Sweat and Pork Chops: Discovering America on a 500-mile Bike Ride Across Small Town Iowa

Map of Iowa (Photo: Thinkstock)

Brian David Bruns is no stranger to misadventure: at age 30 he dropped everything to chase a woman who worked at sea, becoming the only American waiter in the 30-year history of Carnival Cruise Lines to complete a contract without quitting — and wrote a best-selling and award-winning book series, Cruise Confidential, in the process. (And yes, he did get the girl; they now live together in Las Vegas.)

For his latest gonzo adventure he trades the wide-open ocean for the narrow seat of a bike during the world’s biggest cycling event, the Register’s Annual Great Big Bike Ride Across Iowa (RAGBRAI), celebrating its 42nd year this July. During the seven-day, 500-mile journey through small town Iowa he attempts to reconnect with an old friend — and not die in the process. What’s that about never forgetting how to ride a bike?

The author’s green beasty of a bike in a “parking lot” along the 500-mile route through rural Iowa (Photo: Brian David Bruns)

The Vehicle: A touring bicycle spray-painted DayGlo green — tires and all. Why? Why not! Plus, being hit by a tractor would be embarrassing.

The Route: Across Iowa from the Missouri River’s western boundary to the mighty Mississippi bordering the east. Almost 500 miles of rolling hills, corn fields, farms, and small towns. Eschewing cities, the route stopped only in towns with populations ranging from a few tens of thousands all the way down to a few tens.

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Corn, corn, corn — and then a town. That’s Iowa during the RAGBRAI (Photo: Thinkstock)

The Objective: If you really want to understand a place — say France, for example — would you not learn more in the villages of Provence than in Paris checking off a “must see” list? Foreign travel challenges us to look at familiar things differently. Why, then, do we stop doing so when we return home? Embrace the little things. How little? The brick city hall of Silver City, IA (pop. 245) is the size of a parking space.

Related: Making Friends on the Loneliest Road in America: Highway 50 in Nevada

Silver City, Iowa’s City Hall is no bigger than a parking space (Photo: Brian David Bruns)

The Surprises: Iowa is not flat. My route’s elevation gain was on par with Colorado’s famous bike tour Ride the Rockies’ 20,000-plus cumulative vertical feet — only hotter. Every day was 100 degrees and 95% humidity. But the hazy, lazy air was a photographer’s dream: hidden forests abounded, hills of wildflowers bloomed, and collapsing old barns fascinated.

Old Barns dot the 500-mile route through rural Iowa (Photo: Cindy Cornett Seigle/Flickr)

Biggest Secret: The rye whiskey in tiny Templeton (pop. 362) is world-class. Word has it their town’s product, Templeton Rye, was Al Capone’s favorite. If nothing else, the man knew whiskey. The town’s bootlegging history is proudly posted all over the baseball park. Only three distributors in the U.S. can get their hands on the stuff and there’s a waiting list in big cities. But in nearby Griswold (pop. 1040), I found a few dusty bottles on the market shelf.

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Rye whiskey barrels in Templeton, Iowa (Photo: Matt Steele/Flickr)

Biggest Food: An Iowa Chop is 2 inches and 14 ounces of pork awesomeness. Any trip to Iowa is incomplete without tackling one of these treasures of the (porcine) flesh. Many Iowa farmers are embracing smaller, quality farms, to raise heritage breeds like Berkshire. What Iowans eat as a matter of course requires a second mortgage in big cities elsewhere in America. If you’re lucky enough to see the pink bus of Mr. Pork Chop — complete with ears and squiggly tail — abandon everything and chase it until he grills up an Iowa chop over a bed of blazing corn cobs. I assure you, it’s more important than whatever else you were planning.

Related: WATCH: Find Your Swiss Bliss With a Whimsical Bike Ride Through the Oberland

Mr. Pork Chop, a welcome site — and downright necessity — along the bike route (Photo: Channone Arif/Flickr)

An Iowa Chop from Mr. Pork Chop is not for the faint of appetite (Photo: Brian David Bruns)

Small Town Iowa is Small Town USA: If hedonistic foliage is your game, visit Pella for a dazzling technicolor display of tulips unlike anything outside of the Netherlands itself. Rural Iowa reminds us that America is a land of immigrants. The nearby sister cities/self-described Danish Villages of Kimballton and Elk Horn boast the largest Danish population outside of Europe. Neighboring Manning hosts a 340-year-old German hausbarn brought stone by stone from the old country. It was even rechristened by Princess Elisabeth who, as we all know, is consort to the head of the Ducal House of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg. If all that European heritage feels unpatriotic, try some bald eagles. They swarm around the Amana Colonies in the Iowa River valley like mosquitos. Try the dandelion wine. Or not.

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Danish Americana in the twin towns of Kimbalton and Elk Horn (Photo: Brian David Bruns)

Tulips in Pella, Iowa (Photo: Douglas Porter/Flickr)

Manning’s 340-year-old German hausbarn brought stone by stone from the old country (Photo: Brian David Brun)

Happy Planting: In Iowa, home-grown is a must-have. The soil is so fecund that in Slater (pop. 1490) green onions literally sprout from sidewalks like weeds. The home gardens are luxuriant. Explore the ivy-covered, brick Town & Country Market selling watermelons from its backyard. The joy of a watermelon under a shady tree on a hot day need not be relegated to fond childhood memories. Next door is the undertaker’s place, named Good Grief, Inc. See? Everything planted in this ground is happy!

Watermelon on a hot summer day, like the fresh-picked ones in Slater, Iowa, is pure pleasure (Photo: Thinkstock)

Happy People: Wandering small town Iowa streets and talking to the locals, tending their lush gardens or watching their children play in the sprinklers, reminded me of what makes America great: the people. I grew up hearing the Iowa saying, “Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet,” but never realized its truth until I returned as a stranger myself. Iowans are pragmatic folks who are eager to learn of the world and do what’s right, even if they’re pretty sure they already got it best right there at home.

Related: Don’t Be a Stranger: 5 Reasons to Chat Up the Person Next to You While Traveling

Children playing in the sprinkler: the definition of happy people (Photo: Thinkstock)

Stranger in a Familiar Land: Perhaps being lost in a vast sea of corn before reaching these islands of humble intrigue is what makes them so special. In this age of everything, all the time, it’s important to slow down and smell the tulips. The quiet backroads of Iowa offer a bounty of rustic bridges crossing creeks, red barns hidden in thickets, and Pioneer-era architecture. Though intensely muggy, a summer bicycling trip through this country makes you grin from ear to ear. Of course, a car works just as well — and you don’t have to brush the bugs out of your teeth.

The cost? Other than sweat, that is? After cycling seven days and five hundred miles, I gained six pounds.

The author in front of a “farm waterslide” (Photo: Brian David Bruns)

Award-winning humorist and author Brian David Bruns has been to over 50 countries and has found something stupid to do in nearly all of them. His latest novel, Rumble Yell: Discovering America’s Biggest Bike Ride (World Waters) is available now.

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