Iowa and Nebraska

Bellevue, NE. Today I completed the "Spoke and Hub" century, which began in Bellevue and moved through the Loess Land on either side of the Missouri River. This was hosted by the great folks at the Bellevue Bicycle Club. Loess is a German word meaning "if you think this is the top of the hill, think again!" Or something like that.

Headwinds were a problem for several stages in this ride. There was a blustery wind up from the South for the whole day. Normally, headwinds only affect half the ride. But, the course had significant diagonal segments with a Southerly vector, which just seemed to prolong the pain for hours. The few Northbound segments lasted only minutes (especially at 20 mph!).

Half way through this ride I had an opportunity to try out the local bike shop, Olde Towne Cyclery operated by Todd. I had noticed my rear wheel had worked its way loose on its axle during the Iowa segment. Todd did the tightening job -- which included removing the cassette -- and had me back on the road in minutes. He even used a torque wrench to re-attach the cassette -- a rare practice in modern bike mechanics. Where would we be without our local bike shops? I, certainly, could never complete the 50 Centuries Project.

Once again, I rode during a perfectly-fitting window in the weather. Before the ride, showers blew through the Omaha area. And, by the time I had returned to my hotel, showered, and sat down at the local Council Bluffs restaurant, the heavens had opened up for several hours of drenching rain. During the ride, however, the sun slowly burned away the clouds so that by the afternoon, I was glad to be wearing sunscreen. Lots of windburn, though!

Biking in the rain was not the only weather problem I avoided. As I checked in my rental car, the agent told me mine was the first she had seen without hail damage all day. Welcome to summer!

This is the end of my springtime centuries. I will resume my quest after a short break in July.

More photos on my Webshots page.

Half Way Mark!

With the completion of New Jersey's Rotary 100, I am now half-way through my quest.

Progress has happened in fits and starts since I first learned how to keep a two-wheeled vehicle upright back in 1957 in Milton, Massachusetts. There have been long stretches of my life when I did almost no bicycling at all, including the period from 2007 to 2010.

But, for every uphill there's a downhill, and I can feel myself gaining momentum. If the schedule cooperates and bike and body continue to function, I should be able to finish off 12 more centuries in 2011. If I complete only a fraction of that, this will be my best century year yet.

I'll never be the first across the finish line. Becoming a fast rider is not my goal. "Start first; finish last; have the best time," is my mantra. It has a number of side-benefits. If I pace myself, I will probably see everybody on the ride at least once. I notice more things. At some point I need to write a blog entry on "Weird Things I Saw in the Road". I can also take more pictures if I'm not watching the clock. I found that, years after an event, I have a hard time remembering what kind of day it was, or what did I see on the ride.

All of which reminds me, I need to begin to update my photo album.

Rotary 100

Burlington, NJ. Rotary 100. New Jersey deems itself the Garden State, and I had often heard that beyond the I-95 corridor and urban sprawl they have much to back this up. There were peach orchards, cranberry bogs, tree farms, and more horses than I saw in Kentucky! Most of central New Jersey is a bicyclist's playground: well-paved, uncrowded roads with gently-rising and dropping terrain. The drivers were models of courtesy. It was no wonder that I saw numerous cyclists and cycling groups riding around on this cloudy -- and eventually rainy -- Saturday.

The Rotary 100 is put on by the local Rotary club. Rotary sponsors several nice centuries across the country and uses them as fundraisers. They have been running the Rotary 100 for several years, and it shows. The roads were particularly quiet. I remember several road segments in which I had seen no cars. After a while, my instincts normally tell me that this is just a lull, and I should expect a platoon of vehicles soon. But, as I looked in the mirror I found, instead, that I had the road to myself.

In fact, there were 'too many' cyclists on the road. As I approached one intersection, a person with a Stop sign on a stick had me wait for a bike race to blow through. I asked him how far they were racing, and he said, "Nine miles!" I pedaled off to do the rest of my 102 with a big grin on my face.

My weather luck would not hold forever, however, and so I had to ride in the rain. At about mile 60 the forecast showers began in earnest, and continued -- on and off -- until the end. Of the handful of century riders (it's early season, and few people choose the 100-mile option), I was the only one who brought any rain gear. The rain was light (at first), and I considered toughing it out. But, I eventually realized there was no reason to carry a gore-tex jacket in the rain. (When you are concentrating on finding the next turn, sometimes common sense takes a back seat.)

This is one ride in which I lived my motto, "Start first; finish last; have the best time." I passed a few of the faster riders, but they eventually pushed past me. One very nice local rider, Dave, rode with me for quite a while and gave me much of the local lore. He called this "spandex country" because of all the cyclists around, and insisted that this affected driver behavior. New Jersey allows cyclists to ride two-abreast on low-traffic roads. We did just this for many miles as the occasional vehicle flowed around us without objection. Dave also told me about the upcoming terrain (flat!), the cranberry bogs, and the need to save some energy for the hills at the end. It was nice to feel welcome and to share bicycling stories. Unlike golf, one has to work at making cycling a social enterprise.

This was such a pleasant ride, that I'll keep my eye out for New Jersey cycling events in the future. (After I finish state #50!)

Tour de Stooges

Highland, IL. The Tour de Stooges is a whimsical ride through southern Illinois. The roads are quiet and mostly smooth. There are few real hills, but there is 1300 feet of climbing. There is little real connection with the Three Stooges other than their image on the t-shirts. Highland is famous for PET evaporated milk and the Wicks Organ Company.

Near the ride start there's a monument to Heinrich Bosshard, a Swiss poet who wrote the poem "Sempacherlied" while living in Highland. Switzerland adapted Bosshard's poem into its national anthem, and erected a monument to their Francis Scott Key.

But small towns don't need anything famous to make them delightful. The drivers were friendly and the residents seemed to enjoy having a bunch of bright-colored weirdos riding around.

The ride organizers paid attention to the important stuff: well-stocked and evenly spaced rest stops and patrolling Sag vehicles that passed regularly. The after-ride food was tasty, but the after-ride entertainment did not appear. If you're going to skip something, skip that.

The wind blew strongly from the South all day. We started southbound, and struggled with the headwind. But, we all realized there was a flip side to that coin, and on the northbound legs you could really crank on some turns.

There were a few signs of this spring's flooding, especially as we passed low spots in the road near rivers and creeks. In some places the "Road Closed" sign had not yet been stored away, only moved aside. All the roads were open and dry, however.

I guess the most interesting thing that happens out there is the barreling freight train across the prairie. There were several railroad main lines out of St. Louis that move goods and freight to the East.

And now I have Illinois. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!