Getting Stared...When Pigs Learn to Fly

I fell into one of those deep deep  summertime afternoon sleeps. Cousins Pat and Monte have a great sleeping couch! Drifting up into occasional consciousness I caught a movement outside the window.
Between the trees I saw bicyclists wearing the black, white and orange cycling kits of the Pedaling for Parkinson's team. Shaking this vision out of my eyes, I fell back into the comfort of the couch and within seconds was into the deep sleep. When I woke again, it was dark. I peered out to see the twinkling headlights of dozens of  bicycles coming down the blacktop road outside the rural Iowa farmhouse. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The twinkling headlights became fireflies dancing in the tree leaves near the road. Two days after the completion of the ride across Iowa, RAGBRAI is still on my mind.

How do I relate the experience of this past week?  This RAGBRAI!  This is so popular amongst Iowans and Midwesterners that thousands of cyclists turn out each year to participate.  I am from the Pacific Northwest  My roots rest in Iowa cornfields, but I was born in the county of wheat and wine, Walla Walla. I now reside in Oregon..  There, corn has  recently become a prominent crop, grown in irrigated circles. RAGBRAI  training  rides took us past Oregon corn fields, pea harvesters, watermelon fields and hay laying in thick rows, waiting for the perfect moment to be bailed.  I road alone. I rode with Anne or Nancy. Finally Charlie was free to ride. Charlie and  I rode our single bikes together  and then the big yellow tandem became good company. Good saddle time. But not enough for endurance riding 7 long days of  RAGBRAI.

We were to meet the team in Hull, Iowa on Saturday July 19. Not wanting to miss a moment of the action we pulled into Hull Friday night...late, late Friday night. I had the address of Jason  written down, but there were no numbers to be seen on the darkened houses. We parked "Gertrude" and Charlie and I walked  from house to house with flashlights beaming on lights, doors and curbs, looking for numbers. Bingo! Stacks of tables and chairs, and cases of water and pop revealed our destination. The late  night insistent doorbell ringing brought a tall sleepy Jason out on the porch. He directed us to the church parking lot behind the house. "Park anywhere there. See you in the morning".

Smashed  insects were affixed to my bike with super bug juice. It had ridden in the place of honor, outside front bike on Gertrude's big bosom.  I scrubbed the white Bianchi, which Charlie nicknamed "beyond me", with...you guessed it, WINDEX. Numerous random and not so random people wandered across the expanse of the lot to check me out. I met Loren (yes the proper spelling), the church pastor whose parking lot we camped in. Jason came over to tell us breakfast awaited  in his house. The chair of Hull's RAGBRAI committee and president of the Hull Chamber of Commerce interviewed me and took my picture. Doug, Nan's husband greeted me. Mike, my Facebook friend showed up. There were Pedaling for Parkinsons   riders of all ages. What struck me the most about each and every one was they were not only cycling buffs but also buff cyclists.  I was not!!  We were instructed to get our "kits" in the garage. Boxes of riding clothes piled across from the paper goods, pop and water.

I felt like a flying pig!

We saw this truck at a gas station.

Trying to act casual I slunk into the extra cycling kit piles looking for a size larger than I ordered.  Oh no, two sizes larger!  Nan had suggested I lose weight, alot of weight before the ride.  I ordered smaller sizes expecting to have a smaller bod.  WRONG!  I gained weight during the training period.

DAY ONE DAWNED! That night was much too short.  I recall my tenting experience in a seperate post/ We packed the clean Bianchi next to Charlie's bike in the support trailer. 

Straddling the big yellow tandem, Charlie and I reviewed the communication commands from our tandem training : pedal up, ready, bike on, going.  A few blocks of quiet tree lined streets and we turned left to join the mass of humanity cycling into the sunrise.  RAGBRAI.  THIS IS RAGRBAI!!!
My heart skips a few beats in excitement. My Parkinson's induced apathy is gone. I am laughing and grinning from ear to ear. I actually feel something.!! Here we go. 69 miles until we sleep.

We pulled into the first town's confused mess and had to walk the tandem. For me that's like being drug through a throng of people by a big yellow praying mantis. I think that's what I will call this yellow Co-Motion tandem.  We stopped at the pig pink painted photo spot. .
And then got out of there as soon as possible. It was much safer and comfortable to be on the bike.  Tonight's lodging was to be at a private home near. Lake Okajobi. This vacation spot's name was soooo mispronounced by us. Dozens of times we were corrected... almost as many times as our Midwestern teammates mispronounced our home state by saying Ore a gone.  After 60 some miles Charlie and I were enjoying the speed of the downhill. The heavy tandem and our extra weighty bodies followed the laws of physics and gravity propelled us at 25, 35+ mph...only because my wise husband kept us in check and control.   Unbeknownst to us we sailed right past the street to the night's lodging and into town.  Charlie pulled up our yellow beast in front of a young local family who was enjoying the never ending stream of cyclists.  The kids were thrilled with our strange bike as parents gave directions. We got turned around, headed back up hill against the speeding downhillers. The faster riders hogged the entire side of the road we needed to travel on, just as we had a few moments earlier ...BIKE UP. BIKE UP  we both shouted.  Earlier that day we had  learned the warning call to clear the path as a cyclist pedaled facing the flow, like a salmon swimming upstream.  We were ever so glad to get across the lanes of  bike traffic onto the right road. And extra glad  to find that home. That night we ground up giant mosquitoes and pattied them for skeeter burgers.  For dessert we had biting flies.. Actually they had us.  A shower. A massage, a beverage and it was to bed in a tent of buzzing creatures. The praying mantis was sleeping soundly in the trailer.  We needed her tonight. Eventually I slept.  Tomorrow I ride "Beyond Me", my single road bike.

A journey on wheels...The Beginning

My camp at Wallowa Fiddle Tunes

This journey is so different than my travels of the last two years. A female "Sherpa" has come into my life in the form of this 2014 F-350 4x4 named Gertrude.  Mind you I did not name this truck. I would have named HIM Hercules as he is strong and mighty.  He totes my home away from home, the Arctic Fox truck camper. I am spoiled with AC, ducted heat, stove, microwave, toilet, shower, refrigerator and a queen size bed with real sheets and my favorite comforter. Charlie must have an image of a Gertude as a strong and steadfast character.  He wins the name game.

Gertrude, the Fox, bikes and us

Works for me.

I was very pleased to be able to set up this camper by myself at the Wallowa Music Alliance Fiddle Tunes Camp the week before the Iowa trip. It was hard and slow work for me.  At the end of the week I took it all down and drove my weary body  home. Pretty good for me as I am six years into a Parkinson's diagnosis.

I remember a time when my husband made all the travel arrangements. These trips included a Volkswagen Rabbit, a black dog named Molly Too, a tent, a couple of sleeping bags, fishing poles, split pea soup and RAIN. At work there was an  administrative assistant to complete the task. I didn't have much experience arranging complex travel arrangements for several people to big cities.  Then there was one huge blooper, was it to Detroit, Galvaston or Independence Iowa I don't remember. I caught it on a credit card statement. I had "stayed" at the conference  hotel several weeks before the conference was to be held. After cleaning up that mess I was prompted to try my hand at travel arrangements. The first time my personal travel was completed flawlessly I sensed a feeling of accomplishment. Then I started to enjoy working out all the details for all our travel. C-Team Walking the Camino de Santiago in 2012 was the result of much planning and organizing of  the 10 travelers who came  from different locations at different times.  Hey, it was fun.  I loved the planning  and the travel. MMMmmm, maybe a new career? NAH.

Walking across France last April and May brought me even  stronger  feelings of confidence.  I thoroughly enjoyed the planning as much as the walk.  I met up with Leslie and we made quite the pair; two women with progressive neurological challenges walking, walking, walking. What a boost of confidence to complete that journey unassisted .

Research into cycling as an  exercise for people with Parkinson's started to appear from many directions. As I searched for local cyclists with PD, I found a Seattle woman named Nan Little. She mentioned the RAGBRAI  (Registers Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) to me. Nan often tells her story of  holding  her Parkinson's  symptoms at bay with intensive exercise, especially cycling. The ride across Iowa with Pedaling for Parkinson's  intrigued me, then captivated me. I knew I had to go.

The training began.  Between the tandem with Charlie and my single rides, and running (in the car of,course) my dad to doctor after doctor, I cycled over 800 miles in preparation.. Did I feel prepared? Not really.  There was so much to prepare for that I never imagined...  Riding pedal to pedal with thousands of other cyclists. Weather. Sleeping on a cot in a tent. Spending 4-6 hours in a bike saddle. Adjusting medications to time zones.  Heat. Humidity. Planning the travel to and from Iowa and getting the vehicle prepared. ugg!

No matter how hard we plan and prepare stuff happens. Stolen? or lost? cash gone in Yellowstone. We never expected the money Charlie put aside from substitute teaching  would disappear. He was very bitter, understandably. I was thankful no one was hurt or that the money had to be spent on repairs.  We reported the incident to Park Rangers and the Park Vendor  Corporation. The loss of that money continues to be a mystery.  We have developed many scenarios for its disappearance, yet it is still gone. We have to leave that incident behind and get to Iowa.

My cousin Pat Rogers was a joy to have along. She flew to Seattle to spend time with my brother and his wife with the plan we would drive her back to Iowa. We traded memories of childhood visits and told stories as we traveled from West to East. Recently purchased, my Taylor Mini guitar was a perfect fit for this back seat rider. I practiced Blue Grass licks and Irish songs with DADGAD tuning.  My playing offered nothing to sing to.   Yet Pat was a  gracious  listener.  While I dozed on and off, she helped Charlie stay awake.  He completed a  16 hour drive to Grant Village in Yellowstone with Pat as co-pilot.  We will laugh about that marathon day for years to come.

We said goodbye to Pat,  and Gertrude, yesterday July 19. She took the truck and camper to her home near Osage. But before she left we found tiny Doon, Iowa. With my dad's description we located my grandfather's childhood home.  A few miles down the road, in a cemetery near Alvord, were the graves of my great grandparents Joseph and Mary K Kleespies.  The graves nearest to them was of their son,  John H Kleespies, and the Aunt Mame we heard so much about in our childhood.  My great uncle John passed on to the next world at age 21. Noticing some time worn engraving on the tomb stone, we brainstormed techniques to recover its words.  Pat had the idea that with some shaving cream placed over the writing, the letters would be more clearly seen. Shaving cream was located in the camper and we read this epithet:

Behold ye strangers passing by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now you soon shall be

Prepare for death and follow me 

Charlie, Carol, Pat at Great Uncle John H Kleespies grave Alvord, Iowa

Hmm, in all our preparations we did not consider death.  And we aren't exactly strangers.  So....this does not pertain to us at this time...right?

We gave Pat the Round-up Court wave as a goodbye and sadly watched the taillights turn the corner. I held a secret hope she would come back.  We would not see her again until we showed up on our bikes the following Saturday afternoon in Guttenburg, Iowa.