Posts Tagged ‘biking’
Far Away
This feels so far away from home. Breakfast on the lanai by the pool in shorts and a t-shirt is so mind-bogglingly different from my normal routine that I feel like this is a dream. Well, it is a dream, actually. We are living the dream.
Besides power-lounging the day away, the most work I did involved figuring out how to connect Fred and Marie’s smart TV to the internet so they could watch shows on Amazon Prime, and then helping Fred put air in his bike tires.
He hadn’t ridden the bike for about 2 years, but Marie told him other visitors have been using the bikes every year. He wanted to take a little ride, so we just added some air and off he went.
When we next saw him again an hour or so later, he reported he had gone for a short bike ride followed by a long walk. His front tire had blown out. First, he reported noticing a ticking sound as the wheel turned round and round. Then it POPPED!
Forensic analysis revealed a failure in the sidewall of the tire. The inner tube had ballooned out and was rubbing the brake with each revolution, until the rubber tube burst.
Turned out to be a pretty impressive level of activity for the guy turning 80 this weekend.
Otherwise, the afternoon became a blur of card games, napping, and floating in the pool. Cyndie served Barry and Carlos drinks by the pool.
Around dinner time, the surprises for Fred continued as Cyndie’s brother, Steve arrived. Then, after dessert had been served, her last brother, Ben appeared with his wife, Sara. The last secret had been revealed and the kids were all present.
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We sat around the table sharing life stories and lost our breath in laughter multiple times. Fred shared a memory of his 60th birthday when the kids all showed up for a surprise gathering on a ski vacation in the mountains out west. That year, they left spouses at home.
Cyndie and I have been married for 35 years and had dated off and on for 7 years before that, so I recognized plenty of the tales that were being recollected. Reliving the many stories reveals a weird combination of my being part of the family, but not being one of the family. I’m here, but I’m not as here here as they are, if that makes any sense.
One thing that is clear, we are noticeably far away from our home in Wisconsin right now.
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Fifty Years
Coinciding with our usual 4th of July celebrations up at our lake place this year is a gala weekend recognizing the 50th anniversary of the community we call Wildwood Lodge Club. It’s like taking the most awesome event of the year and turning it up to eleven. No, make that twelve.
The brief history is that in 1966, one man spearheaded an effort to enlist a group to chip in and buy an old fishing lodge. The membership has changed a little bit over the years, with Cyndie’s family joining in 1969. The current 7 families decided to celebrate this year’s milestone by inviting everyone they could find who had ever been a member to come up for this holiday weekend.
It was a brilliant idea and the last two days have been more fun that we imagined possible.
I enjoyed a little milestone of my own at the start of the day by getting back on my bike just a week after the Tour of Minnesota. Last year after the ride, I hung my bike on a hook in the shop and didn’t get around to riding it again for the rest of the summer.
Cyndie’s brother, Ben, enticed me to bring my road bike up this year so we could get out for a ride together. It was a gorgeous morning and we made the most of it with an easy breeze through some of the beautiful lakes and woods of northern Wisconsin.
Back at Wildwood, we cooled off with a dip in the lake before the rest of the families and guests started their big day at the beach. For this special weekend, some extra floatation toys were added. They were well-used all day long.
In the evening, we gathered at the lodge for a brat and corn feast highlighted by a slide show and videos that overflowed with memories of the last 50 years.
It was informative and confirming for me to hear from some of the past members who spoke about what this place means to them still, long after their families moved on from the association.
As beautiful as this lake property is, it is the people of the member families, and the community they have created, that truly set this apart as a spectacularly incredible thing. I have always known it was special, but it is possible to take it for granted over time.
Celebrating a milestone like a 50th anniversary serves to remind and reorient me to the magic I fell into when I became a part of Cyndie’s amazing family and this special place.
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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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Wheels Rollin’
My favorite photos from cycling are usually ones taken on the road from the bike. When I remember, I carry my pocket camera in my jersey so I can slip my hand through the strap and pull it out for shots on the fly. Unlike my sure-handed friend, Rich, who deftly wields his iPhone for photos from his bike, I want the comfort of knowing the wrist strap will back me up when I fumble the grip.
Even when I remember to have the camera at the ready, usage requires I have ample space to allow my bike to wander off course a bit in the act of capturing shots. I have a tendency to float across lanes when I twist my torso around to compose a view behind me.
Good shots can be had when a lot of bikers are bunched up, but those are not times I feel safe to be veering off course in the act of shooting.
Although the majority of this year’s Tour of Minnesota was on bike trails, there were still a few occasions when we were out on the open road. With only minimal traffic and an ongoing intermittent rumble strip to deal with, we had opportunity to spread out and stretch our legs.
It was good to have a little variation from the monotonous, albeit beautiful, miles of railroad-grade paved trails.
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At one point we came upon a crew repaving the road. We simply joined the autos in waiting a turn to pass through the construction zone.
It felt a little too exposed to be on a bicycle, just a few feet away from fresh steaming hot asphalt, large dump trucks, and huge steam rollers crawling along as we rode through.
Some riders cannot resist the urge to stop and shop whenever we come upon garage sales. It pays to have a way to carry new treasures when shopping by bike.
Doobie is one to find a way when his muse hits. Light saber on the backpack, stuffed python snake wrapped around the bike frame. He doesn’t let anything bog down his free wheelin’.
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Trip Withdrawal
I’ve been home one day and I am noticing a distinct void from the abrupt absence of the large group of companions I enjoyed last week. Though personal space and familiar comforts of home are precious, the camaraderie we shared can be addicting, putting up a good fight for my desire.
I want both.
Now I’ve got my bathroom and bed back, but a lingering longing for the instantly available connection with inspiring souls leaves me wanting. I think that is what draws so many of us back to this annual ride each succeeding year.
Looking at a picture of the very first morning, taken just moments before we pedaled off en mass on the first leg of the week, I am instantly reminded of the excitement and anticipation of what lie ahead for us.
It started out with a damp fog just above the ground, but our 2016 ride in the heart of the state was blessed with some great weather and easy riding. A high percentage of our miles were accomplished on the 115-mile-long Paul Bunyan State Trail between Brainerd and Bemidji.
I had a really nice time meeting riders that were new to our group this year, discovering kindred spirits from as far away as Maryland, Texas, and Colorado, as well as a few from within the state of Minnesota.
They all won a piece of my heart, but challenging that for the highlight of the year for me was the opportunity to ride with first-timer, Sarah Gordon, the 10-year-old daughter of my treasured friend, Rich. They rode together on a borrowed tandem in a brave “test of concept” exercise for both.
I could see how difficult it was for each of them to manage at times, and they did a spectacular job of facing the challenges and achieving their goals, all while maintaining a superb attitude. They inspired and energized me greatly.
Sometimes we can become narrowly focused on doing this ride for our own personal reasons, but there is an equally significant value for those around us when we make the decision to participate.
I am forever grateful that Sarah decided to ride with us this year, and equally thankful for the rest of the crew, new and old, who showed up this year to make the 2016 Tour of Minnesota a particularly special biking and camping week.
How ’bout we do it again next year, eh?
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Let’s Party!
I’m Home! Before I even get a chance to write about the bike trip from which I just returned, it is time to jump into the next adventure. Today is the day our daughter, Elysa, is celebrating her 30th birthday with a gala at Wintervale.
I have some work to do to spruce the place up before guests arrive, especially getting my wet tent dried out and stowed. It is spread out with other gear all over the living room floor. I finished laundry last night but didn’t get the tent hung on the line until the sun was low because I was busy mowing the lawn.
I wanted to make sure that chore was done first.
The grass was a little long, but not all that unsightly. I have a fair amount of clippings to clean up this morning. There were a few spots that were pretty bumpy where some horse hooves left their marks.
While I was gone, the herd decided to go on a little adventure of their own. I got a voicemail from our neighbor across the street that reported our horses were wandering across his property toward his son’s house up the road and then had crossed into another neighbor’s corn field.
Cyndie said she was not home at the time and must have left a gate to the barn unclipped. That allowed the chain to be manipulated and the horses were able to navigate their way through an open barn door to freedom. Our neighbor left messages on both of our phones, but neither of us responded, so he just kept an eye on them.
I asked Cyndie if the sheriff got involved. She said no, because the herd took themselves home and our neighbor just followed to close the barn door behind them.
In a curious instance of timing, the reason I asked about the sheriff is because the very same day our horses were off gallivanting around the countryside, bikers in my vicinity were suddenly spooked by a siren that was the result of an officer responding to a horse in the road near the trail we were riding.
I didn’t see the horse, but one of the bikers from our group said that cars had stopped to protect it from traffic and the horse just stood in the road enjoying the view.
Was there something about June 23rd that linked these two equine escape incidents?
Now it’s time to party and celebrate our lovely daughter!
Elysa, you go girl!
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Current Jersey
I’m coming home today! The newest jersey I own comes from Minnesota Public Radio station 89.3 The Current. It is hanging in our bathroom, a place that I will have a renewed appreciation for after a week of communal showering in steamed up locker rooms.
Even though I don’t plug my ears with headphones while cycling, I hear songs in my mind, and plenty of what becomes ear worm music for me is something I first heard on The Current.
I wonder if I wore this on the first day or saved it for later this year…
If all goes as planned, I’ll be back to posting live again starting tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed my jersey show this week!
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TCBC Jersey
On the day before our ride comes to an end, I’m thinking about how much I miss my bed. This is a jersey from my brief participation as a paying member of the Twin Cities Bicycling Club. I think it is a brilliant design, especially in terms of wanting to be seen by drivers when riding the roads.
Start seeing bicyclists!
I will be so happy to sleep in my bed again.
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Yellow Jersey
The neon yellow jersey I wear more often than any other is featured today, appropriately enough on top of a pile of composting manure. It’s where I spend most of my time when I’m not on the bike it seems. Nothing fancy, but entirely effective.
This was really hard to photograph because the brightness of the jersey was in direct conflict with keeping the pile of composting manure light enough to identify.
Can you see me now?
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p.s. Happy Birthday to our beautiful daughter, Elysa, today! I’ll see you soon, E! And we’ll party!!
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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.
Relative Something 