The journey to the start line was interminable! Seven hours driving, overnight camping by the noisy Mississippi, waking up to a doozy of a thunderstorm and five more hours on a bus to the start line in Orange City. ! We were so fed up if we’d been given the chance, we’d have started the ride BACK to Guttenberg the moment the trailer with the bikes arrived.
Fortunately we didn’t. Cos we’d have missed this beautiful little town. At some point I’ll take the time to figure out the reason for the Dutchness. We headed to the “newbie” safety briefing past windmills canals and clogs. Very pretty: but odd!
We almost blew-off the safety meeting but was glad we didn’t. We knew this is a big event but I don’t think we’d realized just how big till the ride director and law enforcement teams did their thing. Much can go wrong on a venture like this – we shall take care!
That evening, I dined in an air-conditioned restaurant — real food, on real plates — and used a flushable toilet for the last time for a week. I’ll admit, I got a little emotional as I pulled the handle.
We’ve found our charter service. Wonderful people: exceptionally well organized and ridiculously hard-working. There’s been a lot of curiosity about our domestic setup for the week. At some point, I’ll do a blog special with all the details… but not just yet!
And so, the moment was finally here
RAGBRAI Day 1: Orange City to Milford Iowa. 73 miles. 76 miles if you do the optional 3 miles off road (who’d be dumb enough for that!)
As the sun rose there WAS a bright golden haze on the meadow. The corn WAS as high as an elephats eye.
And unexpectedly emotional as we rode the mile of silence in memory of riders that had been lost in the last year
20,000 riders is quite a sight. Later in the day I spoke to one of the many many families lining the route – they’d been watching the bikes pass for 4 hours and they were still coming thick and fast.
Rookie mistake in the first town we stopped at, Granville. Do NOT stop at the first bank of portapotties – there will be more further into town. Better still: they grow a lot of corn here. Field of dreams for children of the corn to make water. And do NOT stop at the first breakfast burrito stand! We burned an unnecessary hour in Granville. Lesson learned.
We rolled on through a string of small towns — Primghar, Hartley (our main stop of the day), and May City — each one seemingly trying to outdo the others with its lineup of entertainment and food. We came into this ride thinking we might lose a little weight. But the old-timers warned us about the “Rookie 15” — the pounds you gain from indulging at too many food stops. We laughed when we passed one unofficial stop: an enterprising farmer had turned his field into a full-blown beer garden. Proudly, we held strong… and didn’t stop!
We weren’t quite sure what to expect from our first full day. Sure, we’d done the training — but 75 miles was farther than either of us had ever ridden in a single day. So we were genuinely delighted with how well we handled it. Maybe it was the energy of the occasion, the encouragement from fellow riders, or catching a helpful tow in the draft of faster cyclists. Whatever the reason, we breezed through the physical challenge of the day. Even though the wind, typically from the west here, had done a full 180 to blow strongly and spitefully in our faces from the east!
I felt so good that I made the questionable decision to tackle the first of the gravel detours. Apparently “gravel” is a “thing” for serious riders. Off roading on unmade roads. They said this was one of the easier gravel stretches so I decided to give it a go. Very few riders did the gravel (Damian didn’t have the appropriate tires) so it was a different experience. More personal, alone with my own tunes and my own thoughts
It was only an extra four miles, but at times I felt surprisingly isolated. At one point, a large truck tailed me — crawling along at bike speed, about 200 yards back. Stalker! I thought. But no. When I finally stopped to see what was going on, I met Ruth, who lived on the farm I was passing. She’d kindly held back, not wanting to pass and kick up dust in my face.
We chatted for a bit — about farming, mostly. To my untrained eye, the corn and soybeans looked fantastic. But I’ve learned that all that lush green doesn’t always translate into a good crop. Ruth assured me this year’s been a strong one: plenty of rain, spaced nicely between stretches of sunshine. Critical ingredients, she said, for a good yield in this part of the world.
I had about 12 miles to go when I rejoined the main ride. I was feeling good, but the heat had definitely picked up. So I made a few stops at the many pop-up stands lining that final stretch — mostly to stay hydrated. At one, someone handed me a free Red Bull. I took it… and promptly poured it out. How can anyone drink that stuff?
After conquering the final — and biggest — hill climb of the day (strategically and mischievously placed in the last mile), I coasted into town behind a couple on a tandem, towing a cart with their black lab inside. The dog gave me a look of absolute, dismissive disinterest. Just one of the many characters spotted along the way today. I’ll do a “special” on the RAGBRAI eccentrics at some point.
Day 1: complete and successful. Only six more to go!
What! Scotland Qualified!!! 