Iowa is not flat.
I can tell you that with great certainty after peddling 406 miles across the state last week with my wife, three friends and about 20,000 other bike riders during the 52nd annual RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa, the oldest, longest and largest recreational bike event in the world).
In fact, I would describe the Hawkeye State as hilly — or as some like to say, flat like a waffle. It is also windy, but I’ll get to that in a minute.
Iowa’s hills, at least in the western and central sections, are interminably long. And, in an unusual geographic anomaly, there seems to be no corresponding downhill. You finally reach a level stretch at the top only find it’s the start of another hill.
I suspect the hardy folks of those regions decided they could handle uphills and they left the downhills for the softies in eastern Iowa.
In West Virginia, we have cooling breezes. Iowa has wind. Climatologists should study Iowa and figure out why, no matter which direction you are traveling, there is always a headwind. That’s not a big deal in a vehicle, but it’s a challenge on a bike.
Veteran RAGBRAI riders like to tell of the times they had to peddle downhill. One hot, humid afternoon, a 15- to 20-mph headwind was enough to nearly stall you in your tracks.
The ride attracts bikers from across the country — and some from beyond — because it is viewed as one of the premier events of its kind. Most of these folks are serious riders. They roared past on their high-end carbon-fiber bicycles in great packs while my wife and I slogged along at what we'd previously believed was a respectable 10 mph, although we did pass the unicycle rider.
I can also tell you this with certainty that “Iowa nice†is a real thing. In town after town as we passed through, folks greeted the riders with a hearty welcome. When an Iowan says, “Nice to meet you,†you feel as though that person really meant it. The small towns along the route really turned out, hosting with warmth, hospitality, food, drinks and entertainment. The blueberry pie made by the women of the Catholic Church in one town brought a tear to my eye.
Every town was a festival, and all those folks in all those towns made the trip worthwhile.
Much of Iowa is vast expanses of corn and soybeans. The fields of deep green stretch to the horizon on both sides of the road. Riding along, you begin to get a true sense of the vastness of this country. It is a different kind of beauty than West Virginia, but beautiful nonetheless.
Iowa farms — houses, barns and equipment — are kept neat and orderly. It is as though Iowans would never think of having a pile of junk lying around. In fact, at Heritage Park in Forest City, there is a huge display of old farm equipment and rusted machinery. Iowans come from miles around to stare, mouth-agape, mesmerized by what a pile of junk actually looks like.
By now, you may be wondering why we, as casual bike riders, took on this challenge. It’s a reasonable question. I could give the same answer as to why people climb mountains — because it’s there. I could say two friends who had done RAGBRAI before talked us into it (which is somewhat true).
But the best answer was printed on the back of a T-shirt handed out during the ride: “We do this not because it is easy, but because we thought it would be easy.â€
It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.
