Biking in Ames (pt 2)

When I last left off, I had just disentangled myself from the clutches of a ravine with crude rustic stairs. And gotten a good workout hauling my bike up said stairs. Note to self: Don't go that way again.

I somehow through good luck end up on 24th street and so head out to Grand, and then north. Cause Ada Hayden was north.

I have a pet peeve. It's people who pull through stop signs and stop lights. I forgive them if they reverse for me, but I CLEARLY have a crossing light, and yet I have to put on my brakes and maneuver around your car, all while giving you a look that says, "Really?" I pondered this as I continued north. Eventually, I leave Grand and end up in a residential area. I believe the sign I saw said "Top O' Hollow Rd." Somehow the grammatical license used with the naming of said road made me look upon it with suspicion. Who's heard of a Top O Hollow road? Where am I? I can see trees on the other side of Grand and I wonder if that's the park I am supposed to be at. But, with the same good faith that made me climb stairs with a bike, I continue north. I'm not even on Top O Wherever road, I'm on Dawes Rd. Not like that helps, as I still don't know where that is, but it sounds more normal.

And then I go down a hill. Normally, I don't comment on going down hills, but about the time my speedometer hit 18 mph, I started putting on my brakes. Now, a biker will know, the thing with going down hills is that if you return, you have to go up them. Honestly takes some of the fun out of it.

But, at the end of the Hill of Impending Doom, I see a lake. I'll worry about the hill later. Or walk the bike up it. And I come out and there's the lake/pond thing and I see a park sign. Except it says Calhoun Park. What on earth is a Calhoun, I wonder, until I remember I don't know what an Ada Hayden is either, and dismiss it. Probably names. I'd name my parks helpful things, like "Brookside." Unless that's actually named after a person too.

There is a little gap in the fence around the like, and a path on the other side. I hesitate, because the entrance through this gap isn't even paved, but there is a sign that says trails are not maintained for winter, enter at your own risk, so it has to be a valid entry point of some sort. I enter at my own risk.

Eventually, I do see a stone-like sign that says Ada Hayden on it. Victory! It's probably a lot prettier in the summer. It's just kind of sad and brown right now.

But there were people out. For a brief moment, I doubted the sanity of said people and that was before I reached the assisted living tour group. I saw a person, the most notable trait being a large lavender-clad posterior, simply get down and lie face-down on a bridge. I start slowing down and I'm sure my eyebrow was arched. Don't people know not to do crazy things in public places? Maybe not in a college town. I keep going, slowly, hoping something will start to make sense. It seemed intentional. Will it be necessary for me to stop and be like "citizen, are you in need of assistance?"

And then the posterior rises like a moon and someone else gets up too. The crazies are in a group I guess. I skirt them and the only thing I note is that the pants are actually pink-and-white checkered instead of light purple. Which improves the posterior not one bit.

I see where the path starts back around the lake, but I remember certain Hill of Impending Doom and opt to head toward a residential-looking area. I recall seeing a couple on Google Maps and they were laced with bike trails.

Biking in Ames (pt 1)

I biked a decent amount in West Des Moines. It's pretty amazing around there because almost anywhere you want to go can be got to one a bike path at least part of the way. Some of the paths were really pretty.

Ames is not quite as bike friendly. There are only a few paths through the middle that aren't like glorified sidewalks or along the side of a road. But you can still get around, maybe on some sidewalks and some roads.

So, recently I have had zero motivation to work out. But biking isn't really like working out for me, and plus, it's outside. Any temperature over 45 is doable at this point, I am so sick of being inside. I looked up the Google Maps version of the bike paths in Ames and notices there were paths around the lake/pond thing that is in Ada Hayden and it didn't look too far away, so I decided to go. But there was no good straight route, so I started planning a rather convoluted one. I saw a little park with a bike path off to the east of Duff. The green line of the path didn't go all the way through, but I've seen that before and as often as not it becomes something that isn't officially a bike path, like a sidewalk, and is still traverse-able. I can see the white line leading on from it. I honestly didn't think too much about it. So I started off to Carr Park.

All goes as planned and I am soon biking on a path surrounded by trees, still sadly leafless, next to a little stream and enjoying myself. I ring my bell to alert two elderly gentlemen that I am passing and when they let me through, I kind of get the vibe they are surprised to see me. Maybe this path isn't often frequented? It's hard to believe there wouldn't be bikers, as it is a nice path.

Until I get to the end. And then I see why the bike path didn't go all the way through. The paved portion leads straight to a long, winding, board-shoved-in-the-dirt stairway. It doesn't look very bike friendly. Continuing from the path is an unpaved, rutted flattened thing that could be called a path if it wasn't being compared to the paved one on which I had been travelling. Well, maybe that will come out somewhere. With hope, I start biking on the unpaved... trail. My bike is a hybrid, not a mountain bike, but I get along. I see other ruts that look like bike tracks. Maybe there was more than one that came this way. Maybe one came, gave up, and turned around and went back. I try not to think about that.

Somewhere along the way, I see people up along the edges of the tall hill dirt thing that has been on my left this whole time. The thing they built the stairs into. I can't tell what the people are doing as the sun is shining down over the top of the hill, so I keep biking on. Maybe they were outlaws and I was going to be kidnapped or shot for discovering their gold hiding place. Maybe I was channeling Tom Sawyer. Or was it Huck Finn?

And then I come to a crossroads. Or cross trails. One goes along the left side of the brook, one crosses over a pipe thing and goes along the right side of the brook, and one continues from the crossing to continue back along the brook on the other side. Eventually, I want to end up coming out of this ravine, preferably on the west side of this stream, so I take the left path. I actually have to get off my bike because it is so narrow. The path leads me to some stairs. By now, I've had enough of being in a ravine, so I carry my bike up the stairs, being thankful it isn't something heavier, although I can't think of what. What else would I have on a path? A skateboard? Lighter. Roller blades? Removable and lighter. Oh well, at least I can lift the bike!

At the top, I can see a way out, back toward the way I came. There is also a group of people sitting together. They yell something along the lines of "you go!" at me. In the friendly, "you go, girl!" not the English-challenged "you go now!" sort of way.

And soon I'm biking along a golf course and wondering where I am going.

But apparently, this is a long story, so I'll space it a bit.

Not Again

I have a blog post I've been ruminating on. More of a rant, but what's new? But today, I'm feeling rather sobered. Check the date, it's the day after the Boston marathon bombing. Tragic. Horrifying. And one of those things you would used to hear about and think, "I can't believe this is happening." Except now we think, "oh no, not again." Like the shootings in public places and 9/11 attacks, the world America seems to be going quickly downhill. I say that because there has been violence all over the world, but the only events that stay with us happen in our own country.

Now, I know everyone is coming up with their own theory of who's done it and why, but there are a few things that I can't stop thinking about. One, I doubt it was North Korea, although some have decided to try and sling it that way. They have nukes, why would they bother with trashcan bombs? Two, for a race that had 27,000 people at it, we had markedly few causalities. I can't begin to figure out what that means, but it's something I keep thinking about. And three... it wasn't people with guns. So what civil liberties are we going to lose as the government pushes back violently in the opposite direction? The people will demand retribution, demand something be done. Back in the day, they would just go after the ones who did it, and I'm sure they will now. But these days, we're trying to pad every wall so that nothing bad can ever happen again.

Does it often seem like a reasonable response? Usually in the time of crisis. But what can we outlaw in this case? Bombs? Those can be made easily. Trashcans? Something else will be used to hide it next time. Marathons? Any other large gathering can be a target. Bad people? They are already outlawed.

I hope that when the smoke clears, people can still continue to live. Life has never been without risks, and we can never entirely eliminate them.

That being said, I am mad/upset that it happened. I hope they catch the guy and make the bastard pay, because that is the job of the government.

Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. (Rom 12:19b) But I cannot help but wish sometimes God had made me the instrument of His wrath, a super hero of sorts upholding justice, especially when the courts and law do not or can not.