July is in the bag, but it wasn't easy. I'm currently riding on RAGBRAI self-supported, adding just a bit of challenge to the usual objective. Not much for pictures, but you can Google RAGBRAI more easily than I could attempt to capture any of the sights with travel camera.
The alarm rang at five-thirty. It wasn't the longest night of sleep, but it was undisturbed; I was about three miles west of Main Camp. I had resolved that the whole day would be a pace, and breaking camp was no exception. Still, I was off pedaling by about six.
A few blocks in and a couple bikes joined my route. Here and there a few more joined, until we were a single stream. Where streets joined, tributaries merged and the stream intensified into a flood of bicycles.
The first hours went smoothly despite traffic -- it is impossible to maintain pace without both being passed and passing, a constant dance within imagined lanes. Around eighteen miles the route weaves through Jesup, a town busy enough to justify two convenience stores. Of course there is an entire street fair up the road, but the local businesses are often faster with reasonable options for food. I satisfy myself with a large slice of breakfast pizza -- an Iowa tradition -- and a canned ice coffee.
With breakfast over, I dig in my bags for the gloves and cycling cap as I plan to pedal a little more seriously; despite all of the roadside attractions on RAGBRAI, I'm only counting on the next major town, Center point, at mile 50.
Traffic had lightened up a bit, which was good because it allowed me to use more aero positions and give my hands a much needed break (my brakes are only reachable from one position). The scenery is among the best in the state, with rolling hills and Americana farms, but these roads are familiar to me. I pass the hours, instead, watching the other bikes and riders, both those who pass me and those who I pass.
Center point was the designated lunch town, where teams will often meet with their support vehicles and siesta. I push past the street fair -- the travel station a mile off route has both a Subway and McDonalds. I enjoy a footl-long and some french fries, a rare but delightful combination. There's no crowd inside despite the thousand or so riders down the street trying to cool down.
The small town of Alice was just five miles further, represented by just a single church taking mutual advantage by selling what the riders need. Another seven miles after was Central City, which at around mile sixty-three was the last town offering full services. I drank deep from my water bottles and topped them off.
It was getting past noon, and the heat was noticeable. For the next twenty or so miles, I tried hard to reign myself to the pace, a slow but sure cruise that kept my body heat in check.
Around mile 80, the usual route continued to Anamosa and the overnight stop. The Karras Loop option, however, turned right towards Stone City and plunged down into the river valley roads. The added loop would net over 26 more miles, and a fair bit of elevation.
Traffic was very light out on the loop. I slowly drank my water, until it was gone. My pace fell apart as I turned to my lowest gears, barely better than pushing (and on pavement)! It was the hardest moment of the day. But slow and steady prevailed; I eventually rejoined the main route and passed some familiar signs. I would be done soon!
I arrived in Anamosa in less than an hour, thirsty, but not dangerously so. I stopped my Garmin at 116 miles, but there's still much to do -- dinner, shower (or at least a hose), second dinner, set camp, dessert, live music, beer, and hopefully a good night's sleep, too.
