Great Bicycle Ride Part 2, Day 1

Glenwood, Iowa to Atlantic Iowa; 59.5 Miles; 4,298 feet of uphill.

Our plan was to begin biking at 6 am. I was confident that we could bike 60 miles, although the furthest we had ridden was 53. I was not as confident of the second day. We had never ridden long distances two days in a row. First day first though.

The other uncertainty we faced was the hills. The 4298 feet of elevation gain had to be different than riding in Salt Lake City. The ending town was less than 200 feet in elevation higher than the beginning town. With every foot uphill, there must be a corresponding foot downhill. And looking at the elevation chart, I couldn’t see any climb higher than 200 feet. We had trained on a route that had a 500 foot climb in 3/10 of a mile. It was 180 foot climb from our house to the Cotton Bottom intersection that we rode most days while training. How hard could this be? Then you do the math. If all the hills were 200 feet tall, there would be 21 hills. They would be spread over 60 miles though. It was thoughts like this dancing in our heads as we tossed and turned, sleep mainly avoiding us.

One last stop before we hit the road. The traditional beginning of Ragbrai is to dip the rear tire of your bike in the Missouri river. 7 days later, a dip of the front wheel in the Mississippi river completes the ride. Unfortunately the flooding along the Missouri forced the authorities to close access to the river. A pool of Missouri river water was provided for the rear wheel dip. The picture is our wheel dip. Now to the road.

Wheel Dip

The rivers of bikers forming up and blending in to make the ride amazed me every day. As we left our campsite, bikers were merging onto the main road from every side road, every intersection, coming together to head down the highway towards the first town we would pass through. It was really like rivers, headwaters turning into creeks, creeks into rivers, and the river rolling along.

Then we were out on the highway, out of town, riding in the relatively cool morning, between fields of corn stretching over the horizon in both directions. Bikers in front of us, bikers behind us, faster bikers passing us on the left, and an occasional slower biker we passed on their left. “Yippee,” I yelled out loud as we pedaled along; only 450 miles and 7 days to go.

The first pass through town was Silver City, Iowa. Here is where you begin to get the idea of the number of bikers. The streets are so full it is impossible to ride through town. You get off and join a long line of people, all pushing their bikes through town, stopping to eat, drink, rest, or use a porta-potty, called a Kybo. (Keep your bowels open) The next two pictures are of Silver City, the procession in front of us, and the one behind.



For breakfast we enjoyed pancakes and sausage. For lunch, we found a sloppy joe and finally, a piece of pie. Out on the lawn we took a nap before restarting. The morning had remained cloudy but about noon the sun broke through and the mugginess hit full strength. The temperature rose to 102-104 depending on which bank sign you believed.
Rounding a curve in the road we discovered Beekman’s homemade ice cream. Berkman’s has quite an operation. With about 7 single stroke gasoline engines turning homemade Ice cream cranks, he makes a terrific treat for hot afternoons.

Berkman's Homemade Ice cream operation


Around 4 pm we finally pulled into Atlantic. Following the signs to our campground we got the first taste of end city itus. We just kept going and going, and discovered the 59.5 miles was from city to city and didn’t count the miles you rode to your campground. Finally we came to a long, steep hill we had to climb and were absolutely destroyed. Neither of us could overcome the defeat, we got off and pushed our bikes up the hill to the campground. It wasn’t a physical shortcoming, but a mental one.

Steve met us as we came in. He had begun to worry about us. He is one of those riders who leaves early and rides straight through. He had been in camp since 10 AM. Showers were in the Middle school. We paid $5 for a shower, $1 for a towel. The shower was so cold it was impossible to get in it. We were too tired to go anywhere for dinner, so we bought a hamburger from a school wrestling team, waited until the sun went down, and went to sleep. Sleep came easier the second night. Worry about the ability to ride a second day with tired legs would have to wait until tomorrow.

Sign of the day. Posted in one of the pass through towns; “Chuck Norris never rode Ragbrai.”