Something is calling to me from the corners of fields, where the leftover fence wire suns its loosen coils, and stones thrown out of the furrow sleep in the warm litters
…from Ted Kooser, In the Corners of the Fields
Ted Kooser, Iowa native and poet, takes me to the fields of the Midwest and calls to me. That happens to those with an adventuresome spirit. The spirit that cannot contain the mind with practical matters – like saving for retirement – when adventure raises its beckoning voice. It happened last month when we undertook the challenge of RAGBRAI and rode our way – on a tandem no less – from Onawa on the bank of the Missouri River to Davenport, Iowa, on the edge of the Mississippi – the only spot on the mighty Mississippi that flows east to west. (Put that nugget in your trivia vault.) Continue reading
I simply cannot do an adventure without a food issue. RAGBRAI is about the cycling across Iowa — the challenge of the miles, the wind, camping, and much more — but it is also about the food. The Midwest has not traditionally been known for the cuisine it provides, but I am here to report from the road, that Iowa shucks more than corn.
We heard most about the pork, as in pork chops, pork on a stick, and pork ribs. You can smell the smokers from a mile away. Since I’m not a pig consumer, I can only appreciate the various comical pig characters which are rather creative.
Like most any trip I have taken, I came on this one in search of the pie. I know Iowa to grow two of the best vegetables: corn and rhubarb. Yes, rhubarb is a vegetable. Mixed with sugar or tossed with strawberries and most people tend to forget this. But in Iowa it does not matter if you call it a fruit or vegetable, because it grows like a weed.
There was the raspberry with seeds dotting the oozing red river of fruit. The straight up rhubarb was tart and complimented by the oat crust. The gooseberry was a new one for me — super tart with the plump golden berries pushing up the well-trimmed flour crust. There was also the dutch apple which just melted in your mouth like a sun laden fourth of July afternoon. However, it was the strawberry rhubarb that was my blue ribbon favorite. Maybe a measure of nostalgia goes into my decision. Regardless, it was the best. And, the Amish are the best at it in this part of the country.
safe. There the pies cool and then cut into lovely slices of heavenly goodness for the mass of cyclists to consume. 
Yesterday finished Day Five of RAGBRAI and we found ourselves in the small (2,000 population small) town of Sigourney, Iowa. One grocer, one diner, and two bars but no communication signal. It was rather refreshing to be off line and out of touch for a bit. Yet, at RAGBRAI you are never truly out of touch since there are around 20,000 other latex clad two wheeling folks around you most of the time. That said, it has only felt too crowded when we have gone to the main gathering spots late in the day.
Day Four on the bike and 62 miles done with a total of 260 miles completed. By now, I feel a bit more comfortable on the back end of the tandem, but remain on the front end of feeling like a true beginner cyclist. And, that I believe is a good thing.
Day Three of RAGBRAI and we made our way from Jefferson to Ames — winding through the American main street towns of Grand Junction, Dana, Ogden and Boone. Boone was our first stop, yet again deciding to bypass the beer garden at 8:30am, but opting for pizza pie breakfast around 10am. Boone, Iowa is a town looking to grow and has jobs to offer and space for businesses to expand. Unemployment is low but the friendliness, cleanliness, and open space is high. The town goes down as home of the highest and longest double track railroad bridge. Unfortunately, it is no longer in use but still available to check out. Additionally, the head of the chamber of commerce in Boone told us the town is expanding their bike trails so that a future RAGBRAI route can include this several mile trail through an arboretum and state park. 
When I read about the individual days of RAGBRAI, the second day stood out because of distance. For many cyclists 72 miles does not cause a bat of an eye. For me both eyes bat for several minutes. I actually have never been on a bike for that many miles. I’ve come close, so it did not seem impossible, but it also did not seem like anything to take for granted. Since we’re on a tandem, I’m not sure I can claim to have now ridden that far. How does that work? I’m on the bike for the miles, but hardly offering up the same effort as the single rider. Regardless, the miles are behind us (75 in total today!) and I can now smile and relax with my showered self and take in the returning riders, of which there are many. But while on the bike, we took in more than the miles, we took in the offerings of the host towns along the route. For those uninitiated, RAGBRAI has often been denoted as the traveling Woodstock. There are campgrounds filled with a multitude of folks, plenty-o-plenty of liquid refreshments, and music all day long.
Whose idea was this, anyway? The question bounces around like bike tires on a pothole ridden street. We volley back and forth with who should take responsibility. Responsibility for what? For RAGBRAI! Your next question: What’s that? The long and the short of it: a bike ride which involves a crowd, cornfields, and the expanse of Iowa. 