R15 32 Be Dry or Get a Drink? The Ultimate Decision

Happy New Years Little Beavers! Good bye 2015! Hello 2016! The Chinese Year of the Beaver! Just kidding. I don't know that. Anyway, tonight, look good, have fun, safety third! 

Day 2 

We couldn't convince the lady to take Too Much as her new tandem-husband, so we rolled into Newell seeking breakfast. We parked our bikes next to the bank, chose a rendevous spot (the Legion), and then we taught the Newell high school cheerleaders the original beaver cheer. Pochs is scouring the internet for footage of this incident, but has yet to turn up anything. 

And, because it was rainy and very easy to skip the town of Newell, we had a little surprise. The line a the farm boys burrito stand was non existent. We just walked right up and ordered our burritos! No waiting! A miracle. 

He always looks ready to pounce.

That is why they had a lady guarding the pies. Her only job! 

Then we headed over to the Legion where they were selling ebelskivers. They were not selling booze, we were sad to note. It was not that kind of Legion, but when the rain picked up they did kindly allow folks into the basement to hangout and enjoy their breakfasts while waiting out the rain. So we did. 

RBF in an American Legion

One of the best parts of ragby, though, is sharing food and fun with your friends. So, Steven and I decided to split one of those tasty Denmarkian delights. 

The erotic fun continues.

Yum! 

#bffs!

Eventually, bored of sitting in a basement, and with a recon mission turning up no inside space in the bar around the corner, we decided we had better ride our bikes in the rain, so we hooded up and headed back outside and on towards Fonda. 

Let's do this thing.

R15 31 Into the Deep and a Fall 1

Day 2 

In the morning, we began our first camp break down: shuffling in and out of the bathroom, packing bags, filling jerseys, trying to cram rain jackets into jersey pockets.

And, of course, in the pre-dawn dim, I saw that my pack towel, brand new, had been blown into the pit where I had hung it to dry the night before. So, in a moment of massive stupidity, not telling anyone where I was going, I climbed over the raining and began the slowly, creeping down the ladder into the pit. There was all manner of debris down there and I didn't want to get too close of a look. I had a quick consideration of rats (eep!) so I snatched the towel, slung it over my shoulders, and began the climb back out. The tricky part was getting through the bars at the top without losing my grip and falling into the pit. Thankfully, panting and shaking, I managed to extricate myself from the bars. 

Whew. 

People in bike clothes climbing into building mechanical pits. 

Then, finally, we were off, riding out of Storm Lake under a gloomy sky. 

It was a lovely ride into Newell. Cloudy and cool with long, flat stretches, and lots of peaceful riding. The grayness was keeping ragby rather subdued. And it didn't seem long before we were riding into Powell under even grayer skies. 

Sometimes when beavers are in love...

I look like I just evacuated an nuclear disaster

We met just before the big turn into town, and stood around as the beavers gathered. Steven and I took some funny pictures and then kind of hung around on the side of the road in a beaver-daze. 

So nice to find a real bathroom

While we were waiting a couple on a tandem pulled up about 15 feet from us, in the muddy gravel on the side of the road, and then, without warning, the bike toppled over. The wife, in the stoker position, was dumped fully and completely into that brown-gray puddle water. Her husband leaped into action, pulling the massive bike off of her, helping her untangle her legs from the steal, and getting herself into an upright position. 

Tandem problems.

She turned to us and said, "I need a towel and a new husband." 

This is why ragbrai breaks up marriages.

Zing! 

R15 30 Guest Blog, Day 1: More from Pochs

There's more from Day 1 from Pochs! I am not sure what she is talking about about us not wanting to drink beer at 6am....we all had beer in that first bar. In fact, the only reason I do ragby is so I can drink at 7am without (most) judgement.

In 2014 I rode one day of RAGBRAI.  When I say one day, I mean the shortest, flattest, easiest day in RAGBRAI history, so I now believe that my one day in 2014 doesn't really count.  It was RAGBRAI magic.  You can read about it here: http://halftherice.blogspot.com/2015/02/64-guest-blog-hump-day-part-2-outskirts.html

As all the other well-seasoned Beavers were falling asleep in preparation for the big first day, I was tossing and turning and freaking out a little bit about what I consider to be my first real day of RAGBRAI.  Day 1, Sioux City to Storm Lake was a big day; 76.5 Miles and 3,941 feet of climb.  I am not joking, almost 4,000 feet of climb!  In one day!  In Iowa!

Due to her nickname she is contractually obligated to wear those braids.

After a night of tossing and turning, not sleeping at all, and listening to what I now believe to be The Dale drunkenly stumble through the kitchen to fill his glass with ice and keep partying, we all woke up, dressed quietly, and began to assemble outside to prepare for this ride.  

I bellied up to the front lawn with as much enthusiasm as I could muster up, got my VIRGIN status tattooed on the back of my legs with permanent marker, and then we hit the road.  

We rode maybe 5 miles, maybe 10, before we came to our first stop - at a bar of course.  This bar... they tried to make breakfast pizza but no one told them that you shouldn't put pizza sauce on breakfast pizza, so it was actually really gross.  I thought I had to be a team player, so I ordered a beer here, only to realize that most of the beavers did not want to drink beer at this bar at sometime before 6:00am.  This was the first of many beers that I would start and not finish on ragbrai - it's true - I'm a disappointment to my team.  

I don't really remember all of the stops on Day 1, but what I do remember is learning a very important lesson:  On RAGBRAI, I have to eat at every stop.  When I say eat, I mean pulled pork sandwiches, cheese curds, pizza, anything and everything to keep me going through the rest of the day.  This important lesson will haunt me for the rest of my RAGBRAI days.

You look tasty...when hanger strikes, no one is safe...

R15 29 Bike, Bike, Bike...

Present day announcement: I am off to Mexico, beavers! I have written enough blogs and post dated them to get you through until I return on January 3rd. If there are any snaffus, though, please contact Steven. She has access to the blog and is my pinch blog hitter. Thanks Steven! Adios! 

Thankfully someone had clued us in that Hanover wasn't anything. Just a historic village, with no services. After who knows how many onemoreonemores, our tanks were topped off and we headed towards Storm Lake. 

I got to riding with Too Much, which was really fun. I love this time of the day of ragby, after everyone else is already in the overnight town, showered, and eating, when the roads are empty, the sun is at your back and the day is cooling off.  

Just wait long enough for empty roads.

As Too Much and I rode, we chatted, which was really nice. He's the best. We rode through some stinky patches and I told him that it was "the smell of money," which he said he had never heard, but seemed to amuse him. 

Soon we were up on a ridge above Storm Lake and we could see the blue water and the town beyond. Happily we wended our way around the west side of the lake and towards the campus, where the Deb had secured us a spot, and what a spot! Buena Vista College is home of the beavers, so naturally.

Crushing it. 

Pochy was waiting for us by the side of the road, waiting to welcome us to camp. In the middle of campus, close to where she parked the RV, she put up all our tents in a grassy area. She had also scoped out the town, found the showers, etc. And she made us meatloaf sandwiches. 

Oh. My. God. those were good. 

As we were futzing with our gear and unpacking, the Dale rolled up. Apparently he had needed to go down town and find a new tire. One of his had failed...hmmm....

The showers were in the rec center of the Buena Vista College basement, and the hot water was long gone, but I found the cold shower refreshing and delightful. Of course, I didn't stop by the desk to pay. Sorry BVU, but I am not giving you $10 for a cold shower. No way. 

In the shower, I washed my jersey, bibs, etc, and when I returned to camp, I hung them over the railing of a, well, it was a pit. There was an iron ladder that went into a square, concrete pit that had a door that opened into the building attached. I thought it looked like a great place to dry my clothes over night. 

It wasn't long before we beavers were crawling into our tents and falling fast asleep in beaver heaven.

In the middle of the night, it started to sprinkle, so we all had to shuffle out of our tents and put on the rain flys. The rain that evening wasn't bad, but we'd see more of it in the morning. 

R15 28 Slacker Sunday: More Cheers More Beers! Whoo!

You may remember me describing the Olzen boys and their contribution of the Power Pose a few blog posts ago. Today, in honor of Slacker Sunday, I would let to discuss "More Cheers, More Beers, Whoo!"

Or better yet, #mcmbw.

This too came from the Olzen boys by way of Captain Pete. When I heard this chant, I knew the beers would just love it.

Here's how it goes, when you are happy, and drinking, and perhaps ready for more beer, you shout, "more cheers, more beers, whoo!"

Try it. Go get a beer and give it a shot. C'mon, it's Sunday. What else do you have going on?

Fun right?

Well, the beavers took it one step further. When one beaver shouts, "more cheers, more beers" the res of the beavers respond with the "whoo!" The call and respond element as a certain something, if you ask me.

Both the Power Pose and #MCMBW should be credited to the Olzens and their find tradition of drankin' and we cannot thank them enough.

Whoo!

R15 27 50 Shades of Awesomeness

Still Sunday...

"I'll take it on my neck!" I told Ryan, head Awesomeness ambassador. "The tattoo, I mean." 

Ryan obliged. First, he took his water bottle and gently, sprayed a stream of cold water, that ran over my neck and into my cleavage. Ryan, for those of you who don't know, is a member of Team Awesomeness, a friend of the beavers, and the definition of tall, dark, handsome and bearded. (For the record, he is also one of the nicest, funniest, and most charming guys in the world. The full package.) So I couldn't have been happier to get tagged by him this ragbrai afternoon. 

Of course, I was nervous. Here was the ultimate hunk, reaching down to give me a tattoo. 

Then, he leaned in close, so close, only he and I could hear. "Don't move," he whispered. "Stay very still." 

"Hold very still..."

I was giggling, I couldn't help it. I was so nervous and delighted! But I tried to suppress it as he pealed the backing off the tattoo and placed it gently on my neck. "Hold very still," and he pressed his fingers against the tattoo, and my neck. 

"I'm going to put more water on this, it doesn't need it, but I am going to do it any way, our secret," he breathed into my ear. 

Frankly, I needed more than just a water bottle shower as Ryan leaned over me, whispering sweet awesome-nothings in my ear. Oh la la. 

Then, he pealed the tattoo away, revealing my awesome new tag. I practically fainted from giddy joy.  

And that, my friends, is my happiest moment on ragbrai ever. 

R15 26 Christmas in July

Present Day Announcement: Merry Christmas Little Beavers! I hope you are enjoying the gift of all this blogging! 

Somewhere, out there

Obviously, the Backpocket brewery stop was absolutely essential. It had been a long, hot, and hilly day, and we deserved a treat, so we all stopped, grouped up, started drinking. Little did we know how long we'd be in that stop. 

The beavers in their natural habitat

I will admit, the details of what happened and the course of the events are a little cloudy, but here are the highlights. 

That's why God gave you 2 paws

There was an amazing man-kybo, that was huge, like the size of a garden shed. And it was lined with a trough. I was annoyed that it was man-only, but I appreciated the innovation. 

That's a talent!

There was a dude in the most amazing white bibs, just running around with no jersey on. If there is anything more ridiculous and spectacular than a dude in bibs with no jersey, it is a dude in white bibs with no shirt on. I had to make friends, 

Yes, scavenger hunt...

While we were drinking, I didn't realize this, but Pochs was having a bit of a melt down. You've read her account of this, so I won't be labor the point, but I think it serves as a reminder to us all: don't try to "budget" on ragby. I've said it before, and I will say it again, just let go and let ragbrai. Eat when you need to eat, drink when you want to drink and also when you don't want to drink, and just let the money float away from you. You need calories more than cash. 

Pochs, mid melt down

And, the best part, we ran into our sister team, Team Awesomeness, complete with an appearance from Hot Adam, my first connection to TA, from back in the BCO days. I got to chatting with Hot Adam, and I asked him how he was doing in Philly, about his lady friend the med student and I was delighted to learn, lady friend no more...meow. 

We invited them to come and hangout with us and when they did we had the invention of the "one more, one more" beer. The one more, one more beer is after you have already had "one more" before hitting the road, and then you decide, wisely, that you need "one more one more." It was so delicious. 

Just one more one more!

There was a bit of anxiety about the onemoreonemore, but it was such a perfect afternoon, great grass, dudes in white bibs, tasty beer, and six more glorious days ahead of us. How could life get better for this little beaver?  

LLL in repose

I think that Pochy and LLL had already skedaddled at this point, but we were drinking beer, and enjoying the company of the charming and very, very attractive dudes TA. One of our favorites is the leader of TA, Ryan. Goldie used to babysit him, back in the Runnells days, and he always hooks us up with at-cost TA kits. Thanks Ryan! 

At some point, Ryan offered me a TA tattoo. Why, of course, I want a TA tattoo. 

He asked where I wanted it, and, well, you can just imagine what happened after that....

Until I tell you about it tomorrow.

R15 25 Why, Yes, I Like it Dirty.

Present Day Announcement: Happy Christmas Eve little beavers! I know that all of you have been naughty this year, but still, I hope Castor Claus brings you fresh tubes and cheap beer tonight. Mwah! 

The last 3rd of the day

Even though JK had made a generous offer of a party in Quimby, we decided we needed to keep rolling. We still had a long, long way to go and it was getting late in the day. 

So we rolled through that town and headed onward. There was a lot of climbing on this Sunday, but it wasn't terrible, though it was incredibly hot and humid. Everything was just dripping and disgusting. I was so thirsty, so when I saw a sign for some pork chops, a beer tent, and lemonade, I had to stop. 

Thankfully, the Mayor saw me and stopped too. But, this wasn't the Backpocket stop...it was some other beer, pork chop, lemonade stop. Well, shit. It didn't matter. I needed some refreshment, so after filling our water bottles at a hose, I got in line. 

The guys running the lemonade stand were offering regular lemonade and dirty lemonade. When the guy at the counter asked if I wanted my lemonade dirty, I had just enough energy to give him a wry look and saying, "I'd love it dirty." He laughed. I laughed. And I thought about how erotically charged this ragby was becoming.

The Mayor and I leaned on a flatbed trailer in some deep deep shade and listened as a couple 20-something hipsters talked about how to ragby. Hmrph. 

The rest of the team didn't stop, and soon we realized, we were out of sync, so we got back on our bikes and pressed onward. The next oasis had a huge water slide in the ditch, and I saw Pochy and Too Much in the middle of their second or third run down the slide. I kept riding, knowing they'd catch us at the real beer stop. 

And that is where the afternoon, and all the sexual tension, really began to ramp up. 

R15 24 Throwing Shade

Still in Washta...

The Deb was in Washta, and she was looking for us! Of course, none of the streets have street signs, because when you living Klinkerta, you know all the streets, so we spent a goodly amount of time trying to echo locate the Deb. 

Finding her in the middle of the street, we tried to round up the rest of the beavers and head over to the Jeep, where pre-bought refreshments awaited. 

Too Much finds too little shade under this trailer.

I'll admit, I was getting a bit on the grumpy side. The constant trying to wrangle beavers and waiting around all the time was killing my dick-stopping buzz. And, of course, there was no shade to be had near the Jeep, but we grabbed some beers and some snacks and did the best we could. 

Steven secures a slice of shade.

We crossed the street and found some nice grass and some shade to relax in. While we were there, the Deb told us stories of finding the den for the night and filled us in on how the Dale was doing. Poor Dale! 

Still a bit grumpy, I was having a hard time staying enthusiastic. Don't get me wrong, I adore the Deb, and ragby wouldn't be ragby without her, but sometimes I feel like she expects a certain type of emotional response that I can't always muster. She was so excited about where we were staying, but I couldn't help but think she'd arrive there in an air conditioned Jeep. And I still had 10,000 hot, stinking miles to go.

If there's ever a reason to train for the ragby, it's so that when you are called upon to be happy, you can be happy. When I am tired and out of shape, I can manage to ride my bike, I can manage to drink my beer, but I cannot always manage to slap on a smile. If that's not fitspiration, I don't know what is...

We'd been in Washta for about 6.5 hours at this point and it was time to ride bikes. We still had a long, long way to go. So, we said good bye to the Deb, mounted up, and headed towards Quimby.

R15 23 The Meat Town Part 1: Peep Show!

Time for Meat

We had good news from the Deb at this point. She had secured us a place to stay in Storm Lake. Unlike the rest of the towns, we hadn't had any leads or success in securing a home stay in Storm Lake, so we sent the Deb on from Sioux City on a scouting mission. 

With our den for the evening secured, she planned to meet us in the meet town: Washta. Soon, for reasons you will soon understand, we hand to change the spelling of "meet" to "meat." And not just because the halfway town is where everyone gets some hot beef. Or maybe they do. Hint, hint. Wink, wink.

We rolled into Washta, hot and heaving and ready for some lunch. And then, the shit show truly began. First, we had to find everyone, then we had to find a place to stash our bikes, then everyone wanted different things: beer, sandwiches, water, a bathroom, and the beaver scatter began. It was as if someone dropped a stink bomb in a beaver den, just beavers darting in all directions. 

I stuck with, well, hell, who was with me? Too Much? Grandpa? I know the Mayor was there. We wandered over to the fire station to get a brat, which we ate in a line for something else. 

Then we decided to go into the beer ghetto. Boy, it was ghetto. A fenced off, empty lot, with the only shade coming from those low, heavy Army tents. Side note of complaint: Why do towns think those are a good idea? They are usually a dark color, super heavy, and you have to duck to get into them. Underneath is a seething mass of bodies, steaming up the joint. And there's never any chairs. Ugh. The worst.

After securing our beers, we retreated to slim line of shade provided by one of the buildings and hunkered down. We sent some texts, tried to get a location on the rest of the beavers, and drank our beers in slightly shady peace. 

As we were drinking, I happened to glance up towards the people in the tent right in front of us. There was a raucous group of middle-aged cyclists, drinking, and laughing, and having a great time. Then, a handsome dark haired dude, stepped out from under the tent. He was facing me, but honestly, he didn't register that I was there. He was intent on showing something to his companions. 

In a flash, he had pulled down his shorts, I suppose with the goal of showing his team something on his ass, but rather than go with the back-down, front-up method, he pulled his shorts way, way down, and out popped his rather large and attractive dick!

Hello! All of a sudden, this ragby was looking up. 

Before I could signal to my fellow drinkers, he had pulled up his shorts and turned around, leaving me with an aghast and delighted look on my face. His friends, some other dudes, realized what I had witnessed and pointed me out to Sir Penis, who looked at me sheepishly. I gave him a wave and a toast of my Coors Light. 

Welcome to the Meat Town: Population, Norman. 

R15 22 Day 1 From Pochs Part 1 "The Worst Day"

Just so everyone knows, I plan on retiring from my life, including bike riding, work, ragbrai blogging, pretty much all adult functions, because there is a new kid in town folks. As the band LCD Soundsystem puts it, "I'm losing my edge. The kids are coming up from behind." Because Pochs, short for Pocahontas, is the best at all things. And she, unlike most of you jokers, has already coughed up no less than 3 blog entries to help me get through my year of blogging ennui. So, here's her first of several, I am guessing, entries on Day 1. Enjoy. 

The first half of the first day of RAGBRAI 2015 was good.  The hills were painful, but I was pushing through it.  I did yoga on the lawn of a beautiful golf course with a great dj.  They sold whole pizzas at this golf course, which was a fantastic idea.  I was legitimately enjoying my first real RAGBRAI.  Plus, I was already killing it in the Snapchat Challenge - I even made a new friend, Oreo the Cow! 

At one of the Backpocket stops, I approached some kids sitting on the porch of the farmhouse and asked if they had any water so I could fill up my water bottle - I was trying to be smart and hydrate with something other than beer.  The kids went in the house with my water bottle and brought it back to me filled with water AND ice!  Ice!  How great is that?  People in rural Iowa are so nice. 

I think this was the day where the MeatTown was really hot, and not shady, and not great.  This was the MeatTown where one ice cream sandwich cost $5, and my freshman planning skills meant that I had not packed enough money to support these crazy food costs.  So I didn't eat.  

By the time we got to the second Backpocket, I was hangry.  No, I was more than hangry, I was falling apart.  My very kind mentor, Too Much, gave me a cliff bar, which I promptly inhaled.  I couldn't drink any more beer; I just wasn't feeling it.  I knew that we still had miles to ride and many thousands of feet of hills to climb.  If I sat at that stop any longer, I would never get back on my bike.  So I left.  I rode silently, alone, barely able to sit on my bike seat because my um... lower parts hurt so bad. 

I rode slowly.  I navigated my way into Storm Lake and tried to follow The Deb's directions, which we had only received verbally in the MeatTown.  Even though I hadn't seen any beavers pass me, I was convinced I would be the very last beaver pulling into camp.  

I was so exhausted and happy when I finally spotted The Deb.  She had set up a lawn chair by the street to help flag down beavers and direct us to our camping spot on the campus of BVU - she told me I was the first one to arrive!  I couldn't believe it!  

I took an ice cold shower in the rec center and crawled back to the lawn chair at the side of the street to wait for the rest of the beavers.  Apparently, I looked so clean and well rested that other RAGBRAI riders thought I was a local and started asking me where to go for the best food.  In natural Deb fashion, I tried to make things up to sound knowledgeable. 

And she's do damn cute!

(Apparently this is the photo that won the SC challenge)
​

Here's the thing - I wasn't riding super fast.  There was no reason for me to make it to Storm Lake before the rest of the team... unless... they were having a super awesome party with Team Awesomeness and my lack of eating and poor planning made me miss out on that awesome time. 

R15 21 Slacker Sundays! The Viking

It's Sunday! What are you doing reading a stupid blog?

I'm talking to you, Mayor and Steven--shouldn't you be out hiking in colorful Colorado? 

And you Pochs, don't you have puppies to cuddle and cookies to bake?

And you, Masinga, shouldn't you be working one of your 15 jobs or drinking way better beer than me and then making me jealous? 

And you, JK, you don't have time for blog reading?! You should be writing. 

And even me, Norman, shouldn't be here. I am supposed to be bonding with my family this weekend. Yikes. Maybe I do need some blog time...

It's Sunday! You shouldn't even be here! 

I am hereby instituting Sunday Funday, or Slacker Sunday, a short and hilarious blog entry on the ragby that is easy to write (Funday for me), but perhaps gets readers caught up on some of the ways and means of the beavers. 

Today, for Sunday Funday, I offer, The Viking. 

This test of skill and will is brought to you by none other than our resident viking-beaver, Too Much. He comes to us from the North, bringing wholesome sayings (ding-dang-darn it), big miles and even bigger drafts, and this new challenge.

The pose is similar to that of the Power Pose, but instead of drinking a beer with one hand behind the head and the can to the lips, the Viking must hold the beer straight out, elbow locked, raise the arm over his or her head and then catch the cascade of beer, like a golden Icelandic waterfall, in the wide open maw far below. 

Behold.

I would surmise that this particular test is harder for those of the Scandanavian descent, what with their super long arms. 

The Viking wasn't as popular as the Power Pose, but it did find its way into many a day of ragby, many a heart of a beaver, and many stinky, sticky jerseys. 

Challenge: think your December Sunday is not a fun day? Holiday parties getting a little basic? Try adding a little viking to your life...I did...if you know what I mean, hint, hint, wink, wink, say-no-more, say-no-more. Meow. 

Sorry. Bye 

R15 20 Four! And by that I Mean Beers

Why do I bother posting these maps? 

If you ask me, the best places to stop on ragby are golf courses. I've said it before and I will say it again: shade, nice grass, lots of booze, some distractions. I mean, I think if your business model is to please and pleasure middle aged rich white dudes, you are speaking my language on ragby.

So, we rolled up to the golf course, found out how many beers we could get for $20, pulled up a piece of shade and did some kicking it. 

Of course, we were watching the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of LLL and her magnificent WW2 bomber helmet and flag her down. 

And we did what we usually do. Someone buys a whole pizza. 

Pizza!

Other people do some yoga. 

Oh Pochs.

Steven marches off a good 3/4 of a mile to pee in a semi public place.

We drink more beers. 

The stash. 

I go into the inside bathrooms, discover that the women's has a line but the men's doesn't. I pee in the men's.

Ragbraing

I spot my friends from the Alan Jackson Cycling Club and chit chat with them. 

You know, the usual. 

#mcmbw

God, I know funny stuff happened here, but I do not remember. Maybe some jokes about local kids on golf carts, people in bike clothes playing golf? I remember sassing some hunky dude standing near the bikes, but I'll be damned if I remember what I said. 

Perhaps its time for a day 1 interlude...

R15 19 Our First-ish Town of Ragby

We made it! 21 miles! 

And the ride into Kingsley, as far as I can remember, was lovely. More big, rolling hills, gorgeous countryside, the pleasantly loose feeling of a few pre-8am beers. What more could a beaver dream of?

Soon I was rolling into the little town of Kingsley, where I had ridden into during my first ragby, so many years ago, when Lexi's seat was slipping, so a farmer tightened it for her, and then she couldn't get it untightened, even though it was too low, because he was so strong. Ah, memories. 

The team, most of it, was waiting for me outside of Kingsley, and we began the first of many attempts to regroup and reconnect. It would be a challenge, and will probably continue to be a challenge, as we grow as a team, and what we have learned from the last two years is that it takes a while to get our beaver legs under us and figure out one another's pace and eating needs. 

Boop boop boop

While we waiting, I looked around for a place to pee and I spotted a very nice, very not busy grain elevator office building. I rolled over there and asked the farmers in the lot if the place was open. "Sure," they said, "go on in!" Inside I hoped to ask the secretary if I could use the bathroom, but no one was around. I guess it was Sunday, but all the lights and some tvs were on. 

I found my way into the darkened hallway and into a lovely, perfect, glorious clean bathroom. Thank the Lord. I was particularly keen to find an inside bathroom because of the curse of bear season. Yes, you don't know the cruelty or the hardship of ragby until you've experienced a bear-season-ragby. Ugh. 

Sweet bathroom bliss!

Anyway, no one stopped me, yelled at me, or even appeared, so I just waltzed back out.

With no sign of LLL, we decided to send an advance team into the town, and hope that LLL, led by Masinga, who would wait for her would know our beaver ways and find us. And so we went to one of the most friendly of beaver establishments: the golf courses. 

R15 18 "The Sign Says Free Beer...But"

Present Day Beaver Announcement: Just got word that Fall Out Boy is joining us a the RAGBY Route Announcement Party. Yes, you too could have a seat next to the ultimate team hunk, but they are going fast! Just 4 seats left! 

Someday we will leave the Sioux Valley...

And so we departed from Leeds and started on one of the longer stretches during the day, towards the distant Kingsley.

Filled with beer and breakfast pizza, we were zooming up and down the miles, through hilly farm fields. We were all getting used to the feeling of rubber beneath of our butts when ahead we spotted a lanky figure, one finger straight in the air: what is this? The beaver signal? Already?

They do serve free beer!

There was Too Much, stopped in a gravel driveway, where a small RV serving breakfast foods was parked. They had a sign that said free beer, so we all pulled over. Some beavers went to explore the free beer situation, others to wait for the rest of the team. It wasn't long before LLL was zooming down the hill towards us.

Beaver teeth

But there was some confusion. Apparently, Too Much had gone to the cooler to check out the free beer offerings, but they "snapped the cooler lid closed. The sign says free beer, but I think you might have to buy something..." he said, sheepishly.

To the bold, go the Budweisers

This was too much for Steven, who marched over and found that yes indeed the beer was free, and the only reason the cooler had been snapped shut was just to keep it, well, cool. We all grabbed a beer and threw a few bucks in the tip jar and then returned to the driveway to enjoy our refreshments.

Little did we know, on that first day, how important this little family in RV would become to our beaver-experience. Oooohhh foreshadowing.

Our soon-to-be-best-friends

With a few Power Poses and a few shouts of "More Cheers, More Beers, Whoo!" we continued to not be sober. Miles down: about 7. Miles to go: millions. Beers drunk: 2-3. Giddyup. 

Our plan to "get some miles in" was going quickly down the tube. 

R15 17 "We Really Should Get Some Miles In"

Sioux City to Leeds

Finally, and with much fanfare and waving, we were off, winding our way through the leafy streets of Sioux City, until, without too much trouble, we found ragby!

Oh, the memories! I had ridden this route out of town my very first ragby, so many years ago. Soon, we were turning and chuffing up a long, low hill, the first of many for the day. I remembered that hill from my first ragby. I had been so daunted back then. 

I wasn't daunted today. And, the climbing didn't feel too bad. I wasn't making any landspeed records, but I was passing some people, and finding that happy climbing place. 

We all knew that the first town was just four miles from the start of the route. Barely 2 miles for us. And, I remember Steven saying something surprising to me as we rolled out, "maybe we should get the first thirty miles in before we start drinking..."

Seemed reasonable, I thought. In the olden days, we didn't start drinking until the halfway point of the day, and with recent years's mishaps and drama, it seemed a good way to start the first day, with some actual bike riding...so you can imagine my surprise when Steven pulled a hard right off the road right in front of the bar in Leeds. 

We needed a break.

The first stop of what would be a very long day. 

7am

The locals were happy to see us. They didn't anticipate a group of riders stopping for Coors Lights and breakfast pizza at 7am just four miles into the route. We passed out stickers, scarfed down food, and generally made mischief. 

Cheers!

I believe this bar was where we had our first on-route power pose. The power pose has a long and slightly boring history, which I will regal with now, because you insist on reading this stupid fucking blog and I am trying to break you of that habit. A friend of mine has some friends, the Olzen boys. The Olzen boys are four sons, all with J-names, Polish brothers from the suburbs of Chicago-hard partying, Old Style drinking, trolling and rolling, dudes, by all accounts. (I had only met one Olzen at the time of this ride). 

The Olzen boys had 2 traditions which I co-opted, because I knew they would be perfect for Team Beaver. The first is the Power Pose, in which one person gets down on one knee in a lunge position, puts a hand behind the head, and swiftly finishes the beer in his or her hand, before spiking it down on the ground. 

Power Posing would grow and evolve over the week, as you will see in the subsequent posts of this blog, but I believe this was the first ever. And the PP would evolve into being a signal of one of two things. Either the poser needed another beer, or it was time for a beaver leaver. 

In this case, the leaver was in order. We still had 74 miles ahead...