Archive for the ‘bicycling’ Category
Directionally Challenged
For all of the effort I have put into striving for optimal health, mind-body-spirit, there remains one frailty that I have yet to address. I am prone to getting turned around so that I don’t know which way to go when faced with a decision about direction. This was demonstrated anew yesterday while out on a bike ride that I intended to be a simple loop.
I started at the red dot in the image above and rode with the wind due east on Twin Lake Road. That took me to County Road A, where I turned right and rode south to Chief River Road. After a right turn there, I pedaled west until I reached Tiger Cat Road. Another right turn there and I looped around to McClaine Road. That should have led to a right turn again to bring me back to Twin Lake Road, but I confidently made a left turn and rode south in the opposite direction from what I thought I was doing.
A couple of things clued me in to the situation playing out. It was taking longer than I thought it should to get back to Twin Lake Rd, and then the road made those two right-angle turns that I thought were wrong. When I came to the intersection with the south end of Tiger Cat Road, I knew I’d made a mistake, but I still couldn’t shake the perception that I was looking north.
I tried using my shadow to clarify, but the sun was too high, and the shadow was not helping to confirm my suspicion. I pulled out my phone to look at the map to reorient my brain. From the spot where I had stopped, I could have continued south to County Road B, but I really didn’t want to ride that more heavily trafficked road. Instead, I turned around and backtracked to get back to where I intended to be and then finished my ride, thoroughly resigned to having freshly confirmed my tendency for my sense of direction getting flipped.
It bothers me that I didn’t hesitate for a second when I made that wrong turn to the south. It felt completely correct to me.
Right up until it didn’t.
A guy could get a reputation for repeatedly doing things like that, and deservedly so.
The moral of this story? If you are ever on a bike ride with me (or a car trip, or walking indoors somewhere and coming back out again), don’t let me lead unless you enjoy putting on extra miles.
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Eating Well
Our last day of riding on Sunday involved one primary goal beyond the joy of riding: breakfast at Greenwood’s Cafe in Reedsburg. It’s not very difficult to imagine you’ve stepped into the world of The Andy Griffith Show when greeted by the small town diner atmosphere, friendly service, and delicious food.
We jumped on the 400 State Trail near the north end of Wonewoc and rode about 15 miles to where the trail ends in Reedsburg. That stretch of trail is pretty flat. All of the trail riding we did over the last four days was railroad grade, so I didn’t even bother adding the weight of the motor and battery pack on my bike. I have a cover that fits over that space on the downtube.
It would have been blissful except for the click that developed somewhere in the vicinity of the bottom bracket as I pedaled, similar to the problem I encountered last year while riding in the Tour of Minnesota. I ended up having the bike shop deal with the situation last year. This time, I’m hoping to see if I can figure out the source myself and solve it by tightening any screws that may be vibrating loose.
At least we didn’t need to stop and remove downed trees from the trail on the last day of our adventure. However, the easy riding we did –the wind was at our back on the return leg to our cars– failed to balance the breakfast calories consumed. Well, and all of the other excellent restaurant meals we enjoyed and augmented with a bounty of snacks and treats we munched on back at our campsite each day. (Cyndie sent along some of her caramel rolls and walnut chocolate chunk cookies with me.)
It was an absolute joy to share the adventure with some of my favorite people, but returning to a full night’s sleep in my own freshly made bed just might be an equal experience on the scale of joys.
Home, sweet home.
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Storm Debris


We made it into our tents just as the storm front arrived Friday night. It was noteworthy, but we’ve slept through worse. However, the area the trail crossed just to our southeast must have experienced much stronger winds.

We risked our wellbeing to move what we could, and crawled over and under anything too big to lift.
The thick fog from morning dissipated as soon as the sun appeared, but lingered near the cool openings of the tunnels.

A good time is being had by all.
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Tunnel Vision

We didn’t get rained on while riding, but the 3,810-foot tunnel out of Norwalk that was cut through Summit Ridge, and its natural spring that constantly drips and flows to this day, might as well have been a rain storm.
Visiting History
I went for a little bike ride yesterday that took me into the stomping grounds of three of my ancestors’ families from 1860 to 1880 in Pierce County, Wisconsin.
Destination Esdaile brought me to some road construction.
I sure am loving my new, more aggressive tires.
The portion of the road under construction that I needed to travel was not very long. You can see my right turn ahead of the trees in the distance. That rough surface was still probably an improvement on the terrain my ancestors were traveling on in the 1800s.
Much of my ride was along Isabelle Creek that powered the mill my great-great-great-grandfather, Joseph Sleeper, ran. It’s wild thinking about the decisions made before any infrastructure existed to utilize this creek for powering a mill.
It felt like I had ridden back in time to pedal the gravel road that follows the winding creek valley. I am repeatedly amazed at the unlikelihood of our choosing to move to this county without having a clue about my family’s temporary connections to the land. I suppose it is the transient nature of their subsequent generations that explains the detachment.
Searching through old newspapers from the time period reveals details of my great-grandparents’ accomplishments in school. They were just kids romping around the woods and ravines along the creek. It’s wild to think about.
It made for a thought-provoking ride while pedaling up and down the rolling hills between Esdaile and our current home.
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Riding Gravel
As nature is hovering around the point of total explosion of spring growth, some trees seem so delayed compared to others around them that I get concerned they may no longer be living.
Cue my dread over the way the seven-year-old transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth went from vibrant to dead in a matter of months when it didn’t sprout a single hint of new buds one spring.
Our oaks are always slower than most of the rest of our trees. The overly tall Miss Kim Lilac tree is already green, and the maples have a yellowish hue in their early stages of leaf emergence.
That Miss Kim in front of the house has long looked confused over living or dying. One of the sections will completely dry up, and the rest will burst forth with aromatic white flowers. It currently has a healthy new stalk sprouting in the middle, which had me thinking about pruning the height down to let the new shoot compete for dominance. Mostly, I resort to interfering as little as possible.
With all that blue sky yesterday and the ground too wet to mow, I decided to give my bicycle some overdue attention.
After refreshing my tubeless tires with sealant and cleaning the drivetrain, I hit the road on an exploratory route to visit friends who live about ten miles north of us. After riding this bike on gravel roads and bike trails for the last two years with friends who have “gravel bikes,” I’ve become much less averse to going off-pavement.
The road tires on my bike are 32 mm and, for the most part, smooth. I have been surprised by how well they have performed on the different versions of gravel. Yesterday, I decided not to let our many unpaved roads inhibit my route choices and confidently forged ahead with the most direct path to my intended destination.
My secret weapon is the electric assist on this bike that makes the effort needed on gravel feel almost equal to riding on pavement.
After stopping for a quick visit and a glass of water at our friends’ place, I was uncertain about which road to pick for my return home. While stopped to check the map on my phone, I was alarmed to suddenly notice air leaking from my front tire.
I placed my finger on it and noticed it was wet with sealant trying to do its job. I quickly spun the wheel to redistribute sealant and decided to make haste for home, hoping the constant spinning would avoid further leakage.
Now I don’t feel a need to justify buying new tires, and I can pick something with a tread intended for a wider variety of surfaces. This will open up the surrounding area to unlimited exploration pedaling for me. Plotting routes on the map is a challenge when trying to limit myself to pavement out here in the country.
That leaves only not knowing how steep the hills I encounter will be on untraveled roads in this undulating, driftless region where we live. That decision to go with an E-bike is one I will never regret.
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Truly Gorgeous
We were blessed with about as nice a day for bike riding in late October as one could hope for in our part of the world. Afternoon temperatures rose into the 60s(F) yesterday, and we enjoyed every bit of it.
Our gang of intrepid pedalers reached Stillwater in what felt like a blink of time. When we arrived at the photo frame, a mom was taking a picture of her daughter. Bob volunteered to take a picture of them both. In turn, she agreed to take a picture of us. We asked Lilly to stay and be in our picture, too. Her mom said Lilly smiled bigger for ours than when posing with Mom.
Before stopping for some lunch, we rode up and over the Hwy 36 bridge, pausing for a portrait in the middle, overlooking the beautiful St. Croix River.
On the other side, we were in Wisconsin for a short loop before dropping down a big hill to cross the old lift bridge that is now limited to bikes and pedestrians. This delivered us back to the bustling energy of families with young kids in Halloween costumes, enjoying festivities along the riverfront.
Navigating our way to a little market where a few of us purchased something to eat, we took advantage of public tables to consume some sustenance.
I brought my own lunch.
Bob gave me a thumbs-up of approval.
While sitting there, I caught sight of a very attractive woman approaching from the market with her arms full and visibly gushing with a glow of love. She was looking at an equally handsome man who was cuddling a tiny bundle that I knew had to be their beautiful baby.
I couldn’t help myself as they tucked the blanketed cherub into their pram and prepared to move on. I approached them to let them know how truly gorgeous it was to witness their obvious love and joy radiating so unmistakably. Their baby was 9 weeks old. Their happiness was such a delight to see.
I’m glad to have intruded on their space because they seemed really delighted with my gushing over them, and that rewarded me with a burst of their love energy.
The ride back to our cars was a continuation of superb cycling weather and scenery, and we reached just under 30 miles ridden by the time we finished.
I wonder if my legs will feel stiff in the next 24 hours. I hadn’t been on the bike since we did the Mickelson Trail in South Dakota.
I’m really grateful I didn’t pass up this opportunity to get out and enjoy the fabulous day and my fabulous cycling friends.
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Great Outdoors
It’s a beautiful day. I am going to go for a bike ride with friends.
It won’t be forest bathing, but it can be just as beneficial. I am going to breathe in the great outdoors while rolling along in conversation with precious people.
If you are in Stillwater, MN, wave at us as we pedal past on the Gateway State Trail. I’ll be the one with a huge grin on my face.
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Relentless Miles
During our return ride back to Hill City, we climbed for about 2 hours, mile after mile without any coasting. That means pushing pedals the whole time to in order to make progress.
Upon reaching the high point, the well-tended trail slants down and our bikes started rolling along without any help from us.
That seems like a chance to rest, but it’s not. In no time, we are flying along at 23 mph and hanging on tight to keep the bike on the trail and our bodies on the bikes.
Even though it only takes a fraction of the time, the fact that you are flexed in mostly one position throughout makes it feel almost as relentless as the climb did.
Somewhere at the bottom of one of those downslopes, we finally had our first close encounter with cows on the trail.

I received quite an education about the difference between cow and horse manure during this adventure.
I’m biased, but I definitely prefer what horses produce.
Today, Gary and I face relentless miles in the car as we cross most of South Dakota to get back to our homes.
That’s a small price to pay for the blast of a time we had. It was an absolutely fabulous adventure.
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