from?"

I looked up and saw a young man, who kind of looked like Bike Boyfriend #1, Steve-Oh. "Er, uh, just the ranger ghetto," I said. 

"Do you know if there are any good trails around here?" He asked. 

"Er, uh, I don't know. I'm on my road bike," I replied. He was dressed in dirty bagging cycling clothes, like what I imagine the motorcrossers wear. 

"Oh, me too," he said. "Well, it's a gravel bike. I'm riding cross country, San Francisco to Vermont." 

"Wow!" I said. I had just read/listened to a book about a cross country ride by two grannies, and I was secretly harboring a day dream of doing it myself. 

"Do you want me to take your picture?" I asked. He handed me his phone, but the point was so busy that he finally just shrugged and gave up. I said good luck and left him there. In the granny-book, the grannies were always waxing on about "road angels," and I considered inviting the cyclist back to the ranger ghetto for dinner, but considering that it wasn't my house, and RD and RK don't seem completely enamored with strangers, especially tourists, I decided against it.

I then rode down to Paria Point, which seemed good because they didn't let RVs down that road. It was a glorious down hill towards the turn off, then a slight rise to the parking lot.

More splendor.

Days later, when I was on my ride-along with Ranger Dave (oh yeah!), he pointed out all the "good places to die" at Paria Point, and told me that they had to change the top of the big, square stone fence posts from flat to slightly pyramidal because people would stand on them, above a thousand feet of crumbling limestone! I just got bullied into taking a picture for a very bossy Pakistany couple. They actually made me put the camera strap over my head, and helmet!, and frame the shot just so. Geez, I thought lycra got you out of that crap.

Then, I cruised back down hill towards the rest of the points.

Inspiration Point

Splendor.

Sunset Point 

Splendor, but not the best place to watch the sunset.

Sunrise Point

More splendor.

I also rode past the general store, and the north campground, and got a bit lost before finding my way back to the Ranger Ghetto.

You can get a sense of what this 9.5 mile hypoxic, but still glorious, ride was like from this map I found on Google.

After I got back to the house, and into a beer, I reflected on the experience while watching World Cup soccer. Many visitors to the National Parks just drive in, drive to the view points, hop out, take some pictures and leave. I kind of did the same thing, minus the leaving, but being on the bike both slowed down the travel, and made it seem more awesome when I arrived, and it also made it easier to "hop out" of my car. I just locked my bike to a rack when I could find one, or a fence when I couldn't and walked around. True, I looked like a dufus in my bike shorts, but I had way more fun than I would have from the car. I would continue to prove that to myself throughout the rest of my journey.

If you want to read more,  hilarious bad campground and National Park reviews, follow these links, provided by none other than Ranger Dizzle.

Bad Campground Reviews
Bad National Park Reviews 

PSA: It's Almost Ragbrai: Beaver-Life

Yay! It's almost Ragbrai. Just 17 days away, so we interrupt your regular programming of "old-stuff" for some more RAGBRAI PSA-ing. 

Many of the beavers are new to ragbrai this year. Emily S, Tad, The Dale and The Deb are all virgins. That's nearly half the team this year. 

Riding with the Beavers is a fun and rewarding experience, especially when you are armed with knowledge of "how we roll." 

Oh memories--I remember my first ragby, just five years ago, when Steven and the Mayor taught me everything I know. Now, I am delighted to pass this rough-schedule and tips on to you.

Good Morning Merry Sunshine--beavers usually wake up pretty early in the morning, anywhere from 4:30ish to 5:30ish all with the hopes to "beat the heat" and the 6:30-7am traffic. 

Breaking camp efficiently is incredibly important. Anyone who takes longer than the Mayor (who is the most grizzled member of the team) will be considered to be "fiddle-fucking." 

You'll need to get dressed, break camp, caffeinate or feed yourself, pump tires, apply sunscreen etc. No need to shower. We do that the night before. 

Beaver Tip: If you are fast, or you don't care about rolling out with the group, go ahead and sleep in! That's fine. We will see on on the road. Some of us like to roll out together, but don't feel any pressure to do so. That being said, sleeping in on ragbrai can be a challenging experience. Once the zippers start zipping and the kybos start slamming and that hot July sun creeps over the horizon, sleeping gets increasingly challenging. 

Before we leave, Steven will hand out the day's Beaver Tale. Keep it safe. This publication holds all sorts of important information: where we are staying that night, along with maps, route maps, information on bar stops, etc. Don't feel the need to read it first thing. Savor it throughout the day, but be careful about getting it wet on a slip-n-slide. 

Please leave your baggage near the RV or load it on to the RV per The Deb's instructions. 

Riding on the RAGBY--The Steven and Mayor system of riding is the town-stop method. You ride along and when you are approaching a town, you stop before the shit show. You pull over to the right side of the road, and if you think you are the first beaver, put up the Universal Stay Together Signal and wait for the other beavers. If you think you are not the first beaver, look for the USTS. We will regroup and then walk through town, deposit our bikes in a shared location (not the shade!), and then find food, beer, etc. 

There are a few exceptions to this town-stoppage. 

1. The free banana stop--the Iowa Conservation Corps has a free banana, free water, and free postcard stop. We like to stop here, for obvious reasons. They usually find a nice shady spot too. 
2. Free Beer--there are  not may beaver rules, but if there is free beer, you have to stop. No matter what. Look for the other beavers, but be sure to stop. Not stopping for free beer disrupts the universe. 
3. The Backpocket Brewery/Mr. Pork Chop stop--this was a new phenomenon from 2013, but it was fabulous. This is not a required stop, but it is highly recommended. 

Preferred stops might also include: slip-n-slides, rhubarb pie, and petting zoos. 

When we have great drivers, they will meet us in the "meet town," usually about half way. If they do this, they will text us the address they have located. There we can feast on our own goodies, sit in chairs, drink good beer, and relax. Not sure how this will go down this year.

End of the Day--Once you have found the overnight spot (the address and maps are on your Beaver Tale), things usually go like such: 

• Arrive in camp. Dump bike anywhere. Tired of that stupid thing anyway.
• Find beer and chair. Sit in bike shorts, drink beer and access situation.
• Set up camping gear.
• Shower.
• While waiting for others to shower, set up camp, etc. drink a beer! Hey, it's ragbrai!
• Find dinner--sometimes this involves wandering downtown, other times, it is available at the home stays. It just depends. We often do this as a group.
• Hang out, go to bed. I mean, did you see how early we get up? 
• Occasionally we get the (bad) idea to go see the bands downtown. This usually results in some pain and suffering in the morning, but that fact is usually forgotten temporarily. We don't go out every night, though. 

I know I am leaving a lot of beaver information out, so other beavers, please chime in with tips, advice, etc. in the comments.

Rockwell Relay Crew Report, Part 4: Enter Sandman

There won't be a lot of pictures for this blog post because these crazy bike racers ride in the middle of the night! Crewing for them was a bizarre, but strangely memorable, experience. This is a doozey of a blog, though, so grab a cup of coffee and settle in.

Last picture I took before sunset.

Oh, context? You need context? Check the index on the bottom right for the rest of the story.

With Ranger Dave riding off into the gloaming, Ranger Katie and I broke camp and saddled up for the next part of our journey. The first leg Dave raced was hot and sunny and windy. This stage would be cool, windy, and dark. We'd be driving through Capital Reef National Park, not that we'd see it at all, because it was the middle of the night, mind you.

We drove off down the road, keeping out eye out for racers and one racer in particular. One crazy dude didn't have any lights, I had noticed when he left the transition, but when we passed him he was taking a nature break in a ditch. I could just make it out as the sun went down, so I knew we wouldn't, probably, kill him. 

About 5 miles into the leg, we found a gravely spot and pulled over. RD had his lights on, but because there was still some day light left, we tell it was him when he rode by. "I'm fine," he called out, "but check on me about every five miles." 

We packed up, pulled out, and rolled about 5 miles down the road. As we passed RD we noticed that he had grouped up with a couple dudes. Good! Safety and speed in numbers. 

We pulled over in five miles, and soon, RD and his little group, was whizzing by us. "I'm fine, but check on me in about 5 miles." 

We repeated that process about 12 more times, us pulling over, pulling out chairs and bottles, and watching up the road for RD. As we did, the night deepened around us. The stars came out, and the moon was rising over the massive rock thingy we couldn't see because it was dark.

With practice, we came to be able to distinguish the RD's light from the other bike racers lights. His was the one that can also be used for spotlight hunting feral hogs in Texas. 

Dramatic reenactment

So, we'd stand staggered up the road, each with a bottle, me with the cow bell, hollering at racers we couldn't see, except for their lights. I kept ringing the bell, so RD would know we were ahead. Then, when the lights would pass, we'd hold bottles out. Sometimes, the racers just passed, because they weren't Ranger Dave. Other times, out of the dark, there'd be the heavy thump of a hand making contact with the bottle and snatching it up. And, we'd catch a glimpse of Dave's rump riding uphill. 

He was cooking with gas, though. Every time he and his little group went by they were flying, and from the tone of his voice, he sounded like he was having fun. Even when they were grinding up some dark-washed mountain. 

As weird as it was, it was really fun to pull over, pull out the camping stools, and hang out in the dark of Capital Reef. We were driving through a deep canyon, if the dark shadows of the rock walls were any indication. We drove through the historic village and orchards of Fruita and parked next to the river. We listened to the murmur of water eroding ancient seabeds while we watch the bobbing white lights slip by. 

Dramatic reenactment.

At our last stop, Katie told me that she was going to have me pull out into the road before her so she could back out. The gravel was pretty deep on the side of the road. Now, I am not much of a "night driver" and when I get sleepy my mental capacity goes from so-so to semi-comatose llama. So, I pulled out and popped on to the road. Then I saw headlights behind me, so I panicked, put it in drive and drove off, figuring Katie would overtake me. 

Turns out, I had left my chair leaning against my car. I remember leaning it on the car and thinking, "I am going to forget that." I also missed the water bottle that Dave chucked onto the shoulder, so she picked up both. We met up at the gas station outside the park and she returned my items, and we waited for RD to arrive. Thankfully, we could see his lighthouse beacon about 3 miles away. 

We found the rest of the Jerks, and soon, Silver Fox Jerk was on his way and RD was recovering in a camp chair behind his car. While he huddled under a sleeping bag and slurped things, Ranger Katie and I went inside to order some Mexican food. Apparently, it is very good, and the restaurant stays open until 1am or so, until all the teams are through, which is good. 

We ate burritos and watched RD attempt to recover. After about 45 minutes, RD felt okay enough to be loaded into his car.

We had a special plan for this leg of the journey. Rather than drive to Torrey, Utah, where RD would begin his last leg, we'd drive to RD and RK's house at Bryce Canyon. Torrey, Utah was about 2.5 hours away on dark highways covered with cyclists. Bryce was 2 hours away on dark highways covered in cattle, but if we drove to Bryce, we could nap, maybe shower, and then drive the half hour to the last Dave-exchange at the appropriate time. That way, we wouldn't be sleeping in the car while the other three Jerks rode their race.

So, I followed RK into the darkness. I can't say I was really "driving." I was so tired that this point, I was just following those tail lights and praying. At one point, RK pulled over and RD hopped out and went to the ditch. Apparently, racing two really hard stages of a race just hours apart, then driving through winding roads, is not easy on the old digestive system. Dave was a hurting unit. He hadn't been able to keep food down, really, even though he desperately needed calories and fluids.

We drove on into the dark, stopping once, just so Katie and I could get out and shake things out in the cold breeze and wake up. The landscape was bathed in moonlight from the full moon. Everything was shades of black and gray and silver. Jack rabbits with suicide wishes were popping out of the bushes in front of car, and as we continued driving, cattle loomed like brown boulders along the roadside. Our last road was this dirt road along a river into the park. My eyes were so sleepy, arriving at the park felt surreal.

And then before I knew it, I was tucked into the most comfortable bed ever and falling into a deep sleep.

Unfortunately, this story doesn't have an exciting climax. R.D. just couldn't recover enough to be able to ride his last leg. He couldn't keep food down, and he looked like hell, so he had to call it and send the other jerks on without him. Then, we got to go back to sleep and sleep in late!

I think I was more shocked that people could actually complete that crazy race! What kind of idea is that anyway? Let's send people out to ride across Utah in the heat, cold, sandstorms, dark, blazing sun, wind and mountains, and see who can do it fastest. Geez. I found driving over some of those mountains kind of challenging, let alone bicycle cycling.

They should take some lessons from ragbrai:

1. Ride west to east--with the prevailing winds.
2. Ride across a state with no mountains.
3. Take 7 whole days! No rush. Eat pie.
4. Beer is the best recovery drink! Have some. Carbs! Tastiness! Natural electrolyte!
5. Ride during the day time when it is light out!
6. Everyone wins!

All in all, I had a great time crewing for R.D. I got to see a lot of Utah, watch people ride their bikes, and I got to eat a burrito at 12:30 in the morning! 

It's Almost Ragbrai: What to Pack

We are interrupting your reading of adventures past, to discuss adventures future: ragbrai! The best week of the year is just 18 days away! And, here at Beaver Headquarters, we are busy as well, you know, getting ready for the event. 

I am going to do the ride out. I have always wanted to do it, and this year, not teaching, I have the time. . 

Rock Valley is 235 miles from Des Moines, which is a long trip, more than double the actual event. That means, I'll need to leave on Wednesday or Thursday, if I want to make it out there on time. And, I won't be around to do all the last minute fussing and freaking out I like to do. (Actually, you may not have noticed this, but I am actually not really freaking out this year. Go me.)

With all that in mind, (dear lord, I need to work on my pre-ambles), it is time for me to start making my packing lists! This is actually one of my favorite parts of the ride. I do love a good list! We have several newbies on the ride this year, and so, it is my hope, that this list will be a good guide. I remember just five years ago, when Steven passed along all her packing wisdom to me--seems like only yesterday!

So, here's what you need, from my point of view. Fellow beavers and ragbraiers, feel free to chip in with your own suggestions. And obviously, this list applies to people who a) wear Spandex and b) aren't baggers. If you are in that category, adjust accordingly. If you are not going on ragbrai, well, consider this a semi-anthropological tour into the world of ragby.

Bike-Related Stuff and Apparel--these are the items you will need to ride your bike during the day, which, some might argue is the whole point of RAGBRAI.

Essentials

• 1 bicycle (or two if you are the Tiger)
• Spare tubes, especially if you ride a bike with tires that are not 700c
• Water bottles
• Optional: some sort of way to fix a flat. Note: if you are a girl, someone will probably stop and help you and/or fix it for you. If you are not a girl, the same is probably true, but it doesn't hurt. 
• 3 or more bike shorts (one to wear, one to be wet from washing the previous night, and one to be semi-damp from washing two nights ago.)
• 3 or more jerseys (same logic as above)
• 3 or more pairs of socks for bicycle riding
• Cycling shoes
• Helmet
• Gloves
• Sunglasses
• Plastic bag to keep cell phone dry
• Small wallet 
• Mini tubes of sunscreen and lip balm with sunscreen
• Neoprene koozie. Beaver tip: some beavers prefer to bring a tallboy koozie, in the event we encounter tall boys. I prefer a standard koozie. 
• Optional: chamois creme--I like to have both mini-packets with me on the bike and a tub or tube at camp.

Beavers Will Provide

• Floor pump for early morning fill ups
• Water to fill bottles in the morning, if needed
• Mayoral wrenching skills for small fixes

You Do Not Need 

• A rain jacket--it it rains, and you are riding your bike, you are going to get wet regardless of the jacket. Sorry, but it's true. Trust me, I've tried. Now, that being said, it doesn't hurt to have one at camp.
• Shoes to change into during the day--just walk around in your cleats. Everyone is doing it. If you are fussy, bring cleat covers. If you are smart, take Steven's advice and buy mountain biking shoes with recessed cleats and some traction. You never know when you are going to need to be able to climb/dance/shimmy down a steep embankment, etc.
• Music--unless you are going to rock an awesome bike trailer speaker set up like the ragbrai DJ, just forget it. You won't be able to hear those tiny speakers, and lots of other folks will have music going. Plus, you will want to get The Lion Sleeps Tonight into your head as early in the week as possible. 
• A massive piece of luggage on your bike. Again, trust me, I've made this mistake. You just don't need that stuff. Everything you need--food, beer, bike parts--ragbrai will provide. 

NEVER HURTS TO HAVE

• Tiny bottles of booze for spiking Gatorade.
• A Sharpie.

Camping Stuff--most people have a love-hate relationship with camping on ragbrai. Camping is what we do when we can't find a better place to stay, and unfortunately, some of our home stays have set the bar pretty high (Knoxville, I am talking to you). I think we all need to lower our expectations about a) amount of sleep and b) comfort of sleep, and we will be much happier camping.

Essentials 

• Tent--make sure it's easy to set up, well-ventilated, and waterproof. Also, if possible, don't share your tent. Having one's own nylon bubble in the midst of 15,000 of your closest friends is nice, especially when it's hot and gross out. 
• Beaver Tip: want to make $50 on Ragbrai? The Mayor might be looking for someone to put up his tent. If you don't mind setting up tents, this easy money could be yours!
• Sleeping bag
• Optional: cotton sheet, for when it is stick and gross out.
• Sleep pad--don't sleep on the ground like a heathen. Buy a sleeping pad. It will make your life so much easier. Therm-A-Rest is nice. So is Big Agnes.
• Pillow--same as above. I like the Therm-A-Rest compressible pillows. 
• Flashlight--for nocturnal pee breaks (hey, we drink a lot of beer)
• Ear plugs and eye mask, for blocking out the sound of kybo doors banging and ambient light. 
• Sleeping apparel--I will go into this item more in a future blog, but I would recommend sleeping in something that is light and cool, but you can also wear to the kybo.

Beavers Will Provide

• Camp chairs for lounging
• An Eaze-Up tent for shade
• Coolers
• Table 

Apres Cycling Stuff--this is the stuff you need for that (sometimes brief) time between getting off the bike and going to bed. This is a bit of a challenge because that time includes: the post-ride beer, setting up camp, finding and taking showers, finding and consuming dinner, and, occasionally, rocking the after-party. 

• Comfortable shoes--I'd highly recommend Chacos (good for walking and for your feet)
• Comfortable shorts--light weight, cool, baggy, etc. 
• If you are not fussy,  just bring 2-3 of these and the shirts. I end up wearing the same thing over and over again. And, we usually find a mid-week laundry spot.
• Comfortable shirts--light-weight, cool, baggy, etc. Or tank tops. If you are so inclined.
• Team Beaver t-shirts, obviously.
• Underwear--cotton.
• 1 warm pair of wool socks
• Light weight sweater or fleece--more for chilly mornings, but it never hurts. 
• Rain jacket
• I am considering also bringing an umbrella. It has been super rainy in Iowa this year.
• Shower toiletries in an easy to carry bag (this was a Steven recommendation that I have taken to heart as sometimes you have to walk to the shower and it's nice to be able to hang your stuff up in the shower stall with you. Reusable grocery bags work great.)
• Towel(s)--I'd bring one towel large enough to wrap yourself and one small quick drying towel. Showers can get a little ad hoc on ragbrai, so it doesn't hurt to be prepared.
• Sunscreen for morning application 
• Swimsuit: I have only ever needed this once. Every other time I have swum (swam?) on ragby, it was in my cycling clothes, but it doesn't hurt.

Other Stuff

The Medication Cabinet--I like to bring a bunch of quasi-medical supplies and medications, just in case. You don't really need to bring these, because I will have them, and I am happy to share. 

• First-aid kit
• Advil 
• Tums
• Preparation H wipes--Sounds gross, I know, but sometimes, when you are dealing with some swamp-ass, these can be a life saver. 
• Bug spray. I like Ben's 100% Deet. I hate bugs. 

Food and Stuff--unless you have special needs, or you are picky, you don't need to bring much in this department. As part of your Team Beaver package, we will provide beer, chocolate milk, ice, and cheese balls. Also, Masinga has promised to make some of her yummy desserts for the trip. Otherwise, ragbrai provides. 

The only exceptions I can think of to this are: 

• Starbucks Via--I have a coffee addiction. I cannot really function without it. So, I bring these, mostly as back-ups. I am hoping to get the Deb on a Toddy brewing routine for ragbrai, but just in case. 
• Bars--Larabars, Gu Chews, Cliff bars, etc. No, not for you. For Steven. Just stuff a few in your jersey and whenever you see Steven, make her eat one. Trust me. 
• Stuff to Share--bring your favorite beer, or treat, or snack, or beverage! 

If upcoming blogs I will tell you a little bit about the daily schedule of the beavers, along with what you get with your ride-fee with the beavers. Also, I've got some, okay 1, hot tip for ladies beavers getting dressed and undressed in public places. 

Yay! Happy Almost Ragby.

Rockwell Relay Crew Report, Part 3: Transitions

So, if you just tuned in, I am blogging about my great June western adventures. If you want to find out where this particular chunk of blogging started, go here.

Finally, we stuffed Ranger Dave and a bunch of beverages into the passenger seat of his car. Ranger Katie drove and we left Monticello and headed south to Blanding in the fierce wind. We were pretty far behind the jerks-mobile, and we didn't see the jerk on the bike, so we kept driving until we spotted their Excursion in a parking lot in Blanding. We stopped to look for our rider, but ended up chatting with the proprietor of the outfitting shop whose parking lot we were borrowing. He had a lot of suggestions for how to improve the race, none of which we could do much about. We never saw the jerk, so we all rolled out. 

Out of Blanding, we turned westward. Then drove down into some insane valley, steep, curvy road that went down into red rock. And, then we were climbing out of it, bike racers zooming along the whole way. All I could think of was WTF?! How do people do this?!

At the top of the valley? Mountain? (I don't understand western geology) we found the next exchange point, a parking lot off the side of the highway. The jerks were already there getting ready for the exchange. We parked the cars and went out to the highway to watch the swaps. It took awhile, but soon the silver fox jerk was pulling in and the car-dealer jerk was leaving. It was not very dramatic. Why I am writing so much about it? 

Moving on. 

After a potty break, and making some beaver-friends, we rolled out towards the next exchange, with a quick stop to cheer on the car-dealer jerk. Soon, we were driving through Glen Canyon. We'd be driving along, passing cyclists and RVs and I'd look over to the side of the road, and a steep canyon? gulley? would just dive away from the road. WTF!? The road just goes over these crazy drop offs! I don't know how westerners do it. No wonder they have such steely gazes. 

Glen Canyon area was spectacular, though. Huge red walls, a deep canyon, a blue river: it was fantastic. I didn't take any pictures. I was driving, but here's one I found on the internets. 

Anyway, the next exchange point was a gravel pit, and one in which I wasn't sure I'd get my Pontiac out of. We stopped, answered some nature calls, and then RD and RK decided we should roll. It was too hot in this desert. I looked at my thermometer: 98 degrees! Yowza. 

So, we wound our way out of Glen Canyon and onto a flat slightly downhill prairie-ish area towards Hanksville, Utah. I assumed that would be a town. Sort of...if by "town" you mean three gas stations, a hotel, and some abandoned pontoon boats(?!). 

We pulled into the first gas station and did, what was becoming, our usual gas station business: pee, snack, dump cooler water, buy ice, throw out trash, snack, fill water bottles, snack. Then we crossed the highway to the other gas station to get ready for our exchange.

One might think that being the "spare" driver/soigneur on a 36+ hour relay across southern Utah might be "boring." Might not be the "best way to spend precious vacation time in Utah." Might be "weird." But, those people don't know two things about Rice: 

1) I have a massive capacity for watching people do stuff with bikes. (If I didn't feel so guilty about being inside during July, and I could find a decent pirate feed, I would watch the Tour in its entirety.)

2) I can always entertain myself by getting into minor mischief. 

So, when we parked it at the second gas station in Hanksville, I started doing both. First, I took pictures of the landscape. 

Then, I took pictures of people in bizarre, and coincidentally, red outfits. 

Jammies!

Red shorts!

Then, I took pictures of stray dogs wandering across the hot, blustery landscape. 

Hanksville, pop. the damned.

Then, I saw this guy with an incredibly innovation in outdoor clothes changing: the PONCHO! Genius. We could use this on ragby! 

Not sure why he needs the hood up...

Then, when all my picture taking started to get underfoot, Ranger Dave assigned me the task of "watching for teammate," a.k.a. "go sit quietly next to the car and stop getting in the way of the serious bike racing stuff." The road in which the racers were coming in was straight to the east, slightly downhill towards us, so you could see racers coming in from about 5 miles away. 

But, I took my "responsibility" seriously and kept my eyes on the road for the Mormon-grandad-jerk, while Ranger Katie got Ranger Dave suited up. 

Love is remembering that your race number has to make the transition to the new kit.

Soon, the sun was setting over Hanksville. Bike racers were twinkling like Christmas lights as they rode off into the sunset. We nervously chatted with the other jerks while we waited for the Mormon-Granddad. Car-Dealer-Jerk, apparently, had gotten confused, and ridden his little heart out, only to realize he had another 10 miles to ride. Needless to say, he was hurting.

Then, out of the dust, rode the Mormon Granddad! He handed the bracelet off to the RD who slipped off into the dusk. Which is where we will pick it up next time...