R16 69 East Bound and Down

Alone in a big southern Iowa world

After leaving Columbus Junction, I thought the beavers were right behind me. I rode across a bridge and then took the hard turn to Fredonia. Not much was happening there, and the plan was to keep rolling, so I headed north, expecting the rest of the team to catch me.

The road north was not great. Super rough and bumpy and I was tired and over it, but no beavers caught me. I took the big turn towards Letts, and the road evened out a bit and I took some time to appreciate the sunny blue skies.

Before long, and amazingly, I arrived in Letts and I hadn't seen a beaver. I pulled over under a tree and took my phone off airplane mode. And that's when I got the message. The Bandit (as she is known now) had a crash and she and Too Much were en route to the hospital. I later learned that she had collected a "butterfly bomb" from one of stands in Columbus Junction. When she went to toss it in a ditch, she took an odd swerve, bumped Masinga and then hit the deck. They thought she might have broken her wrist (turns out no, just a terrible sprain and maybe some bone bruising--Bandit will fill you in). And now her nickname is Butterfly Bandit, Bandit for short and because she rolls with a bandanna. Bikes were on the sag wagon, the Deb had been informed.

"Well, shit," I thought. I figured we would all need to haul our asses into Muscatine so we could get to the hospital and then roll out of town ASAP. So before I heard anything else, I hopped on my bike and hit the road. Then about halfway between Letts and the Winery, I got word that, no we didn't have to hustle. That Too Much and Bandit were in the waiting room and we could still enjoy our day.

I certainly wasn't going to salmon, so I just went ahead to the Winery and figured I'd reconnect with the beavers there.

The winery was in a gorgeous spot. Tons of grass all sweeping down into a view of a glorious valley below. There was a beer stand, food stalls, and a band, plus copious amounts of grass for naps. I found a big piece of sunny grass in the middle of an empty yard and took a beer nap, waking occasionally to watch a dude fiddle with the water bottle filling contraption.

After about a half an hour, the rest of the beavers rolled in and filled me in on the adventures of the morning. While I was hanging out with the beavers, I was getting antsy. I had already been there for a bit and was feeling done for the day. Plus, I kept getting snapchats from El Cap featuring him and my mother enjoying a lovely morning at a brewery. A casual acquaintance came over to chat with me and I could barely muster the interest in the conversation. Bleh.

But then, finally, we were on the home stretch. The last 11 miles into Muscatine. Up and down we rode big river valley hills into town and followed the road as it stretched up north and into the little town of Muscatine: a scrappy river town.

We did a major regrouping on the outskirts of town, to make sure we had what was left of our band of beavers, before we attempted to find the RV.

Soon enough we were turning on to a side road and we stopped the Ark, along with Smitty and his bike-van waiting for us. The bike part of this adventure was over.