Although I had planned which cycling kits I would wear throughout the week and I still had clean kits to wear, the RAGBRAI XL and Bike Virginia jerseys were still available, I decided to wear my Cyclists Combating Cancer kit again. I had washed it in the shower on Monday although it’s never laundry fresh until it is washed for real.
But I wanted to display my support for Jacob Grecco and took a permanent marker and wrote PRAY FOR JAKE on my jersey. Jake had gone to Germany for two weeks of treatment and responded very well in the first 10 days or so. But just a couple of days before scheduled to return, he had become very ill.
With a feeling of “let’s get this over with” and wondering how my legs would respond to a 72-mile ride after 500 in five days, I rolled out of Anamosa early. The intense heat had broken from the storm Wednesday in Marshalltown and it may have been in the 50s when we rolled out so early. It was very delightful.
Early on I passed an older woman with a “license plate” on her bike that said Prayer Requests Taken. I rode by and said “Jake the Hero.” She may not have heard me as I kept going. When I stopped at a farm stand for some juice and a muffin, I saw her go rolling by in the crowd. This time I would do it right.
I caught her and told her “Jake the Hero.” I told her Jake was in Germany and we were trying to get him home. She said she would pray for him but wasn’t sure of his name. “Jake the Hero” is enough, I said. “God knows who he is.”
I passed a girl with two flags in her helmet – a Swiss flag and a U.S flag. I asked her if she was from Switzerland and she said she was. Near Zurich. Her sister had been an exchange student and came back to visit her host family so she came with her and rode RAGBRAI.
Coming into Delmar I stopped at a corner Lemonade Stand — just 25 cents a cup. Two cute kids ran the stand and I was tired of water and Gatorade. I gave them a dollar for a cup and they started to make change. I laughed. “Everything’s a dollar (or more) on RAGBRAI,” I said. I got a second cup then gave them another dollar and they filled my water bottle with Lemonade. And gave out free Rice Krispie treats.
Two girls selling lemonade – and a free Rice Krispie treat too – Delmar, Ia.
RAGBRAI means a lot to the communities. Countless people had water hoses turned on. Some were sprinklers where one could ride through; others were looking to spray those who wanted to be sprayed. When I took the time to stop it was fun meeting people although I would not try to meet people in every town. To do so would mean I would never finish.
Delmar, Iowa. Cyclists seeking shade.
I passed a roller blader — “The whole way?,” I asked. He said yes. Impressive.
Lunch in Charlotte, Iowa
At ten miles to go the signs marked each mile. A couple of miles from the Mississippi River in Clinton, Iowa, people lined the streets and sat in their yards as though they were waiting for a trade to pass. And they were. We were the parade. Most were clapping. Almost all had congratulatory signs.
Just 10 more miles to go. Why the 0.2?
It meant a lot to the people to congratulate the riders. Approaching Clinton we passed a park and the River City Band was playing. These are good folks these Iowans.
River City Band in Clinton, Iowa
I went to the finish banner and although I said I would not dip my tire in the Mississippi, I followed the crowds and did so. I was only reserving dipping for the occasion when I ride across the U.S. and use the oceans as my dipping points. But it was fun.
Dipping. Or preparing to dip, in the Mississippi River.
I then made my way to the Brancel Charters meet-up point which was the long-term parking area. I found my luggage then pitched my tent to let it air since it had dew on it in the morning. I had a few hours before my group finished so it could air out before I packed it for the ride home.
Mississippi River, Clinton, Ia. – 2021 (Showing the ending location used in 2012 and 2021) Source: Facebook page of RAGBRAI, posted 31 Jul 2021 Two riders on right: Paul McClintic and Kevin Skellenger. Source: Des Moines Register, 31 Jul 2021
Noticing my mileage, I then went for a 10-mile ride to make it 700 for the week. It was a good week.
I had wanted to ride with Scott Scudamore and his friends from IMBA although they constantly stroked my ego by telling me how much stronger and faster I was. Today would be the day. I would stay with them no matter what.
We stayed together nine miles.
Overnight we had camped on the outskirts of Cedar Rapids. In the morning we rode to the downtown area. When we came to Czech Village they had “Breakfast on the Bridge” which was very nice. But it also meant confusion in walking across the long bridge over the Cedar River.
Breakfast on the Bridge – Cedar Rapids, Ia.
I found two riders of Scott’s group on a tandem, Nancy DeVore and Coroleen Bean and stayed with them for a couple of blocks as they tried to get the front wheel of their recumbent fixed. And did.
After the repair, I slipped into the Chrome Horse Saloon for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet ($8) and never saw anyone from Scott’s group the rest of the day. I honestly tried to stay with them. No matter what.
Chrome Horse Saloon, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
All alone with 23,000 other cyclists, I headed towards Anamosa. There were a couple of climbs coming out of Cedar Rapids which slowed many riders. I passed a rider from LIVESTRONG but kept going. At the top of the climb I decided to wait for her. After a few minutes and thinking I had missed her, I jumped on the bike then more LIVESTRONG riders passed by me including this one.
This time I did not miss my opportunity. Eliza Hanson was riding in Honor of “Normal” so I asked her what “Normal” was. Eliza told me that cancer patients don’t want anything other than to be Normal. And that was what she was riding for.
Then I told her I wanted to write on her back. I wanted her to ride for Jake. And she let me. I told her the story of Jake and then wrote “Jake The Hero Grecco” on her back and then left to never see her again.
Eliza Hanson, Team Livestrong
I was surprised with the ease and my interest in riding with the cycling cancer community at RAGBRAI. Four years ago I wouldn’t have wanted to ride with them and now I found myself seeking them out.
On the ride it was college spirit day. Riders were asked to wear their alma mater or favorite college jersey. With the NCAA sanctions against Penn State coming down, it wasn’t a good time to be a Nittany Lion. I wore the sweater of the Pittsburgh Penguins. Yes, I know, that’s not a college.
Arriving Mt. Vernon I suspect that every college in Iowa had a booth on the side of the streets and this was one you absolutely had to walk through. Slowly. Mount Vernon is a beautiful town and home to Cornell College.
One of my favorite team busses
All week we had been traveling with Brancel Charters. There are different levels of charters available but with Brancel we knew our luggage would be transported separately from RAGBRAI’s and we didn’t have to sort through it. It also meant that we had our own camping area scouted out. Today it was next to the community swimming pool and stage.
Camping at Goettsch Funeral Home, Anamosa, Iowa
I pitched my tent next to the swimming pool — a bad idea — and then — went for a ride. I had promised myself to rest some and not do a fifth straight century ride. I had a feeling that might not be good for my body. Today’s ride was listed at 42 miles although we seemed to be six miles from the start point so we were at 48 miles when we arrived in Anamosa.
Penitentiary
I set out to explore the town. I found a penitentiary, then Riverside Cemetery, burial place of the painter, Grant Wood. And I found people camping in the cemetery of the burial place of Grant Wood. With RAGBRAI, anything’s acceptable. And I assume this was a RAGBRAI camp site although do not know for certain.
Riverside Cemetery, Anamosa, Iowa
Although I wasn’t tired, or overly tired, I had promised myself that I would not turn a 42-mile ride into my fifth straight century ride. But my mileage of 75 gave me 500 for five days. Not too bad.
When I returned I noticed two things. First, when I left the pool was empty and very serene. But when I returned it was full of patrons and overflow from the pool ran down the sidewalk right under my tent. This was not good. I tore down the tent and moved it to higher ground.
Camping in Riverside Cemetery, Anamosa, Ia.
Second, there was something big happening at the stage by the pool. And we were the only people who were camping there.
For our last night of RAGBRAI, Bob Brancel brought in a band, Swing Crew, to play for us. Walking towards the stage I could hear the band but only see the audience and they were dying with laughter. I thought the band sounded OK playing “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” but didn’t know why it was so funny. When I walked around the corner I could see that Scott had joined them on stage. He was doing motions to the song, let’s just say these weren’t the motions I learned attending church camp at Camp Allegheny. OMG. So funny!!! (And I deleted the video to protect the guilty.)
Scott Scudamore leading the shenanigans
Shortly after that Scott then led a number of people on stage (pictured) doing the Conga or some type of line dance. A fun time is always what you get when Scott is around. No, it’s a party.
I quit looking for pacelines. I noticed that most days I rode faster than just about everyone which hopefully isn’t as arrogant as it sounds. On the few occasions I was passed it was usually by a paceline and often I caught them later.
I started to jump into a line but halfway back was a rider who pedaled fast, then braked, then coasted. Repeat. I felt the advantage of riding in a paceline was not worth the risk of a crash. It was easier, and safer, to ride by myself.
Riding for Jake (Grecco)
RAGBRAI brings out all kinds of riders and probably less than the average number of serious riders. I passed amputees with one leg. I passed tons of recumbent riders including three-wheel ones for paraplegics using hand cranks. Well done my friends! There were families towing kids, either in trailers or on tandems. Which, in the heat, I think they should be charged with child neglect. Children’s bodies cannot regulate the 100-degree heat for 10-12 hours.
There was a banana boat crew – a tandem recumbent that looked like a boat, in yellow, with five wheels. There was a couple who had a tandem painted in the black and white pattern of a cow. And they wore cow costumes. There was even an older lady who dressed up as the tooth fairy.
The banana crew
I was resigned to enjoying the ride when I rolled into Vinton which may have been the first signs of a city we saw since leaving Sioux Center. A guy advertising Pizza Hut was spinning his sign as I rolled by I reminded him we didn’t come to RAGBRAI to eat at Pizza Hut. I went by and stopped — at Subway. It was so inviting.
Large tractor displayed at a rest stop
Air conditioning. And free refills. It hit the spot.
Once out on the road, I caught or was caught by Cindi and Ken Hart. We then rode together to Cedar Rapids. We could talk about cancer and most importantly, Jake the Hero. I also talked about a group of college students from Baltimore cycling 4,000 miles across the U.S. to raise awareness and money in the fight against cancer. My “Pedal pal” on this trip is Patrick Sheridan.
Jerry Ask – Cycling supporter
Near Cedar Rapids, we pulled over for some free water supplied by Jerry Ask, a cyclist and multi-RAGBRAI rider. I asked him about a local ride since 82 miles wouldn’t be enough today.
Jerry sent me in a direction to “Czech Town” although it is marked as Czech Village. I wondered if that was a derisive term the locals use for it. But I found the path along the Cedar River he recommended and followed it to Ely, Iowa.
Spokes of Hope / Cyclists Combating Cancer sign
At the campsite, next to Cherry Hill Aquatic Center, the decision was which showers to use. The pool had $5 showers, actually free showers with a pool admission while the shower trailer, next to Pork Belly Ventures, was six dollars. I had heard there was standing water in the pool showers, that they were cold, and were spring-loaded for only a few seconds of water at a time. I opted for the trailers. Plus the line to the pool was long.
Showers on RAGBRAI usually meant a 20-40 minute wait, especially on the men’s side. The women had it better because there were far fewer of them on RAGBRAI.
The Brancel Charter moving van which transported our gear every day
Dinner was at Cedar Hills Community Church nearby – prepaid when I registered with Brancel Charters. RAGBRAI campers were spread out through Cedar Rapids. We were camped next to the water park but there were no close-by eateries. But there was the church close that served dinner which was presented to us as an attractive option. They served chicken breasts and corn. It was pretty good actually.
Mileage: 115. It was my fourth century in four days.
I wore my full Belgian FUCANCER kit today, riding for Jake. I packed the tent and then asked a stranger in our campground to write “JAKE GRECCO” on my calves. Lots of people write “Virgin” on their calves to indicate they are first-time RAGBRAIers but from the beginning, I told Scott Scudamore that I would only write Jake’s name on my legs.
I saw Scott at the campsite but he wasn’t ready so I rolled out at 6:15 a.m. I rode on my own for 20 miles, almost always passing people and rarely being passed. And if I was passed I always looked to see if I could jump in and make or join a paceline.
An old service station in Webster City
Pace lines were discouraged if not prohibited. I already realized that a typical RAGBRAI pace line was one guy pulling and 5-6 guys wheel sucking. They weren’t pace lines at all — just wheel suckers looking for a free ride.
But then three guys went by me and I jumped on their wheels. It was easy to follow because they kept a steady pace with a constant cadence – no herky-jerkypedaling movements. When the first guy peeled off the front and slid back he saw me on 4th wheel. Without saying a word, I slid up to 3rd wheel so he could fall in behind me. Perfect. I was part of a four-man pace line.
They were three guys from Des Moines, Brad, Pat, and Joe, later to be joined by a fourth, Jay. At Mile 52 we stopped in Dayton and ate watermelon. Without a word, we were four. I was waiting for them and they were waiting for me.
Joe, from Des Moines, in Stratford, Iowa
We went 10 miles and turned onto the Karras Loop. This 22-mile loop was designed to allow riders to turn one day into a century ride. Named for the founder of RAGRBAI, John Karras, he was actually at the stopping town on the loop, Stratford, for photos or a meet and greet.
The winter day I rode at Trexlertown, Pa., featured the windiest gusty day I ever rode. But I think this day was second. None of us knew for sure but 30 mph seemed like the right measurement for the gusts of winds. And so we rode directly into 30 mph headwinds most of the way. Or a lot of the way. And still, we hammered it.
Brad (Bianchi green) and Pat, in Stratford, Iowa
I stopped in Stratford for lunch and had the most delicious chicken sandwich on the trip. To my surprise or amazement, Brad, Joe, and Pat did too. It meant either I still had someone to ride with or meant more miles of suffering keeping up with the pace.
At Lehigh, they stopped to find Jay and I searched for the hill climb. The Register promised a hill climb with a 20-26% grade. I found it. Joe and I did it although it was supposed to be a fundraiser for the town. Lay down $5 and if you can do it in less than three minutes they give you a koozie — a foam cover for your drinks. We did it, neither paid the $5 for a koozie but both in under three minutes. It was a formidable climb, even in Iowa. I suspect it averaged 15% most of the way up.
Lake City, Iowa The town’s motto is “Everything but a lake”
It was from these guys I learned how the non-registered riders (bandits) do it. Being from Iowa they explained they all know someone who knows someone who has a great aunt living in one of the towns. They contact them to pitch their tent. There are port-a-johns scattered throughout the host cities and showers everywhere – in schools and portable shower trucks mostly. Apparently, most vendors don’t care if you are registered or not.
The charters do care. To ride with Brancel Charters or any other group, you must be a registered rider. But certainly, the farm stand on the side of the road looks at all money as green.
The Karras Loop Patch
Our bandits rotated driver duties. On any given day one person doesn’t ride but drives to the next location with their gear then often doubles back on their bike part way to meet their group. While the roads aren’t close, most are back roads and the riders often fan all the way across the road. It is always scary and dangerous to meet a rider coming against the flow of traffic.
Today Jay, their designated driver, met us in Lehigh. As we climbed out of the river valley we dropped Pat. I was hoping, even praying, that we would sit up and wait for him but they seemed to think he wanted to drop and ride at his own pace. The pace we were keeping was too much for him. We remained at four riders.
And we rode at our pace, which into a strong wind, and was hard. Arriving at Webster City, we did a rolling goodbye, never to see, or even really know who my friends were, again.
Maybe I should not have ridden with them. I play by the rules and having 10,000-15,000 bandits jump in this ride makes it more dangerous than it is. When I learned they weren’t official RAGBRAI riders I could have left them. But today they were just cyclists.
In Webster City, we camped next to a middle school. Showers were $5 and the school served a spaghetti dinner for $8. Entertainment was by Three Dog Night, which I did not attend. I didn’t want to stay up that late.
This was my second 100-mile ride in a row. The legs held up fine with most of the damage from the hard pace into the wind. Average speed was almost 18 mph over these 100 miles which include time walking through towns. Plus it was 100 degrees.
Sunday was hot and Monday (today) got hotter. With 20,000 cyclists you will never be first or last at anything. Never. Get up at 4:30 to be first? Guaranteed that someone is already on the road.
Even if you wanted to sleep in, which on RAGBRAI is until sunrise, it’s almost impossible. With our charter, we had a campsite and all tents were close together. Someone was always up before sunrise tearing down their tent and dragging their roller bags to the truck. And talking. And so I was up before sunrise.
The daily routine was to roll up the sleeping bag (used to lay on, never to crawl in), dress for the day’s ride, smoosh the clothes back into the suitcase, tear down and pack the tent, then take the two bags to the truck. Check the air in the tires, jump on the bike and roll. Breakfast, if at all, would come on the road.
Good morning Iowa!
I wore my new Cyclists Combating Cancer kit, thinking of 8-year-old Jacob Grecco getting hyperthermia treatments in Germany.
On the bus ride from Clinton to Sioux City we saw the official RAGBRAI welcome video. It was clear that Mr. Pork Chop was a tradition not to be missed. But there were other vendors too. And I found the Schwan Ice Cream Man.
The Schwan Ice Cream Man
RAGBRAI is a celebration of Iowa. Maybe of cycling too, but mostly Iowa. For the host towns, it is a major event to be selected. But even for the pass-thru towns like Schaller, it is huge.
Churches, schools, civic groups, clubs, and sports teams all come out to greet and welcome the riders. And to sell things, mostly food. But not everyone is selling. Like Punxsutawney with the Groundhog Queen or Meyersdale (Pa.) with the Maple Queen, and thousands of communities with their various themed queens, this town wanted to greet us with their best. And I met Schaller’s 2012 Popcorn Queen, Heather Hansen.
Heather Hansen, 2012 Popcorn Queen
Heather was mingling with other friends when I asked for a photograph. Once I did it seemed a line form to get a picture with her.
I only had to walk a few meters through Schaller before being able to jump on the bike and roll. Once back on the road, I met Rod Ambelang from Kansas City. We were wearing the same CCC jersey so we talked about — cancer. We rode for a while before I joined an ill-formed paceline and went down the road far ahead of him.
Mr. Pork Chop
I wasn’t with the paceline long and we broke up when we came to the roadside stand of Mr. Pork Chop, a RAGBRAI tradition. Unfortunately, so is the stupid tradition of rides going by yelling “Mr. Pork CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!” For $7 I got a chop so thick that I could not eat the entire thing. But I tried it.
Helper of Mr. Pork Chop
At Sac City, I stopped to see the World’s Largest Popcorn Ball. It’s a celebration of Iowa and the Sac City natives were proud of their ball. This was straight out of National Lampoon’s Vacation.
World’s Largest Ball of Popcorn, Sac City, Iowa
After Sac City I caught Rod again. We rode together the last 10 miles to Lake View and then said goodbye.
Rod Ambelang, Barry Sherry
Once I got to camp and set up, I surmised the situation. I just rode 65 miles. It was 100º. I could shower, put on clothes, then sweat through them. Or — I could ride.
I asked a local resident how far it was around the lake and she told me seven miles. So I did five loops of the lake trying to keep cool. And to see if it was foolish to ride 100 miles before tomorrow’s century ride.
Lake View, Iowa
After a shower, I took a shuttle (a wagon pulled by a tractor) into town for a $9 spaghetti dinner at the United Methodist Church. The line, unbeknownst to me when I entered it, was more than one hour, the first 30 minutes spent in the 100º sun. Inside we were ushered into the sanctuary until our number was called to eat.
I sat beside a couple and asked Emily Fuhrman where she was from. She said Fort Wayne, Indiana, and introduced me to her boyfriend who was from Houston, Ohio (pronounced House-ton, by the way). She was hesitant at first to name the town because it was so small no one would have ever heard of it. A small town about 40 miles north of Dayton. When she said Houston I paused and said, “Oh, I attended school there.” And I had attended school there in 1966-1967. It’s a small world indeed.
My good friend, Scott, came rolling in with a group around 3:00 or 4:00. He asked me when I arrived at I told him 11:00 a.m. He was astounded. “How you could do that, he asked?” And I told him I rode 100 miles today.
I proceeded to ask Scott about his day. He said they rolled out but stopped to grab breakfast in Cherokee. In Aurelia, they stopped for refreshments (not sure if this was alcohol or not).
In Schaller, Scott and some friends went to a beer garden and spent a lot of time there then sought relief from some sprinklers. In Sac City, he went into an air-conditioned church (which was open to riders) and fell asleep on a pew. Then, perhaps, another beer garden.
Just rolling through Iowa Photo Credit: Rob Ambelang
Two different approaches to RAGBRAI. Me, I just wanted to ride my bike. Scott, on the other hand, wanted to enjoy everything there was about Iowa. We were both happy with our different approaches to this ride.
After being struck by a car I wanted to go home yesterday but ended up getting a wheel repair at the local Trek bike store in Charles Town. At no charge. That always helps.
The newly trued wheel rolled well and I was thankful for the coolness of the morning air to ride. But I also thought of the bike and remembered that a carbon fiber bike must be checked out before being ridden again after a crash. While I was thankful the local Trek store fixed my wheel I wish the mechanic would have asked to check out the bike. I was in no frame of mind to think to ask him to do that.
Trek mechanic onsite checking out the Pilot
Arriving in Berryville, I found the on-site Trek mechanic who checked out the bike and was able to reposition the shifters. He gave the bike a clean bill of health. More importantly, he gave me peace of mind.
Trek mechanic onsite checking out the Pilot
Since the mechanic took time checking the bike, it felt as though I was the last to leave Berryville. As I rode I began to catch and pass everyone. It would be one of those days where I would pass everyone and not get passed. Period.
After making my way through the first group of riders I passed five riders stopped along the side of the road, all supervising some poor schmuck trying to fix his bike. I asked if they needed one more person to watch and they said yes. So I stopped. Poor guy had a broken chain and other than making a phone call (for SAG support), I couldn’t help, but by then all those slow, old (my age) people came rolling by so I let them pass then worked my way through them again.
When I passed a rider named Karen, she jumped on my wheel and followed me. She announced her presence and stated that I was the right speed to follow. And she did. For a while. Then she admitted I was too fast but I backed it off and we rode together and picked up some other riders as well.
Cute family of six
At Rest Stop Number 1 in Rippon, I saw a family with young children in cycling gear. How cute. As they were getting ready to leave I talked to them. I told them I saw a family down at River Ride on the Northern Neck about five years ago who had a triple Co-Motion bike with dad and two daughters on it while the mother pulled a — “Burley Trailer,” everyone pretty much said in unison.
Cute family on six
“That was us,” replied the mom. The family is from Front Royal, Virginia.
My memory of that day on the Northern Neck was seeing this extremely cute family pull in at the end of the ride. The youngest girl was sound asleep — head over folded arms on the handlebars — with her feet clipped into the pedals going in circles.
The oldest daughter said “yep, that was Kylie. She can do that”*
But now there were six. They’ve added to their cycling family. Three on dad’s bike and three on mom’s. How very cute. A double triple.
They left the rest stop before I did and although I caught them on Kabletown Road, I didn’t see them the rest of the day. Hopefully I will see them again.
Rest stop at Rippon, Va.
The route would zigzag around Charles Town on some of the roads I had ridden down to Berryville to the start. I was almost getting dizzy going in a circle. Like yesterday, my cousin, Kay Walborn, started earlier than I could, and from Berryville.
Although this was billed as a recreational touring ride and not a place for pace lines, occasional lines formed and it was fun riding just a little faster with other people. Or a lot faster than other people. I had missed out on that yesterday except for the first 10 miles or so when I had jumped in with a group of four.
Rest stop in Middleway, West Virginia
But today I rode with a woman and her dad for a while, and also with Paul from Allentown, Pa., plus Karen from Ashville, N.C. At the lunch stop around Mile 48 (my mile 68) I had caught my cousin, Kay Walborn, and we then rode together the optional 20-mile loop. Near the end of the ride, I was ahead of Kay and her friend, Wanda, on Job Corps Road, when I was left shaken.
While descending a hill, I was doing about 30 mph and was hugging the white line at the edge of the road. There was no shoulder. Then I heard it. A large diesel pickup truck was barreling down on me and wanting to pass. But there was an oncoming car and hardly room for the three of us. He gunned it.
I was over as far as I could get and the truck passed within inches. Kay told me that the truck missed my head by two inches. What is it? Two accidents in two days?
Barry and Kay Bardane, West Virginia
When we finished I had 90 miles so it was easy to get 100 before going back to Bethany’s.
Two Days. Two Centuries.
___ *I’m not sure of the daughter’s name – but let’s go with Kylie.
The day started with promise. Attending Bike Virginia, I rode 20 miles from Charles Town to the event’s registration in Berryville, Va.
Rest Stop at Bike Virginia
Once on the road, I reset my odometer so as not to remind myself that I had ridden 20 miles farther than anyone else. And it worked.
Rest Stop at Bike Virginia
I was surprised that at a park and swimming pool rest stop at Mile 80 near Winchester I ran into my friend Vince Amodeo. I had been chasing my cousin, Kay Walborn, for these 80 miles and had given up finding her.
Vince Amodeo
I said goodbye to Vince and sat down to text Kay. We had been texting at each rest stop and I had no idea I was close. My legs felt like it was 80 miles, not 100, and then I heard her call my name. I had caught her. What a nice surprise. We rolled out together and rode together for just six miles before I broke from the route and headed back to Charles Town.
Rest stop
In Charles Town, as I came up Washington Street, a car started to overtake me at an intersection. This is a common occurrence and I didn’t think much of it. As I went straight the driver got just far enough in front of me then she whipped the car to the right and made a right turn. Into me. The classic right hook.
I tried to evade her by turning sharper but I couldn’t. She hit me and sent me flying.
The dumbass who hit me
I remember nothing after being contacted by her car until I was on the ground. My shoulders and back seemed to take the worst of it and I lay on the street in pain with my bike on top of me, still clipped into the left pedal.
I had ridden 115 miles, my farthest ever, and combined with the heat, 86º, and the effort to get up the rise before the intersection, I was breathing heavy. Laying on my back I was afraid to open my eyes. I was scared.
I was breathing very heavily and heard the woman who hit me scream at me. “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!” “DIDN’T YOU SEE MY SIGNAL!!!”
I paid her no attention and within another minute a passerby stopped her car and came to my assistance. If I had any idea of getting to my feet she made sure that I was to remain immobile. In fact, she held me around my shoulders so I wouldn’t move. And I was too weak to fight.
Another passerby tried to unclip my shoes. And in the moment, I could not remember how to release them. I was afraid they were going to cut them off. Not my Louis Garneaus!
An ambulance arrived pretty quickly followed by the police and then a firetruck. As the paramedics attended to me the woman who had been attending, also a paramedic, introduced herself to them. I was holding the back of my leg, not because I was injured but because the position I was in, combined with riding 115 miles in the heat, was causing me to cramp.
First responders in Charles Town
She told the paramedic crew that I was cramping because I had ridden 15 miles. “115 miles,” I corrected her, and I threw water on her.
They extricated me from my bike (is that a thing?) and moved it next to a building. They helped me to my feet then checked my vitals, checking to see if I was dizzy. I could move everything but was sore from the crash. I had some road rash but it wasn’t bad. I refused a trip to the emergency room in the ambulance.
My handlebar tape was torn and the shifters were out of place. I was able to forcibly realign one mostly. Against the wishes of, well, everyone there, I decided I would keep on riding. As I got close to Bethany’s I noticed the front wheel was wobbling. More damage that I hadn’t seen.
Garmin Odometer
I was shaken up and really just wanted to go home. I just wanted to end my five-day Bike Virginia trip after one day.
Trek store in Charles Town
I set a new personal best for miles ridden in one day: 119.2, and would have gone farther except for the crash. But my bike and I were sore and beat up.
Bethany reminded me that there was a bike store in Charles Town and I took my bike there. It was Three Points Cycle and the manager/owner on duty couldn’t be nicer. He looked at me, still walking in a daze, listened to my story, and told me he grew up in Woodbridge. He attended Gar-Field H.S. He took my front wheel and trued it. No charge. I started feeling better.
Before I rode many miles on the road I rode many miles on the trail. I returned to the trail today. It is different than road riding but a more relaxed ride since the only cars one has to worry about are when you cross roads.
York, Pa. is an ancestral home for me. My 5th-great-grandfather, Wendel Laumeister, arrived from Germany aboard the ship Priscilla in Philadelphia in 1750 and settled in York. My 4th-great, FrederickLaumeister, and 3rd-great, George Lowmaster, were born there. George would later leave York and settle in Indiana Co., Pennsylvania.
The York Heritage Trail is a crushed limestone trail that runs next to a rail line for 21 miles to the Mason Dixon line where it becomes the Torrey C. Brown Rail Trail in Maryland. In Pennsylvania it parallels the former Northern Central Railway but the tracks end at the Maryland line. While signs and some websites warn it is an active railroad, it isn’t. Well, I didn’t expect it to be.
Speedsters speed along the track
I brought my mountain bike with fat tires although I saw a few road bikes on the trail. None passed me though and there were sections the gravel or sand would have presented some tough steering.
Around Mile 7 I was passed by a maintenance car (speedster) on the track coming from another direction. And a second. And a third. Maybe ten in all. The occupants in the cars didn’t look like railroad workers. And some of the cars looked old while others looked like they just rolled out of the factory. It was a strange site.
Crossing
The Heritage Trail is a beautiful wooded trail that goes through miles of forest and passes some farmland. Unlike the Great Allegheny Passage which I have ridden many times, there are no stunning vistas looking out over the valleys nor high trestles. There is but one tunnel, the Howard tunnel.
New Freedom, Pa.
I had gone one mile and realized that my water bottles were on my road bike – back in the van. I worried about riding the entire 42 miles (round trip) but it was cool (60s) when I left so I wasn’t too worried. At 10 miles I passed a bike shop on the trail and knew I could stop there on the way back.
After seeing the bike shop at Seven Valleys, I came upon more potential stops. Glen Rock presented a few places to stop and shop if I wanted to, and New Freedom had a beautifully restored train station with two cabooses, painted in the Pennsylvania Railroad colors. And clean restrooms.
Mason Dixon line
After New Freedom the tracks end and the grade turns down for a mile to the Mason Dixon line. There I turned around to go back.
Mason Dixon Line
Back at the Howard Tunnel the speedsters were all stopped and I heard a cyclist ask how one get ride one of those. One of the guys said “you had to buy one of these 18 years ago.”
And thus I learned that the speedsters were all phased out by the railroads, replaced with pickup trucks that run on the rails. Many railroads dumped these cars for $25-$100 just to have someone haul them away. Private individuals bought these cars, refurbished some, and now have organized group rides on railroads. This railroad is perfect since the tracks are still in place but apparently no rail traffic runs on it. It would be interesting to know if they run every Sunday. Note: They were probably members of North Central Railcar Association.
I doubt that I find out. This was a nice trail but not one I would normally plan to return to.
Back in York, I went searching for Christ Lutheran Church. This church, founded in 1733, was one my ancestors were affiliated with. I found it. I walked around a bit, even through the old cemetery which has been encroached by a parking lot.
I don’t know that any of my ancestors are buried there and most of the stones were impossible to read. But it certainly was a nice way to end a bike ride.
I am a “Pedal Pal.” That is a pen pal for a cyclist who is riding 4,000 miles to raise money and cancer awareness. The 4K for Cancer started at Johns Hopkins as the Hopkins4K but was now taken over by another organization. I was asked to be a Pedal Pal for this year’s group.
My friend, Alan, graciously allowed me to be at his house in Alexandria at 5:30 p.m. and he drove me to Baltimore. Then I could bike from Baltimore to D.C. and back to Alexandria.
When we arrived at 6:45 it was easy to spot the riders. Team Portland wore blue jerseys. Team Seattle wore gold jerseys. Team San Francisco wore white jerseys. The riders were standing in a dedication circle holding hands and one by one announcing who they were riding for on that day.
Chey and Barry
I had to find Chey Hillsgrove, the Team Portland leader. He is the Pedal Pal for Jake the Hero Grecco. I didn’t know when we would be rolling out and made sure I found him first. He was very gracious and very thankful that I came to say hello to him.
Dedicated to Jake (Chey)
I then found Patrick Sheridan, my Pedal Pal. He introduced me to our riding team of Jeff Graves, Chris Chitterling, and Lauren Shoener, as well as Lauren’s father, who would be riding with us. At some point before we rolled out we had an alumni rider, Zack, join us but I don’t remember meeting him until I gave him my water bottle – because he forgot water bottles. He also looked like Screech on Saved by the Bell.
Team San Francisco
Shortly after 7:00 a.m., we rolled out of the parking lot and over to the Inner Harbor. A strange sight (to me) was seeing so many of the bikes turned upside down. Perhaps in my circle, we never do that because we would smash our bike computers. The riders were then called over for the opening ceremony.
Lauren checking her bike
After the National Anthem, the riders dipped their rear wheels into the Inner Harbor which was followed by a group photo op. The San Francisco group was called up and were ready for the send-off. Although I had pictured a peloton of 30 riders, that was not to be. We were sent off in groups of four or five, each one spaced seemingly 3-4 minutes apart. Our group was the third to go and it was then I saw the mystery alumni rider, Zack.
Sendoff at Inner Harbor
Within a few hundred yards we were caught up with the two front groups and were in the midst of a 10k run. Perhaps the four riders had cue sheets and our alumni rider did as well but I didn’t. I was simply along for the ride.
We had only gone one mile when we got on a trail littered with broken bottles and glass. Stay classy Baltimore.
We meandered, literally, about the streets. When we looked up we saw riders headed in different directions. So we followed them. We went east on Ostend Street then made a U-turn and went west. And others followed us. I was along for the ride.
Screech then led us down a street with a clear “No Outlet” sign visible. I enjoyed pointing to it while we passed it. We turned around. I was along for the ride.
Pikachu (Clean)
As little confidence as we had in our alumni leader, others may have had less in theirs because they asked us to go to the front and be the lead group. Jeff then stepped up and took the lead on reading and calling out directions and I did most of the pulling. Just tell me where to turn. It worked well because I had a good odometer. Not sure about the other riders. I can’t imagine doing a cross-country trip without one though.
Once we finally got rolling we got to the BWI Trail. When we came to Stoney Run Road we turned left instead of right. We even stopped about 50 yards from where we turned to contemplate our decision and one of the 4K vans even stopped and didn’t say a word (that we were going the wrong way). Nice. We went 1.5 miles before turning around. We rode back four miles when we could have continued with a right turn and been back on course after two miles.
Dipping tires in the Inner Harbor
We stopped in Jessup for Rest Stop #1. While our bonus miles had dropped us back as the third or fourth group in we were the first to leave. As we rolled on the open road we noticed we soon dropped Zack, our “leader.” We waited and discovered he needed a tool to fix his saddle.
Once fixed, we dropped Zack again. This time we learned that he hadn’t eaten breakfast. And that he ran four marathons. And six half marathons. He loved telling us what a great endurance athlete he was.
Zack would have a rough day. He was on a borrowed bike (not his fault), lost his water bottle (partially his fault), and failed to eat breakfast before a 65-mile ride in the heat (completely his fault).
Dipping tires in the Inner Harbor
With our confidence in Zack waning, I asked Jeff to read me the street names on the cue sheet. That’s when I learned we would connect with the Capital Crescent Trail, a trail I ride 2-3 times per week. I told him to get us there and I would lead us home. We were brimming with confidence.
BWI Trail which passes BWI Airport
We rolled into Rest Stop #2 in College Park. Then things started to go terribly wrong. Zack was insistent that we would have to wait for all the groups to check in and we had heard one group was more than one hour behind. We were not patiently waiting.
To make matters more confusing, Zack told us that one of the drivers (alumni) stated we had to wait while another one was clearly telling us to go. Lauren’s father was with us and was really pushing the issue to ride. When three groups checked in, we left.
On the road with Patrick and Jeff
We followed the directions and then they just blew up. They made no sense. We showed locals and they simply shook their heads. We used Barry’s rules of navigating: (1) If you’re trying to get to the river (Potomac) follow the creek as it flows downward; and (2) If you don’t know where you’re going at least get there in a hurry.
Pizza Lunch Break
Even stopping and asking a Maryland Park Policewoman, she was also confused by our directions. So at Queen’s Chapel Road in Hyattsville, we stopped in a broken bottle, glass-strewn Exxon parking lot.
It was hot and we were thirsty. It had been a while since we saw a support van and we were all out of water. I gave Zack some money and told him to go into the CVS and bring back a couple of gallons of water. Mark went across the street and got himself a Coke.
Chris, Lauren, Patrick, Jeff
Eventually, both support vans found us and since we had been leading and chalking the turns, the other groups followed. Zack was insistent that we all stay together and Lauren’s dad not-so-gently informed him that we were in a pretty unsafe area. Common sense took over at that point.
That was the end of Zack’s day. Not literally because he kept riding with us but he fell to the back and didn’t say a word after that. He was useless.
Patrick found us a nice car route to D.C. although we rode on the sidewalk on Queen’s Chapel instead of in the street. I told Patrick we couldn’t ride down North Capitol Street which was his plan but we could find parallel streets. Although when he said we would run into Michigan Avenue I thought that could work an alternative route.
We came to the bridge that crossed Amtrak’s Northeast Corridor and I instructed the group to stop. I didn’t tip my hand, at first, but I knew exactly where I was.
I had twice ridden the Metropolitan Branch Trail at lunchtime in the winter and didn’t like it. But I at least recognized the area. I had Jeff chalk an arrow to turn on 7th, then on Monroe, then on 8th. Then we joined the Metropolitan Branch Trail. I told our group the MBT would take us right to Union Station, downtown. Talk about big smiles. They called the vans immediately.
We followed the trail to Union Station then down to the Mall. I took our group to 15th Street simply to chalk it then we backtracked for bonus miles. I took my group for a tour of Hanes Point then Jeff and I went ahead and chalked the rest of the route while the others took a rest in the shade of a tree at the Jefferson Memorial.
Once our task was completed, we took the 14th Street Bridge across the Potomac and followed the Mt. Vernon Trail to Old Town Alexandria. We did briefly stop at Gravelly Point and watched the planes land at Reagan National Airport.
I said goodbye to my new friends and had to find my way to Alan’s house, without a 4K cue sheet. It was easier that way.
I bike. My dad bikes. (Badly) His bike riding is the subject of many jokes, all behind his back, of course.
I learned to ride a bike in our backyard in New Salem, (Armstrong Co.) Pa. when I was 6 or 7 years old. I never remember riding a bike with my dad.
Big Savage Tunnel
As a dad, I rode with all my kids, even subjecting Andrew to two days of a planned D.C. to Pittsburgh ride on the last day he was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad. I don’t think I did.
We grew up below the poverty level. The two bikes we had were bought by my brother and me. Bernie actually sold magazine subscriptions enough to get a bike. I was a paperboy for the Piqua Daily Call. When I got enough money I bought a bike. We never had bikes for a family ride.
In Piqua, Ohio, my brother, Bernie, and I would ride together to the Piqua Country Club where we were caddies. We even somehow managed to ride to the public golf course, Echo Hills, with golf clubs on our backs. I was 12 years old. But I never remember riding a bike with my dad.
My dad pulling off the trail
A few weeks ago I mentioned to my dad about going for a ride on the Great Allegheny Passage, a rail trail that goes from Cumberland, Maryland to McKeesport, Pennsylvania, and soon connecting to Pittsburgh. A large portion is in Somerset Co., Pa.
My dad expressed desire at going but said that he could never keep up with me. I told him not to worry about that.
Inside the Borden Tunnel
Although Dad had complained of back pain, he assured me that riding a bike would be no problem. After all, he rode 1.5 miles on the stationary bike in the doctor’s office, he reminded me. So we made a plan to ride on the trail. We would park cars strategically so he would only have to ride one way. And I would make it downhill. I thought.
Artwork at the Eastern Continental Divide
Our plan was to ride east to west going through two tunnels and crossing the eastern continental divide. My sister, Betsy, would join us as well. There was one thing wrong with that plan. Other than the section from Cumberland to Frostburg, the Frostburg to Deal section had the highest climbing of any section on the trail. We would ge going uphill. Damn me.
Arriving in Frostburg, I was shocked at how heavy his bike was as I unloaded it from my van. Dad had better bikes but at least one was stolen from his R.V. while my parents were camping in York, Pa. He ended up finding this old heavyweight bike at a garage sale. It had the one requirement he wanted – coaster brakes.
My Dad’s Beater Bike
I love climbing. I am more enthusiastic than talented yet the satisfaction of reaching the top is, well, satisfying. My dad is not a climber. Although the rail trail is just a 1-2% railroad grade it’s not like we’re ascending Mount Washington and its average 12% grade. But to my dad it was.
We had gone but 300 yards and my dad says “I think I’ll walk now.” I can’t describe how I felt. I was annoyed that I drove up this weekend and we rode all of 300 yards and he was walking. I was annoyed at myself for starting here. In fairness, this was one the one section of the trail that wasn’t true to its railroad past and did climb up to 4% or so for 100 yards.
Dad enjoyng the view
Once over the hump we settled into a pattern of riding for about 1/2 mile and then resting It was sort of funny. Sort of.
I do not know how I will be at 82 years old. Or if I will be. I don’t appreciate how the cardiovascular system works and how it may not replenish the red blood cells as fast. I do know that we didn’t see any other octogenarians on the trail.
Entering the Big Savage Tunnel
The trail was full of wildlife. Five turtles, four snakes, (including one rattlesnake), three rabbits, two chipmunks, and one deer. One guy showed us where the mileage marker had been removed because it also marked a rattelsnake den.
Borden Tunnel description
We entered the Bordon Tunnel which was unlit and I think surprised my dad. When he saw through it he said “We can see right through it.” Only once inside did he realize how difficult it was for the eyes to adjust. Dad was in front of a guy who had two lights on bright and he was able to stay in front of those lights.
At the longer Big Savage Tunnel he had gone about 100 yards and I heard him say “Is this only 3/4 mile? – I can walk this.” Don’t walk. Don’t walk. I kept riding, leaving Betsy to stay with him. At the exit I climbed to the top of the portal to take pictures of them exiting, not knowing when they would exit.
Exiting the Big Savage Tunnel
But Dad had a brief acclimation to the tunnel which caused some dizziness but quickly adjusted and rode his bike through the tunnel. He made it through safely.
We stopped at the Eastern Continental Divide, the location where rainfall to the east flows to the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean watershed and to the west to the Ohio (River), Mississippi, and Gulf of Mexico watershed. It was here I saw an elevation map for the trail painted on the wall. Frostburg was much lower in elevation than Meyersdale, something I hadn’t accounted for. That was my first realization that I had screwed up.
Family photo. Dad. Me. Betsy. The guy taking the photo said “look mad.” Only Betsy played along.
At the Divide we had another mile to go before reaching Deal. It was here we parked his Jeep as a bailout measure. It was a good measure. He was tired and for someone who had only ridden 1.5 miles on a stationary bike, the 11 miles we just covered, on a trail, was quite an accomplishment. These were 11 trail miles by an 82-year-old with a couple of stents.
Storm clouds were rolling in, the temperature was dropping, and it was a good place for him to stop. I loaded his bike in his Jeep for the drive home. And that concluded my first bike ride with Dad.
Betsy riding beside Dad
Betsy and headed on to Meyersdale where she had parked. It was another seven miles. Arriving at Meyersdale we found my dad, who had driven there, probably to make sure Betsy got back to her card safely.
Our journey over 18 miles took almost 4.5 hours. A little more than four mph.
After dropping off Betsy, I headed back up to the trail to Frostburg. We had been hearing thunder for two hours but could tell it was two mountains over. Yet rain was near us and we had just a brief exposure to it. But going back through Deal the trail was soaked although I hadn’t got caught in it, it did make for harder conditions.
My attire for the day was “relaxed” and I wore sandals and had platform pedals on Andrew’s bike, which he never rides anymore. I went up the rail at a good pace. There are days on the road bike when I don’t average 16 mph yet I made the 18 miles back in little more than one hour. I averaged almost 16.5 mph. I say I smoked it.
I can reflect on the ride. In 82 years this was the first day I rode my with dad. And in Deal, we walked around, where I found a plaque commemorating trail builders. I think a commemorative brick back at the tunnel had been promised, but in the end, they simply erected a plaque. There on the plaque were the names of two trail builders – Barry & Andrew Sherry, a reminder of the days this dad used to ride with his son.
Trailbulders plaque in Deal, Pa.
After uploading my ride data, I got an email that RideWith GPS made the Meyersdale to Frostburg section a timed segment. I’ve never been first on any segment but there I was in first. I smoked it going back.
