Almost Home

Two long days of driving have brought us to a truck stop near Punxsutawney, PA, home of the famous groundhog, Phil. We’ll have to wait for another road trip to meet him…we are just passing though.

We have come to rest in a Flying J truck stop, complete with Denny’s restaurant, high on a bluff overlooking Rte. 80 on this final night on the road.

We expect to roll in to East Haddam late tomorrow afternoon, crank up the washer, and give Big Red a well-earned rest.

We’ll be talking about this adventure for some time. So what did you do on your summer vacation, Merrows? We took a three thousand mile road trip in an old diesel pick up truck so that Arthur could ride his bicycle 470 miles (sometimes in life-threatening heat!) along with fifteen thousand or so other lunatics.

We learned to appreciate truck stops, pork tenderloin sandwiches, and the handsome big-hearted state of Iowa with its corn fields and quintessential American small towns.

Arthur and Annie had one of the more unusual father-daughter bonding experiences including three flat tires in one day, and I learned that I can wrassle a big ole truck across a whole state of back roads and come up with cold beer when it really counts.

There was no noble purpose to this…except maybe that Arthur proved to himself that at 67 years of age, he’s not quite over the hill. RAGBRAI is surely an unusual rite of passage to old age.

We come back changed not only by all we saw but by knowing that the already small Merrow family is now smaller by one, having paid witness to the final chapter in Arthur’s mother’s remarkable 97 year life.

And if I could make one recommendation to my friends based on all this, it would be this:
 •  Go on a long journey to someplace not anything like your home,
 • try something you’re not sure you can do,
 • and once in a while go ahead…bite off and chew up the gastronomical equivalent of corn dog.

Thanks for coming along on this adventure!

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PICTURE CREDITS (1) Puxatawny Phil as found on Geekology; (2) Corn Dog from Flickriver.com (you might want to go check out their celebration of all things corn dog)

Follow Your Muse

BUT...

"You really ought to
give Iowa a try..."


A RAGBRAI celebration corn maze from 2011, fashioned by LeRoy Dammann and Bryan Mulhbauer. Constructed in Manning, Iowa

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PICTURE CREDIT: RAGBRAI Corn Maze found on the 2011 RAGBRAI website, photo by TJ Juskiewicz.

Big Red does Indy

...but not at the race track...

...the home of dear friends we have known for over 30 years

Eating on the Go

Where we stopped for lunch yesterday... if one of us ordered chicken,
and the other ordered eggs... which came first?

Lost Nation and Illinois Campgrounds

The tiny town of Lost Nation and the Knoxville, Illinois campgrounds where we stayed tonight frame this entry.

Before I forget – three more funny team names:
 •  Tall Dogs: We’ve Got a Leg Up on the Competition
 •  Fungus Amungus: We Grow on You
 •  the Skunk Team: Tails Up – We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Motto.)

Today’s route brought the intrepid RAGBRAI riders across the finish line in Clinton, Iowa. Soon RAGBRAI XL will be in the history books.

To get there, the Merrow Team overcame a few logistical challenges. Annie had to meet up with her ride back across Iowa with another team, which had to find each other in Clinton in order to reach her car in Sioux Center, the RAGBRAI starting point. Just to be sure that she wouldn’t miss this ride, I had to pick her up at the last day’s mid-ride meeting town, aptly named Lost Nation, and truck her the final 40 miles to Clinton.

With cell coverage iffy, the chances of being lost in Lost Nation were good. Our meet-up plan B was to find each other at the post office, based on the theory that every town has one. There was a moment of panic when it seemed like little Lost Nation might not have merited a Post Office, but there it was and soon there they were.

I would have to say that that Lost Nation did seem a bit lost…more down at the heals than some of the meeting towns. They put on their best welcoming signs and water booths. (The little library had a sign for water and free wifi. The librarian said they get credit toward funding by how many people come in. We came in several times.)

With Annie safely in Big Red, Arthur pedaled on the remaining 40 miles toward the finish line.

Once in Clinton, we found Annie a shower, sorted all the gear, and used our two bikes as dollies to walk it to her ride meeting point about a mile away. We made our goodbyes, and I turned my attention to finding Arthur.

I pedaled on up to the bike route, watched the riders coming in (one team of twenty in two tight columns from Simpson College in matching black and white shirts – impressive!). I joined the riders for the brief stretch to the finish line, feeling a little sheepish that people lining the streets were clapping for the riders and I was an interloper.

On they went, right to the banks of the Mississippi, where custom is that one is supposed to dip the front wheel in the river.

Soon Arthur rode in, looking pretty pleased with himself. I couldn’t get him to dip, but he did relent and hold his bike over his head in the customary celebratory salute.

The City of Clinton was not to be outdone with its food vender booths and bands. Clinton’s logo motto was “Where the Rubber Meets the River.”

Seven days and 450 miles, such camaraderie, so many adventures, so much pulled pork, so much beer.

Did I mention the one called Moose Drool, a brown ale that Arthur really liked!

It was time to pack it in, get out the maps and head east. We found Big Red, turned toward the Mississippi, and in a blink of an eye we were in Illinois.

We have fetched up tonight in a quiet, shady campground in Knoxville, Illinois. Tomorrow we will head for Indianapolis to visit with an old chum. Then two long days’ drive back to Connecticut. I will weigh in again with some reflections and of course, any adventures that the eastward trek. Thanks for coming along on this adventure.

In the meantime, I want to thank my blog coach and faithful editor, Will Brady. He is the reason that there are pictures and links on this blog, and they added so much. Thanks, Will!

Editor's aside ~ Thanks right back. It was fun to be along for the trip by proxy, and I didn't have to bicycle anywhere. BTW ~ The last picture on this page is a total guess. Sue didn't say which campground they are staying at, but when I googled Knoxville IL, only one cropped up ; and I have a soft spot for frogs]

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IMAGE CREDITS: (1) Lost Nation Library/City Hall - Wikipedia; (2) Moose Drool beer, made by Big Sky Brewing Company; (3) Galesburg East Best Holiday Trav-L-Park, Knoxville, IL.

Dunking the Tires

At the end of the race, it is also a RAGBRAI tradition to dunk your bike's tires
in the Mississippi. This year was no exception.

Crossing the finish line

Art crosses the line! Yes, I know it's blurry, by he can't go back and do it again now.

There's an old joke about why couldn't the bicycle stand up? Because it was two tired.
My tired riders in the camper nap spot after rolling in to Smallest.

A start to the final trek

Art and Annie are up early and ready to begin
the final leg to the Mississippi River in Clinton, Iowa

Day Seven

Anamosa!

Now that the weather has become more hospitable, it’s easier to appreciate the handsome landscapes of eastern Iowa. Having made the short trek from Cedar Rapids to Anamosa and found our next resting spot, I am gazing out the camper door at blue sky, puffy white clouds, and waving soybeans…yes, at this point in their maturity, the wind makes what looks like ocean waves in the soybeans, and it’s mesmerizing to watch.

This part of Iowa is more hilly, so the terrain has an almost New England feel, except that there are no rocks. A stone wall would be a foreign concept here.

My riders stepped off so smartly this morning that they reached the mid-way meeting place in Mount Vernon before I had even left Cedar Rapids. No point in meeting them there, so on I went to the next host town. I’ve texted them to tell them how to find the RV campground and how to look for the Jolly Roger flag on a nearby camper to home in.

They have no doubt been tempted by the food venders all along the way. Annie’s favorite: Kelly’s Berry Best pies.

In this quiet spell, I will tell you a bit about the red carpet which Cedar Rapids rolled out for RAGBRAI. Their theme was “Surviving the Ride,” an homage to the reality show Survivor, particularly apt because there is an island in the middle of the river that runs through their downtown, and that’s where the main festivities were.

We shuttle-bused in for food-vender supper – garlic chicken wrap for Annie and me, and pulled pork sandwich for Arthur – and spent an hour watching the crowd, which was equal parts cyclists and local people. (My new favorite food treat – a lemon basil mint smoothie, although raspberry lime shave ice is a close second.) Because they had each cycled further in a day by 20 miles than either ever had in their lives, they were tucked in by 9:15 PM.

Czech Village: This morning the party moved on to something called “Breakfast on the Bridge.” Cedar Rapids has a large population of Czechs, and the Czech neighborhood is a bit of the old world, with shops and bakeries lining a street that leads to an arched bridge out of town.

By the time we rolled in there at 7 AM (I came along on this adventure), the street was alive with shoulder to shoulder bicyclists, an acordion band, an oompah band, cyclists doing the polka, and bakers hawking kolache, traditional Czech breakfast pastries.

We paid a visit to the National Czech and Slovak Museum, which was hosting an exhibit of works by Alfonse Mucha (Czech art nouveau illustrator from the early 1900s). Annie had been looking forward to seeing this display all week. The Museum had been nearly destroyed by a devastating flood in 2008. What was left was moved to higher ground (actually made higher for the purpose) and beautifully restored.

With the sun getting higher in the sky, it was time for Arthur and Annie to pedal east and for me to pedal back to get Big Red ready for the next to last leg of the RAGBRAI journey.

Tonight we will sample what Anamosa has prepared to tempt its throng of visitors. Each host town has created a RAGBRAI logo and theme, and Anamosa’s is a cartoon of a cyclist making great haste and the slogan, “Ride it like you stole it!”

I thought the slogan was catchy even before I learned that Anamosa is famous for being home to the Anamosa State Penitentiary, a medium and maximum security prison, which is housed in an elaborate turreted stone building known as “the White Castle of the West.” Anamosa was also named the Pumpkin Capital of Iowa by the Iowa State Legislature in 1993 and subsequently hosts Pumpkinfest, a pumpkin festival and weigh-off, each October.

Tonight we’re hoping to find a church supper. The Lutherans are having pulled pork, the Methodists are offering Big House Potatoes and Jail House Pie. Or maybe we’ll head for the Community Center for ribeye steak sandwiches and Betty’s baked beans. My riders have just texted that they have crossed the bridge into town and will soon roll in.

Tomorrow it’s on to Clinton and the end of this unusual sojourn.

Battlestar Gallactica

This enormous RV came to rest next to us in Cedar Rapids while I was on my daily ice foray. We never saw a soul...it had tinted windows. It left while we were on our breakfast mission. We thought Battlestar Gallactica should have been its team name.

Day Six

The shortest in terms of miles; also the hilliest.

Hello, Cedar Rapids!

It is 4 PM on Thursday, and I have come to rest on a breezy hilltop in Cedar Rapids, not between cornfields this time, but rather between two stadiums at Veterans Memorial Park. In order to guide my riders in, I told them to find the WWII tank, sight down the barrel, and look slightly right. The temperature and air quality have improved greatly over yesterday, making for much happier cyclists. The change in the weather was ushered in by a long, loud, and flashy thunderstorm accompanied by heavy wind last night about 9 PM. We had to quickly stow gear, roll up the awning, and dive inside the camper. We heard tell of many flattened tents. I was happy to be closed inside something very heavy that sits on four large rubber tires.

Today’s mid-day meeting stop was in the little town of Vinton (where garbage pick-up was delayed for one day due to the festivities). Its classic old fashioned Main St. had been blocked off and turned into a street fair. The ladder truck with ladder extended to hold a flag marked the beginning of the festivities. The local high school cheerleaders cheered the riders in, and food and bike gear venders lined the street.

I had biked in from a remote lot, but cell coverage was so spotty that I couldn’t rely on it to find my riders. We just happened to find each other in the throng completely be chance.

Today will be the longest day, some 84 miles, but they had already come 50 and felt strong at noon. After a good dose of Iowa chow, they pedaled on. Annie has since texted that she had yet another flat, making three so far.

Tonight, the City of Cedar Rapids will put on an array of events…even a concert by Counting Crows, a band that Annie would very much like to see. It starts at 9:30, though, and she may not be conscious at that point.

One source of amusement on the RAGBRAI is the colorful outfits and catchy team names on shirts and buses.

Here are some of our favorite team names:
 •  Team Cow
 •  The Udder Team
 •  Team Caboose: If you are behind us, you’re on the wrong track
 •  Team Trust Me (one of whom was a lawyer, one a banker, and one a car salesman)
 •  The Barking Spiders (The Urban Dictionary defines)
 •  Team I don’t know. What do you think?
 •  Team Out Spokin’
 •  Team Trashed

And one touching sign on the back of a bike…Team Uffda: Taking Grandpa’s bike on one last ride. This team was was spreading the word about Alzheimers.

My riders have rolled in in good spirits, getting ready to hit the showers, and planning their evening.

Tomorrow it's on to Anamosa, the shortest day yet - just 45 miles, but hilly, they say. Onward.

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Dan Vickrey and David Bryson, from Counting Crows. The group, apparently, did the concert for RAGBRAI. Registered RAGBRAI participants were given free admission to the concert. Others paid 25 to 35 dollars. SOURCE: Wikipedia

Day Five

Fancy Sag Wagons

I'll have to write soon about the funny team names and the colorful buses. Here's just one of hundreds.

DEFINITIONS:
SAG WAGON: "Support motor vehicle following long races or recreational rides to pick up riders unable to complete the event. See also: food stop and SAG station. In racing events, typically the main group of riders will ride as a peloton and can be served by one or more SAG wagons trailing behind. In large recreational rides, there may be thousands of riders spread over much of the course, so ride organizers may employ roving SAG wagons to locate and assist stranded riders. In bicycle racing, another term for SAG wagon is broom wagon."
PELETON: "(From French, literally meaning little ball or platoon and also related to the English word pellet) is the large main group in a road bicycle race. May also be called the field, bunch, or pack. Riders in a group save energy by riding close (drafting or slipstreaming) near and, particularly behind, other riders. The reduction in drag is dramatic; in the middle of a well-developed group it can be as much as 40%"
Both from the Wikipedia Glossary of Bicycling.

Hot Times in Marshallown

While I sit here in Marshalltown waiting for Arthur to ride in, I have a few moments to tell you about Iowa food.

It's likely that the food venders know they must cater to folks with voracious appetites, but some of their offerings would make arteries harden just to hear about them.

Iowan fast foods First, there is a great love of things on a stick: pork chops on a stick, hard boiled eggs on a stick (why?), bacon on a stick, and as you might guess corn dog on a stick, although corn dogs here are foot long. Then there is the brat burger. Brats are bratwursts - tasty German sausage… but a bratburger is bratwurst ground up with more spices and made into a patty. Annie observed someone eating what's called a "walking taco," (pic on the left) a bag of Doritos cut open along the side and loaded with all the taco fillings.

Annie also came upon the "maid rite," which was described as "loose meat," which we took to mean sloppy joes without the sloppy. On several menu boards, we saw "taverns," (that's a picture of one on the right) which turned out to be sloppy joes with the sloppy. Can hardly wait to see what tonight’s exploration of the vender booths brings.

Our mid-day rendezvous today was the nicest yet. Trucks and buses were asked to park in a large mall lot a mile from town. Shuttles were available to reunite support drivers with

their riders. I got out my bike instead and pedaled in with beer and cold towels, guided by texts, to meet Arthur and Annie stretched out in a lovely shaded park, the scene of what looked like a festival of food venders, a country band, and even an antique carousel. Annie sampled the hush puppies, and Arthur had some pork extravaganza on a hard roll.

Annie wisely decided that riding on in 102 degree heat was not worth risking her life, but Arthur soldiered on, with promises that he would get in the sag wagon if he felt the vapors coming on. (Heat exhaustion is a common hazard on this ride.) Arthur pedaled off, and the Annie and I pedaled back to Big Red for the drive to Marshalltown.

It’s now several hours later, and Arthur has brought his bike across today’s finish line, unlike many others who hitched a ride on the sag wagon.

He reports that the first twenty miles after lunch were a snap. He got into what’s called a “draft line,” a line of cyclists where each one breaks the wind for the one behind. Then the heat and headwinds took a toll. One cyclist I encountered on my ice\beer run reported that the pavement temperature was 130 degrees. Arthur limped in at 5 PM, having visited a number of rest and water stops.

Tomorrow’s route is the longest of the ride – 84.8 miles. Even with possibly cooler temperatures (90 degrees…whoopee), this will be a slog. I will counsel caution.

Tomorrow, on to the bright lights of Cedar Rapids, the big city of the tour.

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PICTURE CREDITS: (1) The "Walking Taco pic comes from a website called The Zen of Making. (2) The "Tavern" photo was borrowed from Food.com. This particular photo credited to "Debbie WL". Comment on the site said that "Taverns" have less tomato sauce in them than most sloppy joes.

Day Four: Hump Day

Finding Fifth Gear

Dawn's early light...

Day Three, and Big red and I have settled into our routine. My riders roll off…this morning at 6 AM…I tidy up, batten hatches, check my maps, and we roll out on the truck route. There is almost always another camper in sight, but sometimes when the directions are confusing, we lead each other astray.

Heading off to Webster City
I totally missed the mid day meeting spot today. I must have missed a turn, and when I tried to correct, I got into a construction zone where a flag man made me wait 10 minutes for the “pilot car” to lead me and the other unfortunate campers that followed me through the work zone. Unfortunately, we were all lost.

I actually went back around again, determined to find the way to Fahrnamville …the flag man and I got well acquainted…but by then Arthur and Annie had seen enough of Fahrnamville, and they waved me on to Webster City by text message.

Last spring,Big Red underwent major surgery when his transmission failed. Arthur converted him from an automatic to a six speed manual, and while I’m getting better acquainted each day with the feel of the six forward gears, it does provide some excitement from time to time.

Downshifting from sixth to fifth is always exciting, since third, sixth, and reverse are all next to one another. However bad it is to find third when you want fifth, it’s really bad to find reverse when you want fifth. I hereby apologize to Big Red for all the times he really wanted a lower gear, and I made him tough it out rather than chance the sixth to fifth downshift.

Since I am alone and the radio coverage is spotty, I do talk to him. Mostly, “Whoa, big guy,” and “Steady, Red.”

As I write this, I am parked at our next resting spot at the Harrison County Fairgrounds in Webster City. The infield of the oval dirt car track was full, so we are on the track itself, watching for the riders and getting ready to make the daily foray for ice and beer. I have my own bike along for errand, and the panniers easily hold two six packs.

In this lull, I will tell you about our excitement of last night. We had settled in for the night and were just drifting off when there was a loud bang and enough of a jolt to our camper home that all three Merrows sat bolt upright and said a unison, “Holy (expletive)!” Arthur said, “I think we’ve been hit,” and sure enough, another truck had backed into Big Red’s front end. The driver was to be forgiven because, besides the fact that we could find no damage, he was in a hurry to drive one of his riders for medical help. We learned this morning that the rider spent the night in the hospital on IV fluids for heat exhaustion.

My riders have rolled in, after a long slog through stiff head winds and a flat tire. Once again they have been rinsed, watered, and fed a snack before we search out the evening’s entertainment. On tomorrow to Marshalltown!

Giving Iowa a Try

Only two days in, and it seems that the Music Man was unfair to the Iowan sense of hospitality

Iowa Hot

Iowa Hot This is how we will describe a hot day from now on. “Yeah, it’s hot, but is it Iowa hot?!” Even the people who live here…Iowians?...are wilting in the sun. I’m told it is close to 100 degrees. And still these people peddle on, without even benefit of shade. I have come to rest in a campground in Lake View, and we have a lovely lake view. Now we’re hoping for a lovely lake breeze. Arthur, Annie, and I have managed two rendezvous today, one at the mid-day meeting point in Schaller and now at tonight’s resting place in Lake View. The cyclists put in about 65 miles today, and tomorrow’s route is even longer. I’m already murmuring gentle encouragements to just get to the mid-point and Big Red will show you why he’s called a pick-up truck…no heroics please.

When I stepped out of the camper this morning at 5:45 into the dawn’s early light to wrangle the breakfast burritos and coffee, I could see the early riders already quietly rolling out of last night’s town. It is awesome to watch this huge army and its support vehicles move out across the horizon.

I’m sure there are hundreds of stories of the kindness of strangers in this kind of operation. I have two myself just from today.

Once Big Red is parked, he does not move, so errands must be accomplished on foot or bike. After my riders had peddled off at 6:30 AM, I took on the chore of finding a place to fill the sun shower bag for later use. I peddled to the nearest convenience store, where they happily put 4 gallons of water in the bag. When I was trying to figure out how to carry it back on my bicycle, I must have bumped it on the sprocket, because it sprung a serious leak. The nice man that had just filled it up for me hustled off for his super glue and duct tape and spent 10 minutes mending my shower bag.

Later, having arrived at our next resting place, I set off to find water to fill our large plastic jugs. The volunteer at the camping area gate couldn’t raise anyone on his walky talky to tell us where the nearest hydrant was, so he insisted on calling his niece, who came in her car, picked me up, and took me to her house about a mile away to use their hose before driving me back.

I’ve heard that midwesterners are friendly, and I am here to tell you that this is so.

Tonight we will patronize one of the many meals organized by local citizens….lasagna and pie to support the local high school raising funds for their class trip. The added attraction is that dinner comes with a shower! Onward tomorrow to Webster City.

Running With the Big Dogs

Big Red among the bigger campers and RVs.

Tomorrow, Lake View, Iowa [population 1142 according to the 2010 census] which ~ according to some reports ~ is preparing (and ready) to have a big, one-night-only Brake at the Lake celebration to greet 20,000 cyclists and support teams.

OMG!

It is hard to describe what 15,000 cyclists look like in a town about the size of Moodus [Our home town's census is slightly more than half the size of the number of participants]. There are tents pitched everywhere, huge fields full of RVs, and cyclists buzzing in and out of traffic like bees. A fairground has been turned into a festival, with bike gear and food venders...and the ever-present beer tent.

If it weren’t for the fact that everyone is so darn friendly and helpful, it would feel like only marginally controlled chaos. The Baptist Church spaghetti dinner has a 50 foot line out the door, and the cell phone coverage has been completely over whelmed….no texts or calls going out and no 3G. (I am poaching this little bit of wifi from a generous vender, but pictures will take more time.)

We are told that, when this mass of riders spreads out, as it inevitably will, that things will return to moderate chaos.

Since I have not been able to upload any pictures of my own, I have borrowed one saved from another website from a prior year.

So far, we have met a woman who rides with her schnauzer in a rumble seat, a man who not so long ago had a coronary bypass, and a lad who, as evidenced by the road rash on his cheek, skidded across an intersection last night on his face while cycling with too many beers under his belt. Even he was cheerful.

Annie should be rolling in very soon after an 11 hour drive from Fort Collins, and we must guide her through the chaos to her camper bed without benefit of cell phone.

Tomorrow at about 6 AM, she and Arthur will roll south east, and Big Red and I will follow at a safe distance…actually on an almost entirely separate route. I attended a meeting especially for drivers today, and there were easily a thousand drivers. The gentleman who spoke was not quite as intelligible as the announcer on the New Your City subway. The most important thing, I’m told is that cyclists follow orange arrows, drivers follow green arrows, and once during the day we can meet up if the drivers follow the pink arrow detours!

Tomorrow will be a great adventure!

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PICTURE SOURCE: D J Ryan, who posted it on the website of the dIowa's 4th District Democrats

Iowa in the Rearview

Having crossed Iowa from stern to stem, tonight we will actually rest our heads in S. Dakota…actually greater Sioux City just over the line. We are holed up at KOA campground, wedged in between some enormous trailers with whole rooms that pop out of their sides and a few huge motor homes. Big Red and his camper are blushing to be a throw back to an earlier era.

This place is swanky by our standards…hot showers, swimming pool, laundromat…but the owners are patient with and helpful to neophytes like us. (We weren’t here five minutes before the nice man taught us how to get our hot water heater to work.)

Tomorrow morning we will drain all the things that should be drained and fill all the things that should be filled in preparation for the last 50 miles to the small town of Sioux Center, Iowa, where we meet up with Annie and the other riders, and the RAGBRAI begins.

Everything you may have imagined about Iowa countryside is true…views of endless seas of corn interspersed with soybeans, a few red barns, silver silos, and trees indicating the presence of a farm house… limited only by the curvature of the earth.

What you may be surprised to learn is that it is not flat. It rolls pleasantly, but not enough to worry the bikers in the family.

It was a beautiful ride, marred only by the condition of the roads. Something about Iowa’s concrete roads with their frequent seams made Big Red want to buck like a bronco at any speed over 50, enough to rattle the teeth and threaten sea sickness. We tried an alternate route through the hinterlands, but the bucking followed us all the way.

As chief navigator, I had time between Davenport, Cedar Rapids, Waterloo, and Fort Dodge, to spot unusual place names: Grundy, Stout, Sac City, Correctionville, and the little town of Arthur.

Tomorrow we lay in the supply of ice, beer, granola bars, chips and salsa and join the 10,000 lunatics to begin the eastward trek.

You will be able to follow our progress this week using a series of day-by-day maps available on the RAGBRAI website.

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MAP SOURCE: Infoplease.

The Big Rig Super-highway

This is one of the big rigs that passed by the camper last night as we tried to sleep...(that "isolated spot" mentioned in the last entry). It was taken out the camper bedroom window at 6 AM.

In the background is another Rig getting ready to follow after that one; but that's all behind us now.

Yee ha! Just crossed the Mississippi. We are in Iowa!!. And it's not FLAT!

Iowa in Sight

We are becoming connoisseurs of midwestern truck stops, having now settled in for the night at the second one of the trip, and having satisfied all our travel needs at several others along the way. We are in Princeton, Illinois, just 55 miles from the Iowa border after a long slog through two torrential rainstorms (much needed here as witnessed by the stunted and pale green corn) and across northern Ohio, Indiana, and now almost across Illinois.

The truck stops on the Ohio Turnpike get three stars…clean, well maintained, and Starbucks for Arthur.

Tonight’s truck stop has the obligatory 24 hour diner with all the comfort food you could ask for.

We felt smug to find an isolated spot to park our camper home far from the smelly, noisy big rigs, although we have just discovered that they drive right by our bedroom on their way back out to the interstate at all hours.

And tonight for the first time this trip we saw grits on the menu. Tomorrow morning we will cross the mighty Mississippi and set our sights on Sioux Center on Iowa’s far western boundary.

Somewhere Near Ashtabula: A Sad Day

Having rolled smartly out of our yard and onto the New York Thruway yesterday morning, we expected to have filed a report by now of our first day on the road to Iowa. Something sad an unexpected intervened.

We had planned to spend last evening and this morning visiting with Arthur’s Mom in her nursing home near Buffalo. Instead we learned as the day progressed that she had been taken quite suddenly ill with pneumonia and was failing fast. At 97 and quite frail, she has defied the odds any number of times, but not this one. She slipped away this morning at 5 AM.

With the help of Arthur’s brother and loving friends and neighbors, we spent this day calling the relatives and making all the arrangements one does in these times for a late August memorial service when all the grand kids can gather to celebrate a life well and fully lived.

She was an inveterate traveler herself, and often said to us over the last few years as we were leaving on a trip, “If anything happens to me, don’t come back.” We took that to mean that when we had done all we could, we should head off once again to Iowa.

We are parked in a truck stop lot in northeastern Ohio, spending the night among the big rigs. Tomorrow will be a better day. Adventures await. Stay tuned.

Shake Down Cruise!

With the early Tuesday morning "estimated time of departure" for Iowa looming, Sunday was just about our last opportunity for a shake down cruise in Big Red\Camper. So off we went to spend the night at Wolf's Den Campgound about 10 miles from home. We learned several important lessons.

First and most important, we learned that it's good to know exactly which pipe to pump the water into when filling the holding tank. Repeated efforts to get the water system running were unsuccessful. The only time we could get water to run at more than a splutter was when we were hooked up to the campground water hose. Turned out we were pumping madly into the wrong pipe...the one that you use when in a campground and hooked to a hose. Some consultation with a friendly campground neighbor, the repair of something called a petcock, and we were in business for camping where there are no services, which is mostly what we expect to encounter.

We learned that we have a formidable looking aerial that cranks up out of the roof and we have no idea what it's for.

We got acquainted with the many clever storage places, the built-in digital clock and radio, and the not-for-the-claustrophic bathroom.

We learned that, if you like the sound of rain on a metal roof, you'd love sleeping in this camper in a rainstorm...it rained most of the night.

I learned that, as the family teamster during the cycling days, I will try very hard not to park anywhere that requires backing up unless I have a "momback" person right behind me.

One more quick repair of a brake light switch, and we're ready to roll. Bright and early tomorrow morning, we will fire up Big Red's big diesel and roll out of the yard bound for Buffalo, where we will visit Arthur's Mom (97 years old and in a nursing home) before rolling west on Wednesday. We have until Saturday noon to get to Sioux Center, Iowa on the western border of the state, where about 10,000 other cycling lunatics will be massing for the 40th annual RAGBRAI.

Gizmos

Besides getting familiar with all the knobs and buttons of the camper, preparing for this cycling adventure has brought an array of new devices into our lives. These are the things designed to make campers more comfortable, clean and in touch.

Who knew that there were such things!: A wind up lantern...no batteries needed. Just crank for two minutes and voila! Light to read by.

A sun shower...a sturdy black plastic bag with a little shower head attached. You just fill it with four gallons of water and leave out in the sun for three hours, hang it up somewhere, and give yourself a shower.

A power converter that plugs into Big Red's outlet and has three outlets to plug stuff like the laptop into.

And most amazing of all, just by forking over some money to Verizon, I can sign up to have my Droid become a WiFi hotspot for a month, hopefully eliminating the need to drive around in Big Red the Truck looking for a library with WiFi in rural Iowa.

Then there are the great gadgets which my wonderful colleagues at Judith Blei Government Relations contributed to this and other adventures: a compass, a first aid kit, amazing camping towel and soap, a nifty pin-up flashlight, and even a bear bell with optional silencer! (Not sure that there are bears in Iowa, but you never know.)

Just a few days now before we roll west, gizmos and all!

Previous Bike Experiences

Last October, Arthur an I crossed the border between Austria and Germany on a Vermont Bicycle Tours trip.
We were surprised that there were no border guards!
We ended up in Passau, where we enjoyed an organ concert and wonderful German beer.
This was a much less challenging trip than we expect to experience in Iowa!

Getting Ready to Ride: 9 Days and Counting

Preparations continue apace for our westward departure for Iowa now nine days away.

Having already been fitted out with new wide-angle mirrors and special camper tie downs, Big Red the Truck got new "air springs" to make the camper ride easier.

Arthur has also hauled the camper off to camper camp, a business in South Windsor that specializes in all things camper, for a tune up.

There they will see if the refrigerator can be made to work (or whether it will have to function as a vertical cooler). They will also check out the stove, hot water heater, and other plumbing. Meanwhile back at the ranch there are the checklists of supplies and equipment that a rolling home will need: pots and pans, sheets and towels, bike tools and inner tubes, even a wind-up lantern and a sun shower.

On Saturday July 21, if all goes well, we will rendezvous with Annie on the western border of Iowa in the little town of Sioux Center.

A team needs a logo, and ours ~ posted here ~ will hopefully end up on the back of our team tee shirts. It has to be on the back so that other riders can see it as they go whizzing by!