Archive for June 2014
Three Images
I was looking through images I captured during the week of the bike trip, thinking about the possibility of a ‘Words on Images’ creation, but instead, I ended up with three pictures that I liked together, without any words. Here they are, for no other reason than I liked how they looked together…
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I’m Trying
Honestly, I’m trying keep a positive attitude about the lack of progress with our situation at Wintervale, but my efforts seem futile against the elements. Wet weather is the greatest culprit. It takes several days after a measurable rainfall to see the crest of ground water drainage, so even two beautifully sunny days after a storm, our land just seems to become wetter. I doubt we have had more than two days without rain yet this year.
On top of that, the precipitation we have been receiving has been in crazy large doses. The storms rolling through have commonly dropped 2, 3, and even 4 inch totals. The horses have been reasonably tolerant, for which we are extremely grateful, but it is apparent they are burdened by the disastrous conditions of the paddocks.
We still have a temporarily roped small space on the gravel driveway where they can get a break from the mud. Cyndie recently helped me move the temporary fence defining a grazing area, to expand it onto some untouched growth. They seem moderately happy with it, but struggle to reach it through an area that is extremely soaked and soft. The sad truth is that everywhere is soaking wet, so it gets only marginally better after they cross that worst spot.
Often times, we find they have taken it upon themselves to come in from the grass and we find them standing up by the barn. It surprises us that they give up on grazing before we need to force them, and their acceptance of standing under the barn overhang is a new behavior, too. I’m guessing that they have just finally come to recognize all the sounds that come from wind and the creaking expansion of a steel building on a sunny day. The horses used to stay away from the barn whenever the wind was blowing.
It has been a week since I returned from the bike trip, and the lawn is in desperate need of mowing again, just like it looked when I got home and needed to dive into the project at that time. Too bad it is so rainy this weekend and I need to work the day-job next week to cover for my assistant who is on vacation. My chance to get some of it done yesterday was foiled from the get-go. My Saturday started with this message from Cyndie: “I have bad news…”
It was a special day for us, because Cyndie had scheduled her first mini-seminar of training. Our daughter, Elysa, was bringing friends and it would provide us the chance to do something of a test run through the routine we are envisioning will become the mainstay of our future operations of Wintervale Ranch.
“The kitchen sink isn’t draining.”
On the bright side, I got out of needing to do the vacuuming (which unfortunately still needs to be done). So, Cyndie had to prepare her welcome brunch and lunchtime meal without a working sink. I got to spend my day running a snake through the stink of drain muck, negotiating over the phone with local plumbers, running to the hardware store for a longer snake, spilling nasty water on myself and the kitchen floor, and finally succeeding and putting everything back together in time for dinner.
Try as I might, the ultimate victory over that battle didn’t do enough for my attitude to keep me from feeling helpless and inundated by the overwhelming number of things that await attention around here. We are sinking beneath the water and all the projects that are falling behind the endless passing time of days and weeks.
July is around the corner. I better get after those April and May projects pretty soon. Oh boy, I’m trying.
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Parting Shots
I will end my series about the 2014 Tour of Minnesota bicycle ride and tent camping week with a few remaining photos to provide a view of some universal scenes. As I reviewed my files to select these, it occurred to me that I am missing a picture of our favorite bike tech, Mike, at our Penn Cycle support van. That is a good thing for me, because it is probably a reflection of my minimal needs in the way of bike repair this year, despite the harsh conditions.
Mike did pause one repair to hand me a pliers from his tool box so I could loosen the nut on my valve stem when I was trying to top off the air in my tires. He is the best combination of capable and humble. Mike is a precious person and major contributor to our good experiences on this ride.
A view of tents set up for the night, followed by the next morning. That would be Rich’s tent, always in the running for the last tent taken down each morning…
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Speaking of Rich, he is a very special friend who, on the morning I felt at my worst during the week, pulled me along for the first leg of the day. That makes a huge difference by the end of the day, having had an easy go of it at the start. I was lucky to share one of the great spectacles of the ride with Rich. I peeked around his shoulder to notice two riders approaching while we were on the Casey Jones Trail. It was just a glance, and my brain struggled to reconcile the information received. The figures we all black, head to toe. On a bike? Could they be women riding in burkas?
What was I thinking? It was gorilla suits, of course. A very hilarious moment for us, giving a high-five to a gorilla riding past us on a bike.
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As always, it is the people who make this ride special. Sharing meals, miles, and all the trials and tribulations of adventure vacations. Special thanks are due to the support crew who handle our bags, so we can ride without needing to carry tents, sleeping bags, and spare clothes.
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A special salute to Bob Lincoln, who accepted the role of leading the ride this year. His was truly a trial by fire, with unprecedented difficulties sprouting at every turn. He handled it all with superb professionalism and produced a fantastic and safe experience for every rider. Thank you, Bob!
One last shot, courtesy of Rich, on the morning of our last day. It was sunny, and we were dry. In the distance was the only spot of the week where we were faced with riding through flood water that was over the road. It soaked my shoes, through and through. It seemed only appropriate.
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Pedaling Upwind
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Seriously, we agreed to go, and even paid for the privilege of riding bicycles in a region that is so windy that they hold National Championship windsurfing competitions and power companies put up wind turbine farms.
What were we thinking?
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Maybe more of us would have thought twice about dealing with that wind if we would have known that the region was also going to be soaked by repeating waves of massive thunderstorms creating flash floods that closed roads, destroyed crops, and trapped a lot of cows.
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We witnessed innumerable fields with large amounts of topsoil sediment dropped in the lowest draining corner, and even more fields with massive amounts of previous year’s dead stalks and debris pushed into piles where it flowed over roads, or dropped in winding patterns when flood waters receded.
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Luckily, the camaraderie and shared accomplishment of like-minded friends proves to be a superb distraction from how miserable we might otherwise feel were we to endure such dreadful conditions alone. Riding while chatting —when the winds aren’t gusting so severely as to make that impossible— is a great way to cover long miles and not notice how far you’ve actually gone. We had opportunities to experience a little of both situations on this year’s ride.
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To Pipestone
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The way my mind works, I’ve got the perception that it rained on us every day except the very last, but the opening line of my journal entry for Tuesday, June 17 is, “Did not rain during the ride.” This was the day that our ride leader, Bob, got up extra early along with a few others and set out on a scouting mission to ascertain the integrity of our planned route. Also from my journal entry: “Only 1 detour required due to flood.”
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When I left home for the start of this trip, I was in Wisconsin. We drove across much of the width of Minnesota to reach the departure for the bike ride. On Sunday we rode a stretch into Iowa and back again. Now, Tuesday, we crossed into South Dakota, reaching Devil’s Gulch Park in Garretson. I achieved 4 states this week! I’m glad we aren’t required to have passports to traverse state borders.
The park wasn’t actually open, but they were kind enough to accommodate us and our bikes, even though staff were in the middle of trying to reconstruct the entry road that had been washed out by flooding. We enjoyed quite a spectacle in seeing the gulch at a time when flood water was raging through.
The myth associated with this gulch is that in 1876 outlaw Jesse James spurred his horse to leap across the 20-foot gorge, escaping a posse that was after him. I’m in the camp of those who consider this myth to be a tall tale used to enhance the allure of the park. It’s really not necessary when the water is high. There was some powerful water energy raging through that ravine while we were there, making our visit well worth the diversion.
Our lunch stop in Jasper was at a park. Most everywhere we paused for a snack or meal we found ourselves forced to navigate standing water around pavilions. This park offered the added adventure of trying to use picnic tables that were engulfed in the branches of a fallen tree. It seemed so darn appropriate for the type of week we were having that people simply carried on as if it was a normal everyday thing.
When we arrived at Pipestone and showered, I was feeling pretty lousy with my sore throat and developing cold symptoms. I passed up a chance to go see Blue Mounds State Park and took a nap in my tent, instead.
When I awoke, I discovered that my tent neighbor, first-year rider, Doobie, had landscaped his front yard and assembled a welcome mat. Priceless.
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If there is any truth to the familiar advice to “feed a cold and starve a fever,” I was a champion of feeding my cold this night. After a complete meal with ice cream for dessert, I accepted an offer to walk to another restaurant for pie. Luckily, Julie shared bites of hers, because there was no way I could eat a piece by myself. I was stuffed.
Even though we didn’t ride in rain this day, that doesn’t mean it didn’t rain. My journal entry for Tuesday closes with: “Lightning show with thunder and rain while I was writing this in tent before sleeping.”
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Lovin’ Luverne
My journal entry for Monday, June 16th contains the words ‘storm’ or ‘storming’ three times for the one day: “storm coming;” “storming intensifies;” and “still storming.” It was also the first indication of illness for me, as I awoke that morning with a severe and entirely unwelcome sore throat.
It was our off-day from riding and we were in Luverne, MN. I don’t think there is a better place we could have been for our break from riding on this trip, despite Luverne seeming to be the epicenter of the repeating waves of rain soaking thunderstorms inundating the region. The Chamber of Commerce and people of Luverne treated us like royalty.
Sunday night’s dinner was at Blue Mound Banquet Center and included live music. Transportation shuttles were made available to us day and night by Luverne Trolley LLC. There was the drive-in theater party room, and the following night a meeting room at the GrandStay hotel for watching USA in the World Cup. A handful of us met there and ordered pizzas delivered from The Pizza Ranch while flooding rains poured down outside.
We started the morning with a breakfast at Vinnie’s, a place that is deceiving from the outside, and thrilling on the inside, with walls decorated by album covers from my youth and metal lunch boxes hanging from the ceiling. The menus hang on a spring-loaded chain overhead and the breakfasts were home-style-cooked diner delicious. After a walk to a drug store for supplies, we visited “Those Blasted Things” gift shop to check out the rocks and gems, where I got Rich and Mel to pose with the buffalo statue out front.
I was particularly thrilled by the Rock County Courthouse Square gallery building that contains a superb military museum on the upper floors and a gallery of Jim Brandenburg’s photography on the lower levels. Just down the street from there we took a tour of The Hinkly House, built in 1892 by the Mayor at that time, and spectacularly restored and maintained as a National Historic Site.
With the convenience of the Trolley service, we were able to navigate the crazy, intense weather and still take in at least that much of what Luverne has to offer. I was happy to be able to return to the school between a couple of our excursions in time to tighten up the tie-downs on the rainfly of my tent just before one particularly wicked, rotating cloud formation rolled into town at full force.
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Movie Night
What better way to end the crazy day we had navigating around flooding disasters getting to Luverne than by accepting their invitation to use the party room at the drive-in theater to watch the latest remake of “Godzilla?” A handful of us took them up on the offer. Yeah.
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Spectacular Solution
The Sunday of our ride falls on “Father’s Day.” After breakfast this day, we received a special treat: the daughter of our baggage handler and her friend sang a song they composed for the occasion. It brought tears to the eyes and received an immediate and emphatic standing ovation.
It wasn’t raining when we started out, but it was soaking wet from non-stop overnight thunderstorms. We were provided a police escort out of Worthington which moved so fast ahead of us that we could hardly keep up. Out on the open road, we eventually ride into heavy rain again.
Our lunch destination was far enough away that two rest stops were established ahead of it. The 20-plus miles to the first stop seemed long. The 20-some miles from there to lunch felt even longer. I think it was the wind. Rumors could be heard that flooding was causing road closures
Despite the hardships, I had several opportunities to visit with other riders, which is one of the most precious aspects of this ride, and helps toward achieving miles unnoticed. By the time we arrived at our lunch stop, the sky cleared and we were able to enjoy warm sunshine. It felt disorienting, because all around us there seemed to be standing water, and rumor had turned to fact, as news of a dam breaking on the Rock River was confirmed as the cause of roads being closed.
Under the beautiful blue sky, our freshman leader was forced to ad-lib a solution to a very fluid problem. Roads that might be open one minute, could close in an instant. He plotted solutions with 4 different agencies simultaneously, sometimes receiving conflicting reports from each. For a while, even the interstate highway was shut down.
In the middle of that drama, an isolated squall passed by, making sure we stayed aware of the fact we remained at the mercy of momma nature. Then a most spectacular solution unfolded before our eyes. One of the local support people called in a favor and rousted a brother with an 18-wheel tractor/trailer rig. They would put our bikes in the truck, and the riders in buses and cars, to shuttle us around the flooding in order to get us where we needed to be.
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I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been standing right there. The truck arrives and the trailer has “Cycle Country” painted across the side. The driver didn’t seem to notice, reporting that he bought the used trailer simply to haul junk and scrap that he rips out of demolition jobs. A random few of us hop up to catch bikes being lifted up, handing them forward to others who took initiative to delicately position the precious cargo for best protection and fit. A hundred-some bikes, tangled together so there was nowhere for them to fall, filled the trailer right to the end.
The truck pulled away to a smattering of jokes about the probability of the cargo being sold off to the highest bidder in some other town down the road. 
Someone showed up with beer to add to the festive feeling of the unfolding events, and we awaited the arrival of shuttles.
Even before it had completely played out, this day was becoming legend. No matter what else happened to us during the rest of this ride, we already had one very unforgettable event that would join famous stories from the prior 39-years of this biking/camping group.
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Riding Wet
Last week I posted little snippets that describe some aspects of my annual June bike/camping trip. Much about it is the same every year, in a general sense, but each trip has its special moments that go down as memories that stand apart. I will attempt to describe my adventures of this year’s Tour of Minnesota, looking back at it from the comfort of now being warm and dry.
It was a wet year. Here are some headlines for the week from my favorite weather blog, Updraft: “Warm front sets the stage for stormy period,” “Flooding rains drench parts of Minn.; more on the way,” “Severe threat unfolding tonight; tornado watch west,” “Epic flood threat and severe risk continue,” “Uncle! 2014 is wettest year on record so far.”
I have done this ride when there was no rain for the entire week. Other years we have been able to ride dry every day, and rain fell only at night. Often, there will be one or two days when we must endure the inevitably wet day. It was overcast on the Saturday that we started our ride from Jackson, MN, heading for Worthington. I didn’t put on a jacket because I tend to overheat when covered up. It didn’t exactly rain on that first leg, but you could feel a sprinkle of wind-blown wetness that was falling. The sky ahead conveyed the obviousness of the source.
I was thoroughly enjoying chatting with another rider about my new adventure with horses, as the wetness increased and our first rest stop loomed an unknown distance away. She stopped to put on rain gear, but I elected to push on. Real rain was just beginning to fall as I navigated my way beneath the pavilion. Everyone after me was riding in a soaking rain.
During our rest stop, the thunderstorm rolled over us in full force, unleashing a bolt of lightning and crash of thunder that elicited shrieks. We extended our stay under the roof at this rest stop for a bit longer. Ride leader, Bob Lincoln, was monitoring radar and knew there would be no ‘backside’ of this system. He held us in place until the first hint of a reduction in intensity, and then sent us toward our lunch stop.
There are portions of this year’s ride of which I will have no photos to offer. For much of the trip, my camera was bagged and buried in my trunk to keep it dry. We rode through a blustery downpour that continued to be peppered with startling bolts of lightning and cracks of thunder. At this point of soaking wet riding, you suck it up and just accept it. Once you get wet, you don’t need to worry about getting any wetter. You hope to get it over with, paying these dues in search of drier days ahead. Little did we know at the time…
Lunch was under another pavilion, but sitting in the breeze, soaking wet, people were getting chilled. They opened a school for us. There wasn’t as much lightning, but the ride from lunch to Worthington was still pretty wet. The wild weather had forced a change in venue from camping in the park to getting refuge in their school. As I led a small group in search of the new destination, we came upon the National Championship Windsurfing regatta and witnessed all the vendors that had been forced to close down their booths.
Following directions from locals, we pedaled into neighborhood roads that were flooded, forcing us to ad-lib alternate routes. It was only our first day, but by the time I settled into my sleeping bag, perched on the landing of a stairway in a dark hallway in the school, I felt like we had been battling for several.
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Back Live
I am back with live posts today —not pre-written and scheduled— having successfully survived and returned from the most challenging of bike camping adventures that I have ever done. We made plenty of jokes about planning a bicycle trip in a region that has been selected as a good place to have a wind turbine farm.
The challenge of riding daily into unrelenting gale-force headwinds was compounded by the addition of a surprising wave-after-wave of severe thunderstorms, drenching this region that was previously enduring a drought. The unprecedented amount of rain in that short time seriously flooded farm fields, creating flash floods that over-ran banks, flooded homes and washed out roads.
For some reason that I don’t understand, I had the unfortunate luck of adding to the misery by getting sick with a sore throat, stuffy head, and congested lungs. I don’t know if it was just a bad coincidence of timing or whether the weather conditions and close proximity to a large group of people happened to be the trigger.
Last week was one tough vacation. At the same time, it was as fun as ever. I hope to tell you more about it in the days ahead. Right now I am faced with the burden of deciding if I can go back to bed to repair my ailing health or get after the mowing and manure management chores that are in dire need of attention.
The same storms that dominated our bike week moved across the state and soaked Wintervale Ranch. We’ve got additional trees tipped over that I will need to cut up and move, just to get to the manure pile.
The bed is looking more and more enticing as my current preferred option.
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Relative Something 