R17 31 Slacker Nuptial Sunday!

Greetings and Happy New Years Eve Beavers!!!

Today is a special edition of Slacker Sunday because we get to have a great, bedazzled Beaver Reunion because....Too Much and Bandit are making their beaver love official!

Eight years ago, I found Too Much in the woods and I couldn't be more grateful for this chance encounter in the wilderness. Too Much is a wonderful, generous friend; a strange and funny guy; and an absolutely top-notch beaver. He has brought so much to the team and he has resolved many, many, many a stressful situations with his massive 12,000 watt smile and sunny, gosh-jolly-geepers Minnesota positive attitude.

But one of the best things that Too Much has brought to the team is our little Bandit. Bandit is both a boss bitch and one of the most compassionate and thoughtful people I have ever had the pleasure of riding bikes with. Even an ambulance-ride finish to her 2016 year couldn't keep her down, and I know that everyone on our team has benefited from her listening ear and her wisdom that transcends her years.

I love you guys! And I am so happy you found one another. Your happiness is infectious, and I can't wait to biker-dance in honor of your love! Mazel tov! xoxoxoxoxoxo

Oh yeah, and beavers mate for life.

People in spandex in love! 

Oh yeah, and here's the RideOut Day 3 Memo.

RideOut Day 3 Voice Memo
https://drive.google.com/file/d/15bkhiUii-ZC8k6-6f4EbqjC7KUC_V8Ma/view?usp=sharing

RideOut Day 4 Voice Memo
https://drive.google.com/file/d/15bkhiUii-ZC8k6-6f4EbqjC7KUC_V8Ma/view?usp=sharing

R17 30 Guest Blog from Pochy: The Great Rollout Reorganization of 2017

Greetings Beaver Buddies, it's Pochy, bringing you stories from the other side of the start of ragbrai 2017.  While The Boss, The Mayor, and Norman were having a great old time riding their bikes, drinking beers, and chatting up small town folks, the rest of us in the real world were battling with one of the most chaotic and complex rollouts of Team Beaver history.

As many of you know, handling complex logistical nightmares usually brings me great joy.  This year was no exception. Ragbrai 2017 presented 6 interesting challenges:

1. The Deb took a year off from driving to work on some house projects
2. No Deb = No Beaver Arc 
3. Multiple vehicles carrying multiple bikes
4. Pochy's car needs to be in Clear Lake, full of super secret surprise stuff
5. Everyone needs to pack light... for real... no joke, we have one minivan for all the stuff
6. Included in all the stuff - the biggest piñata of all time

As the Rollout Boss, it was my responsibility to make sure everything was perfect, so on Saturday morning, L and I took the dogs to doggy-day-camp and headed over to Smitty's to supervise and micromanage. My memory might be a little fuzzy on this, but here's what I recall: nearly every person in this group heard the words "pack light" and translated that into, "bring everything, including coolers, lawn chairs, and 15 changes of clothing in the largest bag you can find."  Then we all stood back and watched Smitty try to Tetris everything into the van.

Chillin with this handsome pupper while everyone else packs

It took a lot of sweat, muscle, and acrobatics to get all the bags, bikes, and people tucked away, but finally, we were off!  This was by far, the strangest rollout experience I have ever had.  I felt all the usual excitement of a ragbrai rollout, but there I was, alone in my car, with only my oversized beaver piñata for company.  I played my music as loud as I could, I sang, I danced, I honked at all the other vehicles on I-35 headed to ragbrai, but I couldn't drink... because I was driving... and I was alone.  It felt off. 

Lonely Rollout

I had to drive my car alone because I had to make a stop in Swaledale at my mom's shop to stuff her fridge with about 200 jello shots, and then I had to leave my car parked in Clear Lake full of all the goods I would need to host a baby shower in CL the day after ragbrai (why, oh why did I think that was a good idea?!)

Once in Clear Lake, I met up with L, Too Much, and Bandit.  We decided to converge there so they wouldn't have to drive all the way to Des Moines and then promptly turn around to drive North again.  And then we were off - zig-zagging West on smallish roads that we ride on our bikes later that week. 

R17 29 Interim: Hospital Breakfasts

Here we are, socializing 

Saturday morning, the day of the #RollOut arrived bright and clear. Well I don't know if it arrived bright and clear because I was in a basement. After a long and luxurious snooze, the #RideOut Beavers woke in our basement lair and slowly started to prepare for our easy rest day. 

We showered and put on our musty clothes, and I tried to make instant coffee with hot water from the coffee machine, and eventually we went upstairs and met our hosts. They were determined to take us out to breakfast...at the hospital. 

Did we look that bad? 

The hottest breakfast spot in town

So, we all loaded up in their car and they drove us to the brand new Orange City Hospital. To be fair, it was a very nice hospital It seemed more like a spa than a hospital, with exposed rocks and fountains and a cafeteria in the basement. 

There we got a bit confused. There was a lot of food, hot and cold, and our hosts told us to get whatever we wanted. So we loaded up trays with biscuits and gravy, fruit, toast, breakfast sandwiches, granola bars, coffee, juice, etc. And then they paid for it. 

And then we realized it wasn't all one price. 

Oh well. We thanked them profusely and then sat down amongst all the old folks and families having their Saturday morning breakfasts. We tried to chit chat as we wolfed down our massive amounts of food. Our host was a big boat enthusiast. He had a massive powerboat in the barn, so we chatted about Lake Okoboji and the hospital and all the things that were happening in the town since I had been here for the book. It really had grown a lot. No wonder Steve King keeps getting elected if western Iowa is seeing so much growth. 

After breakfast, stuffed to the gills, our hosts loaded us back into the car and decided to take us on a tour of the town. This was nice in theory. I mean, sure, I want to see all the fancy houses owned by the Vogel family and the fields where all the ragbrai-ers are cancelled as much as the next person--oh, wait, I don't. And I get car sick. And we were all crammed in the backseat. We all tried to grin and bear it as our hosts drove us from place to place, pointing out all their friend's houses and all the team names on signs in yards. 

Here's a fancy house

We spotted the Rowdy Beavers's Campsite and tried to memorize the address in case we needed to do some sabotage later. 

Finally, we drove back to the house and all unloaded from the car. All I wanted to do was sit on the porch, read my magazine and drink my Chelada, and not talk. And maybe take a nap. I knew that when the beavers arrived the energy would be electric, so I had to conserve my reserves.

Time to unload the old girl

R17 28 RideOut Day 4: Trail of Tears

So close....so far

We climbed the hill out of Alton, turned right, and found the bike trail. 

Great! A bike trail. Perfect for drunk, exhausted cyclists. We turned on to the trail and wham: gravel. 

"Okay, no problem. Just a bit of gravel. We have touring bikes (except the Mayor). This is fine." 

Except. It wasn't fine. It was loosey goosey gravel. The kind that sloshes under tires and feels like riding in sand, especially under the weight of bags. 

Well, shit. 

I was ready to just suffer through. It was only four miles. But the rest of the crew, RM included, decided we should bail out and get on the highway, which ran parallel to the bike trail. We found a road crossing and turned north and then popped out on the busy, Friday afternoon traffic of the Orange City highway. 

We rode into town and it was a bit of a mess. Heat. Sun. Traffic. And trying to navigate to our home stay while not staying together and not being able to hear one another. I was in the back and I tried to point out the liquor store off the highway, but Steven and the Mayor were too far ahead and so we missed the chance to grab "just arrived beers." 

It sucked. And by the time we waved good-bye to the RM, who were staying in the hotel, and found our way to the homestay, we were all grumpy and over it. 

There were mini horses. 

Thankfully, our home stay hosts were very nice. They showed us to our basement lair, complete with our own, carpeted bathroom, a futon bed, and a little kitchen for our snacks and beers (once we found them). 

Before all the campers arrive...

We shuffled through the showers and then relaxed on the back patio until it was time to find some dinner. Then we wandered down the highway back into town. We stopped for food at the Chinese restaurant and ordered more MSG-laden delights than we could have ever possibly eaten, but Beat-the-Heat-Mark was there, along with other Bike World folks. We waved hello. 

Then we wandered down the road to the new liquor store. It was a bit of a hike, but the walk through the busy streets of Orange City wasn't that bad. We passed the Windmill and the Blue Mountain Passport Club. There was some talk of going into a bar and getting good and drunk, but I was still grumpy with the Mayor and Steven isn't that much of a boozer, so we just decided to go to the liquor store and bring something back. 

The liquor store, it turns out, was the same as the one in Glenwood--run by a dude from Minneapolis, who is determined to open liquor stores in all the little western Iowa towns that have refused them for so long because of Jesus. I think he is doing a good business. Even god-botherers want a bev some times. 

It was so hard to choose a beer. I was so mentally exhausted. I didn't know what I wanted. But we picked out a few things, including some Tecate Chilata and then went to check out. Because it was the same liquor store he was still delivering to campsites and houses for ragbrai. "Would you deliver us?" we joked and to our delight the owner said yes. 

Ragbrai Hazard Guy was outside the liquor store. I would end up seeing him almost every day. 

Before we knew it we were in a Ford Taurus, beer in the back, being driven in comfort and luxury back to our homestay. Wonders never cease. 

We had a few beverages on the back porch and then retreated to the cool and quiet of the basement. Steven and the Mayor insisted that I take the bed, which I thought was stupid, because there were two of them and just one one of me, but after much, much, much protest, I finally relented and climbed in. It has been a long RideOut and I was looking forward to a day of doing absolutely nothing while we waited for the beavers to arrive. 

R17 27 RideOut Day 4: Dead Pig Eulogy

So. Damn. Close.

So, we had to ride a long way north out of Remsen with no turns to cheer us up. I rode a bit with the RM, tried to ignore the stiff breeze out of the east, and looked forward to the landmarks of a perpendicular county road and county line--when we would be in our last county of the RideOut.

I remember this stretch going on, and on, and on as I waited to see Highway 10. I guess it wasn't so bad. The wind kept the heat down, and made the cycling exciting because you'd get the occasional push beneath the bike and worry you were going to topple over. 

So much of the RideOut is just long boring stretches with no that much happening and only your thoughts to keep you company. Later, Steven would relay her adventures with the Mayor, but I will save that for when she chimes in. 

Eventually, I caught up with our merry band and the five of us stopped for a celebratory breakie at the turn on to Highway 10. 

I stopped my bike. Turned off my stories and looked up to see:

Poor little porker

A huge, dead pig on the side of the gravel road. It might have fallen off a truck, or tried to escape and gotten hit by a car, but it was dead, bloated, and massive. RM Bill thought this was hilarious and he did a full on photo shoot with the porker, taking pictures from every angle. It was impressive that a domestic animal could be that big. I couldn't help but be glad it wasn't alive. 

We mounted our bikes and pushed up the last few hills until we got a magical and lovely downhill swoop into Alton. And then, like they do, Steven and the Mayor disappeared. Just as we reached the finish line, they were gone, choosing some alternate route that only they knew about and decided not to tell anyone else about. I had the RM with me, though, and they had been here before, so we rode into town along Highway 10 and climbed the long last hill into Alton. 

We turned on a side street and found our way to a charming, new and well lit bar. The Mayor and Steven had found their way there too, independently. We had done it. Just a short four mile jaunt into Orange City and we would be done with this bad idea. 

Steven discovers local frozen meat sticks

Inside, we bellied up to the bar, ordered tons and tons of beer. I actually dashed behind the bar to see what the options were in the cooler (no-give-a-shit-ness) and we drank and drank and draank. At one point, RM Ruth started talking about this amazing meat locker around the corner with great meat sticks. Steven's ears pricked up. "Meat sticks?" 

In moments, she had gotten money from the Mayor and was off to find this magical meat locker. It wasn't long before she was back with a package of frozen meat sticks. 

Did that stop her? 

Nope. The frozen meat sticks only slowed her down. 

While we ate and drank and enjoyed the wifi and listened to the amazing stories of the RM, the Mayor went and chatted up a couple who had done the RideOut from Iowa City (or somewhere like that). They were fit and lean and had done a lot of camping and didn't look like they ever had fights. Whatever. 

We also got the low down on what would be offered in the town. Apparently, the RAGBRAI funbusters had come through and put the kibosh on bloody marys and beer in the morning, but the bar would offer sandwiches

While we were in the bar, we heard about the bike trail that goes from Alton into Orange City. And we got directions to it. It looked like it would take us near our homestay. Fabulous! 

Finally, we decided it was time to leave. We called our homestay to let them know we would be there shortly and then we got on our bikes and headed up the hill towards the top of the town and found the bike trail. We could see Orange City on the horizon, but getting there would prove to be tricker than we imagined. 

R17 26 Ride Out Day 4: Doggos, Danger, and Disaster on the Ice

Happy Boxing Day Beavers! Go out and punch someone for me!

PDBA: Pochy and Masinga were at my house the other day (12/4) and we were chatting about the blog. I mentioned a concern that the first few weeks of the blog were kind of boring. At least, the Ride Out until we got to Sac City wasn't very exciting. And to my horror, they both nodded in agreement! Ugh! Then Pochy pointed out that it didn't get interesting until the rest of the beavers arrived and were a part of the narrative. Hahaha. So, I hope that the Mayor and Steven are enjoying these tails, and I will try to wrap up the Ride Out by the end of the month...

Go west my son 

Once we crested the top of Cemetery Hill, we were on the look out for the grain elevators of Meriden to the north. That would mean we were nearing our first check point. We did the same thing with Cleghorn and Marcus.

Steven and the Mayor would ride ahead, with the Mayor drafting Steven. I would drift off the back, listening to my stories of maritime disaster and suffering. The boys on the boat had been lodged in the ice pack for two years, when their boat finally stove in and they had to try to cross the ice pack and make it to Siberia. It wasn't going well. 

They would get to a cross roads and wait for me. Then I would arrive, turn off my stories and check in. As we would be chatting, the RM would roll up, flashing lights like an ambulance. We would chat with them. At one point, Bill says, "Ruth take my calls." Then he walked 10 feet away, turned towards the road, and peed. Of course, there was no on out there. 

We worked our way westward in this fashion. At one point, I started off a few minutes before Steven and the Mayor, delighting in getting a tiny bit of a head start. As I rode past a farm house, a golden lab came roaring out of the yard, barking furiously at me and chasing me down the road. I yelled, "get out of there! Go home! Go!" Just as the dog was about to overtake me, it cut a quick left behind me and ran back to its house. One single second later, a huge truck roared by me on the left. The dog had missed being creamed by a nano second. I breathed a prayer of relief that I hadn't been bitten by a dog, creamed by a truck in an attempt to not get bitten by a dog, or seen a family dog get hit by a truck. 

Onward we road towards our northward turn. As we crossed into the next county, the road got a bit hillier and more wild and the sky started to cloud up again. I found Steven and the Mayor waiting for me at the turn towards Remsen. The sky was darkening and it looked like this road had a bit more traffic. The RM joined us and we started our northward movement as lightning flashed in a deep blue sky ahead of us. 

The wind picked up and my morale sank and soon even the RM had passed me by. Along and heading into the maw of the storm, I put my head down and pedaled with all I could. Finally, we crested a hill and I could see the church steeple of Remson just head. We made it and the storm blew off to the south east of us. We joined up with the RM and as a merry band we headed into downtown Remson to see what they had for lunch. 

Another bit of beavervenacular which will need to be banned! 

Amazingly there were several good looking options for eating and drinking, but a few were closed and the RM swore by a little cafe off the main street. We parked our bikes along the 2*4 patio out on the street and went inside. It was a dun colored restaurant with church basement tables and a menu on a white board, but the gals were friendly and quick with the refills--no beer, though. We ordered huge plates of food that came with everything--fish and chips, with salad, potato and dessert and bread! Steven went into her typical shut-down-and-shovel-in-mode. We all ate a massive lunch followed by brownies and coffee from a big carafe they left on the table for us. Delightful. 

After lunch, and chamois creme reapplication, we tottered out to the bikes and mounted up. There was a brisk wind coming out of the east and we had a short jog back over to the country road that would take us north. The afternoon would be a straight shot north, with increasingly sunny skies and a breeze. We were in gorgeous country and we were almost there. 

R17 25 RideOut Day 4: Rain and the Dead

Merry Christmas little beavers! May Beaver Claus bring you everything you little heart could desire this Christmas! And may your dens be filled with cheer and love!

I can't wait to see all the beaver-secret Santa posts!

The Day We Gave Up On Turns 

Morning came too soon, but when the alarm went off we all shuffled into slightly smelly spandex and tottered down to the breakfast room. But outside it was threatening rain. And then, pouring rain. And then raining cats and doggos. Oh dear.

So, we ate breakfast with a bunch of gravel truck drivers. They didn't really talk to us, but sort of talked around us. One explained that he used to be a competitive bike racer with a really light bike. he didn't look it now, for sure, but who knows? 

We watched the forecast and ate bad hotel breakfast and pondered our options. We finally decided on the Cemetery Road and we decided to head out. It looked like there was a break in the rain anyway. We put on our rain gear and condomed all our gear and set off down the hill towards the center of town. 

We were just climbing up the hill out of town and towards Cemetery Hill when the Mayor sort of pulled off to the side, I slowed down and asked, "what's up?" 

"Do you see that?" he pointed vaguely up ahead. 

I craned my head to look. I couldn't figure out what he meant, but while I tried to figure it out, I hit a stick and almost ate it. 

"What the fuck" I yelled. 

He pointed out that the rain was coming down so hard that you couldn't see the hill looming up head. "And if we can't see the hill, there's no way the drivers can see us." 

I pull over. Put the kick stand down and marched over to the porch of a big Victorian house to wait out the rain. The Mayor and Steven joined me and I tried to explain to the Mayor that perhaps riding up hill, in the rain, on touring bikes wasn't the best time to practice the Socratic method of communication. 

"Clear, declarative statements please." 

Instead of "do you see that?" He could say, "let's pull over." And then explain once we were all safe from sticks and traffic. 

Huddled in my rain jacket, I laid back on the porch and watched the rain running off the roof. There was nothing to do. 

Eventually, it let up and we got back on the bikes and tackled Cemetery Hill.  The rule of hills is, if it has a name, it can't be good, but it was't that bad. Just long. And when we got to the top, of the many, many false summits, it was pretty flat after that. 

The goal for the day, because it was so flat, was to just click off the north-south country roads that we passed. 

First up: L51. Let's do this thing. 

R17 24 Happy Christmas Eve on this Slacker Sunday!

Happy Christmas Eve, Little Beavers!!!

Here's your newest edition of Slacker Sunday: the audio from the Ride Out Day 2.

It's 16 minutes long, but I find it amusing. Enjoy!

Click Here!

R17 23 RideOut Day 3: The Beaver Pond and Talking it Out

Cherokee! 

The Best Western had disappointingly decided to revamp the decor of the hotel, so out with the wagon wheels and catuses and in with the boring carpet and the beige. Our room was nice, though, and there was room for bikes and gear and what-have-you. 

I decided to go and hop in the pool, bringing my beer with me. It was quiet and refreshing to be weightless and chilled. The deepest point was only five feet, so I bobbed around in peace. 

Then the Mayor came in, sent by Steven to make peace. He dangled his legs into the pool and explained where he was coming from with the hotel room in Sac City. I bobbed around and explained where I was coming from about the hotel room in Sac City. I am not sure that we saw eye-to-eye, but we at least understood each other. So that was good. 

Beaver pond. 

Then we shuffled through showers and headed out across the parking lot to the Mexican restaurant. The RM were there and they decided to join us. We got a big table and margaritas and ate a million chips and salsa. I had the fajitas. Delicious! 

I would have liked to hung out for a bit, drank another six margaritas, but the table soon started shuffling to leave so we paid up and headed back to the hotel, where we debated routes out of town in the morning--the old Cemetery Hill versus not Cemetery Hill debate, watched part of Le Tour and then drifted off to sleep. 

Day 3 was a doozey, but the ride out wasn't over yet.

R17 22 RideOut Day 3: Alta, Aurelia, Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Happy Winter Solstice Little Beavers! It is the shortest day and the longest night of the year! Don't forget to celebrate with some pagan rituals or something. 

Highway 7 Road to Heaven

There are two bars in Alta, Iowa. The Century Club and Scooter's. The Mayor thought we should explore side streets looking for another bar, but Steven and I barked him down with grunts of disgust. 

Scooter's it was. And Scooter's was nice with a cheerful barmaid who was very kind and kept the waters coming. I think I drank three of those huge Pizza Hut size cups of ice water and two beers. I was done talking for a while. 

And, it wasn't too soon after that we were back out on the road and headed towards Aurelia, slowly creeping towards Cherokee. Thankfully, the traffic seemed to quiet down and the clouds came out and that was a big help. There was a nice long zoom into Aurelia and I found the Mayor, Steven and the RM all waiting for me at the Casey's. 

Apparently the bar in town wasn't open yet. 

So, we bought a bunch of snacks and went up to the covered back deck of the bar, where there were nice red picnic tables. The RM joined us and we had a nice time chatting about the ride and Des Moines and politics. The only downside was the fact that the air conditioner kept roaring to life and drowning us out and reminding us that we were still hot and gross. 

 

Steven's snacks. 

Whoops, forgot one thing! 

But we were growing quite fond of the RM. They told us stories of their adventures on ragbrai and beyond. Ruth was a teacher for a long time, so we had a lot in common. 

We took a look at the map, compared it with Ruth's map, and made a plan to get into Cherokee. At this point, I tried to explain to the crew that the hotel is on Highway 59 in Cherokee, but when it goes through town it goes up a huge, curving hill that is partially blind to traffic. I thought it made much more sense to do what I did the year before and duck over to a side street and do the climb there. Everyone nodded and soon enough we were on our bikes and off for the last quiet slog into Cherokee.

Not sure where this is...but it's pretty

The country roads were lovely. Gorgeous, open landscape.

There were some long hills, but a gratifying zoom downhill onto Highway 59. RM had mentioned a side street, but it never materialized, so we rode, en mass into Cherokee. 

When we got to the base of the hill, the Mayor and Steven were ahead of me and they just kept charging up. I yelled, "goodbye!" and ducked over to the side street. Steven looked back at me quickly but then followed the Mayor up the death highway hill. 

The RM were behind me and they followed me up the hill through the residential streets, then then through the K-Mart parking lot and on to the "bike trail"/sidewalk that lead up the hill towards the hotel. Steven and the Mayor were waiting for me. The hotel wouldn't let them check it without me--which I crowed about--I may be slow, but I have the credit card, fuckers. 

And with that, the riding part of day 3 was over. It was time for pool, and Mexican food, and snoozing. 

R17 21 RideOut Day 3: Stormy Lake

Whoops! There's a mistake!

Sorry beavers--there's a mistake on this map. We essentially went straight north out of Nemaha and took that yellow road 7 into Storm Lake. We skipped 71 because we thought it would be busy and scary, and when we crossed it, we realized we were right. 

The ride out of Nemaha was okay. Lots of empty farmland stretching out into the distance and lots of negotiations to build a ship that would carry men into the Arctic. (The trip was funded by a newspaper magnet). 

Finally, after a hill that we could see for a long time, and then a nice downhill, we turned onto County Road 7 and shit got real. It wasn't that busy, but it was busier. And the road sucked. Potholes, rumble strips, the works. And there were hills. Nothing big, but just big enough to be demoralizing. F.M.D.

I really thought about chucking my bike into the ditch and laying down in the road for an F150 to hit me. Ugh. 

But I didn't. And soon we crossed 71 (and looked both ways) and made it into the outskirts of Storm Lake.

They are nice to cyclists here.

They are supportive of cyclists, but some of the roads around town were still pretty crappy, but the three of us rode together until we got to the bike trail that winds all the way through Storm Lake. 

Looks nice from here. 

We got on that, then we rode to the hotel, then we backtracked, then we parked the bikes in the sun, then we went inside and got a table. And then we saw the RM. Apparently, we were on the same track as them.

Where are all the boats?

We got a nice table in the restaurant and ordered beers and food, though no one was super hungry because it was so hot and sticky and gross out. 

And now we internet 

For some reason, the waitress refused to bring us water. We kept asking and asking for it and she just wouldn't do it. Beer, yes. Food, yes, but all we wanted and needed was water and she kept "forgetting it." 

This was the only ration of water we received 

Which was weird because she and her husband owned the bike shop across the street and she told us all about the cool ride that she and he had put on as a ragby shake out ride, with food and beer and t-shirts, etc. But could we get a water? Nope. 

Steven's lunch--won't be burping that up all day or anything

After lunch, we used the nice bathrooms and then went to the bike shop. I can't remember what we needed, but I bought a new set of gloves and some more chamois creme--you can never have enough! The owner (what is his name?) wasn't there, which was disappointing. We were hoping for some route recon. 

Begrudgingly, we headed out to the front porch where we proceeded to drop our bikes and fumble around getting ready to leave. 

Then, the owner did show up! He had been running errands and had just gotten back. We ran our route idea past him--essentially the same C-Banger that I took on the first ride out. "Well," he said, "normally, that is the route I would tell you to take, but they just put in the shoulder on Highway 7. It is wide and safe and mostly flat. You can take that into Alta and Aurelia. It's a great ride." 

Really....we said. Really? 

"Yes, really." So he gave us directions out of town and we fumbled and bumbled through the streets of Storm Lake until we arrived at the turn onto Highway 7. And he was right! There was a good deal of traffic, but the shoulder was great. Wide and protected by rumble street. 

And then, we were off! Westward with a bit of a tailwind. Steven and the Mayor faded off into the distance and I rode along, trying to focus on my stories and the unfolding landscape around me. 

Baby horses! 

But all the baby horses in the world couldn't pull me out of my funk.  I think my brake is rubbing. This sucks. I think the wind shifted. All the toxic thoughts came to the surface as I dragged my hot, tired, grumpy ass into Alta, pulled off the highway and went into the bar. 

R17 20 RideOut Day 3: Nemahahahahahahahaha

Here we are

We pulled into Nemaha and wound through the tiny streets to the "downtown." I wondered if Hazel was still alive, and it turns out: yes! So we parked the bikes and went inside. Hazel looked a little healthier, like she'd lost some weight, but the store was the same, except, with less snack options, no coffee, and a single variety of soda: Squirt. 

Steven went to the bathroom and gave me that secret look she gives and a tiny "no" head shake. So we said goodbye to Hazel and did a bit of a beaver-leaver and headed to the very shady park on the other side of the street. We sat on the gazebo and got some snacks out of the fun-pannier and did some map-analysis. 

Nemaha ahahahaha

There was some lingering grumpiness from hotel-wasted-Mayor-gate the night before and none of us were ready to let it go. So we snacked and mapped and tried to ignore one another. 

Then we had a welcome distraction. The RM pulled up at Hazel's. We walked over and said hello and they brought their bikes over to hang out with us for a bit. We did some chatting about routes and finally decided we would head north out of Nemaha, then take 71 to the south side of Storm Lake and then wind our way into town on the bike trail. 

The RM was headed a different direction, so we wouldn't be seeing them until we got to Cherokee, we thought. 

Before we left town we stopped at the Co-op. Wow, was it nice! No one was in there, it was carpeted and quiet and air conditioned, with a brand new bathroom for chamois creme application. 

I decided to turn on an audio book to listen to for the long mid morning stretch. My selection was Hampton Sides, In the Kingdom of Ice. It is the tale of a group of explorers that decided to travel to the north pole, via the Pacific Ocean. They believed that they could break through the ring of ice on the pole and hit open water in the middle and then sail to the north pole. 

That, didn't happen. In fact, it ended in disaster. 

I'll try to remember approximately where I was as I was riding along, but my thinking was, that I wanted to at least get my brain into the head space of being very cold and listen to the tales of people who were more miserable than me. 

Bon voyage! 

R17 19 Ride Out Day 3 Good Morning Western Iowa

Day 3 

In the morning, we rose in the pre-dawn and packed our belongings. Steven noted that even though there had been a hug-out, some catharsis, and a night spent in a hotel room that he didn't have to pay for, the Mayor had still placed the tent poles on her bike.

No mercy among fast and light baggers

The day was hot already, as the sun was coming up over the fields and Domino's car dealership. We pulled out of the hotel, hopped on to the road, zoomed down the hill and then crawled back up it. I reminded Steven of years before when we had ridden up this hill, side by side, during the hottest, yuckiest ragby in history. We had seen the Mayor and the Tiger getting water at the town pool. Steven looked at me and said, "should we stop for the guys?" 

That saddle is the Tiger's ultimate revenge. 

"Eh, fuck em," was my reply. Which delighted a nearby cyclist, who laughed out loud. Then we turned south and caught a nice slow moving pace line into Lake View where the water in the lake was approximately 98 degrees. Good times. 

At the top of the hill, we stopped at the Casey's for all the refreshments. Iced coffee, Gatorade, breakfast burritos, and bottles of water in case we couldn't find anything later.

Sweet Hawkeye Ride

Sac Citizens were getting ready for their day, getting gas and coffee and staring at the stupid cyclists in spandex and neon. A postal worker pulled up and I gave her my post card to be mailed. And I took a picture of the popcorn ball, now expanded. And then we climbed on to the bikes and headed west. Would we find Hammerhead and breakfast? I had my doubts.

No even more popcorny! 

The road west was nice. It wasn't too hot yet and there were fields with corn and cute houses and some lovely wild flowers. At one point we climbed up a long, low hill, with a big truck behind us. When Steven got to the point where she could see over, she gave the driver a thumbs up, so he would know it was cool to pass. That happened a couple of times. It was really nice. Them waiting for us, us helping them along. 

Eventually, we turned north and wound our way through hills and fields and stands of trees. It was lovely. It really was: a gorgeous, quiet morning with only a few speeding cars. 

We stopped at Highway 71. We looked both ways. And then we headed on, trying to keep our eyes out for a lot with two houses on it. Lance said, "we couldn't miss it." 

But we must have missed it because before long we could see the tiny town of Nemaha on the horizon. 

Steven was waiting for us in a farm yard. She said that when she had gotten there, a farmer pulled into his driveway. He stopped and said, "you must be one of those crazy bikers I heard about at coffee this morning." 

"Yeah," she replied. "We went to Domino last night." 

"I know," he said with a grin. 

Our reputation proceeded us.

R17 18 RideOut Day 2: Viking Bay and Berserkerring

Sac City

Mary parked the truck outside of the Viking Bay bar on another street in Sac City. I think I remembered riding by this joint years ago, on the ragby with the White Tiger and the endless, heart-stopping heat. We hadn't stopped at the time, so I was intrigued to see it now.

Inside, we found small town Iowa's version of a tikki bar--all tropical colors, fake palm trees, and Easter Island-heads. We took a big table and ordered big beers.

On no, not again. 

Steven and I sat down with Mary and Jerry. Through the course of our conversation, Steven decided that Jerry may be suffering from dementia, and he had some very bad teeth, so bad that Mary would scold him if he smiled. It was kind of sad, but at least they had each other!

And I have Steven, squinty eyed Steven

Steven and I ordered lots of food, though I can't remember what. The Mayor was off proclamating to another table. He was Mayoring up a storm, and we could tell by the volume and duration that he was pretty well drunk. We all were.

Then the Mayor came over and demanded that we order cheese balls. Why hadn't we ordered cheese balls?! He wanted to know. So we ordered cheese balls. They arrived. We told the Mayor, but he was too busy mayoring, so then Steven and I ate all the cheese balls--you mayor, you lose!

Even Jerry! 

We ate and I bought everyone's dinner--by way of thanking Mary for the fun evening and we headed back to the pick up, back up the hill, and back to the hotel. We said good-bye to Mary and Jerry, and headed inside for some much delayed showering.

Steven and the Mayor let me go first. The bathroom felt more like a grandmother's house than a hotel bathroom and everything was damp and covered in damp white towels, but I was happy to be clean. When I turned the water off, though, I could hear the Mayor and Steven fighting in the other room. 

They were continuing the hotel fight from before, Warm Showers versus hotels, planning versus spontaneous, who would carry the tent, etc. Finally Steven said, "fine, I'll carry the tent poles," by way of calming the Mayor down. 

I came out of the bathroom and they quieted down. I went to my side of the hotel room and got my gear organized. Then I climbed into bed to look at the map and read and start to make my voice memo for the day. 

Soon Steven came into join me. It was very cozy and relaxed. Just making our memo and looking at the map and thinking about the next day. 

Then, the Mayor came into our side of the room. The hotel had two queen beds on one side, divided with a half wall, and a king size bed on the other side, where Steven and the Mayor were going to sleep. He laid down, face-down, on the other bed. Then he reached up and turned off the lamp, which was annoying because Steven and I were reading the map. 

"B." I said. "If you don't turn that lamp back in five seconds, I am going to punch you in the dick." 

The Mayor just giggled. 

I counted down. 

The lamp stayed off. 

So, I jumped off my bed, jumped on to the other bed, just as the Mayor was curling into a fetal position, and proceeded to punch him, several times, not in the dick, exactly, but certain in the chode. Then, I stood up. Turned on the lamp and laid back down on my bed. 

It felt good. After all the Mayoring, proclamating, complaining, and not-being-part-of-the-teaming, the Mayor had done over the course of the day and the evening, I was over the. shit. 

Eventually, we all went to our respective beds and went to sleep. In the middle of the night Steven came and got into the extra bed, looking for some extra space, and we all got a relatively good night's sleep. 

Day 2 done. 

R17 17 Ride Out Day 2: Ooohhh Oh Domino!

Hey Beavers--guess what! It is Sunday, but not Slacker Sunday. It turns out the blog is the only thing giving me real genuine joy and distraction right now from the tire fire that is my life. Also, I couldn't think of anything for Slacker Sunday--so you get, on a Sunday, one of my favorite stories from the #RideOut. Enjoy. 

Just all around Sac City 

As we are zooming back up the hill to the east side of town, it dawns on me: we aren't going for pizza.

Domino's, it turns out, is not a chain pizzeria, at least not in the Sac. It is a car dealership. It looks like a car dealership from a 1970s film--all heavy tan bricks, wood paneling, and small windows. It smells like oil and new tires. We walk in and head straight to the back of the shop, where about six or seven old dudes are sitting around bullshitting. 

One of these old dudes is Jerry, the fella that Mary is dating. The rest of the guys, well it is not clear who they are exactly. But, they sort of welcome us in. I think they were all a little taken aback by three, tipsy young people in Team Beaver t-shirts showing up to their exclusive after hours party, but they give us Styrofoam cups full of Black Velvet and Mountain Dew (a surprisingly delicious combination) and we get started shooting the shit along with them. 

My recollections of this happy hour are sort of blurry. Perhaps the whiskey and four beers that I drank at the Place on State, combined with two days of dehydration were affecting my brain. But somehow it was decided that a guy named Hammerhead, who lived on our route out of town should cook us breakfast?

Mary gets on the phone with Hammerhead

I was put on the phone with Hammerhead for a while and I tried to convince him that we didn't want cereal. We wanted breakfast burritos. This poor fella. He didn't know what the heck was going on. 

Then Steven got the most interesting and least wasted dude, Lance, to give us directions. 

I was tried to write them down with a Sharpie on the back of a sticker. It wasn't working well and it kept smearing. We were laughing all the next day about the instructions that went, "when you get to Highway 71, stop (and he stops), look both ways, and then proceed." 

We didn't end up taking these directions that by-pass Storm Lake, but we were delighted to have them. You can hear the various knuckleheads in the background--both cyclist and old dude--chiming in. 

Then, super extra drunkenly, we kidnapped Mary's "boyfriend" Jerry and we were off to dinner! With Jerry in the truck there was no room in the cab, so I hopped in the bed, and enjoyed that magical, wind-in-the-hair, back of the pick-up cruising back down the hill and into town. 

The day was turning to evening, we had just gotten drunk in the back of car dealership, I had a buzz, we were being driven around, and dinner was afoot: we had found #RideOut heaven.

R17 16 Ride Out Day 2: You Brought Her

I Need a Detail Map of Sac City Because We Went Everywhere

After checking in to the hotel, and saying good-bye to the RM (they were going to eat across the street--remember that really slow Swedish-milk-maid waitress? Hahaha.), we decided we would ditch our gear in the room, throw on civilian clothes, forego showers, and head into town with our new friend Mary.

She wanted to show us off and show us the town. 

So, I said good-bye  and fuck off to the Mayor and headed over to my hotel room, that I would share with my best friend Steven. 

But the Mayor didn't listen. Oh no. Once a hotel room had been acquired, and he wasn't on the hook for it financially, well, he would just waltz right in and make himself at home. That is when I decided to stop looking at him for the evening. 

I was so annoyed. 

But, Mary was waiting, so we tossed on our TB t-shirts and headed back out into the heat. Mary loaded us all into her truck and we headed down the hill into town. I glanced at the campground as we drove by--it looked miserable. I was happy with our air conditioned choice. We turned on to a side street and parked in front of one of the bars: "The Place on State." 

Now, this was my kind of place. Dark. Cool. Slightly dank. It was like a meditation cave after the frenetic heat and energy of the day. We bellied up to the bar and Mary bought us a round. I chatted up the tiny, perhaps middle-aged, short-haired very drunk lady next to me, and Steven made friends with the bartender. 

As with everyone, we tried to convince them to come on ragbrai. 

After our first round, I bought a round for everyone sitting at the bar, and the Mayor bought me a shot of whiskey. He always does this when he is outpacing me. He wants to help me catch up. 

I met one of the guys at the bar, whose name was "Banger." He told the story of having brought a couple ladies to a party--one pretty, one ugly. His friend hooked up with the pretty one, and he was left with he ugly one. His friend said, "you brought her, you bang her," and the name stuck. 

Hero. 

Banger and I talked about Des Moines, and Iowa, and whatever. Somehow in the middle of all this cheap beer pounding, Steven decided to help the bartender (Stacy?) with a table behind us. She brought their drinks to the table, and then took the money from the old guy who bought the round. The guy was only going to give Stacy a $1 for six drinks, so Steven in her charming, silly, badgering way managed to shame the dude into coughing up a $5 tip. 

My new friends! 

Essentially, we owned this bar, and I would have happily sat here all night, making friends, pounding High Lifes, and eating those tiny packets of peanuts (no Munchos to be found), but Mary started talking about doing to Dominos. 

"Dominos? Huh?" I thought. It seemed strange that there would be a Dominos in such a small town. And I thought we were going to the Viking bar for dinner. "Meh," I thought, "drunk ass cyclists with no cars can't be choosers, so I settled up, tottered back out into the sunshine and climbed into the truck again.

Dominos it is.

R17 15 RideOut Day 2: Sac it to Me

Zoom 

After we left the farmers, we had just a short stint on the county road west--and then we turned onto Highway 71 and it was amazing.

There was a huge, wide, protected shoulder. The wind was coming out of the south and blasted us up and over each hill. We were flying along. I was even in the front! Imagine. 

Then we had to turn west again and head into Sac City, less shoulder and more cross wind and so the fun ended there, but we all pulled up next to the liquor store (all our ice served cold!) for a breather and a decider. 

We stumbled around in the liquor store, trying to decide what we wanted to drink. Bob (was that his name?) wasn't there and they would be closing soon (really?), so there was some pressure to get something and get a move on. We got some beverages and met up with the RM who were hanging out on the patio of the hotel. 

It was kind of miserable, just patio chairs in the sun, but it was nice to be seated. And then our friend Mary showed up and joined us for a beverage, but the choice of where to stay tonight was simmering. Would we get back on our bikes and go down the hill to the campground and camp? Or would we see if there were any rooms available and stay here, where we already were? 

Steven went into the hotel lobby and discovered that there was a room available--a three bed suite for $70. Perfect, I thought. But Steven came out with a serious face, "B. won't let me get the room." 

[[Pause for explanation]]

Way back in the planning stages of the Ride Out, the Mayor had proposed that we do "Warm Showers" for the Ride Out. Warm Showers is a website that connects mostly cyclists traveling cross country with friendly people who don't mind letting cyclists crash on the sofa or in the yard. There were Warm Shower stops along a similar route and we could have stayed there and skipped the camping gear. The Mayor's other idea was that we have Smitty be our support vehicle so we wouldn't have to carry our gear. 

It really seems like the Mayor doesn't want to bag. 

My argument is that I didn't want to do Warm Showers. Doing Warm Showers, much like doing Ragbrai would mean that we would be beholden to people along the route. They would be expecting us and we would have to be polite, not show up at a ridiculous hour, make small talk, etc. And we wouldn't be able to deviate from our route. We would have to ride one route no matter what, because these places were already set up. 

Of course, we had booked in advance a room in Cherokee for the next night, which meant that we had to go to Cherokee (unless we cancelled the room the day of). 

For me, the Ride Out is about freedom and adventure. It is about having everything you need on your bike so that you can make whatever choices you want. If you have a tent, and you chose to stay in a hotel, that is a choice. If you don't have a tent, you don't have a choice. And I don't mind bagging. I'm fat and slow, but I really appreciate my freedom. 

And so here is the rub. The Mayor was still resenting the fact that we had not done Warm Showers. "I carried this tent all the way here. I don't want to spend the money on a hotel" was his argument. 

[[Back to Narrative]]

When Steven said, "B won't let me get a room," my eyes went crossed and my head started to spin. "Won't let you?" I asked. I have been screwed and sued and tattooed, but there is no way, no way in this world that a man, any man, decides what I do or don't do. (Perhaps knowing the feminist backlash that would come from this, the Mayor planned this all along.)

So, I marched into the lobby, booked the room, patted the very cute puppy that was in the lobby, and got my key. The Mayor could ride his damn bike down the damn hill and camp! Enjoy. I'll be here. In the air conditioning. At the Sac Hotel. 

Of course, we all know that this is not how things panned out.