RAGBRAI "Baggers" 2025

Summary: Gary Reinking and I did RAGBRAI again this summer, as "baggers" no less, carrying all our gear on our bikes and we drove from California to Iowa and back for the pleasure. I held off posting about the experience for four months, thinking I'd have some revelation about my reasons for doing it a second time, but no epiphany came so I share this now to remove it from my to-do list. Suffice to say I relished the experience while Gary remains certain he's seen the last of both RAGBRAI and Iowa, though he, too, enjoyed many aspects of the trip this year. See the accompanying photos for a vague idea what the ride entails, keeping in mind they don't convey the myriad social interactions available for those so inclined, and read on only if you are interested in a few more details about my experience.

So, one or two of you may recall that I rode RAGBRAI in late July of 2023 with my college friend and roommate, Gary Reinking. This is the yearly ride across the length of Iowa, west to east, over seven days and 2023 was one of the longest, hottest, hilliest routes in the 52 year history of the event (the route changes every year). That year saw several days of ~90 miles with temperatures between 90-100 degrees and very high humidity, weather made all the more oppressive by an Iowa phenomenon known as corn sweat (look it up). 2023 was also the most crowded ride on record, by far, given it was the 50th anniversary year and there was some vague idea that a world record was in the offing, with perhaps fifty thousand cyclists partaking on the shorter day into Des Moines (an effort later abandoned for safety and other logistical reasons).

In any case, Gary and I completed every mile of that ride and were of one mind at the end of it: only a hapless fool would do this thing twice, especially given all the travel hassle involved for left coasters like ourselves. While the struggle and suffering were real, then, RAGBRAI isn't so easily forsaken and, for reasons I still don't completely understand, I began plotting a return trip a scant few weeks after recovering from the 2023 event.

Fast forward to 2025 and Gary and I had not only decided to do RAGBRAI again, hapless fools that we clearly are, but we also opted to ride as "baggers," carrying all our gear on our bikes in panniers and other bags (see the attached photos). Most people avail themselves of various services to carry their gear during the ride, from the bare-bones RAGBRAI truck to more "luxurious" charter services which will set up and break down one's tent each day, to friends or family members following along in RVs or team buses—there are as many different ways to do RABRAI as there are participants.

Baggers are a very small percentage of the overall rider pool (the few, the proud) and have the freedom to camp anywhere they wish, take any route they like, arrive and depart on their own schedule and basically do their own thing, which may or may not coincide with the proclivities of the masses. True baggers, I've since learned, eschew the crowds and are known to intentionally leave the official route to find and close down little out-of-the-way bars in rural backwaters, and thence make their way east, inebriated, in the early morning hours while others are sleeping.

Gary and I were not true baggers and generally followed the official route, completely sober, but did avail ourselves of the best campsites in most overnight towns and this freedom, alone, made the trip so much more enjoyable for me. The only drawback with this year's ride was the first four days all saw strong headwinds, with temperatures between 90-100F, which made progress with our full panniers and heavier bikes slow and difficult though still manageable.

Wednesday's ~72 miles, in particular, were very hot with an unrelenting 15-20mph headwind, and if the day's ride wasn't sufficiently difficult a massive thunderstorm rolled into the overnight town round 10pm, pummeling the campground with ceaseless rain, thunder, lightning and strong wind gusts until 3am the following morning. I'd forgotten how much more severe a good midwestern thunderstorm can be compared to the relatively mild storms we see in California, weather made all the more intimidating when one is "sleeping" in a small tent in a large open field. Numerous tents failed during the night, events marked with screams and shouts as people abandoned everything and ran for the cover of a high school gym a quarter mile away.

Thursday dawned beautiful if wet and the final three days of the ride included mostly tailwinds and slightly cooler weather. It rained on us for 2-3 hours on the final morning but that didn't bother me in the least, while the last 20-30 miles through Amish Country leading to Guttenberg, Iowa, and the Mississippi River were spectacular. I lost count of the number of plainly-dressed children adorned in bonnets and straw hats we saw, sitting on fence posts, on the backs of wagons or horses, on front porches and the like, all turned out to see the rumored mass of bike riders move past their homes and farms. They looked like hobbits in a part of Iowa which could be mistaken for the shire and were universally quick with a wave and a smile.

Gary and I both regret not stopping to take photos, as other riders did, perhaps offering a donation for the privilege, but it just seemed a little odd in the moment. I was able to stop at a roadside lemonade stand staffed by four Amish siblings, however, I their only patron for several minutes, and purchased two glasses of their delicious if not altogether cold beverage. Asked in a near whisper by the oldest girl of perhaps ten where I was from, the answer "California" elicited bulging eyes from two or three of the children (the youngest couldn't have been four).

And perhaps that, in chief, is why one does RAGBRAI—simply and obviously for the people. I'm sometimes an introvert but during the seven days of the ride I spoke with well more than 100 different people from all over the world, both on and off the bike, conversations which lasted perhaps 30 seconds to 30 minutes or more and it seems universally understood that when one party has had enough one simply parts ways, with or without a word or salutation.

In camp the third or fourth night of the ride Gary and I met a gentleman bagger who had camped near us the previous evening and recognized us, which emboldened him sufficiently to offer the following introduction, replete with manic hand gestures: "Hello, I'm Jim, I'm socially awkward and have anxiety issues but RAGBRAI is the one time of the year when I can be around other people and it's generally okay." We peppered him with questions about his bicycle and trailer, having learned the one sure topic everyone warms to is their bike, and ended up chatting with him for 20 or 30 minutes. Moments like that are everywhere available on RAGBRAI—one need only welcome them.

So, will I do this ride again? A fool and his RAGBRAI are not easily parted so I almost certainly will, especially if the route ever travels through Ainsworth and Washington, Iowa, the southern part of the state where my mother was born and raised. If you enjoy cycling and can tolerate heat, humidity, kybos and other people midst a sea of spandex perhaps you, too, should consider it.