Day 36: Bridgewater, IA to Council Bluffs, IA

I had a lot of miles to cover, so I was on the road by 6:00 AM.  There was nothing between Bridgewater and Council Bluffs except a couple of gas stations.  I was tooling along at a pretty good clip for the first hour, then I saw the dreaded sign: “Road Construction Ahead.”  I made a plea to the fates for a small bridge project or a single lane fix.  What I got, obviously, was a chewed up, grooved road.  Both lanes.

After two miles of this I came across the road grinding machine parked on a side road.  I was encouraged that this signaled I was close to the end of the messed up section of road.  Au contraire, mon frère.  The crappy, bumpy, gravelly pavement went on for another 10 miles.  The road destruction was apparently working its way west to east.  The rough road alone would have been difficult enough, but to add the incessant series of Iowa hills into the mix was nothing short of cruel punishment. 

When I finally hit smooth pavement, I was ecstatic...for about ten minutes.  That’s when the heat and wind conspired to pick up the torture where the construction left off.  Undertaking an adventure like this invariably comes with obstacles – if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be a true test of one’s will and perseverance, which is part of the driving motivation for doing something as crazy as this.  The real challenge, however, is dealing with situations where you are faced with multiple obstacles at once.  A little headwind: buckle down and fight through it.  Scorching heat: embrace the suck, hydrate, and go forward.  A grueling series of hills: conquer each of them one at a time while reminding yourself you’ve faced bigger climbs.  But when you’re up against a headwind in a withering heat while crawling up one hill after another this is true gut check time. 

I wish I could tell you that I passed that gut check on this day, but I can’t.  Sometime around three o’clock I began doing some calculations.  I’d reached the point where I was only riding about halfway up each hill before dismounting and walking my bike to the summit.  I could have stayed on the bike to the top of each of these hills, but the expenditure of energy wasn’t worth the small gain of time.  I knew it was going to be a long day, and I needed to conserve some strength for later.  At the rate I was going compared to the distance I had remaining, I figured I’d get into Council Bluffs somewhere around 2:00 AM, if I was lucky.  This was not going to work.

It’s dangerous enough riding in full daylight, and I made a decision early on that I wasn’t going to ride after sundown.  I have a headlamp and a forward white flasher, but neither is sufficient to allow me to ride in the dark.  I decided to stop at the next town and camp, even though I really wanted to get to the border and out of Iowa as expeditiously as possible.  After twenty more minutes, I realized that even achieving this modest goal was going to be a trying effort.  That’s when I swallowed my pride and stuck out my thumb.

About twenty pick-up trucks passed me before one pulled over.  The guy asked where I was going, and I said as close to Council Bluffs as he could take me.  Turns out he was going through there on his way to Nebraska.  Jackpot!  I threw my bike in the back and hopped into the air-conditioned cab.  My wounded pride was immediately salved by the plush seat and the cold air.

The guy’s name was Brad Riepe and he was about the coolest guy I could have asked for to give me a lift.  Turns out he builds custom hot rods, and was famous for his 1969 Plymouth Road Runner “Roadkill.”  My lack of detailed car knowledge made me almost want to turn in my man card, but he was just as impressed by what I was doing as I was by what he did, so it all balanced out.  As we sped effortlessly over one hill after another, I became more and more convinced that I had made the right choice.  Plus, it was almost exciting to get to ride in a vehicle for the first time in over a month!

Brad dropped me off at the east edge of the city by a bike path, and I rode five miles more to a hotel near the pedestrian bridge that crosses the Missouri River into Omaha. 

What I Learned: Iowa is by far the worst state I’ve encountered so far for cycling.  No shoulders, a dearth of paved roads, and unforgiving terrain make for some very unpleasant riding.  Maybe northern Iowa is better, but when you decide to ride across the country, I strongly recommend that you give Iowa a skip!  Also, resorting to the indignity of asking for help can lead to some very good things.

Distance Today: 38 miles (+ a 30 mile lift)
Total Distance: 1,726 miles