Gravel History With Guitar Ted; Night Nonsense

This event was tough on equipment

 Last week I mentioned in my last "Gravel History With Guitar Ted" that I had done an event called "Night Nonsense". It being the other night based gravel grinder that I had done. This was an event put on by then World of Bikes mechanic, Adam Blake, out of Iowa City. The event was only ever run once and that was back in 2010.

This was still back in the times where we all were eager to go try other events and especially Iowa based events, because there weren't many back then. Adam was putting this on in the traditional "grassroots" way with zero entry fee and a very homespun approach. If I recall correctly, we actually left on this adventure from his place in Iowa City. If it wasn't his place it was someone elses house, because I recall being in a garage prior to leaving on this really wild adventure. 

I used the Gen I Fargo on this ride, and as I detailed in my post about lighting, my lights were really not very effective. Add in that it rained the entire time I was out, and that was for eight hours, and you can see why this event was a testament to perseverance in many ways. Lighting was certainly one of those areas I was challenged in. 

Ron Saul and Mike Johnson prepare for some "nonsense" on gravel at night.

 I don't have any images from the actual event. I was either battling navigation issues, blinding rain, or fatigue. Fortunately, I wrote a ride report that helped me recall details and, for some reason, I have this way of remembering road names. That odd 'superpower' I have allowed me to somewhat help with this story to tell you about where I was on this ride. 

This bit of Johnson County map to the left shows some of the roads we took back then out of Iowa City to the Northwest. We used a LOT of blacktop roads. Gravel roads we used were Jordan Creek Road, Quincy Road, and then we got dumped on HWY 1 into Solon and that ended up becoming a real mess. 

By this time into the event I think I'd been off-course three times and I was dealing off-and-on with a few foreign speaking riders who were being followed around by a support car, (very uncool), and were more lost than I was. Being that this was a self-supported event, the entire vibe surrounding this group of folks was off-putting to me, so I was in a big hurry to ditch them off as soon as possible. This part of the event also marked the heaviest rain and lightning part of the event as well. I remember now, it was really crazy!

But reading my report, I had forgotton all about being on Seven Sisters Road and eventually coming into an aid station promised on the route. As far as I can figure now, in 2022, this was in an area of confusing streets in an area called "Western College". Not only that, but some police activity and an automobile accident only added to the surreal nature of things. 

Leaving the aid station, I came across a burning car! Wow! Somehow I do not recall that. (Good thing I write this blog!) That makes this likely the most wild, crazy gravel event I've done right there. But wait......it gets weirder! 

I recall a bunch more pavement crossing I-380, it seems, and then I definitely recall going right by the Eastern Iowa Airport with all of their runway lights blazing in the night. That was quite a spectacle, and this road made me feel as though I was trespassing on airport property. Whether or not that was a fact, I still do not know now. 

After the airport I recall going through Swisher, Iowa, which is a small village I lived in back in the very early 1990's. A place from which I used to ride gravel roads to the Amana Colonies and back on occasion. Well, this route took me on some of those same roads. That was a fun part of this event.

Getting to the Amana Colonies at night, after 2:00am, and with not a soul in sight, was something else I will always have a sharp memory of. All the lights were on in the streets, businesses were lit, signs were on, but no one was there. It was like an empty movie set. Actually, I was a bit creeped out by this, and since the event was in late October, all the more so. 

Then it was across the Interstate on busy HWY 151 to a hard left on 160th Street, a Level B Maintenance road which, after all the rain, was a quagmire of clay and mud. Of course, I was forced to walk the distance of approximately two miles to the next stretch of gravel. This is a remote, forsaken bit of Iowa with no residences on it until you get closer to gravel on the Eastern side. 

As I approached the first home I'd seen since leaving HWY151, a chorus of howling dog's voices split the silence asunder and scared me half out of my wits. It was closing in on 4:00am, after having left the start at 8:00pm, and I was delirious with fatigue and pain by this point in the event. So that whole road traverse and then the dogs wailing, yeah.... Just a crazy ride!

The Fargo just before we loaded it up to go home.

I found a van full of guys about this time and they were with the the event. They were out feeding riders pizza and beers and sort of doing ride recon for the event. Apparently, I had been missing on their 'radar' for a bit and was supposedly the last guy out there yet. Everyone behind me had retired and most of the others had finished. 

I bailed at this point when I found out everyone else I was with had finished already. To make them wait in wet clothing in chilly temperatures for me to finish in a couple more hours seemed pretty selfish of me. And I'd had enough adventure for the evening anyway. So, I climbed in the van and went back to the start. 

So, there's some more of the story there I hadn't told all of about this event. It was a pretty good event, which could have gotten better with refinements, but it wasn't to be. I thought we had run through some pretty interesting territory and some ideas for future Trans Iowa events were actually spawned by what I'd seen of the territory we were on. 

I thought that there were just too many paved roads, but in this part of Iowa, the I-380 corridor, it's tough to get much of the gravel to connect for a paved-free route. I recall that this was more of an issue getting into and out of Iowa City, and once we had escaped that we were in areas where gravel wasn't hard to find. 

I found traces of clay and dirt from this ride stuck on the Fargo Gen I for years after Night Nonsense was over.

This event and the "Moonlight Metric" seemed to my mind to be really unique, fun events that could have had a place in the gravel scene yet today. But for whatever reasons, I just don't see a lot of night time gravel options. Maybe I'm the weird one, but that seems off to me. 

The "Night Nonsense" and "Moonlight Metric" were two unique Iowa gravel events that disappeared far too early. 2010-2012 were years where I felt like Iowa was going to put itself on the map as 'The Gravel Road Riding Capitol", but the opposite occurred and for many years Iowa was far behind the neighboring states in terms of quality gravel event choices. That has always baffled me, because Iowa has some of the craziest, toughest, and most scenic gravel anywhere, but it is what it is. 

Fortunately Iowa has caught up in the 2020's with nice gravel events and hopefully that stays that way for years to come. But c'mon! this whole nigh time gravel deal is a thing! Let's go!

Gravel History With Guitar Ted; Night Nonsense

This event was tough on equipment

 Last week I mentioned in my last "Gravel History With Guitar Ted" that I had done an event called "Night Nonsense". It being the other night based gravel grinder that I had done. This was an event put on by then World of Bikes mechanic, Adam Blake, out of Iowa City. The event was only ever run once and that was back in 2010.

This was still back in the times where we all were eager to go try other events and especially Iowa based events, because there weren't many back then. Adam was putting this on in the traditional "grassroots" way with zero entry fee and a very homespun approach. If I recall correctly, we actually left on this adventure from his place in Iowa City. If it wasn't his place it was someone elses house, because I recall being in a garage prior to leaving on this really wild adventure. 

I used the Gen I Fargo on this ride, and as I detailed in my post about lighting, my lights were really not very effective. Add in that it rained the entire time I was out, and that was for eight hours, and you can see why this event was a testament to perseverance in many ways. Lighting was certainly one of those areas I was challenged in. 

Ron Saul and Mike Johnson prepare for some "nonsense" on gravel at night.

 I don't have any images from the actual event. I was either battling navigation issues, blinding rain, or fatigue. Fortunately, I wrote a ride report that helped me recall details and, for some reason, I have this way of remembering road names. That odd 'superpower' I have allowed me to somewhat help with this story to tell you about where I was on this ride. 

This bit of Johnson County map to the left shows some of the roads we took back then out of Iowa City to the Northwest. We used a LOT of blacktop roads. Gravel roads we used were Jordan Creek Road, Quincy Road, and then we got dumped on HWY 1 into Solon and that ended up becoming a real mess. 

By this time into the event I think I'd been off-course three times and I was dealing off-and-on with a few foreign speaking riders who were being followed around by a support car, (very uncool), and were more lost than I was. Being that this was a self-supported event, the entire vibe surrounding this group of folks was off-putting to me, so I was in a big hurry to ditch them off as soon as possible. This part of the event also marked the heaviest rain and lightning part of the event as well. I remember now, it was really crazy!

But reading my report, I had forgotton all about being on Seven Sisters Road and eventually coming into an aid station promised on the route. As far as I can figure now, in 2022, this was in an area of confusing streets in an area called "Western College". Not only that, but some police activity and an automobile accident only added to the surreal nature of things. 

Leaving the aid station, I came across a burning car! Wow! Somehow I do not recall that. (Good thing I write this blog!) That makes this likely the most wild, crazy gravel event I've done right there. But wait......it gets weirder! 

I recall a bunch more pavement crossing I-380, it seems, and then I definitely recall going right by the Eastern Iowa Airport with all of their runway lights blazing in the night. That was quite a spectacle, and this road made me feel as though I was trespassing on airport property. Whether or not that was a fact, I still do not know now. 

After the airport I recall going through Swisher, Iowa, which is a small village I lived in back in the very early 1990's. A place from which I used to ride gravel roads to the Amana Colonies and back on occasion. Well, this route took me on some of those same roads. That was a fun part of this event.

Getting to the Amana Colonies at night, after 2:00am, and with not a soul in sight, was something else I will always have a sharp memory of. All the lights were on in the streets, businesses were lit, signs were on, but no one was there. It was like an empty movie set. Actually, I was a bit creeped out by this, and since the event was in late October, all the more so. 

Then it was across the Interstate on busy HWY 151 to a hard left on 160th Street, a Level B Maintenance road which, after all the rain, was a quagmire of clay and mud. Of course, I was forced to walk the distance of approximately two miles to the next stretch of gravel. This is a remote, forsaken bit of Iowa with no residences on it until you get closer to gravel on the Eastern side. 

As I approached the first home I'd seen since leaving HWY151, a chorus of howling dog's voices split the silence asunder and scared me half out of my wits. It was closing in on 4:00am, after having left the start at 8:00pm, and I was delirious with fatigue and pain by this point in the event. So that whole road traverse and then the dogs wailing, yeah.... Just a crazy ride!

The Fargo just before we loaded it up to go home.

I found a van full of guys about this time and they were with the the event. They were out feeding riders pizza and beers and sort of doing ride recon for the event. Apparently, I had been missing on their 'radar' for a bit and was supposedly the last guy out there yet. Everyone behind me had retired and most of the others had finished. 

I bailed at this point when I found out everyone else I was with had finished already. To make them wait in wet clothing in chilly temperatures for me to finish in a couple more hours seemed pretty selfish of me. And I'd had enough adventure for the evening anyway. So, I climbed in the van and went back to the start. 

So, there's some more of the story there I hadn't told all of about this event. It was a pretty good event, which could have gotten better with refinements, but it wasn't to be. I thought we had run through some pretty interesting territory and some ideas for future Trans Iowa events were actually spawned by what I'd seen of the territory we were on. 

I thought that there were just too many paved roads, but in this part of Iowa, the I-380 corridor, it's tough to get much of the gravel to connect for a paved-free route. I recall that this was more of an issue getting into and out of Iowa City, and once we had escaped that we were in areas where gravel wasn't hard to find. 

I found traces of clay and dirt from this ride stuck on the Fargo Gen I for years after Night Nonsense was over.

This event and the "Moonlight Metric" seemed to my mind to be really unique, fun events that could have had a place in the gravel scene yet today. But for whatever reasons, I just don't see a lot of night time gravel options. Maybe I'm the weird one, but that seems off to me. 

The "Night Nonsense" and "Moonlight Metric" were two unique Iowa gravel events that disappeared far too early. 2010-2012 were years where I felt like Iowa was going to put itself on the map as 'The Gravel Road Riding Capitol", but the opposite occurred and for many years Iowa was far behind the neighboring states in terms of quality gravel event choices. That has always baffled me, because Iowa has some of the craziest, toughest, and most scenic gravel anywhere, but it is what it is. 

Fortunately Iowa has caught up in the 2020's with nice gravel events and hopefully that stays that way for years to come. But c'mon! this whole nigh time gravel deal is a thing! Let's go!

Fargo Retrospective

My friend, Jason Boucher, just tripped over his old Gen 1 Fargo frameset the other day and was reminded of all the good times and friends he had and met with that rig. While my time with a Gen 1 Fargo has not been as "world-wide" in scope as his, it has been no less impactful. I was tthinking about all these things as I rode it yesterday to work and back again.

The "unofficial" Fargo Adventure Ride where I was introduced to the Fargo in '08

My introduction to the Fargo actually goes way back to the summer of '08 and the Guitar Ted Death Ride Invitational, where Jason had been telling me he would be showing up on a super-secret, special rig for the ride. He did and it was a stunning bike for all in attendance to behold. Forging his new at the time, "Cagey McCagerson" persona, Jason had the top tube wrapped in black electrical tape to mask the name of the yet to be announced Fargo. We all dubbed the bike "Black Electrical Tape", and that was a fun ride. Well, later on that Fall, Salsa released the details of the new bike and I rode one at Interbike in the Fall. Then in late Fall, on a gloriously beautiful early November day, an old friend of mine and I went up to Minneapolis to join a ride with the Salsa Crew on new Fargos.

It was a really great ride, and was dubbed as the first "Fargo Adventure Ride" by myself and others, but "officially", it was just a Salsa event. The adventure was awesome from my point of view. I had never done anything quite like it before. I had my first taste of trailside coffee on this ride, but there were more firsts. I recall that this was when Obama was elected, I had my first taste of Sriracha sauce on hard boiled eggs, (thanks Mike Reimer!), and I came home with a brand spanking new Fargo, which I have been riding off and on to this very day. Definitely a "red letter day" in my life!

That's me on the left riding the last "official" Fargo Adventure Ride. Image courtesy of GNAT.

There were two more Fargo Adventure Rides and I was able to attend both of them. They were really a great time, and I was able to meet several great folks doing these rides. It was about this time that the Fargo underwent some evolutionary tweaks and the original nature of the Gen 1 design was slowly designed out of the model. In many ways, the Fargo has become a more capable "drop bar mountain bike", but for several reasons, I have not been able to quit on my Gen 1 frame.

My Fargo leaning up against a grocery store on 2009's GTDRI ride.

First and foremost, whenever I have thrown a leg over that Fargo, it feels like an old shoe, or your favorite pair of pants. That Fargo just fits! It feels very natural to me and as I ride it, I feel as though that particular bike was designed for me. I cannot say that about many bikes, if any, and somehow I have bonded with that bike physically to such a degree that I cannot imagine getting rid of it for that reason alone, but I have other reasons as well.

Me at Odin's Revenge last Summer (Image courtesy of M Quigley)

The other reason I would have a hard time parting with this rig now is the same reason I think Jason is thinking about this bike again- the memories. I have so many great riding memories stretching all the way back to 2008 with this bike. Of course, there are those three Fargo Adventure Rides, then there are a couple Guitar Ted Death Rides which stand out for me. I have ridden this bike at the Dirty Kanza, in Nebraska with my good buddy MG, and at Odin's Revenge last Summer.

I have ridden this Fargo through Winters, muddy Spring times, at the Night Nonsense gravel event when it rained all night on me. I've ridden this bike on awesome rides all alone and with groups of folks that were a blast to be with. There are just so many great times associated with this bike.

Finally, I have to say that even in 2014, the Gen 1 Fargo still works as a concept. It is not suspension corrected, which may be off-putting to many, but as a "heavy duty- all road bike" with "mountain biking/bike packing/adventure characteristics, it has no peer at this time. (Well, maybe there is that Co-Motion rig, but those are rare.) Is the Gen 1 fargo "perfect"? Not by a long shot, no. I wish it had the Alternator drop outs, for one thing, but it is dang close to being a perfect rig for these crazy gravel road and dirt road adventures I like.

I know one thing- there's going to be more memories forged with this bike, and I cannot wait to get to doing that! 

See Jason Boucher's take on the first Fargo appearance at the GTDRI and what effects it had on him here. 

Fargo Retrospective

My friend, Jason Boucher, just tripped over his old Gen 1 Fargo frameset the other day and was reminded of all the good times and friends he had and met with that rig. While my time with a Gen 1 Fargo has not been as "world-wide" in scope as his, it has been no less impactful. I was tthinking about all these things as I rode it yesterday to work and back again.

The "unofficial" Fargo Adventure Ride where I was introduced to the Fargo in '08

My introduction to the Fargo actually goes way back to the summer of '08 and the Guitar Ted Death Ride Invitational, where Jason had been telling me he would be showing up on a super-secret, special rig for the ride. He did and it was a stunning bike for all in attendance to behold. Forging his new at the time, "Cagey McCagerson" persona, Jason had the top tube wrapped in black electrical tape to mask the name of the yet to be announced Fargo. We all dubbed the bike "Black Electrical Tape", and that was a fun ride. Well, later on that Fall, Salsa released the details of the new bike and I rode one at Interbike in the Fall. Then in late Fall, on a gloriously beautiful early November day, an old friend of mine and I went up to Minneapolis to join a ride with the Salsa Crew on new Fargos.

It was a really great ride, and was dubbed as the first "Fargo Adventure Ride" by myself and others, but "officially", it was just a Salsa event. The adventure was awesome from my point of view. I had never done anything quite like it before. I had my first taste of trailside coffee on this ride, but there were more firsts. I recall that this was when Obama was elected, I had my first taste of Sriracha sauce on hard boiled eggs, (thanks Mike Reimer!), and I came home with a brand spanking new Fargo, which I have been riding off and on to this very day. Definitely a "red letter day" in my life!

That's me on the left riding the last "official" Fargo Adventure Ride. Image courtesy of GNAT.

There were two more Fargo Adventure Rides and I was able to attend both of them. They were really a great time, and I was able to meet several great folks doing these rides. It was about this time that the Fargo underwent some evolutionary tweaks and the original nature of the Gen 1 design was slowly designed out of the model. In many ways, the Fargo has become a more capable "drop bar mountain bike", but for several reasons, I have not been able to quit on my Gen 1 frame.

My Fargo leaning up against a grocery store on 2009's GTDRI ride.

First and foremost, whenever I have thrown a leg over that Fargo, it feels like an old shoe, or your favorite pair of pants. That Fargo just fits! It feels very natural to me and as I ride it, I feel as though that particular bike was designed for me. I cannot say that about many bikes, if any, and somehow I have bonded with that bike physically to such a degree that I cannot imagine getting rid of it for that reason alone, but I have other reasons as well.

Me at Odin's Revenge last Summer (Image courtesy of M Quigley)

The other reason I would have a hard time parting with this rig now is the same reason I think Jason is thinking about this bike again- the memories. I have so many great riding memories stretching all the way back to 2008 with this bike. Of course, there are those three Fargo Adventure Rides, then there are a couple Guitar Ted Death Rides which stand out for me. I have ridden this bike at the Dirty Kanza, in Nebraska with my good buddy MG, and at Odin's Revenge last Summer.

I have ridden this Fargo through Winters, muddy Spring times, at the Night Nonsense gravel event when it rained all night on me. I've ridden this bike on awesome rides all alone and with groups of folks that were a blast to be with. There are just so many great times associated with this bike.

Finally, I have to say that even in 2014, the Gen 1 Fargo still works as a concept. It is not suspension corrected, which may be off-putting to many, but as a "heavy duty- all road bike" with "mountain biking/bike packing/adventure characteristics, it has no peer at this time. (Well, maybe there is that Co-Motion rig, but those are rare.) Is the Gen 1 fargo "perfect"? Not by a long shot, no. I wish it had the Alternator drop outs, for one thing, but it is dang close to being a perfect rig for these crazy gravel road and dirt road adventures I like.

I know one thing- there's going to be more memories forged with this bike, and I cannot wait to get to doing that! 

See Jason Boucher's take on the first Fargo appearance at the GTDRI and what effects it had on him here. 

Yes: It Is That Hard

<==Post   "Night Nonsense ", October, 2010.

As I write this, over 12 hours after the Almanzo 100 and Royal 165 started, there are still folks out riding the course. It is raining, cold, and windy. 

It's funny when you talk to people about these events like the Almanzo, The Good Life Gravel Adventure/Gravel Worlds, Dirty Kanza 200, or Trans Iowa. Some folks can't begin to grasp what it means to be on a bicycle for that long, or even what it is like at all to ride on gravel. I get that. I mean, not everyone is going to even have that on their radar, much less think about what it might be like.

<===Look Out! Big guy coming through!

Then there are those who have maybe raced a bit, done some ultra stuff on roads, or running, or whatever, that make some comments about this self-supported, self navigated gravel road stuff. They seem to think that taking more than 5 hours to do 100 miles is "going slow", or that the terrain is flat, what's the big deal?, and that it isn't near as hard as maybe what myself and others paint it out to be.

Then maybe some of these "big talkers" come and try it, or see/hear first hand what folks are going through out there. I've seen this happen, and it is rather interesting how the tune being sung afterward is of a different tone. Yes, it is quite comical sometimes.

<===Bundled up and sportin' the frosty beard at the checkpoint in '11's CIRREM ride.

But some folks don't get close and still turn their noses up and deride the gravel scene. I guess ya had ta be there! It's all good. Those that know.....well, they know. 

Doesn't matter what the cycling world at large thinks about it. It is what it is, and it ain't easy.

And thirteen and a half hours after the start of the Royal 165, there are still three riders out on course. I'm thinking they don't give a rip what I, or anybody else thinks about their finish in that time space. They have something the naysayers will never understand. And that's maybe the way it should be.

I know I've been through pouring rain, walked muddy B Roads, been frozen, baked within an inch of my life, finished, come close, and utterly failed at all sorts of these events.

Take it from me: They are that hard!

Yes: It Is That Hard

<==Post   "Night Nonsense ", October, 2010.

As I write this, over 12 hours after the Almanzo 100 and Royal 165 started, there are still folks out riding the course. It is raining, cold, and windy. 

It's funny when you talk to people about these events like the Almanzo, The Good Life Gravel Adventure/Gravel Worlds, Dirty Kanza 200, or Trans Iowa. Some folks can't begin to grasp what it means to be on a bicycle for that long, or even what it is like at all to ride on gravel. I get that. I mean, not everyone is going to even have that on their radar, much less think about what it might be like.

<===Look Out! Big guy coming through!

Then there are those who have maybe raced a bit, done some ultra stuff on roads, or running, or whatever, that make some comments about this self-supported, self navigated gravel road stuff. They seem to think that taking more than 5 hours to do 100 miles is "going slow", or that the terrain is flat, what's the big deal?, and that it isn't near as hard as maybe what myself and others paint it out to be.

Then maybe some of these "big talkers" come and try it, or see/hear first hand what folks are going through out there. I've seen this happen, and it is rather interesting how the tune being sung afterward is of a different tone. Yes, it is quite comical sometimes.

<===Bundled up and sportin' the frosty beard at the checkpoint in '11's CIRREM ride.

But some folks don't get close and still turn their noses up and deride the gravel scene. I guess ya had ta be there! It's all good. Those that know.....well, they know. 

Doesn't matter what the cycling world at large thinks about it. It is what it is, and it ain't easy.

And thirteen and a half hours after the start of the Royal 165, there are still three riders out on course. I'm thinking they don't give a rip what I, or anybody else thinks about their finish in that time space. They have something the naysayers will never understand. And that's maybe the way it should be.

I know I've been through pouring rain, walked muddy B Roads, been frozen, baked within an inch of my life, finished, come close, and utterly failed at all sorts of these events.

Take it from me: They are that hard!

Night Nonesense Gravel Grinder Report

I attended and rode in the first Night Nonsense gravel grinder Saturday night/Sunday morning and here are my thoughts on the night.

It is raining cats and dogs while I am riding solo down some waterlogged gravel road in Iowa at night. You could say a lot of things about that statement. You could say I was crazy, you could say I was insane, or you could say it was all just nonsense. You'd be right on all counts. I mean, that is the point here.

That's right, it was the first "Night Nonesense 100", a gravel road race held completely under the cover of darkness. I hadn't heard of anything like it, and gravel road race aficionado, Adam Blake, was putting it on as a free event. I wanted to support that, and along with all of my recent night gravel grinding, I figured it would be fun.

Well, as I alluded to in my previous post, the weather was going to be changing, and boy! Did it ever! We'd had days and days of sunny, dry, beautiful weather, and the forecast for the evening was for a 75% chance of rain. They got that right, or you could say, they got it 3/4's of the way right!

On the way down, I tag teamed with Mike Johnson and Ron Saul to get down there. Robert Fry and Jeremy Fry went with us in another vehicle. The trip down was fairly pleasant, but as we approached Iowa City, we could see storm clouds gathering. Still, the overall impression of the group was that we wouldn't see any rain. We were wrong. Oh so wrong!

After some Subway sandwiches, we got kitted up for the event. While we were doing this, it started to lightning, thunder, and sprinkle. We gathered under the two pop up tents at Adam's place waiting to start and the sky opened up with a steady, fine rain. This set the tone for the evening. Lightning and thunder were all around us. Still, we mistakenly assumed that due to a radar report we had seen, it would blow over. The race got underway about 8pm after some short instructions from Adam. We 25 intrepid riders took off in the soaking rain to get out of Iowa City and hit the gravel.

At this point, it was a struggle getting comfortable with becoming wet. I wore an Endura Stealth soft shell rain jacket and their Humvee knickers, and underneath I wore my new Craft PXC Thermal top and my Twin Six Team bib shorts. My shoes were the Bontrager Race models and I wore my War Axe socks. On my head I wore my trusty Bell Helmet and underneath that my fine Walz cycling cap. No gloves, not on this trip. Of course, the bike was my trusty first generation Salsa Cycles Fargo.

My bottom was wet, but warm as the temperatures held in the 60's for the entire evening. So, once I got as wet as I was going to get, I was comfortable. We took off down some bicycle path, and were being led by one of Adam's volunteers until we got to the point where they let us go. It was pouring rain, and pretty miserable, but this looked like an adventure, and like one fellow said to me as we rolled out, "It's better than sitting at home watching something stupid on T.V."

Well, at least I thought so!

The race took off, and I was holding on to the back of the pack until a climb where several of the stronger riders forced the issue to make a selection. Then I thought I saw them in the distance, and I took a right turn at a "Y" corner. It wasn't long before I figured out it was the wrong turn. Hrrrrumph! I should have studied the cues for the opening round better. So, I turn around to find about five cyclists on the corner where I made my mistake. It was, (please excuse me for the lack of a better term here), a group of cyclists I noticed at the start who were speaking a foreign language. I will refer to them as "The Foreigners" for the purposes of this story.

Well, they asked if I had made a wrong turn, and I replied in the affirmative. They immediately turned to their own conversations in their tongue, so I just rolled off down the blacktop in the other direction. I rolled, and I rolled, not seeing any turn offs to gravel. It was raining heavily, and this road was busy with traffic. Not a very comfortable feeling. I checked the cue sheet, "Turn Left At Quincy Ave", and I looked intently at the mileage, trying to calculate my now slightly off total, and make sense of where to turn. By this time, The Foreigners had caught me. They went right on by without a word, and we all hit a "T" intersection where The Foreigners immediately wheeled around and went on back up the road. I followed suit, but I was now at the tail of the line.

I had noticed a gravel road turn about a quarter mile back, which should have been our turn, but was un-marked. Adam told us at the start that he had marked every corner with fluorescent painted sticks, and there weren't any on that corner, nor was there a street sign. Well, the pole was there. The sign had been taken. About the same time I noticed that The Foreigners had a support car following them. Hmmm.......not cool! The car had pulled off at the very spot I had decided to turn. Someone in the car on a cell phone jutted their head out the window as I rolled up and asked if that was the road. I motioned that I was going to continue up that road, and without looking back, I sped away, now trying to distance myself from the five going the wrong way and their support car.

Not long up that road, I saw a sign that indicated I was on Quincy. Good! Next turn, Jordan Creek Road. What I didn't know was that there were two Jordan Creek Roads with left turns within a hundred yards of each other. Well, I took the first one, like everyone else did, and before long, I saw the main pack roaring back towards me. As they passed, I heard Mike and Ron yell at me, "Turn around, it's the wrong road!" I was a bit confused, I looked at my cue sheet, and I was off on mileage, of course, but it was within reason that this was the road. I finally decided to wheel around about the time that Adam rolled up in a car and confirmed our mistake. Back the way I came! Now I had about 4.5 extra miles, and I was waaay off on mileage.

Once back on track, I was alone, and the rain intensified. It really was coming down with lots of lightning all around. The wind also picked up. It was raining so hard at one point that I nearly stopped because I couldn't see anything in my lights but streaking rain. Now the gravel had rivulets of water snaking down the hills and spewing rain was flying off my tires seven foot into the air in front and behind me. Quite the spectacle, I'm sure, for cars that were passing me by. After a short while, the rain relented, now back to a fine, drenching downpour, and I was snaking my way north and westward toward where, I did not know.

I was rolling up some more blacktop, (which there was a ton of in the first third of the event), and I thought I caught a glimpse of a flickering tail light. A cyclist? I was coming up on a small town, and I figured I might catch up to the small red blinker there. As I rolled into the town, I noticed several unsigned streets. Hmm.....might be trouble, as I was to be making a turn soon. Not knowing anything about where I was, it was hard to say what the turn might be trying to accomplish. I knew from putting on these events that normally you try to stay off really busy roads, but this event had us on several already, so I wasn't sure of what to expect.

I ran up on The Foreigners at a busy crossroads. Obviously they passed me while I made my Jordan Creek Road mistake. They didn't know what to do and they were seriously confused. Pointing at the signs and stating the obvious, as though the sign should magically change to match their cue sheets. I blew on by them, not wanting to soak in that vibe, and scouted up the road. All streets were signed up this way, but nothing matched. Back to the intersection, and I noticed The Foreigners were asking directions at a local drive up window for some business. I rolled down to the north on HWY 1, figuring out that my next cue had to cross the highway at some point, which would eliminate the need to find the road missed by me and The Foreigners. I found it, the cues made sense again! I took off into the dark countryside. Rain was spitting, but tolerable now. Lightning could still be seen flashing in the distance. I didn't see The Foreigners again.

Now I was rolling along and feeling okay. There still was a lot of pavement going on here and there. However; the traffic count was low, so I was okay with that. About 25 miles in I noticed my computer was off, as in completely dead. No surprise there with the amount of rain I had seen already. I stopped and fiddled with it a bit, which raised my anxiety level. I then decided I could either freak out about that, or just decide to live without it, since in reality, there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway. So, now I really had to be careful with regards to navigating, which slowed me down a bit.

I was rolling southwards, near Cedar Rapids, when I finally came off some blacktop and back into gravel. I was getting passed suddenly by a car here and there that was flying down the road. I was a bit annoyed by it, and then I found out what was going on. Not too much further up the road, I ran into the first aid station, where they told me some young hooligans had gotten wrecked of their own accord, and tried to take off. Observing that the hooligans were bloodied and battered, the folks there at the checkpoint called in the accident, and the cops were flying around trying to head off the younginz at wherever it was they thought they were going. Meanwhile, a bit further past the aid station, where I had an apple and a PBR, a car was burning. The acrid smell of wires and rubber burnt in the air was nasty. I motored on as fast as I could away from there. Shueyville, Swisher, and a long, busy stretch of blacktop came after the car nonsense and the aid station. Finally, I was back out in the darkness on some lonely stretches of gravel road.

Out here it was hilly, a bit mushy, and windy. It was still raining softly the entire time as well. I was hoping to find the Mile 60-ish stop where some pizza was promised, and it couldn't come too soon. Riders of these long events will tell you that you fight your demons when it's dark, and you are tired and alone. I was no different. It was tough. I had a bout where I couldn't stay awake, (probably the beer!), and a bout with a terrible headache, (probably due to poor nutrition), but I pedaled through that. Then the one thing that really gets to me started to crop up. My lower back started to seize up due to all the heavy pushing on the pedals against wind and hills.  By this time an intermittent south wind had sprung up that would be at gale force, then subside, then come back again. I was headed mostly southwards here, so I was working very hard. I was tired, hungry, and my body wasn't digging it.

East Amana, then Amana came under my wheels. It was abandoned, asleep, and weird with so many lights on. It seemed a waste of energy. Speaking of which, I was running on short supply of it. I stopped at a corner in Amana, dismounted, and my back gave out and I just about fell over, saving myself from falling by propping myself up on my bike with my arms. It hurt so bad I yelped in pain, and tears came to my eyes. Not good.

And that pizza stop at mile 60-ish? Never materialized. The main group went through and they must have moved on. I didn't see anything. I was resigned to keep moving along. It was three o'clock in the morning, and I figured that maybe some folks had finished by now. I checked my cell phone, which I had turned off to conserve my battery, but I had no messages, so I turned it back off, re-mounted painfully on my Fargo, and rolled out of Amana southwards on HWY 151.

Just south of Amana I turned off the road onto a two mile stretch of clay mire. It was a B Maintenance road, and I walked the entire thing. It was hilly, slick as snot, and it was raining. I felt pretty miserable about this time. As I came out, by a farmstead, I was greeted by snarling dogs and the hollow echoed with the noise. It was as if I pulled an alarm. Crazy! I wouldn't have been surprised if the owner had shot at me with a gun as I rolled away, and by this time, I wouldn't have cared. He would have put me out of my misery!

About this time, after I had remounted and was gingerly pedaling down the road, I noticed a van stop, and turn around, then pull over to the side of the road. Some people got out. "Hey! There you are! We were just about to turn around and head back." Obviously, I was the last guy out, and they were a bit concerned about me! I stopped and grabbed a slice of pizza and another PBR. I looked at the time, 4am, and decided that after hearing the crew I came with was done and waiting on me, that I should pack it in. At the rate I was limping along, I wouldn't have been in until about 6-7am.

So, that was my ride. Approximately 80 miles and 8 hours of ride time. I met up with Mike and Ron and we went home. Robert won, and everyone else did well too. I was worked. I hadn't ridden, or worked so hard on a bike, in such terrible conditions, ever before. Today as I type this report, I am wasted. My body aches! Time for some recovery!

My Salsa Cycles Fargo performed flawlessly. No troubles shifting, with the exception of one instance of chainsuck on the B road, not to be wondered at! My gear was good. My lights were marginal. I need to work on my system. My nutrition was.......abysmal! I was stupid there, and maybe had I been on the ball with regard to that, I would have done better. I was too worried about what I was going to wear, and not so much about eating, I guess.

Thank You's: Adam Blake, and his volunteers, for putting on this first time event, and doing pretty well at it. Mike Johnson, for the drive and great company as always. Ron Saul: Likewise, and it's been too long since we chatted! Robert Fry, Jeremy Fry: Good to be with you guys again. All the Night Nonsense riders: It isn't an event without the people. Thanks to: Twin Six, Craft, Salsa Cycles, Walz caps, Edge/Enve Composites, Revelate Designs, WTB, Bontrager, Endura, and Banjo Brothers for making arse kicking cycling products!

Night Nonesense Gravel Grinder Report

I attended and rode in the first Night Nonsense gravel grinder Saturday night/Sunday morning and here are my thoughts on the night.

It is raining cats and dogs while I am riding solo down some waterlogged gravel road in Iowa at night. You could say a lot of things about that statement. You could say I was crazy, you could say I was insane, or you could say it was all just nonsense. You'd be right on all counts. I mean, that is the point here.

That's right, it was the first "Night Nonesense 100", a gravel road race held completely under the cover of darkness. I hadn't heard of anything like it, and gravel road race aficionado, Adam Blake, was putting it on as a free event. I wanted to support that, and along with all of my recent night gravel grinding, I figured it would be fun.

Well, as I alluded to in my previous post, the weather was going to be changing, and boy! Did it ever! We'd had days and days of sunny, dry, beautiful weather, and the forecast for the evening was for a 75% chance of rain. They got that right, or you could say, they got it 3/4's of the way right!

On the way down, I tag teamed with Mike Johnson and Ron Saul to get down there. Robert Fry and Jeremy Fry went with us in another vehicle. The trip down was fairly pleasant, but as we approached Iowa City, we could see storm clouds gathering. Still, the overall impression of the group was that we wouldn't see any rain. We were wrong. Oh so wrong!

After some Subway sandwiches, we got kitted up for the event. While we were doing this, it started to lightning, thunder, and sprinkle. We gathered under the two pop up tents at Adam's place waiting to start and the sky opened up with a steady, fine rain. This set the tone for the evening. Lightning and thunder were all around us. Still, we mistakenly assumed that due to a radar report we had seen, it would blow over. The race got underway about 8pm after some short instructions from Adam. We 25 intrepid riders took off in the soaking rain to get out of Iowa City and hit the gravel.

At this point, it was a struggle getting comfortable with becoming wet. I wore an Endura Stealth soft shell rain jacket and their Humvee knickers, and underneath I wore my new Craft PXC Thermal top and my Twin Six Team bib shorts. My shoes were the Bontrager Race models and I wore my War Axe socks. On my head I wore my trusty Bell Helmet and underneath that my fine Walz cycling cap. No gloves, not on this trip. Of course, the bike was my trusty first generation Salsa Cycles Fargo.

My bottom was wet, but warm as the temperatures held in the 60's for the entire evening. So, once I got as wet as I was going to get, I was comfortable. We took off down some bicycle path, and were being led by one of Adam's volunteers until we got to the point where they let us go. It was pouring rain, and pretty miserable, but this looked like an adventure, and like one fellow said to me as we rolled out, "It's better than sitting at home watching something stupid on T.V."

Well, at least I thought so!

The race took off, and I was holding on to the back of the pack until a climb where several of the stronger riders forced the issue to make a selection. Then I thought I saw them in the distance, and I took a right turn at a "Y" corner. It wasn't long before I figured out it was the wrong turn. Hrrrrumph! I should have studied the cues for the opening round better. So, I turn around to find about five cyclists on the corner where I made my mistake. It was, (please excuse me for the lack of a better term here), a group of cyclists I noticed at the start who were speaking a foreign language. I will refer to them as "The Foreigners" for the purposes of this story.

Well, they asked if I had made a wrong turn, and I replied in the affirmative. They immediately turned to their own conversations in their tongue, so I just rolled off down the blacktop in the other direction. I rolled, and I rolled, not seeing any turn offs to gravel. It was raining heavily, and this road was busy with traffic. Not a very comfortable feeling. I checked the cue sheet, "Turn Left At Quincy Ave", and I looked intently at the mileage, trying to calculate my now slightly off total, and make sense of where to turn. By this time, The Foreigners had caught me. They went right on by without a word, and we all hit a "T" intersection where The Foreigners immediately wheeled around and went on back up the road. I followed suit, but I was now at the tail of the line.

I had noticed a gravel road turn about a quarter mile back, which should have been our turn, but was un-marked. Adam told us at the start that he had marked every corner with fluorescent painted sticks, and there weren't any on that corner, nor was there a street sign. Well, the pole was there. The sign had been taken. About the same time I noticed that The Foreigners had a support car following them. Hmmm.......not cool! The car had pulled off at the very spot I had decided to turn. Someone in the car on a cell phone jutted their head out the window as I rolled up and asked if that was the road. I motioned that I was going to continue up that road, and without looking back, I sped away, now trying to distance myself from the five going the wrong way and their support car.

Not long up that road, I saw a sign that indicated I was on Quincy. Good! Next turn, Jordan Creek Road. What I didn't know was that there were two Jordan Creek Roads with left turns within a hundred yards of each other. Well, I took the first one, like everyone else did, and before long, I saw the main pack roaring back towards me. As they passed, I heard Mike and Ron yell at me, "Turn around, it's the wrong road!" I was a bit confused, I looked at my cue sheet, and I was off on mileage, of course, but it was within reason that this was the road. I finally decided to wheel around about the time that Adam rolled up in a car and confirmed our mistake. Back the way I came! Now I had about 4.5 extra miles, and I was waaay off on mileage.

Once back on track, I was alone, and the rain intensified. It really was coming down with lots of lightning all around. The wind also picked up. It was raining so hard at one point that I nearly stopped because I couldn't see anything in my lights but streaking rain. Now the gravel had rivulets of water snaking down the hills and spewing rain was flying off my tires seven foot into the air in front and behind me. Quite the spectacle, I'm sure, for cars that were passing me by. After a short while, the rain relented, now back to a fine, drenching downpour, and I was snaking my way north and westward toward where, I did not know.

I was rolling up some more blacktop, (which there was a ton of in the first third of the event), and I thought I caught a glimpse of a flickering tail light. A cyclist? I was coming up on a small town, and I figured I might catch up to the small red blinker there. As I rolled into the town, I noticed several unsigned streets. Hmm.....might be trouble, as I was to be making a turn soon. Not knowing anything about where I was, it was hard to say what the turn might be trying to accomplish. I knew from putting on these events that normally you try to stay off really busy roads, but this event had us on several already, so I wasn't sure of what to expect.

I ran up on The Foreigners at a busy crossroads. Obviously they passed me while I made my Jordan Creek Road mistake. They didn't know what to do and they were seriously confused. Pointing at the signs and stating the obvious, as though the sign should magically change to match their cue sheets. I blew on by them, not wanting to soak in that vibe, and scouted up the road. All streets were signed up this way, but nothing matched. Back to the intersection, and I noticed The Foreigners were asking directions at a local drive up window for some business. I rolled down to the north on HWY 1, figuring out that my next cue had to cross the highway at some point, which would eliminate the need to find the road missed by me and The Foreigners. I found it, the cues made sense again! I took off into the dark countryside. Rain was spitting, but tolerable now. Lightning could still be seen flashing in the distance. I didn't see The Foreigners again.

Now I was rolling along and feeling okay. There still was a lot of pavement going on here and there. However; the traffic count was low, so I was okay with that. About 25 miles in I noticed my computer was off, as in completely dead. No surprise there with the amount of rain I had seen already. I stopped and fiddled with it a bit, which raised my anxiety level. I then decided I could either freak out about that, or just decide to live without it, since in reality, there wasn't anything I could do about it anyway. So, now I really had to be careful with regards to navigating, which slowed me down a bit.

I was rolling southwards, near Cedar Rapids, when I finally came off some blacktop and back into gravel. I was getting passed suddenly by a car here and there that was flying down the road. I was a bit annoyed by it, and then I found out what was going on. Not too much further up the road, I ran into the first aid station, where they told me some young hooligans had gotten wrecked of their own accord, and tried to take off. Observing that the hooligans were bloodied and battered, the folks there at the checkpoint called in the accident, and the cops were flying around trying to head off the younginz at wherever it was they thought they were going. Meanwhile, a bit further past the aid station, where I had an apple and a PBR, a car was burning. The acrid smell of wires and rubber burnt in the air was nasty. I motored on as fast as I could away from there. Shueyville, Swisher, and a long, busy stretch of blacktop came after the car nonsense and the aid station. Finally, I was back out in the darkness on some lonely stretches of gravel road.

Out here it was hilly, a bit mushy, and windy. It was still raining softly the entire time as well. I was hoping to find the Mile 60-ish stop where some pizza was promised, and it couldn't come too soon. Riders of these long events will tell you that you fight your demons when it's dark, and you are tired and alone. I was no different. It was tough. I had a bout where I couldn't stay awake, (probably the beer!), and a bout with a terrible headache, (probably due to poor nutrition), but I pedaled through that. Then the one thing that really gets to me started to crop up. My lower back started to seize up due to all the heavy pushing on the pedals against wind and hills.  By this time an intermittent south wind had sprung up that would be at gale force, then subside, then come back again. I was headed mostly southwards here, so I was working very hard. I was tired, hungry, and my body wasn't digging it.

East Amana, then Amana came under my wheels. It was abandoned, asleep, and weird with so many lights on. It seemed a waste of energy. Speaking of which, I was running on short supply of it. I stopped at a corner in Amana, dismounted, and my back gave out and I just about fell over, saving myself from falling by propping myself up on my bike with my arms. It hurt so bad I yelped in pain, and tears came to my eyes. Not good.

And that pizza stop at mile 60-ish? Never materialized. The main group went through and they must have moved on. I didn't see anything. I was resigned to keep moving along. It was three o'clock in the morning, and I figured that maybe some folks had finished by now. I checked my cell phone, which I had turned off to conserve my battery, but I had no messages, so I turned it back off, re-mounted painfully on my Fargo, and rolled out of Amana southwards on HWY 151.

Just south of Amana I turned off the road onto a two mile stretch of clay mire. It was a B Maintenance road, and I walked the entire thing. It was hilly, slick as snot, and it was raining. I felt pretty miserable about this time. As I came out, by a farmstead, I was greeted by snarling dogs and the hollow echoed with the noise. It was as if I pulled an alarm. Crazy! I wouldn't have been surprised if the owner had shot at me with a gun as I rolled away, and by this time, I wouldn't have cared. He would have put me out of my misery!

About this time, after I had remounted and was gingerly pedaling down the road, I noticed a van stop, and turn around, then pull over to the side of the road. Some people got out. "Hey! There you are! We were just about to turn around and head back." Obviously, I was the last guy out, and they were a bit concerned about me! I stopped and grabbed a slice of pizza and another PBR. I looked at the time, 4am, and decided that after hearing the crew I came with was done and waiting on me, that I should pack it in. At the rate I was limping along, I wouldn't have been in until about 6-7am.

So, that was my ride. Approximately 80 miles and 8 hours of ride time. I met up with Mike and Ron and we went home. Robert won, and everyone else did well too. I was worked. I hadn't ridden, or worked so hard on a bike, in such terrible conditions, ever before. Today as I type this report, I am wasted. My body aches! Time for some recovery!

My Salsa Cycles Fargo performed flawlessly. No troubles shifting, with the exception of one instance of chainsuck on the B road, not to be wondered at! My gear was good. My lights were marginal. I need to work on my system. My nutrition was.......abysmal! I was stupid there, and maybe had I been on the ball with regard to that, I would have done better. I was too worried about what I was going to wear, and not so much about eating, I guess.

Thank You's: Adam Blake, and his volunteers, for putting on this first time event, and doing pretty well at it. Mike Johnson, for the drive and great company as always. Ron Saul: Likewise, and it's been too long since we chatted! Robert Fry, Jeremy Fry: Good to be with you guys again. All the Night Nonsense riders: It isn't an event without the people. Thanks to: Twin Six, Craft, Salsa Cycles, Walz caps, Edge/Enve Composites, Revelate Designs, WTB, Bontrager, Endura, and Banjo Brothers for making arse kicking cycling products!

It's All Just Nonsense!

Friday was another great day in the woods. I got off work early, and took full advantage by going on all the choicest single track in Geo Wyth on the Blackbuck.

It was totally awesome!

I have come to like the whitewall Origin 8 tires, at least the look. It has that "American Graffiti" Model A hot rod look, I think. (Maybe it's just me, I don't know!) I just know the tight twisties in Geo Wyth are primo right now. Maybe too dry, and well, I hear that may be getting fixed soon! I'm pretty sure it will too, because I'm about to take part in some "nonsense" tomorrow evening that about guarantees it will rain. That would be The Night Nonesense 100 mile gravel road event. Yes- all at night!

It starts at 8pm and well, however long it takes me to ride the entire course is how long the event will probably be! I don't figure on being all that fast. Anyway, there is supposed to be some crazy stuff happening out there, so we'll see if that slows my progress down any. Report to come on all the shenanigans Monday.

Speaking of "shenanigans", I think I may have gotten myself into something over my head here. You see, my friend Ben Witt, who runs Milltown Cycles, well, he tempted me with hubs. Yes- I said hubs.... Well, look at this image and you tell me if you wouldn't be tempted too....

<===Custom Phil Wood hubs for Mukluk snow bikes. (image by Ben Witt)

Yup! Those are pure awesomeness right there. Since I am getting a Mukluk anyway, I figured, what the heck.

That's some chunk-o-alloy there! Ben tells me the hub flanges are so large that spokes will be very short. That means a stronger wheel, hopefully, and of course, they are going to be dishless as well. That's good stuff for a rear wheel, and especially so since I am opting for a Rolling Daryl rim set with these wheels.

And to top it all off, I just looked at a winter forecast that said we'll be getting above average snow fall for the 2010/2011 winter. Snow biking will be awesome, if the parts all come in and the bike makes it on time. And if it doesn't, well......I'll go sledding!

It's All Just Nonsense!

Friday was another great day in the woods. I got off work early, and took full advantage by going on all the choicest single track in Geo Wyth on the Blackbuck.

It was totally awesome!

I have come to like the whitewall Origin 8 tires, at least the look. It has that "American Graffiti" Model A hot rod look, I think. (Maybe it's just me, I don't know!) I just know the tight twisties in Geo Wyth are primo right now. Maybe too dry, and well, I hear that may be getting fixed soon! I'm pretty sure it will too, because I'm about to take part in some "nonsense" tomorrow evening that about guarantees it will rain. That would be The Night Nonesense 100 mile gravel road event. Yes- all at night!

It starts at 8pm and well, however long it takes me to ride the entire course is how long the event will probably be! I don't figure on being all that fast. Anyway, there is supposed to be some crazy stuff happening out there, so we'll see if that slows my progress down any. Report to come on all the shenanigans Monday.

Speaking of "shenanigans", I think I may have gotten myself into something over my head here. You see, my friend Ben Witt, who runs Milltown Cycles, well, he tempted me with hubs. Yes- I said hubs.... Well, look at this image and you tell me if you wouldn't be tempted too....

<===Custom Phil Wood hubs for Mukluk snow bikes. (image by Ben Witt)

Yup! Those are pure awesomeness right there. Since I am getting a Mukluk anyway, I figured, what the heck.

That's some chunk-o-alloy there! Ben tells me the hub flanges are so large that spokes will be very short. That means a stronger wheel, hopefully, and of course, they are going to be dishless as well. That's good stuff for a rear wheel, and especially so since I am opting for a Rolling Daryl rim set with these wheels.

And to top it all off, I just looked at a winter forecast that said we'll be getting above average snow fall for the 2010/2011 winter. Snow biking will be awesome, if the parts all come in and the bike makes it on time. And if it doesn't, well......I'll go sledding!