Posts Tagged ‘bicycling’
50th Tour of Minnesota
I haven’t left home yet but my vacation week begins today! As I’ve done many other times, during my week of cycling the Tour of Minnesota and tent camping in various towns around the state, I have prepared scheduled posts for the days I’m away showing the planned routes so you can follow along and know our approximate location when the inevitable severe weather warnings pop up.
I wish that was a joke, but anecdotal evidence indicates wicked storms are becoming more the norm than the exception during the middle of June in Minnesota. In years past, I have ridden out storms in my tent while many others chose to sleep en masse in school buildings. After a too-close lightning strike one night and a screaming alarm on my phone indicating an imminent tornado another night, I realized I could no longer trust my judgment. I intend to be quicker to join the throngs indoors this year if warnings are posted.
The changing climate likes to point out these are not my father’s thunderstorms. Message received.
This being the 50th anniversary of this middle-of-June biking and camping week and my 25th (+/- my first year was 1994, but I missed a few throughout), I am thrilled at the switch from the far reaches of the state –over the years we’ve slipped into every state around Minnesota plus Canada– to a route that will take us directly through the middle of the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.
Somewhere between 250 and 300 people will gather this afternoon in Cannon Falls, MN to pick up our registration packets and set up tents to kick off the most fun like-minded cyclists could possibly have. I can’t wait to see Doobie, Joyce, Joey, Rich, Julie, Steve, Gary, John, Jim, Steve, Roger, Dick, Al, Suzanne, Laura, Rhonda, David, Tim, Cynthia, Scott, Luther, Joseph, Marilyn, Geoffrey, Ed, Deanna, Mary-Jo, Luke, Staci, Jennifer, Dan, Jim, Peggy, Lance, Mary, Cindy, Scott, Jackie, Mary, Jerry, Ellen, Joan, Melanie, Dusty, Karen, Dick, Jan, Pat and the rest whom I will recognize but not remember their names, plus the many people who I will be meeting for the very first time.
Here’s hoping for a safe and adventure-filled week pedaling two wheels and sleeping on the ground with friends.
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Imagine That
Yesterday, I gave myself a day off from conditioning my body for long-distance cycling with a plan of riding this morning. Although it would be good practice for the upcoming Tour of Minnesota, during which we ride rain or shine, I did not have it in me to go out and get cold and wet while subjecting my bike to the abuse of rain riding.
I’ll wait for another (dryer) opportunity.
At least I finished mowing all but the wettest areas of grass yesterday afternoon before this latest dose of saturating precipitation.
It was rewarding to find the horses equitably sharing space under the overhang this morning as rain poured down. Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise to me but they were even positioned properly for their feed stations. That is not a common occurrence.
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A volunteer from This Old Horse asked if she could feed the horses yesterday afternoon. I was not completely astonished this morning to find where she dumped the manure in my compost area and had to double-check with Cyndie about who dumped it.
I tease Cyndie about her penchant for choosing the most inappropriate pile, which is what our volunteer did yesterday. The thing that I don’t understand about the choice, whenever there are no obvious piles for freshly dumped manure, is how they decide to pick the oldest, most composted, most ready to be removed for other uses pile from the five or six options.
The last thing I want is to have fresh manure mixed into it.
My response each time this happens: “Imagine that.”
I guess I have become more educated than I’d like to admit about what the differing stages of composting manure look like. Newer piles that are very actively “cooking” may be hard to tell apart but it seems to me the oldest pile that looks like the closest thing to dirt should be the last of the choices.
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More Miles
Not only did I get back on my bike for a second day in a row, yesterday I logged a new high for total miles in one outing. Sneaking out of the house a few minutes before 6 a.m., I drove down to Red Wing to ride the Cannon Valley Trail down to Cannon Falls and back.
The distance between the two cities is 20 miles so I knew I was biting off at least a 40-mile day, but I figured since it was all on a relatively flat paved trail, it wouldn’t be an extreme 40. Two other factors played in my favor: the return leg of the loop would be traveling with the flow of the Cannon River, so “downhill,” and the wind would be at my back.
The wildlife creatures were out in force and showed up almost everywhere I looked. There were so many bunny rabbits darting around the trail that I feared they would end up causing a crash. Who wants to run over a little bunny?
I saw a pheasant, a turkey, deer of all ages, a couple of eagles sharing carrion of some creature in tall grass with a flock of turkey vultures, snapping turtles digging holes for eggs right at the edge of the pavement, a red squirrel that crossed inches from my front wheel, and more rabbits than I have ever seen in my entire life.
When I got to Cannon Falls, I rolled up to the Veteran’s Memorial where I was able to pause and reflect on the significance of D-Day.
I found a bench in a park beside the river to eat a little breakfast I’d brought for the occasion. The Cannon River has risen well beyond its banks and was flowing with big energy.
After my short break at the halfway point, I was feeling pretty good and kicked it up a notch to celebrate the tailwind and the downslope. That lasted almost 10 miles before my body started tiring of the routine.
When your whole body gets tired of being on a bike, it becomes really hard to find a position that feels comfortable for more than a few minutes. At first, a new adjustment seems like just what I needed, but when it only lasts for a short time, the result is an endless rotation of standing up, sitting back farther on the saddle, moving hands to new hold on the bars, coasting, stretching, and looking for any distraction for my mind.
I got a kick out of the deer that was munching greenery at head height with its butt sticking out on the trail. I had a full broadside view of this big doe. I saw her turn toward me but then she just went back to eating as if I wasn’t there. I wondered if she might not have seen me or just didn’t recognize I was approaching.
She chomped a large bite of leaves and turned toward me again. This time her eyes grew wide and she froze like maybe I wouldn’t see her if she didn’t move. I had been coasting toward her at the same speed the whole time wondering how close she’d let me get, standing stiff with a garden salad of leaves sticking out of her snout.
At maybe ten yards and closing, she bolted up into the trees with her mouth still full. I hope I didn’t give her indigestion.
I made it back home by 11:00 and spent the afternoon leaving muddy tire tracks all over the place as I mowed with the riding mower. My legs were way too tired to walk behind the push-mower.
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Weather Luck
My assessment at the end of our bike ride on the hills around Wintervale is displayed visibly in this image captured by Beth Bertelson:
It rained much of Friday night but we woke up to a pause in the precipitation and the ground was only a little damp outside. However, radar evidence indicated another batch of potentially heavier rain moving in our direction at a rate that would put it over us right when we wanted to head out.
Undaunted, the group of my friends who ventured the roughly hour-long drive to our place were going through the preparations to ride without hesitation.
As the minutes closed, I sensed the trend of movement on that next mass of wet weather was going to slide just south of our location. Instead, we ended up getting a dose of ground fog that faded the beauty of the fall colors and obscured the distance view of the horizon at the high spot that usually offers the best vista.
Soon after descending the invigorating glide down from that potential view, the fog dissipated and the dryer air hinted we were going to be granted perfect conditions for our time on the road.
One highlight of having my cycling friends join me on these roads was the combination of ride buddies from two different worlds. There were people I met on the annual June rides now known as the Tour of Minnesota and two riders I grew up knowing in Eden Prairie, Minnesota.
Paul and I have known each other since grade school and shared a number of epic biking adventures over the years. That shot is taken at Vino in the Valley restaurant near the Rush River. You can see in the background we were blessed with periods of blue sky at the midpoint of our route.
After a pause on a bridge by a limestone cliff, we started the long, slow climb up the steep hill that marks the transition between the two worlds of lush valley and wide open farm fields.
We made it back to Wintervale in perfect time and celebrated our accomplishment with a delicious lunch feast. The laughter and riding afterglow was precisely what I was longing for and very reminiscent of the week-long Tour of Minnesota we have every June.
Cyndie and I added a few tours of our forest, the labyrinth, visits to the horses and interactions with Asher to top off a perfect adventure that fit surprisingly well between bouts of inclement weather.
We needed the rain and I really wanted to ride with friends. I am very lucky that I was able to have both. Overnight last night we received 1.25 inches of rain. Ahhh. Perfect timing.
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Overnight Guests
A lot has happened around here overnight lately. Construction (spider webs), Excavation (ground bee nest dug up), and now Guests! Barb and Mike Wilkus came to meet Asher for the first time yesterday and slept over so we could go out to dinner and then have some hang time together afterward.
Mike got a chance to tool around on my Greeworks riding lawn mower.
We visited Tattersall Distillery in River Falls for the first time for dinner and met a really great server whose accent hinted he might be fluent in the Spanish language. He told Mike and me that he is half-Bolivian. We told him to surprise Cyndie when she returned to the table by speaking to her in Spanish as if he already knew she would understand him.
It worked pretty well and triggered additional stories and visits with him throughout the meal, which boosted a really nice dining experience well beyond just the good food and impressive space they have created at the location that was a huge Shopco building when we first moved here.
The fall colors are turning finally and one day can bring a big change to individual trees that is startling to witness. If it were possible to stare long enough, you could watch it as it happens.
Tonight we are expecting more overnight guests to arrive in preparation for a group bike ride Saturday morning. I picked this day back in the beginning of August and have seen day after day of perfect cycling weather pass. Now a threat of rain is arriving, which we desperately need, but that’s one thing that really puts a damper (pun intended) on group riding.
Maybe that’s one way to break a drought. I’ll just plan way ahead for people to come to Wintervale for a bike ride and the odds of getting rain that day will go way up.
We’ll take whatever we get. No matter the weather, it’s always more fun around here when company comes to visit.
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River Valley
There are some hills to contend with on the roads close to home and I frequently plot my route to limit my exposure to them when jaunting off on random bicycle excursions. It becomes a trick to avoid crossing the Rush River valley if traveling very far to our east. Early on Saturday morning, I decided to make the valley my destination. After the fabulous ride with Paul the day before, my goal was to see how I would feel sitting on the saddle for a couple hours right away again.
Before reaching the valley, a lot of the terrain is pretty flat and the roads pass through miles of plowed farm fields. I chose to drop down into the valley to ride the beautiful pavement past picturesque scenery to a specific bridge where I could pause for a snack. From there, I would backtrack my way to climb up the very same hill I had come down.
The speed on the way down is in the 40mph range. More like single digits on the way back up. The graphic of the elevation of my ride clearly represents the mirror image of my progress.
When I got to the bridge, two fly fishermen were preparing their equipment to cast bait that would match whatever was currently hatching. One fig bar later, it had become six guys seeking a sweet pool where they could ply their skill out of reach from one another. My snack time was abbreviated by my inability to escape clouds of annoyingly persistent gnats.
Every time I have been down to this spot I have seen deer somewhere along the road next to the river. Every time. I figured the early hour would guarantee the streak would continue but I began to worry as I started to get close to this bridge and hadn’t seen any. Oh, ye of little faith. The record remains intact. The first sighting was on the far side of a field and not right in the river like so often before, but it counts just the same.
Then I came upon another deer, and another, and when I pulled over to pee, there was one standing just a few feet away I hadn’t noticed until getting off my bike. He seemed a little flummoxed by my stopping but with little commotion, made his way out of sight in a blink.
Just before I reached the bottom of the hill on my way out of the valley, a big, fat woodchuck that I surprised reversed his direction and ambled off away from the road.
Although my butt was definitely aware I had been riding just the day before, I felt comfortable enough to decide I am ready for a week of riding next week. No testing will be required to find out if sleeping on the ground will cause any discomfort. My latest sleeping pad works wonderfully, even if my habit of sleeping on my side presents a challenge.
The physical challenges are more than offset by the gush of endorphins I get from hanging out for a week with really great like-minded folks who love to laugh while pedaling bikes all day and camping in tents overnight.
Counting down the days to the Tour of Minnesota 2023!
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Great Ride
It was everything I wanted and more. Last Tuesday, Cyndie and I had dinner with our friends Paul and Beth, and the idea of going for a bike ride with Paul came up. I wanted to get more hours on the saddle in preparation for the Tour of Minnesota coming up in a week but I’m not a big fan of riding by myself. I offered to drive to Paul’s house so we could start from there.
Paul tossed out the loose idea of riding toward Wayzata from his place in Minneapolis which would provide me both hours and miles. Sounded perfect to me. It turned out to be even better than I expected.
The greatest gift Paul provided was his making almost all of the turn-by-turn decisions so that I was able to simply follow him and enjoy the ride. At one point we came upon an option of trails and I picked the more northern route that I was less familiar with. That choice ended up providing a series of unexpected perks that enhanced my day significantly.
The first one happened after I recognized a unique water tower in Plymouth that told me we weren’t far from the location of my old day-job I retired from. I stopped commuting the 65 miles one-way in December of 2021 and haven’t seen the folks I worked with since. After I left, the company was sold and although I have exchanged emails with the new owner, I had yet to meet him. Yesterday became my surprise chance.
It took some bike gymnastics and one fence scaling to get there due to construction but it was worth it to all-too-briefly be able to say hi to my old coworkers and shake the hand of the new owner. (I am chuffed to discover our Asher shares a name with Brian’s dog. I probably thought of changing “Ash” to Asher from stories Brian had told over the years. Could be, the way my mind works.)
Soon after we left the old workplace, Paul mentioned his mom lived nearby. I suggested we stop and say hi. It had been many years since I had seen her. You never know what might result from an unannounced appearance at somebody’s place, but she was home and invited us in for a wonderful visit.
Two great surprises in one ride! But there’s more.
Paul directed us to the place his brother, David is living and we pulled in so I could witness the gorgeous property where he resides. The curving driveway includes a small bridge across Minnehaha Creek before arriving at the house and garage. David wasn’t around so Paul snapped an “usie” to let him know we were there. I suggested the message could be, “Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.”
As we cruised along the rest of the way, after baling out on going all the way to Wayzata, Paul pointed out houses, or streets that led to houses of other friends we know. I felt like I was on a celebrity tour.
The mileage for the loop clocked in at a respectable 34 miles which met my goals perfectly for distance and time. The hour of completion conveniently allowed me to pick up Cyndie’s grocery order on my way home.
Paul, you were a wonderful tour guide. Thank you, again, my life-long friend.
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Exploring Gravel
Morning chores were done, breakfast was eaten and the paper read. It was time to commit to whatever work deserved to be accomplished for the day. Thinking that I needed to use the power trimmer, I asked Cyndie if it mattered to her what I started on.
She said, “Why don’t you go for a bike ride before the air quality gets any worse?” Man, I love her.
I got ready as quickly as I could and stopped to look at a map on my laptop for a new route to explore. 410th Street going north out of El Paso looked like a good option. (Did you know there was an “El Paso” in Wisconsin? I didn’t until we moved here.) A marker on the map for Driftless Farm Sanctuary caught my eye. I could check it out.
Being well familiar with the roads to El Paso, my exploration didn’t really begin until I reached 410th. Oops. It was gravel.
That wasn’t in my plan, but at the moment, I was feeling brave enough to ride the rough stuff. I turned onto the gravel and employed a little battery assist. What a smart idea it was to get an e-bike. The gravel continued for more miles than I expected, and every road that intersected 410th was also gravel. I learned that there are a lot more gravel roads nearby than I was aware of.
I came upon a very busy harvesting operation with two huge machines cutting and six trucks arranged for filling of what appeared to me would be processed to become silage. They probably didn’t expect to see a bicyclist passing by on that road.
I wasn’t aware there was growth already available for harvesting. This is the kind of discovery that comes from exploration.
There was another noteworthy find further on up the gravel roads. I came upon one of those places where you can’t roller skate.
When I left the gravel and rolled onto pavement again the pedaling became noticeably easier but the direction I was going took me to the big hills of 690th Avenue. I touched the control to increase my battery assist by two levels and sailed home with ease.
After lunch, I decided to test the idea of using the new zero-turn mower to cut along the fence lines from inside the hay field and back pasture to simplify trimming beneath the wires. I usually mow in there with the big tractor pulling the brush cutter but if the small mower can do the job, it would be easier.
Well, the little battery-powered beast was more than up to the challenge. That cutting, which knocked down grass much taller than I should have been trying to mow with the Greenworks CRZ426, will make the final cleanup with a power trimmer a breeze. I’ll be done in a fraction of the time it would have otherwise taken.
What a smart idea it was to buy that e-mower.
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Favorite Antidepressant
First of all, the weather yesterday was idyllic. That alone goes a long way to soothe a person’s angst. Beyond that, my favorite antidepressant is getting outdoors for exercise with a group of people who I know and love. I have known most of the people who showed up to ride for almost thirty years from the annual June bike trip called the Tour of Minnesota.
Our route along the Dakota Rail Regional Trail took us right past the home of my good friends, Mike and Barb Wilkus, so I brought a bunch of the riders off the trail to say hi to Mike.
He opened his garage to show us the camping trailer he was packing for a little getaway they have planned.
My biking group did this same warm-up ride last year but I failed to realize we were going right past the Wilkus’ place. Upon figuring it out, Rich Gordon and I stopped to surprise them. This year, I warned Mike that I’d be coming by, not mentioning the part about bringing 8 other cyclists with me.
The other thing we did yesterday on the ride was revisit a stop at the Big Stone Sculpture Garden in Minnetrista. A number of us reenacted last year’s pose in front of the word Love carved into stone.
We pedaled and visited for 30 miles which served to rekindle my deep appreciation for these precious friends.
Thank goodness Rich is adept at capturing pictures of us as we ride. Thanks for all the photos, Rich!
The joy of biking with these folks is the primary reason I have returned to the annual June biking and camping event year after year. Yesterday served as an excellent primer to inspire my preparations for the trip that will start in Albany, MN this year. Riding the country roads around my home all by myself isn’t as rewarding but getting in some preliminary hours on the saddle always goes a long way toward minimizing discomfort for a week of riding in the middle of June.
NOT having sore butt bones when you will be riding day after day is also an antidepressant, if you know what I mean.
I would be even happier if the week in June isn’t rainy or stormy, but I won’t frame that as a requirement. I’ll throw that inspiration out there as a potential bonus.
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Telling Trail
Our darling puppy was up to mischief while I was showering yesterday. When I opened the curtain I discovered a trail of evidence strewn across the floor. Somebody was nosing around in a waste basket where they weren’t supposed to be. Who would do such a thing?
Well, our little troublemaker wasn’t smart about hiding his tracks. Asher left behind a critical piece of evidence that gave away his presence.
On Monday, it will be three weeks since we brought home our adopted pup. Cyndie shared a graphic with me that refers to a general 3/3/3 guideline of the adjustment period for a dog after adoption. Three days to decompress/three weeks to learn our routine/three months to start to feel at home.
I didn’t really notice Asher needing to decompress during those first days, but I did wonder what he must be thinking about the change. He is definitely learning our routine and adjusting to it very well, for the most part. There have been several times when he has tested our boundaries. In a couple of months, he will feel at home and hopefully by that time he will have accepted all the boundaries we established.
Today, I am on another kind of trail. I will be joining some of my cycling friends for a ride on the Dakota Rail Regional Trail, heading west out of Wayzata. I need to get serious about putting in saddle time in advance of my annual expedition on the Tour of Minnesota which happens in the middle of June.
In just a couple of blinks, June will be here. I hope the ground dries up enough by then that I will be able to mow the areas I’ve been skipping because they’re too wet.
Here’s hoping the smoke from Canadian wildfires won’t make breathing difficult for bicycling today. I rarely find myself riding with friends at the beginning of my cycling season and I’m looking forward to the chance to visit with folks while pedaling along.
At least we finally have a weekend with pleasant weather to be outdoors without a raincoat.
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Relative Something 