R17 57 3.6 Algona to Clear Lake: Storm's A Brewing on the Dock of the Lake

We sort of made it to Clear Lake

After the adventures at the Back Pocket stop, the beavers got on the road and headed to Ventura. We were going to rendezvous at the Muskie Lounge: a favorite of mine. Fabulous tenderloins, by the way.

Somehow a bunch of lady beavers got together and we were all happily riding along, and then we took a group pee in some weeds. We chatted about the scourge of wild parsnip, and Masinga gave me a lecture on the topic. 

Muskie Lounge

Happy Beavers

Before long we were rolling into Ventura, Pochy's childhood stomping grounds. We pulled up at the Muskie Lounge, parked the bikes, and were ready to get our drank on. 

Mayor + Bagger

Bagger

Inside, we found a bunch of beavers at the bar and ordered 64 vodka lemonades. We drank those and then headed outside to the dock on the lake. There were ragbraiers everywhere. Jumping in the water, sitting on the rocks, walking around, etc. The only thing that would have made it more magic was sunshine. 

Spirit Animal

Too Much selfie

It reminded me of my first ragbrai, when we spent the night at Lexi's grandparents's house with Team Awesomeness and we all jumped in the lake together. And made corn. Memories. 

Beaver paradise

Soon we were joined by the baggers and the Spirit Animals and a good time was had by most. 

Beavers on the dock of the bay

But, then, in my fairly tipsy state, I looked around and noticed that Too Much was gone. Off on the shore, I could see him getting his bike and leaving. What? Where was he going? And why?

Then, we reconvened on the shoreline with a bunch of beavers. We were drunk and bullshitting and I said something, and then Masinga said something back. Probably explaining something to me. And I rolled my eyes. Then, I think I rolled them even more dramatically.Which pissed Masinga off.  And she left.

Not long after that I got the idea that I should leave, but my legs and my brain and the rest of me wasn't really cooperating. Because, you know, vodka lemonade. Somehow I found my bike, helmet, etc and got on. And I managed to point myself towards Main Street. I am so thankful that I had Bandit to beaver-shepherd me. It was a somewhat symbiotic relationship. I needed someone to make sure I didn't crash into the curb and remove all my teeth. She needed someone who knew where the homestay was located.

Team work.

Teetering and tottering, I found my way to downtown and through the mess of the party and then rode all the way down Main Street (probably not the most direct route), conquered the road construction, and then found some of the beavers--Too Much at least, floating in the pool.

I had made it, with the help of Bandit, and not without consequences, but I had found my way home. Whew.

Clear Lake wasn't done with us, though, not by a long shot.