RAGBRAI 2013 – It's a Wrap!

Big Red has come home to rest in his own driveway, the washing machine is on its fifth load, and two weeks worth of mail awaits scrutiny. The Merrows have all returned safely to their original starting places with warm memories of big-hearted Iowa, its' beautiful corn-field dotted landscapes, its friendly people and its many innovative ways to serve pork. RAGBRAI 2013 is a happy memory.

Our three-day journey east via Dodge Ram diesel prairie schooner, aka Big Red, was smooth and unmarred by automotive calamity.

After two truck stop nights, one in Illinois and one in Ohio, we were looking forward to the first actual bed in eight days. It was provided by an old chum from my days as a teacher in Bloomfield some 43 years ago. Fellow teacher Peggy Newberry Toluba’s life has taken her to Lewisburg, PA, home of Bucknell University and nearby home of the bed & breakfast which Peggy and her husband Tony run. Peggy reached out to me last year to renew our acquaintance. When she said, “If you are ever passing through central Pennsylvania…..,” well who could forget a proposal like that. And here is where we stayed.

Their 130 –year old Victorian mansion has all the original woodwork, pocket doors, marble mantels, and high ceilings that any old house lover could ask for. Coupled with a wonderful evening of reminiscing and blueberry pancakes for breakfast, this interlude in Amish country was a wonderful way to postpone the entry into the real world.

One diversion when crossing Pennsylvania: collecting unusual place names. Here’s this year’s list: Gipsy, Turkey City, Barkeyville, Whiskerville, Pecan, Leeper, Boot Jack, Export, Drifting, and Jesrsey Shore.

So much changes in two weeks away during the summer…the weeds became bodacious [Copy editor's note: this huge lawn of weeds would not have been well received in Guthrie Center, Iowa, where a mowing ordinance requires you to keep residence grasses "...not more than 8" high..."], the days are noticeably shorter, and the katydids are hinting at fall.

We of course are much the same, but as we now pick up the threads of life here in East Haddam, we are at the very least reminded that we might be getting older, but we are still strong and competent enough to take on a 3000 mile road trip and a 410 miles-of-cycling RAGBRAI adventure!

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- Sue Merrow; 2- Field Katydid from Thomas J. Walker's North American Katydids

Hob Nobbing with the Big Boys

Arthur and I have now managed to pilot Big Red across the Mississippi and up onto Route 80.

We have come to rest for the first night of the eastward trek in a Flying J truck stop at exit 77 in the middle of Illinois (where, disappointingly, we could not get any wifi signal)

I had to wait until we were rolling east on Interstate Route 80, 50 miles west of Chicago. I'm posted this from Big Red, barreling down the Interstate ~and don't worry, Art is driving at this point.

Our homeward journey will include a visit in Pennsylvania with an old friend I haven’t seen in 40 years. She happens to run a bed and breakfast in a handsome Victorian house, and I’ll report on this and other homeward bound adventures before we roll into Connecticut.

I want t to once again thank my faithful editor, Will Brady, for all his wonderful blog support [Awww, shucks! Twern't nothin' too much. Besides, it was fun!]. He has made this journaling effort a joy and the pictures sing and dance!

Art and Annie ~ the intrepid cyclers

Already preparing for next year

Fort Madison and the Mighty Mississip

Big Red and I have successfully piloted the last day of RABBRAI, and we now sit parked on a side street in Fort Madison, awaiting our riders and getting ready to help Annie find her westward carpool.

It seems somehow wrong that in about six hours she will whiz back across the state she just took seven days to peddle across in the other direction.

All around me are folks sorting their gear, loading up trucks, and making their goodbyes.

The Air Force Team, 50 riders all in sharp matching blue and black outfits, just road by me in tight formation to the tune of “Off We Go Into the Wild Blue Yonder.”

They are on their way to the finish line at the dipping spot, where front tires are bathed in Mississippi River water.

This last 24 hours could not have been a finer Iowa experience.

The Jefferson County Fairgrounds, where we came to rest in Fairfield, provided handy tractor drawn shuttles on flat beds with straw bales, showers in the hog building (I’m not kidding!), and congenial neighbors.

The county Cattlemen’s Association was our host for dinner….beef kabobs (no surprise there), noodles with beef stroganoff, really fresh string beans, and ice cream on a stick. It was lights out at 9:30, and even then, 5:30 AM came so soon.

Today’s run down to the mid-day stop was by winding country road through landscapes that could have been Vermont if only there had been stone walls and a mountain in the background.

I had to stop to let an Amish farmer with two handsome Belgians pulling his hay wagon pass by.

Little Keosauqua was ready for the onslaught. The Methodists, pie makers extraordinaire, had pocket pies (actually turnovers, but the title was intriguing) and home made cinnamon rolls. They sold out early.

We met up without incident, and Arthur and Annie stoked their fires with gyro sandwiches.

Having packed off my riders for the last, 40 mile leg, I visited the historic 1840 county court house, ate my raspberry pocket pie, and headed back to Big Red.

While stowing my bicycle, I noticed that one of the roof hatches was askew, and a closer look revealed that it was actually about to fall off. This provided the day’s only drama.

I climbed smartly up the ladder next by the rear door, crawled across the roof, and tossed the hatch cover down ... no problem.

But then, backing over the roof edge, some twelve feet off the pavement, and finding the first rung of the ladder I couldn’t even see proved way too scary for usually intrepid me.

I was stuck on the roof of the camper on a back street in Keosauqua.

If a nice man wearing a Marines tee shirt hadn’t come along, I might be there still.

He kindly climbed up the ladder and helped my feet find the rungs. All in a day’s work for the Marines, I’m sure.

Then on to Fort Madison. My riders zeroed right in on Big Red, Art did his power lift of the bike, and Annie was successfully reunited with her car pool.

RAGBRAI 41 is now in the history books, and thousands of crazy cyclists must now go back to the real world.

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IMAGE CREDITS: Tractor pull from White Rock Conservancy, Coon Rapids, IA.; Amish farmer and Belgian horses - Amish America; MARINES T-Shirt - Green Turtle goods

All other images by Sue Merrow.

Trading up in Keosauqua

Art ~ briefly ~ considered trading in his own cycle for this one. After all, at this point there were only 40.8 miles left to go before completing this year's RAGBRAI ride.

Some late Oscaloosa pictures

Clowning around at the Oscaloosa Bandstand

Annie is not cowed by self-effacing humor

The bandstand itself, and the town's self-description:

Fairfield is Iowa's foremost art colony with diverse cultural events and international cuisine at over 40 restaurants. This Iowa Great Place features year-round family fun at the award-winning 1st Fridays Art Walk and other festivals, abundant recreation, sustainable living and an entrepreneurial spirit uniquely found amongst the corn fields of southeastern Iowa.

One of the performing bands for the RAGBRAI crowds was the National Guard's 34th Army Band, The Sidewinders.

Friday Evening ~ Fairfield, Iowa

Another neighbor pooch

His name is Smith. He's from Nevada, and when he,'s not trying to herd cyclists, he herds cattle.

Friday ~ Hedrick, Iowa

About our Friday journey ~ the mid-day stop...

Hedrick, Iowa (pronounced “head-rick” if you were wondering), with a 2010 population of 837, is located in Keokuk County with a motto of “Where Friends Meet”. To the right on this page a Hedrick landmark

The town was founded in 1882 and named after a Civil War General John Morrow Hedrick. The Carl Craft Civic Center, formerly the school, is being restored. The town has never hosted RAGBRAI before but the town celebrates an annual Bar-B-Que Days and many folks including pie contest judges, come from all over the state come to attend.

Hedrick has seen better times. In 1990 the State of Iowa forced Hedrick schools into closing due to budget concerns. Much of it's historic business district has been boarded up.

Once a railroad town with the last trains rolling through in 1980m but the The Hedrick Union Depot has been restored, converted into a real estate office and contains many examples of Hedrick history. Another historical site to visit while in Hedrick is the Tri-County Veteran’s Museum. This museum contains veteran’s memorabilia from a three county area.

One of Hedrick's local businesses, The Preaching Picker's Antiques (just a few miles east of Hedrick) has been featured on HGTV's West End Salvage Show. The Iowa Bicycle Coalition showcased photos of their emporium.

Hedrick's streets...

....paved with brick!

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IMAGE CREDITS: Hedrick Depot found on the Iowa Bicycle Coalition's blog. All other photos by Sue Merrow

Posting behind the 8-Ball

COPY EDITOR'S NOTE: Got pulled away for a day so this stuff is getting up late.

On Route 9, Connecticut: Was this guy coming back from RAGBRAI?

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IMAGE CREDIT: Will Brady

The Final Stretch

Rolling into Fairfield

First a bit more about Oskaloosa since the last post.

< < < Christmas Elves in July?

Last night the Merrow Team, all cooled off and showered, biked down into town for the evening festivities and the obligatory food debauch. Last night’s dinner, stir fried veggies and home-made peanut butter cups. (I know, I know…a strange combination.) Then we settled onto a bench in the handsome town square to listen to a concert of marches provided by the Oskaloosa Concert Band. They are justifiably proud of their handsome antique bandstand.

We turned in early, but were awakened about midnight by the sound of heavy rain on the roof. This set off a flurry of hatch closing, and reminded us once again of the advantages of Rig Red’s solid roof over the sea of tent tops outside our door.

My riders rolled out smartly this morning at 6:45 headed east.

Today’s mid-day stop was in the tiny, somewhat forlorn town of Hedrick. Its once proud past could be seen in the few handsome brick facades on the main street, but except for one chiropractic clinic and a bar, most storefronts were empty. The good folks of Hedrick pulled out all the stops for a great mid-day lunch break, complete with food concessionaires selling everything from pulled pork to fried alligator.

Cyclists obliged by sprawling under shade trees in the town park and chowing down. Thanks to consistently good cell service, my riders found me with no trouble and settled on barbequed chopped chicken and cold sodas before heading east once again.

Big Red and I made our way back to the highway and rolled into Fairfield without incident. I have come to rest in the Jefferson County Fairgrounds, where, having convinced the check-in people that we are quiet (no generator) and peaceable (early to bed, early to rise), I nabbed another prime spot among the stodgier campers.

Soon Arthur and Annie will roll in (they've just texted that they stopped for ice cream a few miles out).

Once cleaned up and refreshed, we will hop a shuttle to downtown Fairfield to sample the evening’s festivities on this the last night before the finish line in Fort Madison tomorrow. More in the next post about these adventures.

Day 6 - Oscaloosa to Fairfield

Fairfield, Iowa [population 9,464 in 2010] is today's destination. The city has 12 public parks and recreation areas consisting of more than 1,300 acres. A notice on the town's website indicated that city hall, most public venues (parking lots, parks) would be closed due to the influx of cyclists.

Fairfield is home to the Maharishi University of Management, founded by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and teaches the principles of transcendental meditation. I imagine that the townspeople will have to make use of these skills while they are overrun by 20,000 visitors.

Weather for today (in Iowa - and according to Wundergound.com) "Overcast with thunderstorms and rain showers, then a chance of a thunderstorm and a chance of rain in the afternoon. High of 79F. Winds from the SW at 5 to 20 mph shifting to the WNW in the afternoon. Chance of rain 50%", so cycling may get dicey.

Oscaloosa Rocks

Once again today, the strategic decision was that I should make for the overnight town and skip the mid-day stop, since it is only 15 miles from here, and since there are advantages to getting to the final resting place early…namely a better choice of camping spots.

The criteria are flatness, quietness (a generator free neighborhood), proximity to showers and shuttles.

I have nabbed a prime spot with compatible neighbors at the Southern Iowa Fair Grounds (The Annual fair just concluded on July 22nd). I got here early enough to set up camp, then take my bike on a reconnaissance mission to the downtown festivities, which are just setting up around the town square.

The picture to the right is of a cyclist taking a picture of another cyclist and a little old lady who had just taken their picture....Iowa hospitality. The statue on the background is the Indian Chief of the Ioways Mahaska (White Cloud). In the background is the County Seat.

These small Iowa cities seem to have iconic town squares with a handsome government building…usually a county seat…either on the green or nearby. Oskaloosa is the county seat of Mahaska County, which I have learned is named for a chief of the Ioway tribe who lived peacefully alongside the invading settlers. He was well enough thought of that the County is named after him and a bronze likeness stands on the town green. [Copy editor's note: Ironically, Mahaska was murdered by one of his own braves after refusing to allow a vengeance killing to take place against a member of a rival tribe. ]

Later this afternoon, the town square, which is blocked off to all but foot traffic, will be a bee hive of activity and loud music, but in the early afternoon, the food venders and purveyors of biking gear are just setting up, and the rock band members are probably still home in bed.

I ordered up a “Badass BLT” and a raspberry frozen yogurt waffle cone and sat under a tree on the town green for a spell of people watching. [Copy editor's note: Don't know if Sue's "bad Ass" sandwich was like this one, but it seemed typical of the culinary genre. ]

A bevy of Little Leaguers has come by selling home baked cookies for a buck a bag.

They could tell I was going to be an easy mark.

Today’s amusing sitings: Something we easterners can’t imagine…driving down a highway with corn fields to the horizon on all sides, broken up only occasionally by a clump of trees indicating a farm house, I passed a dirt road entering from the right with a street sign that said 180th St.

My next door neighbor in the campground road her bike 53 miles in very fast time today , then proceeded to do an hour of calisthenics with heavy rubber tubes. I have to say she looks great.

My riders have stopped to fix a flat for Arthur and one for a complete stranger. They will arrive soon for showers, cold beer, and planning another exciting evening on the town. Then, on tomorrow to Fairfield.

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- Oscaloosa Town Center - Sue Merrow; 2- Chief Mahaska / White Cloud - National Archives but found at While Cloud Chief; 3- Bad Ass BLT, from Mr. Spanky's (Chicago); 4- Iowa Cornfields - by Bob and Sarah and posted on their blog This Beautiful Land

Day 5 - On to Oscaloosa

The city of Pella, IA, (our "midway" stop point today) was founded by Dutch immigrants. The picture below is the Vermeer Windmill, a fully functional 1850s-style windmill, reaching 134 feet (41 m) high. The Vermeer Mill grinds wheat into flour using only wind power and is the tallest working windmill in the United States. The city is also home of Pella Windows and Doors.

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IMAGE CREDIT: 1- Windmill in Pella, IA, from Housekaboodle

Bid Red's bad "eye"

When "sorry" just isn't enough there's always duct tape.

Onward to Knoxville

Tonight we have come to rest in Marion County Park in bucolic Knoxville, the county seat. The sun is about to set in a clear, blue sky, and we have lucked our way into a peaceful site next to woods humming with cicadas and overlooking a pond. Our neighboring campers are of the non-rowdy, no-noisy-generator variety, and our bellies are full of good Methodist Church chicken and noodles, mashed potatoes, green beans, and of course pie…cherry for me and blueberry for Arthur and Annie. Life is good.

Because the mid-day meeting spot was only 14 miles from here, I came straight through to Knoxville because I had an important duty to accomplish, the laundry.

Cycling only looks like a clean sport. There is sweating involved, as well as dribbled barbecue sauce and pie juice. Once I had staked out this fine camping spot. I packed up two large sacks of dirties, hopped the campground shuttle to the main gate, transferred to the yellow school bus shuttle to downtown, and walked the last five blocks to the coin op Laundromat (I had forgotten that watching clothes tumble in a dryer is as relaxing as watching flames in a fireplace).

Through the miracle of texting, I learned that Arthur and Annie had successfully found Big Red after a hilly, but altogether fine run from Des Moines to Knoxville.

Following a trip through the showers of the local high school, the Merrow family was ready for a night on the town.

We jumped the school bus shuttle again for the trip back downtown, where the streets of the main square and surrounding blocks have been closed to traffic for a massive street festival of rock bands, bicycle equipment venders, and food booths. Today’s most unusual offering: deep fried jello (we did not partake, but if you like, this link leads to a recipe). We were ready to patronize the Methodist church supper and soon home to lights out by 9:30.

Today’s funniest team name: Aorta be Workin’. Their shirt boasts a logo of an anatomically correct human heart. I asked the wearer if he was a cardiologist. He said no, but another team member was.

With four days behind us, we’re getting the hang of this. Tomorrow it’s on to Oscaloosa, where the town RAGBRAI motto is “Ride Hard, Dance Harder.

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- Big Red at Sunset - Sue Merrow; 2- Laundry machine cartoon - found on a Google search; 3- Deep Fried Jello from Better Batter (NOTE: Better Batter a a gluten free baking site); 4- Oskaloosa, Iowa's RAGBRAI insignia, and the Oscaloosa RAGBRAI Facebook page.

One more of our RAGBRAI Team

My new friend Buddy. He's a dachshund. So sitting up like this defies gravity!

In case you are wondering, the Merrows have not adopted a new dog. Buddy is among our fellow travelers in this wacky adventure.

Day 4 ~ Des Moines to Knoxville, Iowa

"Only" 49 miles today.

Weather is supposed to be partly cloudy. Tonight's temps might get below 60 degrees.

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- RAGBRAI routes; 2- Geico Advert for What is Wednesday . . . found on someone's TUMBLR site

Cruisin' on into Des Moines

Because riding into Des Moines is apparently a popular local pastime, the army of cyclists will swell to over 30,000 today, and there will be a hot time in the old town tonight.

Big Red and I have fetched up on the bend of a river in a handsome park, nestled next to a big RV with a Team Waldo logo on it. They are reputed to be a party camper, complete with a karaoke machine, but on their promise to quiet town by 10 PM, the beautiful view won out over potentially noisy neighbors.

Speaking of noisy neighbors, no one could hold a candle to mother nature last night in Perry. She put on quite a sound and lightning show, and she tossed in some heavy winds and hail just to remind us who’s boss. Annie and I were hunkered down in Big Red, grateful once again that he weighs a lot and has big rubber tires. Arthur, however, was making his way back by shuttle bus from the shower facility when the bus he was riding sideswiped a truck in the heavy weather. This called for a transfer to another shuttle and some slogging through some very wide puddles. He was well showered by the time he got home.

Today’s ride made it’s mid-day stop in Dallas Center, and they pulled out all the stops . . . bands playing, food venders of every stripe, [Copy editor's query: What? Sue you forgot to mention the midget wrestling tourney?] even cow chip bingo, where you could by a ticket that represented a numbered square in a temporary pen. Who ever was lucky enough to pick the square where the bored looking cow first pooped, would win $500 dollars.

It is hard to describe what more than 20,000 cyclists looks like when they swarm a town, walking their bikes the last half mile because the road was too crowded to ride, but this photo (on the right) by D. Brink captures it well.. Cooperating cell service and frequent texts made for another successful hook-up with Arthur and Annie. Unfortunately, the Methodists sold out of pie before we got there, but the high school athletic boosters were happy to sell us huge frosted cinnamon buns.

The loitering I do while waiting to meet up with my riders gives me the opportunity to make the acquaintance of others, who like me, are watching for friends and family, and some who just come to see the show of spandex and crazy headgear.

Today I met a local Dallas Center woman, who had been in the Peace Corps in Pakistan in the 60s and who might just get her bike out of the barn and take up the sport again. Then there was the couple from Virginia who left home in an enormous RV, picked up one grandson in W. Virginia and one on Kansas City, and then took them on the bike ride of their young lives, Grampa cycling and Gramma driving.

There was one small speed bump in an otherwise successful day. When I returned to Big Red after sending my riders on their way to Des Moines, I discovered that some one had smashed his left rearview mirror, the fancy new ones he got when he started hauling a wide camper that’s hard to see around.

The culprit kindly left a note, but alas, no solution to my problem. I salvaged the fish-eye part of the mirror and did some duct tape first aid, but we are limping in the mirror department.

Then on we rolled to Des Moines, where the city will provide a street festival downtown. Arthur and Annie will ride in any minute, and we will plan a cyclist’s night on the town.

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- Walking riders - Sue Merrow; 2- Dallas Center - Google Maps; 3 - Throngs of walking cyclists by by D. Brink; 4- RAGBRAI characters - Sue Merrow; 5- Truck mirror - by Mark Stinchcombe and found on Danie Ward's Cohorte travel blog posts

Day 3 and the week's elevation & distance chart

Where we are headed on Tuesday

By the way, Those of us who are a team's domestique are only permitted to meet up with our team-mates in the designated town. Tomorrow that will be Dallas Center, a town that refers to itself as "quietly progressive".

This chart gives you an idea as to how many miles/feet each cyclist rides, and the elevations that one goes up = or down = while riding.

Weather due to be cooler (80 degrees), with only a slight chance of rain, but the UV index expected to be "9 - Very High".

RAGBRAI Team Buses

Some of the RAGBRAI participants travel in teams, and their buses and be pretty creative

This double-level party bus is one I spotted yesterday

This intimidating number we saw last year. Never saw anyone come in or out of it. The smaller vehicle to the left is Big Red.

The Paradise Bus was another team bus I caught last year.

Day 2 - The run up to Perry

[Copy editor's discretion - I couldn't resist this, especially when Sue says how hot it was today. This was actually found on the Perry [Iowa] Chamber of Commerce page. They must have been practicing for RAGBRAI's arrival.]

Today will have been the longest, hottest, hilliest day of RAGBRAI 41…83 miles, 90 degrees, and the notion that Iowa is flat is a myth. I may have to take a picture of an Iowa hill for proof.

My riders and I successfully rendezvoused in the charming little town of Guthrie Center, which had organized booths will all the obligatory heart-stopper food like corn dogs and pork loin sandwiches. The Methodists seem to have the market cornered on pie, another staple of RAGBRAI. Today’s favorite, blueberry cherry pie.

I’ve parked Big Red for the night in an RV lot. Since we are old school, with no AC and therefore no generator, we must listen to the noisy generators of the big, fancy RVs nearby. This may call for a repositioning when the riders get here.

In the meanwhile, a little bit about the work of the “domestique.” On the Tour de France, the person who makes sure the riders are happy, comfy, and well-watered is called the domestique.

Undomestic though I may be in my day-to-day life, my job on RAGBRAI is happy riders. I get them up and moving (this morning at 5:45), ready their water bottles and power bars, and pack them off on their ride.

Then I tidy the camper, take care of Big Red’s needs (gas today), and head off to the mid-day meeting town. If all goes well, I have secured cold drinks, charged up any thirsty cell-phones, and scouted the best food spots by the mid-day stop.

Today we found each other with no problem and enjoyed a stroll through town and a relaxed lunch of some especially good pulled pork under trees in a park, surrounded by several thousand people in brightly colored spandex.

Afterwards Arthur and Annie took off on the bike route, and I took to the vehicle route. (I drove 122 miles to their 83…support vehicles don not share the same roads as cyclists.)

Once I have found a spot to set Big Red down for the night, opened the hatches, and installed the door step, then I take my bicycle for a spin in search of ice, beer, and any other essentials.

Nothing now to do but wait the riders and figure out which supper to go to tonight. A shuttle bus will take us in to see the bright lights of Perry. Some cuisines to choose from:

 • The Knights of Columbus are offering mostaccioli pasta (whatever that is - [Copy editor's note: read: "Casserole,"] See footnote below.)
 • The Methodists have chicken and noodles,
 • The Episcopalians are serving pork loin sandwiches and baked potatoes.

Tomorrow ~ on to the really bright lights of Des Moines!

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FOOTNOTE: Mostaccioli pasta - Mostaccioli, Italian for "moustaches," are so named for their shape and size. They are small, tube-shaped pieces of pasta, usually a little under 2 inches long. The ends are cut along a diagonal, and the surface of the pasta is smooth.

Click here for a recipe

Read more: E-How Facts: mostaccioli pasta shapes

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IMAGE CREDITS: 1- Blueberry-cherry pie from My Recipes.com; 2- Annie and Art in Harlan - Sue Merrow; 3- Cyclists in Spandex - from David Byrne's Journal; 4- Food venues map - City of Perry website; 5- Mostaccioli casserole - found at Family Foodies; and at the top ~ Cyclists in snow - Perry [Iowa] Chamber of Commerce.