And on the 6th Day the Lord Said, "Let there be sweet corn."

And He said, "this place will be called Adel, and it will be good".

And the Lord sayth, "let there be a Fest where all the faithful come to enjoy sweet corn".

"And All Ye People, save the best ears of corn for those who peddle their bicycles to the Fest".

A small group of riders, including Squirrel and his family, met at Rasmussen's Bike Shop for a ride out to the Adel Sweet Corn Fest.

This would be about an 18 mile ride, one way, and our route would connect several of the area's bike paths. Katie was joining me and Jackie's cousin Cale for the ride. We would try to get some dirt on Cale's disturbingly clean bike and Katie would try for her longest ride ever - but to best her previous 20 miler (which now, in fish story fashion, has grown to 25,30,35 miles) she would have to ride out and at least part of the way back.

The night before the ride I changed the tires out on her bike for some old slick touring tires I had bought years ago but never used. I also put a shorter stem on her bike. She liked the new rubber, while tooling around Rassy's parking lot she declared, "the most thing I like the best is the tires." I think she put in close to 5 miles just zooming around the parking lot. While the smooth tires helped her roll easier the skinny tread was harder to control. I would look back and see her zig zagging her way all over. I'm sure that contributed to her energy getting pretty zapped. She also said she didn't sleep well the night before. Ah yes, pre-ride jitters - been there.



It probably goes without saying but, Katie was pretty fired up for this ride. She observed her tradition of wearing her helmet in the car on the way to the trailhead. This time she also wore it, along with her new sunglasses, into Quick Trip. Its just how she rolls.

My camera died after only a couple of pictures. I think the battery is bad now (I swear I didn't break it this time). Jackie let me take a couple of Fest shots but she doesn't trust me with her camera (or really any of her stuff).

Jackie's friend Jill stood in line to provide her family with sweet corn. Her family wasn't in the immediate vicinity so the Sheesley's took care of her "extras".



Jill and her husband Dave do their own version of the Iowa Corn 500 race. Dave won and it really wasn't close.



Their youngest daughter, Sophie gives a suspicious look. Someone might be trying to steal my corn. You, with the camera, back off.



Katie about to do some carbo reloading. Allie hides behind bangs. She doesn't do corn because its not a Chicken McNugget.



The band featured a guest blues guitar player. He was five, but he rocked hard.



The Fest was awesome. You could quite easily eat yourself to death here. FREE (yes, I said FREE) all you can eat sweet corn was augmented by burgers, dogs, walking tacos, corn dogs, kettle corn, homemade ice cream and any number of other fabulous treats. All of it was cheap, darn near ridiculously cheap. It was the anti-Fair.

After munching our fair share of what the Fest had to offer Cale and I were on our way peddling back home. Katie decided to hitch home with Mom and little sister in air conditioned SUV comfort. She put in a great effort during the 18.5 miles out. I was really proud of her. Next year its out and back for sure. I think Cale had a good time too on his first major ride.

And the Lord looked down to see all that was the Adel Sweet Corn Festival and it pleased Him.

Fat & Slow vs. Skinny & Fast

Last night I went with a new mountain bike buddy, Rick, out to Lake Ahquabi to do some recon for his race there on Sunday. Rick is relatively new to the mountain biking scene but he has taken to it like a duck to water. He finished 2nd in his first race at the steep and technical 7 Oaks course outside of Boone. You can read more about the Ahquabi ride and his race here.

He hadn't ridden out there before so I showed him the big hill fat people have trouble climbing. We got to the top and he was all-like "yeah, that's a pretty big hill", but he didn't have the common decency to be red in the face and out of breath like yours truly. Some people, I swear.

On the second lap Rick said he wanted to pick up the pace to somewhat simulate a race. I said, "sure" but the extra 50 pounds I carry around over Skinny said, "you know, I'd rather not." Rather quickly my girthyness lost ground to his thinitude. If he hadn't been so far ahead of me I could've shown him how to avoid crashing in the mud by giving an example of how to crash in the mud.

Oh well, his loss.

Okay, I didn't go down right in the mud, luckily (?) I flew past it in mid air. There were several muddy patches along the way with almost all of them having a relatively dry path around or through them. One patch, however, had its path run out about halfway through where you were confronted with a decision to hop over a little log that was angled in the mud or go around it. The first time around I quite adeptly hopped right over the log. Swoosh, smooth baby. I'm Batman........

The second time around - you know, I can't tell you why I would even consider anything other than a hop - I was going faster and decided to go around the log, then realized the mud was really deep over there and changed my mind (note: never change your mind) and instead tried to hop the log. This time my front tire came down on the log, washed out from under me and that was that. "Breaker, breaker this is Gotham City dispatch. Be advised, Batman is down. I repeat, Batman is down."

As sad as it was, you can't keep the Caped Crusader down for long. I hopped back on my rig and peddled off. We can't keep Skinny waiting now can we? When I rolled up Slim asked me if I had gone down again. I smiled and said, "no, why?" Maybe it was the head-to-toe dirt strip I had on my right side that had him wondering.

The rest of the ride went off without a hitch, but I think I might need a new bike. I keep falling off this one for no particular reason (other than the laws of physics). Since it can't be me, there must be a malfunction of some kind with the bike. I looked for a reset button, but couldn't find one, must be time for something new (but don't tell Jackie).

The Little Things

In my blogging endeavor I have begun to amass a group of pictures that, when taken alone, don't make up much of a post. A (sane) person might be tempted to just discard these random images.........but that's not how we roll at Careful Documentation of Nothing Much. Here we look out for the little moments too - after all, sometimes that's what its all about....

Captain has lost 17 pounds in the last few months. I think it has something to do with doing things like this.

Trail Dog requires water on the go. TD handles his hydration with this sleek but rugged collapsible bowl.

Another pic from an impromptu hike and battle with clearing overgrown weeds at the Banner trails. We fought the weeds and we lost. Allie vows to return with a maniacal smile.

This is my tick containment system. Of course, you always take a change of clothes with you when you go on a mountain bike road trip. You change after the ride and put the old clothes in a plastic sack, but if you don't close it securely you could get ticks inside your car - several of them. Don't ask me how I know that.

This effectively traps any little intruders, but CAUTION! If you use this method of tick containment DO NOT leave your clothes sealed in the box, inside in your hot car for more than 24 hours. If you do, be prepared to extract your laundry under the protection of a Haz Mat suit. Don't ask me how I know that.

I put my trailmap in a plastic bag so it doesn't get to be a sweaty, smeary incomprehensible mess. Don't ask me how I know to do that either.

Quite awhile ago I posted on Katie's and Allie's scooter/babyseat/2x4/duct tape contraption. Not to be outdone I had my own entry in the Little Rascals buggy race. Its a trike, in fact, its my trike from when I was a kid (otherwise known as "where it all started") and its combined with a two-wheeled dolly. It wasn't wicked fast, but it was smooth, stable and really easy to steer.

Corey and I sometimes try to ride up the slanty under-part (whadda ya call that?) of the 7th Street bridge. We often almost make it.