Relative Something

It all started when Kubel went yard. By now you may be able to figure out that the primary allure of the annual Jaunt with Jim adventure is not the biking. After 36 years, it has become much more of a social event. I have met some very dear friends by doing this ride. Many of them are almost as silly as me. The opportunities for belly laughs are plentiful. Only part of the time do we ride our bikes.

We have more fun than can be explained

One evening, Julie kept receiving text message updates from her boyfriend who was at the Twins game with her brother. Our group includes a large number of Twins fans and Julie was taking great pleasure in announcing the score to everyone when the runs were reported to her. When she received the message that “Kubel went yard,” and didn’t know what it meant, Rich and I hatched a scheme to pull one over on her boyfriend. We convinced her to try to out-do him with baseball slang.

This was not a feeble effort. Rich dug right in with a reply that implied Julie knew who would be coming up to bat soon, as he instructed her to type that she hoped Mauer and Morneau would both get a ‘dinger.’ Julie was convinced that he would know it wasn’t her writing and she wanted to tell him, but we convinced her to hold off for a few more texts, to extend our fun.

There was a time on these bike trips when I used to go the whole week without phone contact with the real world. Now, there are cell phones everywhere I turn. I was able to see the current radar image on people’s fancy phones. There were lots of large green blobs on the screen. It was pretty funny to be standing amid the tents with Rich and Julie, huddled together in anticipation of the next text message. When her phone would beep its little signal of incoming text, we would be all giddy with anticipation about how our little ruse was progressing.

“What’d he say, what’d he say!”

Whether or not Julie’s boyfriend was enjoying our little game, we thought it was hilarious.

It set the stage for bigger laughs later on, after we had all climbed into our tents. Rich texted Julie a silly message which got her laughing. It led to more messages and then prolonged and uncontrolled laughter that is incredibly infectious to hear, and even funnier when picturing that it is someone right next to you, alone in their tent, surrounded by over a hundred others in their tents. I marveled the next morning, as we relived the humor of the night before, how the message would leave Rich’s tent and travel up in space to a satellite and then return to earth to reach Julie’s phone, just a few feet away from Rich.

Sometimes space limitations force us to get really close to our neighbors

I spent some quality time in my tent this year. Due to the wet conditions we were experiencing, it was less convenient to pull out my guitar and play in areas where people spontaneously gathered. On several occasions, alone in my tent, I pulled it out before I laid down for the night, to do some quiet fingerpicking (the nails weren’t ideal, but certainly adequate). I was aware that people in tents nearby would be able to hear, and sometimes they clapped or voiced appreciation, but I was surprised how far it actually carried and how many nice comments I received on the following mornings. Luckily, folks were polite and only voiced that it was a pleasant sound to hear when falling asleep.

I think I enjoyed sharing my music from within my tent at bedtime almost more than when I’m visible to my audience. Does that reveal something about me? Maybe I’m more of a shy person than my silliness suggests, after all.

Not all the entertainment on our bike trips comes from the riding. There are always a variety of options from which to choose after we reach our daily destinations and put up our tents. Sometimes, just getting the tents up is a game.

Steve is calling for a break from Rhonda's "Kate Smith" impression.

I don’t remember quite how I triggered it, but while we were working on putting up tents in Huston, I inspired Rhonda to provide us with her impersonation of Kate Smith singing “God Bless America.”

I think Mary was off hunting geocaches with Rich, so after I got my tent up, I pulled out hers and slid in the poles to allow it to air out and dry. I was thinking that if she arrived soon, she could select the best spot and orientation to suit her desires, so I didn’t stake it down yet. Then I headed for the showers, hoping no wind would suddenly appear and send the upside-down tent tumbling away. When I stepped back outside, it was the first thing I looked for.

There was no wind, but that tent had disappeared. All that remained was Mary’s duffel bag. I immediately suspected a prank by my tent neighbors, but played it cool, hoping to buy time while I gathered more data. It didn’t take long for them to reveal their ruse when they discovered that they hadn’t stolen my tent after all. They thought they were taking my tent when they stuffed it inside Curt & Suzanne’s larger palace of a tent.

This year, some of the days had short mileage and several times we found ourselves wandering toward the business centers in search of lunch. I should admit that I also had an additional goal of finding a sports bar at each stop in hopes of catching the afternoon broadcast of World Cup soccer matches.

It was around 2:00 one afternoon when I joined a small group to look for some food to tide us over until dinner. As we approached the area of restaurants, one of our fellow bikers told us of a burger joint that was just closing. He said the grill would still be hot and we should go directly there and tell them “Charlie” sent us. It worked. We got in and sweet-talked the staff into serving us. Just after we placed our order, one more of our pals slipped in and we were able to include him, in the nick of time. The thing is, we were very visibly seated in the window and from all outside appearances, it looked to be a great option for lunch. It didn’t take long for two more from our bike group to show up in hopes of food, just as our lunch was arriving. By this time, the woman serving us needed to draw the line and had to turn them away.

Through the glass of the window we tried to communicate the confusion of our being served in a restaurant that was already closed, as they made faces of sadness and woe over their being left out and they lingered for a bit to offer us their hungry stares at the scrumptious offerings of burgers, fries, and onion rings that we were about to devour.

I’ve ridden in a lot of rain over my years of cycling. During this year’s “Jaunt with Jim” we had more rainy days than sunny days, but it was far from the worst weather we’ve ever experienced. Some days we received just enough rain to get things wet and then the clouds would sort of drape down out of the sky and offer their mist to anything exposed to the elements. This is just about the worst possible formula for riding across old bridge decks of treated wood. In my extreme focus to maintain the intended upright position of my bicycle, I neglected to capture a photo of the Caution signs at each bridge, warning that they are slippery when wet.

Unfortunately, under the conditions experienced during this year’s ride, we suffered more crashes than any other year I’ve ridden. What’s worse, almost all of them led to visible injury. There were scraped hips, ripped shorts, bloody elbows, wicked bruises, and even at the extreme, one broken hip. The story of that one is already legend.

I was told that the second person who stopped to help was Rich, our favorite Geocache enthusiast. After they established the severity of injury was going to require EMS response, Rich marked the location on his GPS and then headed off on his bike in search of enough signal for his cell phone to function. He was able to direct the responders to the exact location on the trail. Did you know the bridges of the Root River Trail are just wide enough to allow an ambulance to cross?

I was lucky to survive the bridges without incident, but all the attention directed at that potential hazard might have contributed to my lapse of attention on the safe, flat asphalt. For the first time in all my years of cycling, as I was intending to return my water bottle to its cage, I missed. I glanced down to take aim, placed the bottle where I thought it was supposed to go, and let go. It was one of those moments that seem to slow down dramatically in our minds as several thoughts process faster than our reaction can do anything about it.

Mary demonstrates the proper orientation: upright, wheels on the ground

I let out some short exclamation of warning, because I was smack dab in the middle of a double pace line of multiple riders. Closest to me, and at highest risk, was my sister, Mary. I was sure I had doomed her to a crash, but she proved her cycling prowess by maintaining control and staying upright as she rode both tires right over the bottle. I have never been more relieved for one of my mistakes to NOT bring harm to another. I am in debt to Mary for her ability to out-navigate the hazard I had created.

Just a short moment later, as I was working to catch back up to the group after turning back to go pick up my dropped bottle, I saw the most startling sight. Something was all over the road right behind Bob and Julie! Critters? Two of them appeared to cross the road and two others just stayed put. What in the heck? I was working my mind to determine what it could be that I was one second away from needing to deal with, when the hilarious reality of what I had just witnessed, registered. They had just dropped two water bottles each in a spontaneous bombing raid for me.

It was classic. Genius performance art. And the main reason I was able to enjoy it so much is because Mary didn’t crash. Thanks, Mary.

I’m struggling with myself on what to write about this year’s “Jaunt With Jim” bike trip. Part of my sense of storytelling is strongly attached to chronology of events, and that has me inclined to want to go back to the very first day and describe events in the order they occurred. At the same time, the most recent events are fresh in memory and seem to hold increased value over something further removed in time.

Jim presented a cake for the newlyweds at breakfast the first day.

The moment that Gary and I pulled into the school parking lot in Chatfield on Friday the 11^th, the first people we see include my very good friends with whom I have shared the most continued interaction over the years. What story could be more worthy of telling than the amazing news that Curt and Suzanne immediately share? That very morning they went to a little church in Iowa and got married! They are sporting matching shirts that declare their new status and will spend the week, which newlyweds traditionally reserve for a honeymoon, riding bicycle with us. The “Jaunt With Jim” ride is just the kind of adventure that attracts this kind of behavior.

But regardless my inclination toward chronological storytelling, I am interested in entertaining a move away from my pattern of excessive orderliness in processing. I didn’t consciously plan for this trip to involve a theme, but one did seem to materialize. Steve noticed that I didn’t write about my prolonged pre-trip planning and packing phase like the previous year. That is because it wasn’t the same this year. I performed a last-minute review of the lists I have been keeping and reusing since the early years, and then I just stuffed it all in my duffel. I would refine the organization in Chatfield.

I think part of me was trying to knock me out of my old patterns; to try practicing being more in the moment. Personally, I find this trip to be a VERY hard place to take on such a task. I’ll expand on that later. Then my sister, Mary, made a comment about deciding not to put my tent up for me one day because she wasn’t sure I would be satisfied with the way she did it. I was “anal.”

That was good for me to hear. I have no interest in creating that impression about myself to others. There are definitely times I have made fun of my tendency to exhibit behaviors that remind me of the USA Network television detective, Monk. How many times must I have uttered the phrase, “a place for everything, and everything in its place?” In reality, for any sense of order I am able to achieve, there are equal parts of disarray that I live with that certainly help offer some balance. I wonder how often the disarray part of my life appears as the impression others perceive?

Chaos in the duffel

With so many people to greet and visit that first night, I end up giving less attention to my ‘system’ of managing the various details involved with comfortably navigating a week-long group bicycle camping adventure. The first thing I discover to be missing this year is my travel watch for checking the time when I awake in the middle of the night in the tent. I rally to solve the problem with a perfectly functional, though less convenient solution. I can use my iPod. I will just suffer the brightness the display beams into my night vision.

I have always found this trip to require a lot of thinking ahead. If you want to be comfortable, make sure you drink enough water in advance. If you drink enough water, make sure you visit the restroom before you leave any rest stop! When you pack your duffel in the morning, make sure you leave out anything that must be with you on the bike during the day. If you are going to walk all the way to the shower, make sure you think ahead about what you plan to wear after you dry off. Did you even remember your towel? Did you bring your money with you for the walk to dinner?

For all the freedom from planning that this trip offers, with the route assigned in advance, food menu selections determined, place to sleep set and wake-up whistle automatic, I see now that I still make an awful lot of mini-decisions all week long. Stories about some of our adventures will follow in the days ahead, as time allows.

I’m home! First things, first… Before I am able to compose some of the wild stories that played out over the previous week of this year’s “Jaunt with Jim” bicycle trip adventure, I will be saddled with chores of drying out and cleaning my tent and various other camping items, as well as trying to catch up with chores around the house. One thing that does happen without delay: I get to sleep in a bed again!

I will provide a sneak preview of bike trip images for you, in the mean time…

Bike camping on the campus of Winona State University

Rollin' down the road

By the last day, we are pretty prepared to finish. Many of our parting salutations begin at breakfast, on the chance our paths don’t cross again for the remainder of the day. There is a bittersweet feeling of the sorrow of parting and the interest in sleeping in a bed again and returning to all the comforts of home. There is a bit less meandering in our pedaling on Friday, as we have a strong pull in the form of a car waiting for us at the destination. The sooner we reach the car, the sooner we hit the road back home and the sooner we see our family again. I don’t know that I can convey how difficult it is to keep your eyes open during that car ride home. When you stop pedaling, sit in the soft seat of a car and just recline while listening to the drone of the engine lullaby your senses dull, the eyelids become too heavy to defy. As tired as I feel, I don’t dare give in and leave the driver, who is under similar pressure to stay alert, on his own to fend off the same pressure.

I dread the chore of putting up the tent at home to clean it out and sorting all my gear to put things away. I just want to collapse and enjoy living indoors again and having all my normal conveniences. The trickiest part is turning off the urge to continue to eat like we have been while riding all week. It has often been said of our group that we are an eating group with a biking disorder. It would be wonderful if I would be able to continue to burn as many calories a day as in the previous week, but it’s not going to happen. No more ice cream treats for a while, for me.

Thursday of the bike week seems to be the pinnacle of the whole adventure. The second to last day of riding, we are high on the rush of the friendships that have bonded over shared accomplishments as well as frivolous play and belly laughs we’ve enjoyed, yet as we are just a day away from the end, we know our moments together are numbered. We are scheduled to be riding mostly south from Winona to the last night of tenting in Rushford.

Thursday night often blossoms into a gala event with riders assembling a variety of silly things to wear or accumulated fake tattoos and then buying up whatever they can carry for appetizers and cocktails to celebrate together our accomplishments and good fortune of the adventures that Jim provides. One of the amazing things about this week is that there are very few decisions we need to make. It is all laid out for us to just enjoy doing. I like not needing to think about where to ride. The route is already determined. The food choices are made. The camping spots established. We just show up and ride. Jim does a lot of behind the scenes work to provide us with a fantastic adventure. That, combined with the friendships the experience give rise to, has everyone in a festive mood.

With just one day left to ride, a few in the group might just stay up a little later than normal. The rest of us hardly hear them and find sleep comes easy when you’ve spent days riding a bike.

We are back on our bikes again for a ride along the river to Winona and a stop at Winona State University. If it hasn’t been apparent, these posts chronicling the bike trip are all pre-written and programmed to automatically post each day. At the time of this writing, I have no idea whether we’ve been enjoying ourselves in sunshine and light winds or slugging along through gray and wet, or even lightning and thunder. It’s all part of the adventure. Something we will be able to talk about later, which I intend to do. Just like I did during the past trips, I intend to journal details as they happen using the archaic technology of pencil and diary. Upon my return, as time allows, I hope to be able to post actual details and support them with photos. That is, if my camera doesn’t get wet and stop functioning.

I wonder if we will be fed by the campus cafeteria while we are at Winona State?

If we have held true to the initial itinerary, last night we celebrated on the river with a pizza party on a boat cruise. I’m thinking the timing of this is good, because it is advertised as an all-you-want pizza party and it just so happens that today is an off day where we don’t have to pack up our tents and ride away. We can gorge ourselves and then sleep in this morning in vacation-worthy slothfulness. The rest day allows for time to do whatever suits our fancy. I like to stretch my legs with a lot of walking, but sometimes get talked into joining friends in a little bike exploration. Others look forward to the opportunity to shop. Jim often serves up options for a tour of local attractions. We have explored mines and paper mills, state parks, and dramatic geographic landmarks. Sometimes, we are in a community large enough to support a movie theater and plenty of us enjoy the chance to just sit for a couple of hours indoors and be entertained.

By this point in the week we find ourselves becoming picky about the options for public toilet facilities. As much fun as we are having, part of us begins to miss home.

It has only been one day off, but tonight, as we settle in our tents, it is a small mental hassle to get reorganized for the early morning, and the pack-up and move on it will bring. The mind is well into vacation mode.

By day 3, we begin to lose our sense of which day of the week it is. The start back in Chatfield on Saturday will feel like a week ago already. With luck, we will have discovered some sunshine by now. You will know if my wish comes true. The world around us is back into the work week and it truly feels like being on vacation to us. In the morning on this day, there is often a line waiting at the Penn Cycle support van, looking to top off the tire pressure and assure the least rolling resistance possible. I seem to recall this day often being one where I’m considering skipping breakfast because it feels like all I’ve done so far is eat! At first, there is concern about not having enough fuel to ride all day long, so we eat and eat. In addition to that, every time we stop for a break, Jim has arranged for a local service organization to raise some money by selling us snack treats, so we feel it an obligation to eat. Maybe I should consider riding harder to try and burn off the massive count of calories ingested.

Tonight’s destination is LaCrescent on the Mississippi River. Hopefully, Jim has devised a long roundabout route to get there, because it is just a stone’s throw away from our start. As the average age of participants continues to climb with each year we ride, shorter distance days are welcomed by those who find equal pleasure in the post-ride time each day to socialize. I wonder how many calories I can burn socializing?