Great Bicycle Ride Part 6, Day 5

Altoona, Iowa to Grinnell, Iowa; 57.5 Miles; 3,202 feet of uphill.
A Family Affair

Today the hills return. One of the things I didn’t say yesterday about riding flat terrain is that in addition to having trouble getting the weight off the tush, you have to pedal every stinking mile. So we are looking forward to the hills. Going downhill, makes up for pedaling uphill, and after all, they are mostly only little hills. Today the talk is about Colfax hill, the “mountain” they call it just after Colfax, IA.

After about 5 miles this morning we are still in a populated area. For most of the trip there have been State Patrolmen or County Sheriff’s at all highway crossings to stop traffic and allow us to continue without stopping. Not so this morning. We have to obey traffic signals, of which there are quite a few. Fortunately we are out before much traffic. Seeing a convenience store, we decided to stop there for our morning coffee. We bought a cup and shared a package of little sugar doughnuts. I had 5 Jen had 1. This is when I discovered that she had been eating a power bar every morning before we started. No wonder she wasn’t as into looking for breakfast as I was.

My Little Biking Chickadee
What Sgt. Shultz would look like on a Bike.


One of the amazing things about this ride is the sheer number of riders. While we are sitting in the chairs outside this little store eating doughnuts and finishing our coffee, hundreds, maybe a thousand riders pass by. A little while down the road, we will ride by a stop or go straight through one of the pass through towns, and pass hundreds of riders, perhaps a thousand or so and get ahead of them again. At one point, sitting in the shade of a canopy, we were talking with some guys from Iowa who do the ride every year. We were watching bikers buzz by and Jen just casually commented, I wonder how long this line of riders really is. One of the guys said, “It is 10 AM. Some of the riders have already reached the end town. There are some who are just leaving camp. So the line stretches for the whole 60 miles of the route.” That gave us a new perspective.

The riding today was better for both of us. We both had good days and just kept pedaling along. At one point in the afternoon I started getting sleepy. You know how sometimes when you are in church, or heaven forbid driving, and your head starts to nod. With a start you realize you just went to sleep for a second. That happened to me twice while riding my bike today. Maybe it was time to find some shade for my nap.

Colfax Mountain was right out of the town Colfax. You had to start up the mountain from a dead stop. It wasn’t really a mountain, but it was a steep hill. People were pushing their bikes up it. Jen said she wasn’t even going to try and pushed up it. I dug out my iPod, put Michael Martin Murphy, “The West is going to get Wilder Tonight” in my right ear, began with the bike in granny, and started pumping. Before MMM finished I was at the top of Colfax hill. It wasn’t as hard as Twister.

In one of the through towns today someone, somewhere must have had little American flags they were selling or giving away. I started seeing them on the back of bikes, and on the ground where they had fallen off. After miles and miles of seeing the flags fairly often I thought to myself, I would like to have one of those. The next one I pass I am going to get off my bike and pick it up. It is not an easy decision to get off your bike when there is not food or drink or shade involved. As you can guess, I didn’t see any more. Later in the day I passed another flag and stopped and picked it up. It wasn’t the stars and stripes though, it was the Zia sun symbol of the New Mexico State Flag. It was the only little state flag I saw the whole trip. I attached it to the back of my bike.

Jen had a Ragbrai license plate attached to her bike that had her name, Salt Lake City, and the fact that she was a Ragbrai Rookie. (I lost mine before I got to Iowa.) It was a great conversation starter. People would ask her about Utah. Some asked if she was Mormon. Most wanted to know if she rode her bike from Salt Lake to Iowa. I told her she should say yes, and make up a story about the trip across the Rockies, and how far it is across the great plains. Our GPS said it was 998 miles from Salt Lake to Bellvue where Steve lives, and another 20 or 30 to Glenwood. That would have been a great story about riding 1000 miles in the two weeks before Ragbrai just to get to the starting town. There is a difference, don’t you think, between lying and spinning a good tale. People are asking because they want to hear a good story; might as well give them one. Well that is my opinion anyway, ministerally speaking.

I was ahead of Jen and at the place I stopped at the top of a hill, a church group was giving out free watermelon slices, while some of the members circulated among the bikers trying to give out tracts. When Jen came by she didn’t want to stop so she just rode on. I grabbed my bike, started to get on when the pedal I put my foot on rolled, my foot slipped and my momentum carried me forward onto my falling bike. I hit the ground. I fell off my bike. “Biker Down!” I heard the shouts from riders coming up. No!, Not me. I didn’t fall. As fast as I could I picked my bike up and got off the roadway to choruses of, “are you ok?” “are you hurt.” Gee, how embarrassed can you get? I wasn’t hurt. I banged my knee just a little but it didn’t even leave a scrape. My ego sagged quite a bit. The one person I could look to for comfort was oblivious. She heard the biker down shouts, later she said she wondered if it was me, but not wanting to lose momentum she rode on. Don’t you love the gift of mercy that girl has?

Seven miles before the end of today’s ride we came to Rock Creek State Park. The route actually took a little detour to take us through the park. There was a nice little lake, lots of grass, and plenty of shade. It was like a through town with booths for food set up. Jen had been having trouble with her gears shifting correctly so while she stood in line at a bike repair tent I went looking for water. All I could find was Gatorade. I bought one for me and one for her, took hers to her while she waited in line but she said she didn’t want it. It was a blue one, I hate blue ones, so I gave it to the girl behind her in line.

The final miles into Grinnell were uneventful, her bike worked much better, and by now we can cruise seven miles without even thinking about it.

Sign of the day: On the back of the shirts of a bike club. “The Trust Me Bike Club” Then there was a picture of a fat cat smoking a big cigar, and below that “the banker.” Some said “the lawyer.” One said, “the realtor.” Jen said to one of them, “I am the Nurse, could I join your bike club? ” “Sure” the man told her, “We accept everyone except politicians.”

Great Bicycle Ride Part 5, Day 4

Boone, Iowa to Altoona, Iowa; 56.1 Miles; 1,147 feet of uphill.

On paper, today looked to be the easiest day of the ride. It has the fewest miles and the least amount of climbing. In addition there are 8 pass through towns, the furthest being only 13 miles apart. For Jen and I, 13 miles is just a little over an hour. At some point today, we will pass the halfway point of the ride in both miles and time.

Last night before bedtime we had a little philosophical discussion. Our friend Steve leaves early, rides straight through, and gets to the end town before noon. Sometimes a couple of hours before noon. He gets a hot shower, changes to regular clothes, and gets a lunch and a dinner in the end town. Jen is thinking that she might want to do that. My philosophy is the best food is in the pass through towns. The entertainment is there also. There is good shade, lots of water, and you don’t have to hurry. It is more enjoyable to spend the afternoon in pass through towns than at a shade less camp site, under a crowded canopy, where the drinks are limited, the food is far away, and after the afternoon in the humidity you will need another shower anyway.

We have been setting our alarm for 5am and getting on the road a little after 6. She wanted me to set the alarm for 4 am and get on the road a little after 5. To think, I thought after the hard day yesterday she might want to ride the baggage truck. I compromised, set the alarm for 4:30 and told her, I am not starting to ride while I need a light to see the road. We shoved off a few minutes before 6.

Yesterday as the sun broke over the horizon, there was a turn in the road that made riders visible in front of the rising sun. Many people stopped to take pictures, alas, once moving we find it very difficult to stop for a photo session. I took this photo off the Ragbrai Forum and there is a short video of the riders at daybreak at this link. http://ctitech.com/users/chris9//index.htm


Riders at Daybreak

Water was hard to come by at our camp last night. I kept drinking until after 10 pm when the place I was getting water closed. By morning I only had about 2” of water in one bottle and the other was empty. Since there was no place to fill up, we started with very little water. I filled up as soon as possible, but I am wondering if I got a little dehydrated. After breakfast at Farm Boys again, another terrific burrito, I began to feel nauseous. I started looking for a place to give the burrito back. I knew that was a sign of dehydration, but by then I had full water bottles and had drank a Gatorade. I just suffered.

It resembled our hike on the AT. Some days Jen was the hiker and had to encourage me, sometimes I was the hiker and had to encourage her. You just have good days and bad days. This was Jen’s good day, yesterday was her bad day. It was the other way around for me.

Around noon, I forced myself to eat a pork sandwich, although I was still feeling bad, and I began to feel better almost at once. I don’t know what it was, but we mowed down the miles and arrived at Altoona around 2. Flat miles are difficult in their own way. When you are going up and down, you work harder on the up hills, but you can rest on the down hills. Specifically you can stand up a little in the pedals and get your butt off the seat. By now, any pressure off the backside is a blessing.

Altoona is a suburb of Des Moines. We were on the edges of a large metropolitan area instead of a small Iowa town.

When we asked about dinner, one of Steve’s friends told us the best place to eat was the buffet at the grocery store. I could see us standing around deli counters trying to find enough to eat to get full, but he assured us it was a good deal. We went there, and he was right. It was the best meal I ever ate at a grocery store. For 8 bucks, seniors price, we got an all you can eat pass, for the pizza, Italian, salad bar, deli, fruit bar, etc. Plus it was a sit down table, and it was air conditioned. It was the first time we got back on our bikes to ride after we had showered. But it was a mile to the grocery store.

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in a rec center. We took our camp chairs down there, set them up, and talked and read until 10 pm when they ran us out into the hot. When we arrived at our tent it was close to the concert venue. Grand Funk Railroad was playing and it made sleeping impossible. After GFR another group played for an hour. I tried the ear plugs, but when I put them in, the ringing in my ears was louder than the rock band. We just suffered until the concert ended. I surreptitiously reset the alarm for 5.

We are over halfway. 256 miles down, 198.6 to go. 4 days down, 3 to go.

Sign of the day, well actually, comment of the day.
Jen to me when I was feeling sick. “Hold it down as long as you can to give your blood pressure medicine time to digest.”

Great Bicycle Ride Part 4, Day 3

Carroll, Iowa to Boone, Iowa; 70.9 Miles; 1,787 feet of uphill.

Now we have answered several questions. We can ride 60 miles in a day. We can ride a second day. There is no reason a third, fourth, and fifth day should be any different, at least as far as soreness is concerned. Fatigue may set in at some time though.

This is the second longest day of the ride, and the longest ride we have ever made in one day. It is also the second flattest day. When I mentioned that to Steve he said, “Yeah, but over ¼ of the climb is on one hill. “Twister Hill,” they call it. Bikers in the know have talked about it a lot. It is the monster out there will kill us all. Twister Hill got its name from the movie, Twister. I haven’t seen the movie, but this is the hill that the twisters blow the house down. It is impossible to climb. Most riders will have to push their bikes up this hill.

At 6:16 we begin pedaling. Twister Hill is in the back of the mind. The 71 miles between us and Boone is closer to the conscious thought. Another thought and topic of some conversation about today’s ride is the Karras Loop. Some riders have a desire to have one 100 mile day on the ride. Today there is an optional 30 mile loop that will bring today’s total to 100 miles. That was never an option in Jennifer’s mind, and since I wasn’t going to do it without her, we never even considered it. We can save 100 miles for another day. As I pedal I am thinking, “you know, I am not going to kill myself on Twister Hill either. I am not too proud to push my bike up a hill.” After all, I have to do that quite regularly when riding in the Wasatch Mountains. One ride we have taken several times calls for an uphill push of close to a mile. So with that solved in my mind, I concentrate on the flat miles in front of me.

Breakfast was finally at the farm boys. It was a great breakfast burrito. Actually it was a burrito buffet. You start with a tortilla and you tell them what you want in it. They pack it in, roll it up in a paper cover, and voila!, a breakfast burrito. Of course there is no green chile or pinto beans, but it was a grand breakfast.

For lunch we stopped at Mr. Pork Chop and had a one inch thick pork chop that is served in a napkin. There was a party going on at the farm we stopped at. There was a beer garden set up with a DJ playing requests. A few dancers had legs to give it a whirl. There was a pond with a rope, and others were over there having a great time swinging and plunging. Honestly, I don’t know where they get the energy. They still have to pedal all the miles too. May have something to do with their youth, you think? We ignored the dancing, stayed away from the pond, and after the Pork Chop we took a nap in the grass, then stopped at Beekman’s for ice cream. After yesterday’s mistake, we never passed Beekman’s again. I also told Jen if she wanted ice cream she had to get her own. No more sharing, I was going to eat a whole cup.

We still heard a lot of talk about Twister Hill, it loomed between our present location and Boone. It has to be climbed.

Riding again I saw an interesting interaction between a young couple. They were dressed in the full bicycle garb, meaning matching bike shorts and shirts. They were about 50 yards ahead of me, when reaching the top of a hill she got off her bike, picked it up over her head, and slammed it to the ground. He pulled off with her, bent down and straightened her bike up. She had gone off to the side of the road and was sitting staring out into the cornfield with her back to the road. I rode by just as he sat down next to her and said in an attempt to comfort, “It will be ok. It is not that bad.” I have no idea what she was mad at, or what he was referring to. But I can think of several things.

Today Lance Armstrong passed me like I was standing still. In fact, I was standing still. The only thing I can figure is he passed us while we were napping. This was the only day he rode. He started a couple of hours later than we did and finished earlier, so he had to have passed us. Later I read that the average speed of the majority of Ragbrai riders is between 12 and 16 miles per hour. The faster riders average around 20. Jen and I consistently averaged between 10.5 and 11.5. Lance averaged 27. I wish I would have been on the road when he blew by. The wind would have felt good.

After a water break in Pilot mound we still had 14 miles to go. Twister Hill was in 3 miles. In reality, it is not a hill at all. Twister valley would be a more appropriate name. You first go down into the valley, cross the river then climb back out of the valley. It is a deep and steep valley. Going down, my speedometer hit 46 mph, I was going to get all the roll out of the downhill as possible. Before I started down I put my iPod in my pocket, put one ear bud in my right ear, and put on my exercise playlist. My plan was to go to granny gear as soon as necessary then pedal to the beat of Michael Martin Murphy and Garth Brooks.

The right side of the road climbing out of the valley was filled with walkers pushing their bikes. When I stopped before starting down to start my iPod Jen went ahead. I couldn’t see her. I hit the bottom at 40mph and moved to the middle of the road to avoid the walkers. I got to granny and pedaled to the sounds of the “West is going to get Wilder tonight” and by the time the first Garth Brooks song, “Baton Rouge” was winding down, I was at the top of the hill. Somewhere on the upgrade I passed Jen who was pushing. I know she could have climbed that hill. She is better going up than me, but she obeys rules better than I do, (No head phones allowed) and we had already done 60 miles that day.

(I will talk tomorrow about the no head phones rule, I have an opinion.)

The rest of the ride I began to worry about Jen. She was totally pooped. I had to encourage her to keep going and for the first time I began to wonder if she was going to have to take a day off tomorrow and ride the baggage truck.

Dragging into camp we had no energy to ride again to find something to eat. We took the shuttle to a church where we were told they were serving Lasagna. They actually were serving Gyro sandwiches and grilled chicken, pie and ice cream. We spent about an hour talking to the Pastor and his wife, trying to encourage them. They are serving in a hard church. Then we sat on the curb for about an hour waiting for the shuttle back to camp. It was the one and only time we trusted the shuttle.

It was bedtime when we got to camp. We hit the tent, happy this day was over. Jen had said nothing about not riding tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to suggest it. We will see what tomorrow holds.

Sign of the Day: on the shirts of a bike club from Truckee California.

The Donner Bike Club: We eat the slow ones.

Great Bicycle Ride Part 3, Day 2

Never too much water

Atlantic, Iowa to Carroll, Iowa; 65.4 Miles; 4,719 feet of uphill.

I set the alarm for this morning 30 minutes later, 5:30 and we were still able to get on the road at 6:15. We had enjoyed the riding yesterday and were looking forward to riding again. I would describe my legs as something between tired and sore. At 62 years old, how hard was it going to be to recover? The second day stared us right in the face. Today’s miles were going to break the record, established only yesterday, for our longest ride.

Steve gave us a biker hint last night. He said when he first pulls into the end town he stops at a convenience store and drinks a bottle of chocolate milk. The milk keeps the tannic acid from building up in the muscles. Jennifer gagged a little at the thought. It sounded like a great idea to me. I love chocolate milk and it has been off my diet for all of 2011.

We started today’s ride by going back down the same hill we pushed up last night. That topped off the bitterness we felt last night as we climbed the hill. For what? An ice cold shower, a shade less tent spot, and a crummy hamburger.

For the last 40 years my day begins with a cup of coffee. As we begin the bike ride, I search the signs for a place to get a cup. It is 14.7 miles to the first town where breakfast will be available. That’s ok, but can I make it that long to coffee. Once on the road, there are signs advertising the places that are serving. 5 miles to Breakfast. 15 miles to Mr. Pork Chop. Water, Gatorade, cookies, watermelon, bagels, bananas, etc. for sale up ahead.

Yesterday we had pancakes for breakfast. Jen thought a breakfast burrito would be a better choice. So we scanned the signs for a burrito. There was a sign for The Farm Boys advertising a breakfast burrito. When we got there, the line was looonnnngggg. We kept going. Besides bike riding and sleeping, more time is spent on Ragbrai standing in line than doing anything else. More than once I heard someone ask, “What is this line for?” Across the street from Farm Boys was a food stand selling brisket sandwiches and fries. There were only three people in line. That made a pretty good breakfast.

Our concern about legs proved to be unfounded. After a few minutes, the kinks were out, the stiffness gone, and we could pedal. The one part of the anatomy that got worse day by day was the back of the lap. We learned to stand on the pedals when going downhill to relieve pressure on the butt. We were wearing two pair of biking pants with padded rears. I began to wonder if a third pair would help.

I ride a little faster than Jen does, especially downhill. Gravity pulls a little harder on me. We tried to find a system that worked for us. If I was in front, I would slow at the tops of hills and let her catch up. If she was in front I had to ride my brakes a little which seemed the wrong thing to do. On this second day, we started letting her get a head start then I would ride til I caught up.

We were using this system when Jennifer passed up Grandma’s Pies advertising fresh fruit pies and ice cream. She just zoomed by without stopping. If I stopped without her she would get so far ahead I would never catch up. To make things worse, she passed Beekman’s homemade ice cream. She could claim she just didn’t see Grandma’s, but there is no way she couldn’t have known Beekman’s was there. You can hear those ice cream makers from a mile away. So we changed the system. No more letting her lead. She thinks a sliced apple with peanut butter on it is enough of a treat that you don’t need pie or ice cream. This ride is only 7 days long. I want to eat as many carbs as I can while I am burning them off.

When the day warmed up, people who have homes along the route would turn their sprinkler on and face it to the road. What a refreshing treat to ride through the spray. Sometimes kids would be standing by the road with their water guns shooting at passing riders. Some towns rigged a waterfall you could ride through as you entered town. I never missed a chance to get wet while riding.

We made a little better time today, mainly because we didn’t take a nap. (and because we passed up pie and ice cream.) The campsite today was before you actually got to town. It was in the yard of a church. The showers were in a semi-truck in the parking lot rigged up for the purpose. The water was warmer than yesterday, or perhaps a better way to say it, it was less cold. Once again though, we were too far from the main event to go in for a meal so we settled for the chicken dinner at the church. At least they had pie and ice cream.

Because the camp was before we got to town, we didn’t get to try the chocolate milk idea. Steve said he didn’t get his chocolate milk either. Maybe we will try that tomorrow but by then the Tannic Acid will probably already be ensconced in our muscles.

Tomorrow is 71 miles. Everyone is talking about a monster hill, “Twister Hill.” It is on tomorrow’s route. Tomorrow is also the day there is an optional 30 mile loop to give riders the opportunity for a 100 mile ride. If you look at these towns on a map you will see that so far we have been riding mostly north. Tomorrow we turn east.

Sign of the day: on a hillside as we left Atlantic, “We are not a one night stand, please visit again.”

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.”

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.

WHAT NOW? MAY 21 IS PAST AND WE ARE STILL HERE.

“If you get through with the lawn before I get back, start chopping the weeds in the back,” my dad would say as he started his white Dodge pickup to go to town. When I was a boy, I worked for my dad in his business as a contractor/home remodeler. He had me do the jobs that were not very glamorous but were important. I can’t begin to tell you how many closets I have painted or doors I have varnished.

At some point on most days he would leave me at the jobsite and drive away. He told me he was going. Sometimes he told me where he was going, but very rarely would he tell me when he would return, just that he would return.

In his absence I would work, or not. If I worked steadily and made progress on the job, I would look forward to his return with gladness. If I messed around and didn’t work, I didn’t look forward to his return with joy, but with fear. I didn’t want him to say, “what have you been doing?” How I saw his return depended on me. Was I ready, or not? Would he find me about his business?

One of the saddest things about this latest Rapture/end of the world prediction is that it takes our eye off truth. Jesus said he would return. He told us to be ready for his return. One day the sky will open and the Son will outshine the sun. It will happen but Jesus meant it when he said, “No one knows when that will be.” It is not on anyone’s timetable, it is not hidden in dates or numbers in the Bible, it is not revealed in ancient calendars, or to self-proclaimed prophets.

The one thing he told us, “Be Alert!”

When He comes, it could be a time of great joy and gladness, or a time of fear and trembling. Which it will be, depends on us. When He returns, will He find us ready? Will he find us living as He taught or will He find us neglecting the things of God?

Because Harold Camping was wrong, as we were all sure he would be; and because all those who have predicted it before were wrong; we could get the idea that it is never going to happen. Let’s have fun. I have laughed at many of your comments. Be sure however, we are making fun of self-important, deluded men, while still trusting the basic promise of God.

“The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9 NASB)

Setting Dates and Prophets of Doom

One of the clearest statements of Jesus concerning his eventual return is “you don’t know when it is going to be,” but watch the signs and remain prepared, because you don’t know when it will be.

Even with the clarity of Jesus’ own words misguided souls have misled their followers with date setting. Several of today’s religious sects began with a leader who set dates. Seventh day Adventists for example began with William Miller who predicted 1844. Jehovah’s Witnesses began with a date of 1914, then later 1975. Mormonism’s founders, Joseph Smith and his theologian, Sydney Rigdon, were apocalyptic, however they never set exact dates.

In the 1980’s , Edgar C. Whisenant predicted the Rapture would occur in 1988. Harold Camping, set a date in 1994, and is now promising next Saturday will be the day. (see www.familyradio.com)

What about it? Is there any reason to believe May 21 as the end?

All these charlatans have something in common? The day comes, the day goes, and Jesus is proven right. They didn’t know the time or the day. They lose followers after a set day goes by, but they all give a new definition of what happened, and some go on. Eventually their false prophecies are forgotten and they again mislead people from the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

Camping’s ads explain the verse in Mark 13 with two statements. He says that in the Greek text the word son is not capitalized so it doesn’t refer to Christ. That is as disingenuous as Jehovah’s witness claims that since the definite article is not in the Greek text of John 1:1 it means the Logos was a god, not God.

Both are a misunderstanding of Greek, either out of ignorance or intentionally. NT Greek doesn’t use capital and miniscule letters the way we do. In fact, most manuscripts have either one or the other. They don’t mix them.

Camping’s second explanation is that since Jesus is Divine, he would know everything. To say that he didn’t know the date he was returning is blasphemous. That ignores the teaching of Philippians, that Jesus emptied himself. While he was on the earth, there were parts of his divinity that he purposely left behind so he could live as human and thus become the substitute for our sins. (see Philippians 2:6-9)

I believe the Son knows the date today. But he didn’t know it that day in Mark 13.

Like Robert Kirby, writing in today’s Salt Lake Tribune says, you are going to need to mow your lawn next Saturday as usual. I would recommend you get your spiritual relationship right with God. I recommend you be on the alert. When you are least expecting it, Jesus could return. So it could be on Friday, May 20. It could be on Sunday May 22. But I am positive that it won’t be on Saturday, May 21. Jesus said, No One knows!

Paying off Debt

Just wondering-- I just read that it took two decades after the death of Thomas Jefferson for his grandson to pay off the debts he incurred with his high living. I wonder how many years it will take our children and grandchildren to pay off our government debts incurred by high government spending.

Lotteries, Luck, and Lunacy

February Training Ride

Back in the 90’s, The New Mexico Department of Game and Fish decided the elk unit that I had been bow hunting for several years needed a limit on permits. They set the limit at 400 and had a lottery to decide the 400 hunters. I did not draw. There were 407 applicants for the 400 slots.

I have played in many golf tournaments where in addition to the winner’s prizes, there were door prizes. Some of these have been awesome prizes. I have never won a golfing vacation, a set of clubs, or even a putter, chipper, driver, or bag. The best I ever won was an outdated computer printer. Usually my prize was a luggage tag, a golfing towel, or a key ring advertising an insurance company.

I am not complaining mind you, my lack of luck has kept me from ever losing even one dollar in a state lottery, or as my dad calls it, the stupid tax. I know better than to enter.

I say all of that to say this. The bike ride Jen and I have entered limits the weekly riders to 8500 but they always have more entries than permits. The “lucky” riders are the ones who win the lottery. I don’t know how many entries they normally get, but I am just cognizant of the truth that I may not get chosen. (I am just glad salvation isn’t by lottery. Jesus said, “whosoever will may come.”)We won’t know for sure until May 1. (About the Bike ride, not salvation.)

In the meantime, we must continue training. My friend Bill, who went on the ride the last two years, when asked if he had any words of wisdom said, “pedal, pedal, pedal.”

Flint and Jubilee’s next adventure.

For those of you who don’t understand the names, Flint and Jubilee were the trail names we assumed in 2007 when we attempted another great adventure. It was that year we started from Georgia on the Appalachian Trail headed for Maine, 2274 miles away. Alas, after only 550 miles a knee problem forced us to quit, rather, I was forced to quit and Jen quit with me.

I spent a year with a chiropractor, under direction of a physical therapist, with a trainer at the gym, and against the recommendation of my orthopedic doctor trying to rehab my knee. We returned to the trail in Virginia in 2008 at the place we left it, 360 days later. It didn’t take long to realize it wasn’t going to happen. We hiked for about 6 weeks and made a total of 800 miles, although we hiked most of the 250 extra miles without our backpacks.

It was a great adventure. We had a fabulous time. The only way I could ever make the hike again would be by getting a knee replacement and then the other knee would probably become a problem. If you want to read more about it, look for documentation in this blog. Look in 2007 posts.

So now we are going for a new adventure. It is not as time consuming, 7 days instead of 7 months; not as far, 465 miles rather than 2274. It is called Ragbrai, which stands for Registers Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa. Register stands for the Des Moines, Iowa Register, the newspaper that sponsors the ride. 8500 riders ride an average of 66 miles per day for 7 days, camping each night in designated campgrounds. The 8500 week long riders are joined by 1500 daily riders, making a total of 10,000 riders each day. It should be a very interesting sight.

We have joined a team, the Big Dogs, invited by an old friend from New Mexico who now lives in Nebraska. The biggest possible problem is the necessity to enter a lottery for the ride. More people apply than can ride. That is the reason for joining a team. It increases our chances of drawing out.

Next post I will share our training plans so we will be ready for the ride.

Then soon, look for the announcement of our Greatest Adventure Ever. Well that might be a little hyperbole, having children has to rank as the greatest adventure ever. But we are planning a biggie. Stay tuned.

Is Conversion Real?

For a low key, but absolutely gripping answer to that question I recommend Laura Hillenbrand’s new book; Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. (New York; Random House; 2010)
It is the story of Olympic athlete Louie Zamperini. Louie was an Olympic class athlete, running in the 1936 Berlin games as a youngster. He was looking forward to the 1940 Olympics, first scheduled for Tokyo, then Finland, and finally cancelled completely because of World War II. His story of crashing, surviving the ocean only to be captured by Japanese sailors, is fascinating. Louie spent the war in POW camps.
One guard was his personal tormentor, subjecting him to beatings and other de-humanizing, de-grading punishments. My dad’s comment after finishing the book was, “it is incredible the things the human body can endure and still live.” After the war, back home in Southern California, Louie could not sleep without dreaming of this guard. He filled waking hours with plans of vengeance, how could he kill this man. This obsession consumed him. He began drinking to numb the pain. His wife took their little girl and left for her home. Life was spinning out of control.



*****CAUTION ***** SPOILER FOLLOWS *****
*******don’t read past here if you want to read the book and you don’t want to know the fantastic ending. ******




When his wife came back to California to settle the divorce, she happened upon the Billy Graham Los Angeles crusade and had what the book calls, “a spiritual experience.” She begged Louie to go with her. He went the next two nights and after the second evening, he surrendered his hate and his desire for vengeance into the hands of a loving God.
The hatred went away. He never dreamed of the guard again. He dumped his liquor stash down the sink. He made his marriage work. Jesus Christ made a difference in the life of Louie Zamperini. "Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold new things have come. (2 Cor. 5:17)

A Camping Date

According to our latest edition of Backpacker magazine a lot of people like to take their honey on a camping or backpacking trip as a date. Hey, I am just telling you what the magazine says. The Article gives 7 rules to follow to keep from ruining your relationship while camping.
1. Don’t go too high, too far, or in terrain that is too rough.
2. Don’t treat them like a pupil, correcting all they do, or try to do.
3. Don’t let your goals drive the trip, take it easy.
4. Don’t try to fool them into thinking you know what you are doing, if you don’t.
5. Don’t feed them boring meals.
6. Don’t forget you are on a date. (a little kissy face once in a while, you know.)
7. Remember, deet bug lotion is not massage oil.
Those sound like some pretty good rules to me. I made sure Jen read this article hoping she might start following the rules.

Do You Know What A Drawing Room Is?

Bill Bryson can write a great book. (A Walk In The Woods; In a Sunburned Country; The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid) Bill Bryson can write a boring book. (A Short History of Nearly Everything)

At Home: A Short History of Private Life is both. In a tour of the English house he lives in, he tells us how we got from living in caves to the homes we live in today. Scattered throughout the chapters you will find yourself saying, “Ok Bryson, move along,” but it is fun to learn the origin and history of many of the things we take for granted today; like rooms.

One of the things I found most interesting, Bryson doesn’t even comment on. Taxes. One of the mottoes of fiscally conservative thought is “if you tax something you get less of it.” Three examples of that are in this book. When pane glass was first invented the government put a tax on glass. People built their homes without windows, or at least with very small ones. When the tax was removed, people bought glass, glass factories sprouted everywhere, and there was an employment boom. The same thing happened with wallpaper and soap. It was a great day for cleanliness when the king lifted the soap tax.

Compare these with our high unemployment rate. Our government taxes employment. If you tax employment, you get less of it. Social Security, Medicare, Worker’s Comp, Health Insurance (for over 50 employees), all work to keep unemployment high. Add to that the uncertainty caused by congress’ inability to act and we are in for more high unemployment figures.

Even as our government debates the estate tax, also known as the inheritance tax or the death tax, Bryson tells some interesting history of its beginning in England. Beginning at just 5% it increased until it became 60%. It is a popular tax for governments to impose because it affects so few people each year. During the years of the 60% estate tax, England lost many of its treasures. When people died, their heirs had yard sales to raise the cash to pay the tax. They sold their heirlooms. Among other things, they sold “Paintings, tapestries, jewels, books, porcelain, silver plate, rare stamps.” Most of these landed in the collections of Americans. I wonder if there is any lesson for us from this history.

Anyway, if you have an inquisitive mind at all, I recommend this book to you. Oh, the drawing room; read the book.

Reason 8

Reason #8 for a Road Trip—Signs or Spider Pig, Spider Pig


Driving into the Florida swamp we came across this warning sign. Hmmm, we wondered, exactly what is it we are too look out for? Could be a bear, but it could be a pig. After all, we were going into swampland, pig country, not forestland. Down the road we found another sign that clarified the issue. It was the same strange animal, with a baby following. No doubt here, it was a cub not a piglet. We got a lot of conversation out of this sign

The other sign that we saw was at a rest stop in Missouri. Well, I said we, but only I saw it. Jen just saw the picture I took. When I saw this sign I took it to heart and stood there until I could not wait another minute. It is not true. You do have to use your hands!

To Infinity and Beyond

Pause in the reasons for driving while I share the reason for going at all. We were headed to Orlando to see our son and grandson. We had three great days with them. One day to Walt Disney World, one day to just play around, and one day to the Kennedy Space Center. These we would have done whether we drove, flew, or walked.
It is tough to live 2500 miles away from your only grandchild. You have to make the most of every second you have, so every visit is cram packed with activities and little time to just relax together. This time though, he said, “Hi Grandma,” as soon as he saw Jen. He is beginning to remember us from visit to visit.
He seems to be into something different every time. Last summer it was race cars. We raced cars on the floor, in the pickup bed, at the beach, at the restaurant. He had a race car with him everywhere we went. This winter it was hockey. We played hockey down the hall, we played hockey in the street, we played hockey on the mezzanine at the E Center while a real hockey game was going on. This weekend it started with a race car, but it was quickly surrendered for an airplane and then a rocket ship. After our trip through pirates of the Caribbean, we played pirates for hours. I just hope there wasn’t anyone in the room below us as our little pirate hit the floor after being shot or stabbed, over and over.
We are on our way back west now. More reasons we are glad we drove later.

Reasons 5 & 6

Reason # 5 14,000 foot Mountains.(from the bottom up)
The mountains we drove through are the same mountains we fly over. They look different from the top. There is something amazing when seeing them from an airplane window. There is something awe inspiring when seeing them from the ground. At one point, while tooling along the highway, Jen was reading aloud from our devotional book. As we were meditating on the author’s words we could see four of the 14ers and the ground sloping up to them unmarred by anything man made. The view caused both of us to regard the magnificence of creation and of the mighty God we serve. Wow!

(Picture is Mt. Massive from the 2nd Fairway of Mt. Massive Golf Course, Leadville, Colorado)

Reason #6 Stars
Reason number 6 is similar to reason number 6. When we walked to our cabin last night it was late. Well, it was late for us, around 9:30. Looking up into the sky, we could see millions, maybe billions of stars. It was a night sky invisible to us at home in the city. But in Lake City, really misnamed, it should be Lake Village, the night sky more closely resembled the sky Abraham observed. It was while looking into a starry filled sky that God promised him descendants more numerous than the stars.
We went on in the cabin. Profane person that I am, I turned ESPN on to check the day’s events. Jen found her hat and gloves and went back outside, lay back on a bench and played like an astronomer. There is something about looking into a black night sky, sprinkled with the light of the stars, to make a person think of eternity, and the eternal one.

ROADSIDE SERINDIPITIES

ROADSIDE SERINDIPITIES

Reasons 2,3,4 not to fly cross country.

2. Lunch. Look at this lunch spot and compare it to the city diner in any airport and tell me, which is the better lunch site? This isn’t even taking into consideration the homemade chicken salad sandwich vs the sterile deli bought one.

3. Golf. We have stopped twice now along the way for a stroll around a 9 hole golf course. By the time we get to the east coast and back, Jen may be a golfer.

4. Fresh peach. Need I say more? Colorado peaches are in season, there are roadside stands all along the way. I saw a vendor selling fresh apples in the Albuquerque airport once, but only once.

By the way, saving money is not a reason to not fly. My bookkeeper tells me we have already spend enough to have purchased two round trip tickets.

SMALL TOWNS

SMALL TOWNS
You have to love small towns. They have an ambiance and a pace of their own. We drove into Meeker, Colorado about 4 pm. We didn’t know whether we were going to stay there or 38 miles on down the road at Rifle. When we passed the golf course Jen suggested we play nine holes for a little exercise.

We went to the golf course; no sense turning down the opportunity, especially if Jen suggests it. It was described as the Meeker golf course and steak house. There were workers putting a stucco coat on the outside of the building. We wandered in the only open door and found ourselves in the steak house. We wandered around and found the pro shop but no Pro. We looked around, waited, tried to look conspicuous, but no one showed up.

Finally we went back into the restaurant and asked the bar tender. She said, “Oh, Jim is probably out playing. Just go ahead and play and you can pay when you finish.” We ran into Jim on the first tee. He said to play and settle up after we were through. Jim was about to play the back 9. (the back 9 and the front 9 are the same 9)

After golf we went looking for grub. The Meeker Café, located in the Meeker hotel in downtown historic Meeker was advertised in our guide book as an excellent chicken fried steak. Theodore Roosevelt is said to have stayed in the Meeker hotel. When we walked in the door, we realized that there was some kind of an event in progress. The Meeker medical community was welcoming their new doctor to town. I had a nice visit with the hospital CEO and Jen with the director of planning and development. They invited us to just get a plate and visit their buffet. It is a good thing, because the restaurant was closed, due to “a special event.”

Alas, when we found a Motel, there was someone there to take our money and assign a room. Pretty normal there.

Fear of Flying

I am not a fan of air travel. The time savings are nice, and if time is essential, worth the hassle. But every time while flying I look out the window, I know I am missing too much.
From 35,000 feet you can see so much more than you can from the 3 feet of your car seat; but you experience so much less. Flying over the Great Plains the other day I could see the earth beneath me laid out in nice neat one section squares. Some of the squares were further divided into two or three rectangles. In many sections you see circles touching all four sides of the square, but leaving gaps in the corners.
Then you can see the towns. Interestingly most of them neatly occupy two to four of the squares. To the air traveler who is even looking, they are just nameless little burgs that break up the landscape.
That is when I wish I was driving, and not on the interstate. We hurry too much across the country. Who lives in the town? What kind of businesses are there? You know there are churches and schools. Who is the pastor? How far do the kids travel to attend a consolidated school? All the questions we never ask, because we are flying over or buzzing by on the interstate.
I notice a clump of hills, not too far from one of the towns. On top of each hill, it looks like some giant bird flew by and left it spattered white. I would like to know what that is. If my Tahoe was my transportation, I could drive over and take a look, or at least stop and ask someone. Of course, if I were driving by in my Tahoe, I probably wouldn’t even know it was there, just some hills in the distance. I can’t even go back and look because I have no idea where we were.
Next month we are driving to the east coast. Our plan is to stop and experience a lot of the places we normally go over or around. Check in later, there might be some good stories.