The Great Bicycle Ride

Our First Camp

Our Friend Steve Mattern

Called Ragbrai, it is the Registers Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa, and I am not sure how we got involved in this. It is a 7 day, 450 mile ride during the last week in July each year. This year was the 39th ride. When asked, “why are you doing this?” we have no real answer. We are not bikers. Until Ragbrai, our longest ride was the 53 miles we rode the last weekend before we left for Iowa. (When I was in my 20’s I rode my 10 speed 100 miles from Bryce Canyon to Zion Canyon with a friend of mine.)

We joined a bike team, The Big Dogs, invited by an old friend who has ridden six or seven times. “It increases your chances to draw out,” he told us although Ragbrai insists that it does not increase your chances. Yes, permission to ride across Iowa in July on the Ragbrai route comes with a lottery. We won, or lost, the lottery depending on your viewpoint, and had credentials to ride.

We drove to Omaha where we spent Friday night with our friend. Steve Mattern was a member of our church in New Mexico. He was the first to tell us about Ragbrai. “Of all the people I know,” Steve told me, “You are one of the last I would have thought would call about riding Ragbrai.” Steve was very helpful, gave us some good advice, loaned us some equipment, and showed us a trick or two. Steve is the source of the information that it is easier on the bottom to wear 2 pair of biking shorts. Very helpful! After riding a week, I wonder if 3 pair would work even better.

On Saturday, we drove to Glenwood, Iowa. This is the starting town. We went to the OOS campsite. OOS stands for Out of Staters. This is the charter company that Steve recommended to carry our baggage from town to town and then give us a bus ride back to our car after the ride. We dropped off our tent and baggage and took the Tahoe to the long term parking. There we paid the fee, parked the truck, and rode our bikes back to the camp. On the way back we stopped for lunch at a roadside vendor. We had a rib eye steak sandwich and a bottle of Gatorade. (The first of many bottles of Gatorade we consumed over the next 7 days.) The sandwich was to die for. Wow!

After an afternoon of looking around at the displays, setting up the tent, getting our credentials in order, and sweating like pigs, we were alarmed by a long loud siren. The tornado signal. The sky had darkened, a breeze came up, and we had no idea what to do. Eventually there was a little rain, it happened while we were in the theater watching the safety video. Then the skies cleared a little and we ventured out to look for dinner.

On the town square there were a lot of food vendors. We walked by them all looking for our best choice. We finally chose a Mexican food vendor, partly because the line was some shorter than the others. Jen and Steve chose a taco salad. I had a walking taco. Back in New Mexico we called them Chili Frito Pie, but basically it is a single serving bag of Doritos, lightly crushed, with the chili poured into the bag. You walk around and eat your taco out of the sack.

I had been promised pie, pie and more pie and so far I had found, no pie. I settled for a cupcake with Ice Cream and we headed for camp.

To say it was hot and humid in the tent is an understatement. One of the things Steve clued us into was a tent fan. It would have been impossible without the fan. While lying there we were sweating. We were sweating because of the humidity, and we were sweating as we thought about the ride beginning tomorrow. There remains an element of doubt. We have never rode this far before, we have never rode in this kind of weather, and we have to ride 65 miles tomorrow.

Outside there was a celebration going on. Fireworks, auto horns, people yelling. The two people in the tent next to ours could be heard having a regular conversation. We feel like we have been on Ragbrai for almost a week, and we have yet to ride one mile.

Lying in all the heat and commotion, thoughts of adventure mixed with a little doubt, Jen says out loud, “Don’t touch me!” Understand, we are in our backpacking tent. It is only 4 feet 4 inches wide. “You are touching me!” she says a minute later when our arms touch. I am thinking this reminds me of when I was a kid, sharing a bed with my brother. “You are on my side!”

This could be a long week.