Oregonians choose to vacation in Iowa-not a typo

When a person hears the acronym RAGBRAI, they will inevitably deliver one of two responses; what the heck is RAGBRAI? Or Oh! Sweet, I love RAGBRAI! The first is delivered from anyone living outside of the Midwest, and the second is anyone who has heard this combination of letters, even one time. The Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa is a seven-day bicycle ride across the state. Heading into its 38th year, RAGBRAI is the longest, largest and oldest touring bicycle ride in the world!

Until last month, I was someone who knew nothing about the joys of RAGBRAI. If asked whether I’d ever vacation in Iowa, my answer would have been a definitive NO! But after a week of following the circus through rolling hills, with thousands of people riding bikes, eating pie galore and a joining in the feverish energy of being in love with the moment, I wonder why anyone would vacation outside of Iowa?

This year’s route covered 442 miles, through Southern Iowa from Council Bluffs to Burlington, or the Missouri River to the Mississippi. My partner Serena and I joined a team of mixed origins called the Sigourney Weavers, an extant team for over 25 years. Of our 15 teammates, we had people from Oregon, Arizona, Illinois, Iowa, Utah, and Santiago, Chile. Ages ranged from 2 to 56 and life paths, personal interests, and fitness varied greatly. For one week, this unlikely group was unified by a goal: to ride across Iowa.

And ride across Iowa, we did, twice, maybe even thrice. In order to reach Council Bluffs, we took three planes, three cars, and a bus. We left from Bend, Oregon at 5 p.m. July 16^th and arrived in Council Bluffs at 6 p.m., July 18^th. We were tired, hungry, thirsty, and oh so curious. We camped the first night with the masses at the Council Bluffs fair grounds. Beyond our tent plot was a giant expo of bike and food vendors. People perused the expo eating Turkey legs and Pork Chops, dressed in lycra while live music from the Bare Naked Ladies blared late into the evening.

Upon first light, Serena and I awoke to the sound of whirring hubs and muffled conversation from the riders eager to find the route and begin the first day’s ride. We followed suit by breaking down camp, packing our gear onto our team bus, chasing bananas with coffee and lubing our bike chains.

It is never hard to identify the day’s route. You follow the hundreds of people just in front of you until you see the steady stream of thousands en masse, guided by police escort through the first intersection. Once on the route, all you have to do is ride your bike. Every 10 miles or so, a town full of food and fun awaits. It becomes a game of roulette whether to stop or hold out for something better ahead.

Each town does its best to be distinguished from the others. Some play live music, others have petting zoos, while better yet, some offer skillet throwing contests. In a town just outside of Indianola, I witnessed an errant skillet toss escape its wire mesh confines and launch into a crowd of onlookers only to miss human contact by hairs. This again sums up RAGBRAI: chaos confused for order.

To those of us who live outside of the Midwest, there is a common misperception about Iowa being flat. From the daily 3-5,000 foot gains in elevation, I assure that Iowa is not flat. It may not be mountainous but is anything but flat. Iowa is also rather picturesque. Fields of corn and soy as far as the eye can see, rolling hills, and meandering rivers entice the imagination.

By the middle of the week, I was at ease. I felt comfortable riding in such a large group, I knew where to find my favorite pie vendor in each town, I knew how much money I was going to spend throughout the day and strangers no longer looked so strange.

People became recognizable by their bikes, or their jerseys, and questions about being from Bend (each rider is given a license plate to affix to their bike saddle wherein you write your name, where you live, and how many RAGBRAI’s you’ve taken part in) became prevalent. “Bend! Isn’t that where the pregnant Man lives? Wasn’t there some movie filmed there recently? I hear there’s great mountain-biking out there.” To all of which I answered you betcha, or where’s the Kaibo (Midwestern for porta-potty)?

And just when you’re really feeling at home, it’s time to start thinking about real life again. Day seven took us into the town of Burlington and to the Mississippi River. We finished our route then in sticking with tradition, dipped our front wheels into the river, signifying the completion of the ride. Team Sigourney Weaver hugged, laughed, said or goodbyes and see you next years. If you are remotely curious about this remarkable event, I strongly recommend going at least once in a lifetime.

For more information about RAGBRAI, visit www.RAGBRAI.com