Walking in France from Le Puy en Velay

I have to say something. I cannot sit back and listen to what is happening in our country and just read and view and not say anything. I am a sleeping writer, a blogger who fails to blog. I am lazy. I prefer to read about French history and plan my future hikes on quiet pilgrim’s trails in rural France. This spring, I even hope to visit Amsterdam and tour the Van Gogh Museum and the Anne Frank House. That history. That terrible time when Europe was invaded, when France and other countries were occupied by the Nazis. So interesting to study that complex time and learn about how some people resisted, aided the Jews, or collaborated with the Nazis and denounced Jews.

I am not into politics. But persons who said they were not political during the Occupation of Europe were ultimately judged to be selfish and not respected. What side of history will I be on? I would so much rather be doing my own selfish things today. But the news will not let me do anything else this morning; I cannot continue to be quiet. ICE is overstepping. ICE is not using decent tactics. All humans are valuable and deserve to be treated fairly and respectfully. Folks are showing up to witness what is going on. There is so much more, and I cannot begin to examine everything. We all know that there are at least two sides to every incident. But, Renee Nicole Good should not be dead. I will speak up on this matter, and if my family and friends disagree, that is okay. We have the right to disagree with one another and listen to one another’s opinions.

Now, on to Greenland. I do not want the USA to try to buy or take Greenland or any other country. I would maybe someday like to visit Greenland and see icebergs and the Northern Lights. To my family and friends in Europe and Canada, I am sorry for what our leadership is doing. I am a peace-loving person who is ashamed of our actions abroad and here at home. So many people are so much more informed and eloquent than I, but at least I have broken my silence here this morning.

I wrote to my Congress persons and my Representative first thing this morning. I have done that many times before, but what good does it do? Thank you for reading. I bet there are many Americans out there who may be thinking like me. Others may completely disagree.

I so want to be proud to be an American again. My dad served in WW II and was in England and France. Our parents’ generation fought, sacrificed, gave their very best, and won against fascism back then. The US helped rebuild Europe. We were rightly respected and appreciated. I wonder what my dad and the other Vets would think of what’s going on today. Finally, I pray for our military personnel, especially the young persons who are being asked to risk their lives for today’s missions.

The American Cemetery in Normandy, France

Finally, something worth writing about!

Hog Walk 3, Van Buren County, Iowa, November 1st, 2025

“Hog Walk?  What’s that?”  I’ll try to be brief. 

A few years back, my hubby Greg read an 1880’s historical account of an 11-mile, late October walk, with two men and two boys followed by a horse and wagon, guiding some 60 hogs on the hoof south to market in Bonaparte from their farm three miles east of Stockport; this event was described in Tarpleywick, a book by Henry C. Taylor, which recounts the history of a farm in Van Buren County. The farmer chose to walk the hogs starting at 5 pm to keep the animals cool. He also hoped there would be less traffic on the road at night. The small group walked about one mile an hour and got to Bonaparte early in the morning. The hogs rested a while before being sold, probably to be transported by train to a bigger market. After the sale, the group was able to ride in their horse-drawn wagon back to their farm, which was also called Tarpleywick. Voilà: a 19th Century Hog Walk, Greg’s inspiration for our 21st Century Hog Walk.

Greg thought that we should enact this local, “historical” event. He wanted to do it as close to the exact account as possible. So, in late October, 2023, we drove to the intersection near the old Tarpleywick farm. We departed the corner of Vine and 130th Street in NE Van Buren County at 5 pm. It was gravel and very flat at first.

We had to cross Highway 16 (which runs east and west) and continue south, and from here on, the north-south road (Vine, aka W40) was paved. (None of the roads in the 1880s were paved. We didn’t have any hogs along with us in 2023, either.) But we had a few enthusiastic historical reenactors, bundled up for the late October weather. The sun set very soon and an almost full moon rose to our southwest. We noticed rises and falls in the previously perceived flat countryside. We noticed a closed clapboard church (Harrisburg Baptist)  on the west side of the road and and enormous Cottonwood tree further down on the left. Soon we were seeing large, tidy Amish homes with clothes lines and buggies, and later, once it was completely dark, a mystical herd of horses that ran together along the eastern fence, probably as surprised by the slow-moving band with fluorescent jackets as we were surprised by their movement in the night. 

We were finally just north of Bonaparte, and the road started curving, there also appeared trucks and tractors, heading north up the road on which we were trekking south. But the shoulders were small or non-existent, and there were deep ravines on each side.  And the road seemed to be very busy, perhaps because it was harvest season. A huge combine was coming toward us; my cousin and I quickly slid down in the ditch. It was difficult to climb back up to the road!  And as soon as we did, another vehicle came speeding up the road.  Down we went again.  We finally reached Bonaparte, and were happy to cross the road and walk toward the tall brick Bonaparte school before we took a few quiet streets to Eric & Cathy’s Victorian farmhouse on the northwestern edge of town where we would have our feast.  Problem was it was after 10 pm when the last walker trudged in, cold and tired with wet, muddy feet.

Many folks had already taken advantage of our sag wagon support and had been enjoying the warmth of the home for a few hours in anticipation of our arrival.  We all agreed it was fun, but dangerous and painful for many of us.  Only two people, Greg and his daughter Elizabeth did the entire 11 miles. No kids walked the first year.

The second year, 2024, we had more walkers, and our first child: our nine-year-old granddaughter named Joanie.  We decide to leave Tarpleywick at 3 pm to avoid getting in so late.  We had nicer weather and no mud.  New walkers joined us, from as far as Washington State and Washington, Iowa!

Many good conversations were had, new friends made, beautiful photographs taken, by Eric Weston, and our sag vehicles (driven by 90-year old ellis Andrews and Andy) made sure everyone was able to quit whenever they chose.

This year a group of farm kittens welcomed the merry band of walkers, but wouldn’t let them go without trailing along. A huge semi barreled over one of the kitties, and miraculously did NOT flatten it.  However, this traumatized the 9-year-old and her father and anyone who witnessed the near-death of an innocent creature. The kitty was stressed and scratched a couple of our walkers who tried to take it back to its home. What a drama!  Just a mile or two down the road, the same busy road with the trucks, tractors, combines, and Friday night traffic north of Bonaparte made arriving to town around 8 pm still very unpleasant and dangerous. Cathy had made our arrival even more special this year. Candles in the windows, Tiki torches in the front yard and the delicious smells of our harvest feast along with candles inside made arrival at our friends’ home a true comfort.  More people walked the entire 11 miles this year.  Leslie set the pace this year, and helped keep the rest of us moving, always straining our eyes to see her far ahead in the distance. A good time was had by all inside, and three tables of people and overflowing tables of food made it magical. But all of the dishes were left for our kind hosts, who would NOT let anyone else help! So we all headed home very late and happy to have completed Hog Walk 2.

But a few weeks after hog walk 2, the walkers  spoke up: We will not walk on that busy road ever again! We will not walk in the dark!  And one person insisted:  We will not leave mountains of dishes for our friends ever again!  Something had to change.  So, much to Greg’s disappointment, Hog Walk 3 would not be on the same route, nor at the same time, nor to the same destination as the original historical event. 

Hog Walk 3 made everyone happy! We had a good time together.  The faithful crew insisted we keep the original name, no matter where or when we walk.

So, to recap this year’s 2025 event.  A group of 19 Iowans (and two Illinois folks) gathered in Van Buren County on  Saturday, November 1st to walk south and west, from the old Veatch homestead (built circa 1852 by Greg’s forebears) located northeast of Stockport, down dirt and gravel roads, taking in the mostly harvested fields of corn and soy beans, eventually ending in the historic village of Bentonsport, for a potluck. 

Why? To continue the tradition.  To walk just for the sake of walking and getting close to what rural Van Buren County really is. To have a rest stop at the old stone school located next to the old Phillips place at the corner of Teal and 170th Street, and recall that once a school, later a hog building, now just a beautiful old building that we never would have noticed without walking this route.  (We did get permission from owners Sheryl Chapuis and Terry Phillips to have our 5-mile or so rest stop here. Too bad it was in the rain.) 

We had even more rain and some cold, but fortunately, it passed, and once we got south on Spruce Avenue (aka W30), the blue skies returned, gorgeous white clouds appeared, and we saw Amish horses and even a tom turkey and his harem on the road before we turned right on Ridge Road and passed the Amish school on the left and a very small cemetery also on the left before passing the main Bentonsport Cemetery on the right before descending into beautiful Bentonsport with the 1851 Bentonsport Presbyterian Church to our right.

Some walkers sagged and others joined us for the last few miles. The two children had fun playing school  in the Stone House in Bentonsport, where we had our potluck this year. We got in earlier than planned, giving plenty of time to visit or play games. Some folks had time to explore Bentonsport and even crossed the river on the pedestrian bridge at sunset.

We missed the candles and the late-night arrival in Bonaparte, but we loved the safe, easy route with no trucks or semis, no combines or tractors. We loved the soft dirt roads, the nice gravel underfoot when it was raining. We loved the spacious open machine shed just when we needed a shelter.  We loved the cows, the sheep, the horses and the trees and the few remaining fields of soybeans we passed. 

A few Amish waved at us, probably wondering what in the heck we were doing. And, should anyone think this year’s Hog Walk had nothing to do with hogs, we did smell the recently spread manure (from hogs) and we passed at least three hog confinements.  Hog Walk 3 was a success, not perfect, as nothing ever is, but it was another time for friends and family to get together and walk the land that we call home. There is always something to learn from the land we pass over on foot (or on bicycle) and from those we travel beside. 

Thank you to all those who came this year. 

We hope to continue the tradition, and we will let you know what the route is for Hog Walk 4 – as soon as we have it figured out! It looks like it will be October 31st, 2025, somewhere in Van Buren County!

Well, I knew I wanted a guided tour of Cartier’s home. I showed up at 10 am Thursday to the Quebec House, a 5-minute walk from my hotel. Several women were near the door but they explained to me that this house was closed. I insisted that there was a guided visit scheduled for 10. I got out my brochure even. They looked at it and patiently explained that Cartier’s country home was where the tour would take place. I would need to take a bus.

So, Friday morning I set out bright and early! I had to take bus #3 to Rothéneuf for 2 Euros. 35 minutes later I was deposited in the center of a little village. I found a tabac/bar and ordered in cafe & croissant and was able to read a local newspaper before spotting these women and fellow walkers.

I had to walk another good half mile to find the deserted old farm. It was all locked up. I walked to the back and found a large empty parking lot. At about 10 till ten, a car pulled up with a couple with two children. They had reservations for a tour; I did not. But finally the friendly guide met us in and assured me all was fine because it was quiet today-not like the summer season.

Finally we were inside the stone walls in the courtyard of this simple country manor. Our guide explained that when Jacques Cartier bought this small farm, only 1/3 of what you see above was present. He added the central part, and the third part (on the far right) was added much later and serves as an entrance to the visit. This building still has no water and no heat save a space heater for the guide in that entrance room.

She explained the importance of that large compass as well as an astrolabe and hourglass timer (of various lengths of time) and that coil of rope with a bobber and regular markers. So much work went into navigating where one wanted to go! I was impressed and humbled at the knowledge they possessed and used. And the crew was taking measurements of direction and speed every hour-it seemed. The crew had to be divided into teams to rest and then be on duty again because she made the point-they were traveling 24/7. They did not take breaks so the crew could sleep at night.

Our guide was wonderful. She explained where the furniture came from and even where the stones for this dining room floor originated: In Burgundy. They were brought here via boats down river and then across the Mediterranean and finally up the coast of western France. The family was super attentive! Parents and kids! The little girl had no socks and sandals with bare legs. I was getting cold. I was getting tired of all the info in French so fast. I was wondering if there would be a bathroom anywhere on the site or would I have to walk another good half mile back to town. And I couldn’t act like I wasn’t interested!

The tour finally officially ended at about noon. After asking about and using the modern toilets – in another stone building that was built after Cartier died. I rejoined the group to watch our second film. It was all about other French explorers that came after Cartier. The film was projected on a relief of North America, showing where so many French explorers and trappers and voyagers travelled. Des Moines appeared on that map and I was able to share that I lived there!

To wrap up this too long post, I want to share the most interesting things I learned from this tour. Cartier grew up in Saint Malo and worked on boats from an early age. He became so skilled that he became a master pilot, one who went out to meet arriving ships and guided them safely into the Saint Malo port. By the age of 30, he was a respected captain who had travelled far. He married well, and was able to meet King Francois 1 at Mont Saint Michel when the king wanted to fund an exploration to North America to find resources and another sea route to China. Cartier got the job and made three voyages. He brought back what he thought were precious stones, but they were nothing that France didn’t already possess. Francois even laughed at him and considered his efforts unsuccessful. But, we all know that they were not. His name is on many a hotel & business and he is probably St Malo’s most famous citizen. He’s even more famous in Canada! His explorations did not make him rich, though he was still respected in St Malo. The town was crowded and dirty at that time, so if people could, they would live elsewhere in the summers. He lived either in Saint Malo or his country home until his death in 1557.

This monument also is impressive from the outside, but it was my personal walking tour this time, with an audio guide, that helped me understand why it’s important: Remembering.

She’s back in all her glory. Better than ever. Crowds and lines and the reported need for reservations kept us away from her Thursday afternoon. But at the 8 am mass the next day there were no lines at all. About 100 folks worshiped in the awesome, uplifting space. I tried to focus on the young African priest and his excellent reading of scripture and clear message of God never abandoning us, but my eyes were so often lifted up to the high white vaulted ceiling by the huge white pillars and also to the upper levels’ statues and windows. The choir space of rich wood extending way behind the altar and behind the 5 priests who presided over the Eucharist, the expanse of it all, the high, far eastern window with light shining in on the famed crown of thorns, and even the quiet passing of the visitors around the ambulatory reminded me that I wasn’t in any old church, but the most famous church in the world.

Notre Dame was worth a mass to me. If attending a Catholic service first thing in the morning would get me into the restored Gothic gem after the devastation of the April 2019 fire, I was up for it.

So much care has gone into the repair and restoration, it was hard for me to imagine the destruction of the fire. On my walking tour after the service, I just kept thanking God that it was saved. Thankful for all the persons who worked to make it shine again. Perhaps that is the great lesson: We can repair and restore what is almost lost. Notre Dame symbolizes the best of humanity. Its restoration gives hope to all of us.

Here are a few impressions:

It’s all Terri’s fault. She’s a Johnston friend who decided to make learning French one of her top goals in retirement. She had travelled with Kari Gray and me and a small group during the summer of 2019. After an inspiring Alliance Française event this winter, Terri mentioned that she would love to take a week-long immersion class in France, but she didn’t want to travel alone. A seed was planted. After a couple months, I called to ask whether she might want to travel with me. I love being immersed in French, and I absolutely wanted to see Notre Dame again; helping her with trains and busses would be my pleasure. We started planning in February and “nous voilà” – in France for two weeks together and me staying one more week in La Bretagne. We hope our 4 days in Paris will be less touristy and more immersive, as Terri warms up for her class in Volvic.

Here are a few highlights from our first few days:

More to come, but my breakfast writing time is over for the day!

This time with Tammy

Where to start? The beautiful, never-ending Luxembourg Gardens. It’s a couple blocks from our Hôtel Des Mines in the 5th arrondissement. Statues of French queens, a large man-made pond with small sailboats, so many light-green metal chairs, and even more people. Sitting, sunning, walking, running, chatting, reading, napping, or picnicking, they all seemed to be enjoying the sunshine and warm weather. Just like me. I’ll explain more about this trip in my next post, but I wanted to share just a few more photos from day one in Paris.

July 20: Leaving Mount Vernon by 9 or so, riding in 2 vans across the state with our bikes transported in a large Budget Moving Truck. We set up our tents in the backyard of some nice folks (a former student of one of our team members) in rural Glenwood. We had a beautiful view to the west of the Loess Hills, and the large back yard, high up was a perfect first night’s camping spot. We took our group photo after our guidelines meeting.

Then I said I wanted to dip my tire in the Missouri River, and 5 others decided to come with me. The was great! But it was about ten miles to the river and back, and, after getting really muddy at the dipping spot, and heading back east, we had to stop in town at Glenwood to get an idea of the crowd and experience the expo, where one could buy anything needed. I had a tasty high carb meal from a food truck and we made it back to camp just before dark. Most everyone else was already tucked in for the night.

July 21: Glenwood to Red Oak

Getting up early, putting my tent away, getting it into the truck, maybe eating some breakfast food, all before 6:30 was a bit of a challenge for me. The mile into town was mostly down hill, and then I tried to follow the huge crowd east. Fog blanketed everything, so the views were limited. I stopped in Silver City, past the crowds, to drink some water and watch the bikes pass by. I liked the mile of silence for the bikers who had been killed or injured by motorists, with the fog the silence made sense, and it added a bit of reverence to the new thing I was doing, like a prayer for safety for us all as we began. Don’t remember too much about this day except finally it cleared off and we could see lots of hills as we made our way very slowly to Red Oak and its giant orange water tower. I met Greg and Cindy & Steve up the hill just across from Chautauqua Park (the water tower location) and then it was time for me to get in the truck that Greg and I could drive to Des Moines and get ready for David & Sadie’s wedding, which was that evening at 5 in Newton!

July 22: Red Oak to Atlantic

The wedding was wonderful! We stayed to the end (10 pm) and cheered them off with glowsticks. Got home to Johnston and slept and on Monday morning we had to leave early to get back to Red Oak to ride all of day 2! Elizabeth joined us, so it was fun to have her riding for the rest of the week! The Red Oak to Griswold ride wasn’t too hard, because I knew that my special brother would be there with Greg, waiting to see the long line of bikes passing north right in front of the Griswold school complex, which is two blocks from the nursing home where Charly lives. He was there, but he wasn’t having his best day. My glorious vision of how cool it would be for him was a little less than I imagined, but WE DID IT! He wasn’t feeling the best, but of course he needed to hug his sister. Big thanks to Greg for transporting us to Red Oak and then getting Charly & our truck to our meeting spot.

I LOVED riding on the high road between Griswold to Lewis, Great views, winding roads, lush corn and beauty on every side. It took a long time in Lewis to find the watering station, and we probably spent too much time there, but it was a fun stop.

EJ loves to pet farm animals! After our stop here, we decided to separate, as she is much faster than I an. I knew Atlantic wasn’t that far, from Lewis, so I was looking forward to the easy ride alone in the pm. But, instead of taking the direct, short, fkat way to Atlantic, the official route went north and a bit west. What?? And so many big hills! I stopped at a beautiful old farm house after a long hill. Blankets were laid out, everyone was relaxing, and there were drinks and snacks available for sale. I talked with a young mom with two children. She was doing it alone with them. The boy was about 6 and the girl not much over one, and mom was nursing her. I could not believe that a woman could be that strong! pulling two children behind her up all these hills! She had her mom and sister as a backup, if anything came up, but otherwise she was alone. The little boy told me that dad went back to Slovenia, and he missed him. He said “I really like living there.” Mom hushed him, but the little tike sure seemed to want to talk with me. I bought them some treats and I give him a hug before they left. I think he knew that I was a “Mimi” and that he was very safe with me. Never saw her again, on the ride, but will always remember her beauty and strength.

July 23: Atlantic to Winterset (But we stopped in Greenfield, and had Greg meet us there.) My big goal was to stop in Cumberland and visit with my 90-year-old. Aunt Betty Jean and cousin Steve! EJ and I met in the crowed Main Street of Cumberland and got stuck there for too long. Then when we tried to get out of town and turn off the official route to the right up the long lane to their farm, EJ missed the turn. (Because she was in front of me instead of behind me!) I stopped half way up the lane, and EJ was nowhere to be seen. She went all the way uphill to the road where we turn east, Highway 92. I texted her and she had to come back down the hill against the hundreds of bikers filling the road going up. NOT easy! But she finally made it and we stayed for another 15 minutes. EJ was even able to pet their cute little dog!

Time passes quickly when you have 82 miles to go in a day. I stopped in Massena and had a bite to eat without going into that main street! Stayed close to the highway! When I finally made it to Greenfield, was supposed to drive through where the tornado went, but I asked about the library, our meeting spot, and missed what I really should have seen!! Whew! (I was getting a bit tired and hungry, I think.) EJ and I loved being in Greenfield near the courthouse on the square. I found an air-conditioned beautiful restaurant to hang out in and I even attended a Zoom meeting for my Bible Study group on my phone there, so no wonder we didn’t commit to going any further that day. It was really nice to have Greg close to be our sag driver. He drove us to Winterset where we would meet up with our old friends Cindy & Steve and have our annual meal out together when they are riding Ragbrai. But this year I was riding Ragbrai (sort of) too. And having Elizabeth with us was great. Too bad it is almost impossible to find a quiet restaurant during Ragbrai!

July 24: Winterset to Knoxville (I sagged with the Register van in Milo.)

It was beautiful riding out of Winterset in the morning, with the sun rising in front of the throng, and passing through St. Charles was also amazing too. The rolling hills and rich greens of the beauty of Iowa as seen from your bike and having 100’s of others beside you somehow makes it an awesome experience. I must confess that at several times, and I remember this day in particular, I walked my bike up long or steep hills. But, I decided to feel no shame. I embrace the fact that I am a stronger walker than I am biker. And, other folks walking their bikes up those same hills had me passing them on the RIGHT. I was the fastest bike walker on the entire trek, I think.

Near Milo, I stopped at another beautiful farm house, set high at the end of one of those hills. Trees shaded the front yard, and I could look at the bikers ride up and then descend into the gorgeous valley. I got a lemonade and some granola and just enjoyed the view &?met a female biker from California who had once taught English at Cornell for one term. We chatted about everything, as she is a poet/writer/creator, and she has finally found a way to make a living and still do her thing as a college professor after several years of struggling in adjunct and temporary positions. Her boyfriend was somewhere ahead of her one the ride. She and he were both into long distance treks, so I was able too share about my pilgrimage in France and she said that was another one they wanted too do.

After she left, I learned that there was pool out back and that we could take a dip. Why not? I jumped in the blue water where kids moms, and three 40-something guys were relaxing. They insisted I try the floaty they had tried, so I did. They were right.

We talked about the charity they were supporting (can’t remember it now) and how they loved doing this ride every year, and that stops like THIS one were what it is really all about. After another 30 minutes in the pool, I got back into my shoes – and I was off! Leaving the farm’s front yard, I saw my three swimming companions mounting their bikes and heading off: they were the famous three guys wearing speedos and American flag capes!

I had seen them several times and just thought they were a bit odd, maybe too much. But after having spent time with them in the most gorgeous pool, I knew they were people just like me. (This wonderful stop must’ve been at least two hours.) And that is why I chose to sag at Milo.

July 25: Knoxville to Ottumwa (I sagged at Eddyville, thanks to my cousin Rebecca who came and fetched me and a fellow Cornell rider, and dropped us off to our overnight home.)

I don’t recall much about this day, other than a sign I saw in Lovilia, I think, that read: “I survived – day 5.” Wow. Other people think this is hard too. I remember having a great meal with EJ at a Tasty Freeze or something in Albia. We talked to an older couple there, and then EJ left and she rode all the way to Ottumwa, and she was beat. Especially having to ride another 3 miles uphill once one gets into town. I knew I couldn’t make it to Ottumwa, and was so glad Rebecca was willing to come to Eddyville, or rather to the BP gas station, where we always stop at on our drives to the family place in Van Buren County. Norm had heard about my planned pick-up during a pleasant stop/conversation earlier in the day, and he decided to meet us there for a lift. That made me happy.

That night we had another big yard to camp in, and I can’t remember going anywhere for dinner that evening. Maybe just snacks around camp. ???? I’m getting a little foggy about things by now. I think the week is wearing on me, even with my sagging.

July 26: Ottumwa to Mount Pleasant (I stopped in Fairfield where daughter-in law Alicia and the girls picked EJ and me up and drive us to Mount Pleasant.)

Leaving Ottumwa was strange riding on a smaller road north of highway 34 that we usually zoom by on heading to the farm. We crossed over that highway and headed south to Agency, where I sat on the front porch with a lady and watched the morning parade. She had retired recently and moved from the Quad Cities-happy to be in a nice house in a small town.

John and I pose with the famous couple. John is a medical school instructor from Chicago, and a die-hard biker. The heat and the winds from the east combined to make me feel tired and weak this day. I thought that coffee would help, but it didn’t do the trick. I stayed in Eldon for an hour or so. And then I stopped to rest in Selma for another hour.

And then it was on to Libertyville where almost everything was packed up. Luckily a few kybos were still available! I carried on toward Fairfield, but at the end of another uphill, had to stop for treats and more ice water. I was able to leave a $20 bill in the free-will basket for a little boy who was sad about not making much money yet. That made me happy, and since I spent so much time there, it was worth it. Entering Fairfield from the southwest through a residential area was really nice. The square was almost all packed up, but Alicia the girls and Elizabeth were waiting for me-and we tried even more coffee to keep me going. I told them no hugs because I was draggin’ and that one person on our team had reported that he tested positive for Covid – and was going home. 🥲 It was a long night in Mountain Pleasant, but the next day would be our last!

July 27: Mount Pleasant to Burlington!

Great river road!

Wheel in the Mississippi!

I did it. I didn’t ride every mile I could have, but I logged at least 300 miles. I saw beautiful countryside, met some cool people, was encouraged by so many, just as I encouraged others. Meeting strangers as friends was wonderful. And even though I didn’t ace RAGBRAI, I’m glad I did my first one at the age of 66 with my simple, too heavy non-electric Trek Verve 2. Wish I could have gotten to know more of my Rambrai team members better. My trying to do too much stopped me from having much down time to sit in the circle. 🥲

We got back to Mount Vernon and said goodbye to our Rambrai teammates. Elizabeth and I had a delicious meal at the restaurant next to the now-famous pizza place. It was perfect.

Then we drove home to Johnston, where EJ had left her car. On Sunday morning I was draggin’ again, so I stayed home from church. Rested a lot and watched a fun French film with Greg that evening. Tested positive for Covid on Monday. Not fun. Not a souvenir any of us wanted to pick up on RAGBRAI. And then the next week Greg was down with it.

But I am fully recovered-and even Covid-protected for a while. If I do RAGBRAI again, I will train more, not let anything else take me away from being 100%, fully present to the ride and my team, and take fewer long breaks! Maybe only one nice break a day.

But I don’t regret any of my lovely breaks and conversations-like the swimming pool one with the 3 Speedo guys. Iowa is worth riding across again, and RAGBRAI is a ride worth remembering. What do you remember from RAGBRAI? My friend said that I need to watch the new documentary Shift, to understand more about how important Ragbrai can be. Maybe you have seen it. Thanks for reading some of my reflections!

RAGBRAI LI: Home Sweet Home, aka the Hilliest RAGBRAI ever, July 20-27, 2024.

It had been a long walking day, and even though the man was very nice and the price was right, the ambiance was less than lovely. A barking black dog greeted us, whom the host referred to as his “chien terroriste.” He explained that his wife lived in the house pictured above and that he now lived out back with all of the cars, stored materials, and piles of dirt and gravel in the long concrete-block building that he was building which contained his massive shop (aka man-cave) with numerous vehicles and projects within. It also contained his living quarters with a nice wood-burning stove & produce from the farm-like beef jerkey & apples & pate for sale. There was a small kitchen area for us campers next to his little farm produce boutique with a counter and plug-ins for charging phones. There was a big black plastic bag filled with garbage at the end of that space which was smelling & attracting flies. I took it outside to a garbage bin and boiled some water and made some home/grown organic mint tea (graciously provided) to freshen up my interior space for the evening.

Behind all of this there was an outdoor shower which was open to the far back & fields with rather unfinished concrete. I decided not to shower. Quite a distance across the way from the shower was the dry composting outhouse, which thankfully did not stink. We hiked up the hill to our little green trailer where we slept. When he gave us the initial tour of his domain, he explained that there were lots of wolves in the area and some rare owls. He said not to be afraid if we heard them during the night.,I tried to go to bed late and get up early to avoid being in that green trailer (that he remodeled all by himself) too long.

One other woman came in late and she very kindly offered me some of her garden tomatoe and vinaigrette as we shared the kitchen area. We had very few other options that evening, and all-in-all, it was a good night. I’m trying to be able to be happy, regardless of my circumstances, and avoid complaining, so this overnight required some effort on my part.