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Blueberry Tandem At RAGBRAI
Imagine 15,000 riders swarming like bees across both sides of the road as far forward and back as one can see. Riders jockey for position calling out, "on left" or "holding" as they ribbon down the road. Those less experienced weave and chat happily totally oblivious to the danger they create. For seven days and 521 miles bikers of all levels, types, sizes, and abilities coexist in one homogeneous mass grazing along the way on food from vendors such as pork chop man, veggie momma, ice cream man, and pancake man. At every town vendors call out their food, "pies here!", "sweet corn here!", and "Gatorade here!" while those more religious tend to our souls by singing hymns for all to hear.
Many come in buses painted and decorated to suit their team names, Crank Addicts, Dawgs, Squealers, DairyAirs, and F.A.R.T.s (Farmers Are Really Tough). Each bus is complete with a top rack to hold coolers of beer. Perchance they run out, every town has a beer garden and offers a ride to the next town or overnight if a biker tarries too long. The best team of all was the Bad Boys. They didn't need any stinking bus! They carried their own fully functional Barbecue on the back of one bike, a completely stocked liquor cabinet on another, a massive full size stereo system playing rock music, and, best of all, a kitchen sink complete with plumbing hooked up to the panniers. Buzzing around them were their ladies carrying on their bikes the sleeping bags, tents, and other essentials.
I have always fantasized about running away to join the circus so off I went to RAGBRAI with Terry Sherbeck to pilot The Blueberry, and three other friends all stuffed into my Van. We left for Iowa to become one with the cornfields, soybeans, and pig farms.
The first few days of the ride were reasonably flat; however, the heat index set to 115 had The Blueberry melting into the pavement. . The towns would announce their presence by proudly displaying their water tower, church and grain elevator so they could be seen miles away. When we would roll into town, children would gleefully toss buckets of water on us after Dad had already squirted us with the hose.
After being safely tucked into our tents at night we were treated to fabulous thunder and lightening displays that shook the still sizzling ground upon which we slept. Unhappy with one team, God tossed a lightening bolt into a tree toppling it onto their bus. Fortunately they were all in the beer garden so no one got hurt! During that storm I wanted desperately to be rescued, but I was afraid to leave my tent so I rode it out curled in a little ball under my cot while The Blueberry bravely stood guard outside my tent.
The Air Force was there with a pelaton of riders decked out in polished red, white, and blue jerseys. They begrudgingly told me that the Navy was there, too, but that they were fat and slow so we wouldn't be seeing them any time soon. As Terry expertly wove The Blueberry in and out of the newbe's I chatted happily with the Air Force telling them about my son, the Marine. As it turns out the Air Force just LOVE the Marines. Being one Marine's Mom, I developed a fan club of Air Force men calling out, "Go Becky", when Terry and I would power The Blueberry up the hills and over the top.
Terry loved seeing the wider variety of people on the ride especially the gaggle of cute young things in halter tops. Another favorite of his was being able to pass so many people going up the hills. He learned early on that if he stopped for me to down a triple espresso from Espresso Man, we would go up about 5 MPH faster! Feeling particularly energetic after one such stop, I did a standing sprint while Terry remained seated. The other cyclists around us cheered as we shot past them and rounded over the top. I was very proud of Terry's ability to hold our line no matter what kind of nonsense I was doing on the back.
One interesting feature of Iowa's highways is rumble strips. The are perpendicular lines that come in a grouping of about 5 feet, 3 times, before a major intersection. They are an "in your face" style of reminding you to stop or slow down. When we would roll over them on the bike, it would vibrate my legs and arms giving them new life each time. Being the good Captain that he is, Terry made sure we went over almost every one while all the other bikers would go way around them. It cost me one front spoke, but I consider some things worth the money and a rumble is just that!
The last couple of days we went through what they call the Iowa Alps. One old guy played Polka music on the boom box attached to the back of his bike. "Climbing music," he said. The Blueberry loves to go down hills fast so Terry and I had to yell in tandem, "On left" at the top of our lungs to get the slower singles to move over. A couple of young studly types learned new respect for tandems the last day of the ride. They had brushed past us on the way up, tucked in and flew down the other side hogging up the entire left lane. The Blueberry would have none of that so we both yelled at them to move over as we nearly ran them down. We heard one say to the other that they had best make sure there was room for the tandems to go by from now one. Down one roller I put on the air brakes, sitting up straight with my arms out stretched. A young kid came up behind me pedaling as fast as he could to catch up. He reached out and gave me a high five then fell back behind. I looked back to the biggest grin I have ever seen.
At the end of each day we hard and not so hard bodies would find ourselves at a fairground, high school, or college. Showers were had in car washes, bus barns or cattle buildings. Some were outfitted with numerous kitchen sprayers attached to hoses and hung over the walls. Some teams brought their own portable showers. Those getting in first got the shade. The rest melted in the sun. We were able to get in about 1:00 or 2:00 most days. One advantage to riding with an engineer is that he would calculate where the best shade would be in a few hours and pick a spot that did not look especially inviting at the moment but ended up being prime real estate by the time we had finished showers. The teams of course had the advantage because their support busses would already be there and have space staked out.
At the end of the ride Terry and I dipped The Blueberry in the Mississippi river and heaved it over our heads for a picture that I have not yet had developed.
Everyone should do the RAGBRAI at least once. I would classify it up there with the Death Valley Double. I am glad that I did it, but I think once is enough. I liked the adventure of it, but for me there were too many people, too many corn fields, and too much heat. On the other side there was also way too much fun to have missed it.
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