Confederate Island Neighbor

There’s a skinny old guy kitty-corner from us living in a beat up old trailer with a confederate flag flying among about two hundred bicycles assembled on his front lawn. The other day I was up on a ladder outside on the side of the house, pulling staples and boards, prepping the house for painting. He rode up on his bicycle and said, “Were you the one hanging clothes out the other day?” I affirmed. He said, “Remember when I was talking to you a few months ago and you were talking to your mom on the phone? Where are you from? Darryl's living in the past. Darryl thinks women should stay at home, cooking and taking care of the kids. I’m Darryl. I don’t go anywhere my bike can’t take me. Technology is bad. Cars, they take you places you should not go. A  woman’s place is in the home. Do you know the Amish? They don’t use cars.” I didn’t say anything. This time I was on the phone with my sister who lives in Portland, Oregon. I didn’t tell Darryl I was talking to her. She heard the whole thing, entertained by the funny accent and ideas. I've been told he's schizophrenic and had some hard knocks in the past. He rides past our house on the sidewalk about six times a day I’d guess. Last week I saw him in the town over which is about twelve miles away, looking a little confused. I've heard that he bikes there every day. I'm not surprised- almost every time I hop on my bike I run into him. He always says hi and something about loving bikes.

(I sneakily shot this photo from my bike the other day after I'd seen Darryl up the road going the other direction. There are more bicycles across the street and hidden in the trees.)
 

Cycling Iowa with a 1979er

The last two weeks, I've spent reorienting myself with the U.S. and my family in rural Iowa, which is reminiscent of Germany and North Dakota in its quietude and simple beauty. Riding through the sherbet-lit landscape, I pump and glide and feel alive, yet in an alternate universe. Transitioning is as strange as travel itself- waking up unsure of surroundings and not knowing what's next. Anxiety rears its head, but I calm it down by hopping on my wheels and breathing deeply.

I make lists and check things off. Search the internet for jobs, not finding much out there, expanding my searches to more and more states, at the same time thankful for this time with my family and friends. I've barely written since returning, not for lack of thoughts, but mostly to allow myself some time to settle.

Riding the Bicycle Trail

Location: North Liberty & Coralville, IA (semi-suburbs of Iowa City)

In case you're thinking of cycling like a bat out of hell...

All I can figure is Iowa must have extra 20MPH speed limit signs sitting around, because they don't mark the trails (or roads) properly otherwise (so you lose the bike trail all the time at T-intersections). Iowa is a bit speed camera crazy, so next time out, I'm gonna see if they speed camera cyclists too. I wouldn't be surprised.

The bicycle is at least as old as my sister Carrie. That makes me happy.

I found this on Craig's List and didn't notice until I was riding around that it was a "World Tourist" which makes me like her even better.

I've never owned a Schwinn before. It's kind of fun. And I like recycling by buying used things.

Just off the bicycle trail. Every night here the sky enchants before it blacks for the night.

Cycling am Bodensee Day 2

Day two of cycling, Sunday, I awoke at 05:37 and was on the road by 06:24. (Can you tell I'm in the army?) Which was good, because later in the day it was down-pouring. I got in four hours of bicycling in total dryness. I’d headed East, toward Fredrichshafen and Meersburg, then taking the car ferry across to Konstanz. I cycled over to Mainau, which is an island of flowers, but I heard on the way that all the flowers were covered up, so turned around and skipped it. It’s sort of a giant tourist trap anyway and I was irritated that I couldn’t bring my bike along.

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Returning to Konstanz, I came upon a Flohmarkt. (Didn’t buy anything, how would I haul it back!?) Meandered through town and caught a three hour boat back (19€) to Lindau, during which it started POURING and I arrived at the campground drenched. I hid out in my tent and managed to read the book I’d just finished for a second time. I was fearful that I would awaken in a flood, but I stayed dry through the night.

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Books read: 1, twice, Per Petterson, Out Stealing Horses, highly recommended

Total Biked: 128km/ 77 miles, about 30 the first day and 47 the second.

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Der Bodensee is easily biked without maps, if you’re not afraid to read signs and ask directions occasionally. Ships can be caught in many locations back to where you want to go. While I was riding, I saw ample open rooms and pensions, especially in the smaller towns. There are also campsites galore, which are more full of RVs, so tent camping is quite easy.

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(P.S. I AM NOT INSANE, but I AM HAVING MAJOR PUBLISHING ISSUES. Blogger upgraded a couple things and I want to kill it!)

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PS Down below picture info: (it would not let me put this in the right place). The top town is Konstanz and the bottom is Lindau, with the Germans sitting under the trees and the pretty buildings and strollers.

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In the tent

At a cafe in Lindau (not sure why this is here but the cafe is at the bottom, can't move this. Uuggghhh!!)

These two are called "Scared in the tent" because I was afraid I was going to wake up in a puddle. I didn't.

Bodensee Day 1 photos

After work last Friday, I hopped a train with bicycle, tent and backpack in tow, and headed southeast toward the Bodensee, also known as Lake Constance. The Bodensee borders Deutschland, Österreich and die Schweitz. It's quite a large lake with a mostly paved Radweg (bike path), or if you prefer, you could stay on the paved roads.

I undertook this as an American would (or so I was told by some Germans who I met along the way) by planning little but the train and the camping site.

The train from Vilseck (an hour from Nürnberg) took about 4.25 hours, with one change only. I was able to use the Bayern/Bavaria ticket (20€ each way) for the whole ride, paying an extra 4.5€ each way to take my bike.

The ride from Lindau train station to the tent site (Camping on der Bodensee) is about 4-5km, on paved side streets, found easily by asking locals. I rolled in on my orange bike and started pitching my tent, just about 10pm. A single girl arriving at that hour alone commands attention, so I didn't even have to pitch my tent myself. A couple friendly German motorbikers jumped at the chance to offer a hand and a glass of wine. But I went to bed. I was pooped!

After 10 hours of sleep, I set off for Bregenz, Austria, west and south of Lindau. After meandering through their Saturday street market, I pedaled onward toward Rorschach. The only reason I wanted to go there was because it was the namesake of the Ink Blot test. Along
the way, I saw another of Hunderwasser's works of architechture. He's a famous Austrian architect, but I find his works horrid and visually as appealing as circus made of insane people. But. I took a photo. Tell me what you think.

Saturday was full-on rain most of the day, but it was warm, so no complaints. I met a couple of bicyclists from Germany who were biking to Italy. One didn't have a rainproof coat, and the other was wearing sneakers. And they were giving me crap for going to the Bodensee
without a plan! I have photos of them under the bridge where we took cover during a downpour.

They headed off following the Danube, and I went onward toward Rorschach, where I caught a ferry home for 15€ and settled in for another nights' sleep.

Bregenz, Austria: market in town center

Note the age of this bridge. (It just looks damn old.)

Germans who were biking to Italy, helped me with my lack-of-map situation.

The Danube

Souped up campers in Austria

Hundertwasser building. Shoot me now... I would hate this in my town. I don't know why he's famous- I think he's just crazy.

I talked to this man quite a lot- he had children all over and in 1975, he made a huge cycling trip around Europe. (Unless I misunderstood his German.)

Cycling am Bodensee

Last weekend, I loaded up the Mini (yep, the bike fit in back!) and headed to the train station. Rode to Lindau on der Bodensee (Lake Constanz) where I spent three days cycling and camping. Rain accompanied, but it was not bad, not bad at all.

More to come tomorrow...

The dreaded brown lung of Bavaria!

Riding along, over hill and yonder, through the farmlands. Orange bicycle, lavender top, silver shoes. Like a princess on her ride. Sara does mean princess...

She feels her throat constricting. Is it asthma? No. Is it her bag cutting off oxygen? No.

The air is thick. With *Manure Particles*. The natural fertilizer.

It keeps going and going, as she pedals through the trees and nears her town. She would like to hold her breath but there's no way to make it up this huge hill without heavy breathing.

She'd heard of this, but speeding along in her Mini didn't get the full experience of the stench filling the air, blocking out the oxygen, starving her lungs.

And she's heard this is just the beginning of the season. It is after all, April.

But little brown particles won't stop her bicycle ride to work. She is hardier than that. Her mom used to make her spread manure in the garden when she was a kid in Minnesota. She can handle manure with the best of them. Perhaps it's in her blood. (At least she knows it's in her lung!)

How not to get to work on your bicycle

Eat a bunch of Corn Pops for dinner. With soy milk. Wonder if that cancels out the sugar.

Decide to do a trial bicycle run at 5:53PM. On a Friday.

Gear up. Pump tires. Talk with landlord Ernst. Get advice on route.

Take off down driveway. Second left, go uphill. The biggest hill ever.

Get to the top. Think you're going to puke. You do. Yes. Puke hill. Somewhat funny.

Turn right through forest. Road rapidly deteriorates into muddy, snowy mess.

But you've gone too far now, so carry on, hoping for a side street.

Continue on, walking bike through sketchy, snowy shit. Isn't it supposed to be spring?

Why did your landlord think this was a good way? On a road bike?

Finally reach real pavement again. Turn right. Know internally that you are going the right way.

See farmer grinding wood. Stop. Park bike in hedge.

Ask directions. You were going the wrong way.

Return to road and pedal. And pedal.

Finally T-intersection where you were told to turn left.

Up another hill.

Get to small town. Sign: 4km to Edelsfeld left or 4 km to Schlicht right.

Contemplate longer or shorter? Known or unknown?

Pick shorter unknown.

Wonder why you are out biking after running 20 miles yesterday.

Think that you were not planning for this big ride. With the farm smells wafting.

Think that you are going to die. Keep breathing. Keep pedaling.

Finally Edelsfeld. Left turn down very big hill.

Coast carefully. You promised yourself no more bike accidents.

Open garage, park. Upstairs, draw self hot bath and savor warmth.

Decide that next time you will just ride your bike on your car route.

Bicycle status update

So the owner didn't actually re-assemble my bike-in-a-box, he just took it out of the box and laid the parts on his garage floor.

I'd been warned today by the woman from Fort Yates, ND who was orienteering us that you have to watch out for German men- they try to do everything for women, so you have to stick up for yourself.

I went into the garage to see the state of my bicycle. The bike packers in Portland did an excellent job- nary a scratch. But I was surprised to see it in pieces on the floor. I hadn't wanted it out of the box. I wanted to see how it was packed so I could repeat the procedure myself if needed.

The husband came in wanting to help me, but I think he knew little about bicycles. If it would have been up to him, I would have had a damaged front carbon fork, unattached front tire and bike fenders which were bent beyond repair. The front fender was touching the wheel, so he wanted to hand-bend the metal bands which positioned it rather than figuring out how it should really go on. Luckily I stuck to my guns and didn't allow him to, though two times he had the piece in his hands trying to bend it.

The bike was reassembled. I was pondering what to do next.

Ecstasy on Wheels.

Now don't be alarmed that I've gone to the dark side. I'm still too much fun without wacking up my system on illegal and unregulated drugs. 

I'm talking about the bicycle. The thing you got when you were five. Well I did anyway. I got it when I was four, but it didn't really count until I was five when I plowed down the dirt hill next to our house in Alexandria without training wheels. From then on, my love affair with the bicycle has been unstoppable. 

Yesterday, I decided to break out the bucks and pay $40 for a new U-lock after finding my old U-lock in my storage but no keys to match. Without the U-lock, it's really tough to get around town on two wheels... especially when you're riding your baby sister's borrowed bike. (Try saying that five times fast.)

The glory was mine as I sped down the streets, on my way to meet a dear friend (Shanta) for coffee. I thought, I love biking! I love biking! I don't think I will ever stop loving biking. Somehow I am usually surprised at this thought when it's been a while since my last ride. One day I will learn who I am am, and not be surprised.

At the coffeeshop today, we saw an older woman (about 80) sitting at the sidewalk table having a coffee by herself and I said, "I hope I'm like that when I'm her age." 

Shanta said, "You'll probably still be riding your bicycle." 

I hadn't even thought of that. I hope I am. I'm not too proud to get one of those tricycle bikes either. I will ride to my last day!

Auckland views

This morning I stumbled into the coffee shop, fighting off a stuffy head bug that’s going around and picked up Metro Magazine, Auckland’s monthly magazine, which includes happenings about town and news. One look at the cover headline, “Those dumb cycle lanes,” and my eyes popped opened even though I hadn't sipped my long black yet. Was it a spoof to get me to read the article?

I scanned the table of contents and found “The cycleways that ate Auckland,” written by Jan Corbett, Metro’s Associate Editor. Citing almost all negative bicycling stereotypes, she spent four large pages hell-bent against bikes while bemoaning the status of cars on roads in Auckland.

Some quotes from the article I found interesting:

• “Isn’t cycling just a trendy pursuit among a small group of middle-class men and women who want to own the road in their own particular way?” (Actually in many parts of the world, people use a bicycle when they cannot afford a car.)

• “Why does a whole lane of traffic have to slow town for one fitness-obsessed rider in terrible pants with a geeky helmet and scant regard for the road rules?” (The helmet is for safety and I guess the car could just “tap” the biker and that would probably speed them up or knock them off at least.)

• “’Cycling is for everyone’ Really? The aged? The disabled? Toddlers? Parents transporting 2.5 children? Tradespeople?” (Yep, it’s for all those people, Jan. I’ve seen them all on bikes.)

• One of the elected city reps, Wayne Mapp was quoted as saying, “There’s been too much focus paid to cyclists’ needs and not enough to motorists’ needs.”

All I could think after reading the article was “Get your head out of your a**.” There’s almost no cycling lanes here compared to any other city I’ve been. The cars DO own the road here. The traffic is horrible. I see it every day. Why don’t people try alternate modes of transport? Like biking. Or walking. Or carpooling. Or public transport. Most of the cars have only one person in them on a mad dash to work, hopefully taking out at least one person on foot or bike so the next day they will have to slow down even less. It’s a CAR town.

I’ve been on my leg-powered wheels to work, school, errands and for pleasure since I was first introduced to the tricycle at age 2. Regular biking was part of my lifestyle in North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Washington, Oregon and Pennsylvania. (Kentucky was a little sketchy for my tastes.)

I’ve carried 2 gallons of paint on my bike, my groceries, a food deyhydrator, and a birthday cake for my coworker (No, I did not have a special trailer.). I was not opposed to biking in a skirt or accidentally flashing folks. Am I an example of one of those fitness-obsessed persons who wants to own the road in my own particular way? I don’t think so. I think most cyclists are doing it for a multitude of reasons: the environment, their health, their pocketbook, NOT to hold up traffic or wear nasty spandex or piss off the drivers who think they OWN the road.