Posts Tagged ‘bike trip’
Fiery Sky
The horses were heavily harassed by biting flies yesterday, which made my session of scooping manure a lively affair. The biggest hazard, beyond unpredictable flailing hooves as they fling a leg out in response to a bite, is the nasty snap of their tails. They could take an eye out with that whipping action. At the very least, it stings when they get you.
I’ve noticed they will frequently align themselves to purposely have their heads in the wash of someone else’s tail for added fly management. There is no doubt they are thicker skinned than we are. I wouldn’t be able to endure the beating.
I worked well past the dinner hour last night, after a full shift at the day-job, to create added open space in the compost area for my approaching week-long absence from home. The effort now should pay off when I return, so I won’t come home to a disaster of overflowing piles.
Manure management is one of those jobs that is made easy by frequent attention. Let it go for a day or two between scooping and it can become an exponentially more significant project.
Last night, I opened up a gate to a section of pasture that still has long grass, to allow the herd a brief session of grazing. The first thing three of them did was pee. The second thing they took turns doing was laying down and rolling around.
When I looked their direction to see they finally got around to seriously grazing, the setting sun was illuminating the clouds to create the impression of a great conflagration. Photo Op!
One last day at the day-job today before vacation. I hope to try mowing the yard tonight and maybe doing a little laundry so I can pack clean clothes for the bike trip.
If I pack warm clothes and rain gear, maybe I won’t need them. We all know that if I don’t pack those things, it would guarantee that the week would turn out cold and wet.
If we see fiery clouds in the evenings during the bike trip, I hope it will mean, “sailor’s delight.”
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DejaVu Again
With less than a week until I leave for my umpteenth annual Tour of Minnesota bicycling and camping week, planning is well underway. Surprisingly, we are also in the midst of planning for coverage to assist Cyndie with life and ranch chores while she recovers from a surgery.
With a totally unexpected speed usually associated with emergency procedures, the office of the orthopedic surgeon initiated an accelerated series of appointments leading to repair of Cyndie’s shoulder on Tuesday, just three days before I leave for my trip.
They got her fitted with a special sling to be used for days after the procedure, and on her way home she was able to squeeze in the requisite pre-op physical. Cyndie will be back on pain meds and placed on the disabled list for ranch management activities for weeks after her surgery.
And I will be on vacation for a week. Good luck with that.
It’s a bit distracting, trying to take a break from the routine, while faced with the knowledge my wife is unable to fulfill her own role, let alone cover for my absence.
The solution: Family and friends.
We wouldn’t be where we are today without them. Thank you, in advance, to all who are volunteering to take a shift covering our needs of Cyndie-care and animal care this week while I try to keep hours at the day-job and then leave for a week of vacation.
You’ll just love the chickens!
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Close Calls
For the most part, my week of biking and camping was perfect. Weather was good, trails and roads were great, and my body delivered everything I asked of it. I was in the company of really great companions who fed my soul and entertained my brain.
However, my performance wasn’t entirely without incident.
The first occasion happened when I was cruising the trail with Rich and Steve on the day we coincidentally chose to wear our blue sleeveless jerseys. While some cat-callers threw out a moniker with the word “smurf” in it, Rich anointed us the “Blue Man Crew.”
There are many driveways and a few roads that the trail crosses, and at each one there is a stop sign. We are supposed to stop at each one, but in the rural setting there is very little traffic present. Instead of stopping, we would most often yield, pausing to look for cars.
After miles of no traffic, we arrived at one where a large truck had just crossed our trail and was waiting to turn onto the adjacent highway. We were talking and Rich had pulled out his water bottle as we approached. Suddenly I spotted a pickup truck pulling up behind the larger truck.
In a split second decision, I raised my hand in a wave and rolled through between the two vehicles, but Rich and Steve abruptly hit their brakes. I figured the pickup couldn’t go anywhere with the larger truck stopped in front of it. The other two made the proper decision, but paid a price when their rapid deceleration led to their bikes tangling and a spoke on Rich’s front wheel getting bent.
Our behavior seemed to rile the driver of the pickup truck, as he then raced around the large truck and cut across it in a right turn, racing his engine as he sped off.
Thinking that the spoke was broken, we gingerly made our way to the day’s destination, worried about a risk the wheel might collapse. Luckily, it wasn’t a broken spoke after all. Mike, our trusty Penn Cycle mechanic supporting the trip, was able to straighten it out and true the wheel, good as new.
The second close call happened at the end of the week as we pulled back into the town of Brainerd. I was in a small group of riders who were all seeking the best route to the fair grounds. We crossed a street at an intersection with cars waiting their turn.
Folks announced their intentions with calls of “Slowing!” and “Stopping!” I twisted my right foot out of the clipless pedal in preparation of stopping, and then got caught with my weight on the other foot. I followed their calls with one of my own.
“Falling.”
I came out of it with nothing more than a bruised hip, forearm and ego.
Just another close call.
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Tight Tenting
On Wednesday, our bike trip destination was Lake Bemidji State Park. We arrived in time to eat lunch there, before the baggage truck had even delivered our gear. Since this park did not have a group camping site large enough to house all our tents in one location, ride director Bob divided us into two groups.
Even at half the number of campers, it looked like we would barely fit. The tents were going to need to be set very close together. Luckily, this group knows how to do close.
Since we didn’t yet have our bags with the tents in them, people began to claim their plot by laying down their bicycles in the spot where they hoped to erect their tent.
By the time the truck with our luggage arrived, impending rain was beginning to threaten its arrival. The area behind the truck took on the appearance of an airport baggage claim station as folks took turns stepping in to grab their gear the second it appeared.
In a flurry of expert efficiency, our tent city popped up very quickly.
In this situation, it was going to be very difficult to achieve much in the way of the isolation we value for reducing auditory sleep interruptions that happen at close quarters. Tent fabric is a very poor sound dampening wall material. We share every cough, sniffle, burp, fart, hiccup, and snore that human bodies are prone to do.
Actually, the more onerous irritant often doesn’t come from our bodies, but from our equipment. Tent zippers, noisy sleeping pads, and plastic storage bags can make an incredible amount of ruckus after it gets dark and voices have grown hushed.
My friends, Rich and Doobie, got creative and tucked their tents with mine between some bushes on a teeny strip of green between driveways.
Any port in a storm.
We were so close that our rain flies were tied to each other to keep them from sagging onto the tent walls. It is a good thing we didn’t get much more rain than what fell, because there wasn’t a very good route for water to drain away from the middle spot where three rain flies all sloped together.
I’m happy to boast that I don’t have much trouble with these tight conditions, because I am always so exhausted by sunset that I fall unconscious asleep very quickly and miss all but the most egregious clamoring that sometimes can occur in the middle of the night.
When I do happen to notice a particularly loud snorer, I tend to return to sleep easily while pondering how in the world individuals who make loud snoring sounds don’t wake themselves up when they are so close to all that noise.
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TofM Jersey
Today’s specimen is the inaugural Tour of Minnesota jersey displayed on bales of hay. This jersey is from the first year that this annual biking and camping week in the middle of June transitioned leadership and took on the new name. It’s a collector’s item, for sure.
This jersey is also sized such that I can grow into it as I age.
Almost Gone
Today is my last day of work before my week off to go biking and camping. That produces a natural desire to wrap up loose ends and clear my head of as many lingering issues as possible. Already, the biggest burden has been lifted. We learned yesterday that a significant meeting that had been scheduled to happen during my absence, ended up needing to be postponed. I won’t have to miss it after all.
Tonight, I hope to cram in as many ranch chores as possible before diving into the challenge of deciding what needs to be packed in preparation for tomorrow morning’s departure. Will it be hot, cold, wet, windy, or a little of each over the course of the week?
This year’s itinerary for the Tour of Minnesota will be:
June 17th – camp in Brainerd
June 18th – bike to Walker
June 19th – bike to Park Rapids
June 20th – bike to Itasca State Park
June 21st – day off while camped in Itasca
June 22nd – bike to Bemidji State Park
June 23rd – bike to Pine River
June 24th – bike back to Brainerd
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At least I don’t have to worry about what to bring for a snack.
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Mixed Results
There has been enough progress from my last application of organic weed killer to see where it works, and where it doesn’t. I’m getting mixed results. Close inspection of the image will reveal some remaining leaves of poison ivy that are very green and healthy. Either they are new sprouts since I sprayed, or I missed them completely.
It is possible that I missed some leaves, because there are so many other growing plants in the vicinity, it is hard to see. I wasn’t about to reach down and move things out of the way to get a better view. When I spray poison ivy, I do so at an arm’s length.
When the weed killer hits the mark, it works very well. I will just make a point of returning at the next opportunity to apply another dose. It gets easier each time to spot the leftover plants remaining. I learned last year that more than one application would be required, after new growth sprouted in place of the first batch I had killed.
I never got the chance to do that follow-up application, and instead focused on readying ourselves to make a fresh attack this summer with the new sprayer and a new gallon of concentrated citrus-based weed killer.
On another subject, speaking of mixed results, I mentioned to Cyndie that I was considering creating a custom sweet and salty trail mix to take on the bike trip this year. She had me make a shopping list of ingredients so she could pick some things up on a grocery run yesterday.
What a bounty of choices I found on the kitchen counter when I got home from work! I concocted a bizarre combination of items, measuring each to calculate a rough sugar-grams-per-serving value so I would know what I’m getting when I dive in ravenously after a day’s ride.
When we arrive at the evening destinations, the first thing to be dealt with is finding the best spot for our tents. In that weary moment when helmets get dropped, bike shoes come off, and our baggage has been claimed, I find it an incredible pleasure when one precious friend or another shows up with something to munch on.
A primitive part of my brain is usually begging for sustenance to replenish the deficit it perceives after the day of pedaling. I don’t know why the body can’t just use up some of my extra middle inches for fuel at that point, but it never seems to work out that way for me.
It’s too easy to gobble up some new deliciousness before the body ever gets around to trimming the belly. I definitely gain fitness over the week of biking, but with all the eating we do along the way, the results are usually mixed.
An oft-used byline for the collection of folks who form the core community of this ride is… we are an eating group with a biking disorder.
I resemble that remark.
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Thursday Night
When you don’t work on Fridays, Thursday night becomes the early occasion to party like the weekend is upon you. Have some neighbors over, eat a feast, play some cards, and stay up late having loads of fun.
Check.
I’m exhausted. And rejuvenated.
Is that even possible?
Bring on my 3-day weekend. It’s my last one before leaving on the annual week-long June bike camping trip, The Tour of Minnesota. I guess I better start thinking about preparations. Will it be a hot trip this year? Rainy? What should I pack?
I’m thinking about trying a minimalist approach this time around, so the questions take on more significance for me. In one week, I will be making a final decision about what makes the cut.
I hope the weather forecasts show some general agreement by then, and as long as I’m hoping, that they predict nothing but the smallest of chances for rain.
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Road Shots
I may be home and back to the old grind (have I mentioned that I returned to the old day-job a while back?), but my mind is still lingering on the bike trip. Here are some images from this year’s trip that keep going through my head…
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Tired Legs
I’m home again. After a week of biking, my legs feel much stronger, yet thoroughly worn out, if such a thing is possible. I was awakened by thunder this morning, at the hour we would have been just waking up to pack our tents for the day, extremely grateful to be in my own bed and under a roof.
For the most part, the weather during our adventure was good for biking and camping. We even enjoyed a few occasions of a tail wind, which always provides a much appreciated ego boost when traveling by pedal power.
My body developed some stiffness from all the exercise, and probably from sleeping on the cold hard ground, but I didn’t develop any specific nagging issues from the prolonged hours of pedaling. That is something that I find particularly rewarding, as it hasn’t been the case every time I have done this trip. Joint pain or muscle strain can really mess with the pleasures of day-long riding.
I think most of my stiffness was a result of just a few games of pickle ball in Albert Lea on our day off from riding. I found that to be enough fun that it was worth the muscle soreness.
Participation this year was split almost half-and-half between returning riders and those who were doing it for the first time. Meeting new people becomes one of the highlights of the week for me, and this gave me plenty of opportunities for that.
I rode to breakfast with a group that included one man whom I felt had been with us before, but when seated in a booth beside him, discovered he was from Kansas City and it was his first year on the Tour of Minnesota.
As always, I was carried along throughout the week by the incredible support and precious energy of friends Gary Larson, Julie Kuberski, Rich Gordon, and Steve Reynolds. I struggled with the challenging limitations of creating blog posts and taking pictures with my phone, and Rich and Julie were kind enough to offer some of their great photos to help me out.
I’m not quite the mobile device guy, and I am extremely happy to be back on the laptop today, writing and editing my words and pictures. Something tells me I may resort to my old ways of writing posts in advance again next year.
Today I have plenty of laundry to do, and if the rain stops and grass dries up, a lot of lawn to mow. Pequenita seems happy to have me home and has stayed close to my every move. Delilah appears to have bonded stronger to Cyndie again, in my absence. The horses show no change at all, though they each gave me some intimate moments of breathing in each other’s scent when I stopped down to say hello.
It’s really good to be back home, tired legs and all.
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Relative Something 