RAGBRAI in two words: 'witnessing moments'

LANSING, Ia. — A conversation with a first-timer on the Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa reminded me what this meandering sweaty pilgrimage really means. She boiled it down to two words: witnessing moments.

I’m not trying to get all Hallmark card here, but she’s right: Sometimes we who chronicle the ride get so caught up in trying to summarize the totality of RAGBRAI’s Woodstock-freak-show-meets-State-Fair folksiness of 20,000 bicyclists that we gloss over its finer details.

Or at least after my seventh consecutive RAGBRAI where I get tested by steep hills and daily deadlines, I sometimes take for granted the little characteristics of each day that add up to what has become a familiar garish blur that I adore.

I can’t claim to be the most grizzled road warrior who pedaled this past week. Not when some bicyclists have notched more than 40 RAGBRAIs, some are age 90 or older, and the hand cyclists of the Adaptive Sports Iowa team were out there showing their grit.

I remember the first morning of my first RAGBRAI as I pedaled among the helmeted herd. I had never been among so many bicyclists in my life. The first miles felt strange and entirely new — all the clicking and buzzing of gears and cogs around me as if I had joined a swarm of insects.

But now I expect most of the weirdness of both the parade and the passing scenery. A bicyclist next to me wearing a pink feather boa? Of course! A couple dressed in S&M fetish leather, with the woman leading the man on a leash with a ball gag in his mouth, walking past farm tractors in downtown Wesley? Why not?

Bella, a seven-pound dachshund from Ames, being carried in a pouch by bicyclist Steph Choquette from Ames? Utterly routine!

Bella, a dachshund, is carried by owner Steph Choquette of Ames.

I sat in the lawn of our home hosts late Friday night in Waukon while the chords of Van Halen’s “Runnin’ With the Devil” as blared by cover band Hairball reverberated throughout the town of 3,733. A fellow RAGBRAI team full of first-timers sharing the lawn hailed mostly from the congregation of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Winterset.

One of those newbies, Vickie Williams, 53 and a mother of four, bought her bike just a couple weeks before RAGBRAI and managed to cram about 150 training miles on local trails before pedaling across the state.

On the eve of her last day, she still was loving it, and I was a little in awe of her beginner mettle. I had been biking all year and probably was sorer than she. Williams gave partial credit to a regimen of magnesium, salt and electrolytes.

She’s also the one who spoke about “witnessing moments.”

For instance: There was a rope swing suspended over a makeshift pond Wednesday in Cartersville. Williams watched as fellow bicyclists carried a paraplegic man up the steps to position him on the platform, help him grab the swing and soar out over the water to release his grip and make a glorious splash.

All the struggle, joy and camaraderie of that little scene had yanked her out of her own thoughts and concerns to glimpse life with fresh eyes. That, more than anything, I think, is the elusive magic that has drawn people back to this ride for decades.

“We’ve got to get a journal and write down these moments,” she said.

I’m sure that journals in all their modern forms — Instagram, Snapchat and the like — are being heavily browsed today as riders make their long journeys from Lansing back to all their far-flung homes.

RAGBRAI Day 7 photos: Waukon to Lansing

Favorite stretch, colorful character 

Even without crunching all the meteorological statistics I have to assume that this was one of the most ideal weather weeks in RAGBRAI history.

One of my moments: I managed to miss Wednesday’s downpour while writing at city hall in Rockwell. So I enjoyed what was for me ideal riding conditions: daylong overcast with occasional light sprinkles.

Williams said that she loves RAGBRAI mornings most of all.

My favorite stretch may have been Friday morning from Cresco into Decorah. I love bicycling in a summer morning chill as a mist hangs over the fields. And the fast, winding downhill route into Decorah offered both the perfect pace and scenery.

RAGBRAI riders descend Friday morning into Decorah.

One of my favorite local characters was Pete DeBoom. An enthusiastic talker with an easy smile, he has converted a former hardware store in downtown Whittemore into his own eclectic man cave that displays his random collection of sports cars, slot cars and cast-off electronics. He welds trucks for a living and took over the building from the city about seven years ago to help keep it from crumbling.

Standing among the RAGBRAI throng on the street outside, I never would have noticed what was inside the nondescript building had a friend not pointed it out. And would I have made it to Whittemore any time soon if not for RAGBRAI?

Pete DeBoom stands inside his man cave in downtown Whittemore.

In that way, RAGBRAI also can be a reality check for our perceptions or stereotypes of Iowa — especially rural Iowa.

Many people on the ride already may have visited the popular resort town of Clear Lake. Or maybe they’ve attended Tulip Time in Orange City, where we began a week ago. Or they may be familiar with Nordic Fest and all the plastic Viking hats and renowned craft beer in Decorah, which was Friday’s meeting town.

But the average RAGBRAI rider’s perception of, say, Postville may be a vague memory of the 2008 immigration raid at what was then Agriprocessors (now Agri Star) kosher meatpacking plant.

A poster board on a farm outside of Clear Lake is signed by RAGBRAI riders from around the globe.

Williams mused that she met fellow riders from at least a dozen different countries throughout the week. And it almost would have been possible to meet people from a dozen different countries in Postville, which proclaims itself “hometown to the world.”

I biked in to be greeted by a line of Orthodox Jews in beards and black and white outfits dancing to loud electronic music. While walking my bike down the street I bought a Somali beef pastry. Then I was asked if I was Jewish — because the locals wanted to bless as many Jewish bikers as they could pick out in the continuous stream.

I spoke with a local Jewish teacher who painted a picture of stable everyday life in Postville nearly a decade after the raid, with about 120 students in his school.

I was witnessing a RAGBRAI moment that also was a reality check, countering the stereotype of rural Iowa as inhabited only by retired Germanic farmers in bib overalls.

This weird and wonderful last week in July is when the global bicycle brigade invades only to have another stereotype shattered: Iowa most certainly is not flat — especially the scenic northeast corner.

Thanks yet again, RAGBRAI. I look forward next year to meeting more awestruck first-time riders and surprising corners of our state.

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