Tallitha Reese

When you think about Iowa’s claims to fame, what comes to mind? Political caucuses, corn production, Caitlin Clark, Toppling Goliath? There’s a good argument to be made that RAGBRAI, the Register’s Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa, should top the list. 

If you have lived in Iowa or if you love road biking, you likely know about RAGBRAI. It is the granddaddy of all non-competitive, multi-day cycling events. Other states have imitated it, but really there’s nothing else quite like it in terms of scope, longevity, and tradition. 

And it’s still working its magic, after more than 50 years. 

The Joy of Traveling by Bicycle

RAGBRAI’s first year was 1973. Two reporters from the Des Moines Register challenged their readers to meet them in Sioux City and spend a week riding their bicycles across the entire state to Davenport. 

About 200 people showed up, and it set the template for an annual pedal-powered trek from the Missouri River to the Mississippi, every last week of July. RAGBRAI became enormous, drawing as many as 30,000 registered riders – with many more unregistered riders and support crews adding to the masses. Every year it takes a different route through the state. By 2020, according to the book Iowa Bike Towns, it had rolled through 85 percent of Iowa’s 944 towns. 

The ride’s most recent trip through Iowa’s Driftless Area was in 2022, when it ended in Lansing. (For a marvelous chronicle of that year, with a focus on Lansing, check out Shift: The RAGBRAI Documentary.) 

I write today from my current home in Decorah, which has served as an overnight town for RAGBRAI three times and once as a pass-through town, and remember my first RAGBRAI experience. I was excited to tackle this legendary event for its 50th anniversary last year (2023), and my friend Gail was pumped to join me. The route took us across the state from Sioux City to Davenport via Storm Lake, Carroll, Ames, Des Moines, Tama-Toledo, and Coralville. 

There is something joyful and freeing about traveling by bicycle. You slow your pace and feel the open air. You let go of some of the illusions of control that attend motorized transportation. Cycling is about enjoying the journey and whatever happens along the way. Cycling raises your awareness of your own fragility and need for community. It is a way of being that requires both rapt attention as well as a deep trust in the world. It unlocks your inner child. 

RAGBRAI represents the resources of an entire state inviting the world into that kind of relationship with our environment and with each other. And that is extraordinary. 

Finding Community  

RAGBRAI is a massive event. From the cyclist’s perspective, Iowa’s endless rows of corn appear to have sprouted wheels, donned bright colors, and hopped onto the road. As a rider, when you watch the riders cresting the next hill, it looks like they have come to a standstill – until you crest the hill yourself and realize it was an illusion. 

At the same time, RAGBRAI is an experience of personal connections, of creating a community. When you’re on RAGBRAI, although you may have joined the event alone, you’re never alone. Join the line, sit wherever there’s a free seat, ride wherever you can find a lane; wherever you are, you’ll be surrounded by others who are there for connection. 

Getting into a conversation is easy as pie (a signature dish of the RAGBRAI experience) – a truth I discovered on a RAGBRAI charter bus from Davenport to Sioux City. Sliding into the first free seat on an already-crowded bus, I immediately started chatting with my neighbor, a man named Chuck. 

Chuck lives in Tampa. He started cycling to lose weight, discovered RAGBRAI, and this was to be his fourth consecutive RAGBRAI. He told me about his family, his work, his bike – what type of bike you’re riding is always a topic of conversation among RAGBRAI cyclists, and a major source of entertainment for participants and spectators. He was excited to tell a newbie things that he loves about RAGBRAI: the US Air Force Cycling Team who help cyclists experiencing any kind of trouble; the Iowa Craft Beer Tent, where he plans to stop enough times to earn a free RAGBRAI T-shirt. 

I arrived at the campground in Sioux City before Gail, and was wandering around figuring out where to pitch my tent when a fellow camper said, “Hey there! Do you need any help?” Bob from Summit, New Jersey, introduced himself.

One of Bob’s pals, Mark, has been riding RAGBRAI annually since 1999. He had distinct memories of spending a night in Decorah in 1999, when Day 5 traveled from Waverly all the way up to Decorah. He remembered eating lefse and drinking a lingonberry beverage at Nordic Fest. The next morning, he grabbed me to show me his vintage t-shirt showing off the 1999 route. 

Like Chuck and Bob, many RAGBRAI riders come from far away. Many return annually. And some of them return and stay. I met a fellow rider who had moved to Iowa from California after coming to Lansing on RAGBRAI 2022. “If you come to Lansing, just ask for the RAGBRAI people,” she says. “Everyone knows who we are.” That’s why she moved to the Driftless – to join a place of tight-knit community. 

Traveling Mercies

Beyond the riders, what makes RAGBRAI an unparalleled experience and a national treasure are the thousands of Iowans who participate in it every year – without biking at all. They organize the host towns. They open their shady yards for rider respite. They host riders overnight. They set up cooling stations with sprinklers. They give out water, and beer too. They grill hamburgers in their yard and give them away.  

They create a community of support and care that feeds and fuels the mass craziness of hopping on two-wheelers (and related vehicles) and pedaling an average of 468 miles over seven days during the hottest time of the year. 

Last year, the longest day of the ride (89 miles), with the most elevation gain (4,218 feet), was Day 5, Des Moines to Tama-Toledo. As if making up for the fact that bridge construction caused us to be rerouted onto a gravel road, the tiny town of Colfax (pop. 2,200) provided extraordinary hospitality. A farm along the way set up a respite station with a Porta-Potty, water, and a shade tent with a fan. Howard Street Christian Church served homemade pie, cinnamon rolls, and ice cream sandwich cookies with their building open for riders to sit in air conditioning and use their bathrooms. A little farther down the street, a historical sign proclaimed the town’s connection to cycling history, with the story of Leo Welker, “Colfax’s Black Cycling Champion.” He was a teenage cycling phenomenon who competed for Grinnell.  

Let me be clear: RAGBRAI is tough. Last year it was especially hot, and long, and crowded. I witnessed one scary crash caused by people riding too close together. Amazingly, even the rider who flew off her bicycle asked with concern about the person who had caused the accident. “She took a hard fall, and I know she must feel really bad. Is she ok?” 

Toward the end, Gail asked me, “If RAGBRAI was a movie, what kind of movie would it be?” My answer was, “A thriller-horror-comedy-action-adventure movie all rolled into one.” And we chowed down on free watermelon and danced with a man dressed in a pig costume in Muscatine, before dipping our tires in the Mississippi in Davenport, getting long showers, and treating ourselves to one last ice cream at Whitey’s. 

Laura Barlament

Laura Barlament, the executive director of strategic marketing and communications at Luther College, knew she would ride RAGBRAI when she moved to Iowa in 2020. This summer, she’s exploring her home state on the Bicycle Ride Across Georgia (BRAG). She spent many years as an activist for pedestrians and cyclists in New York City through Transportation Alternatives, and she rides her bike to work most days throughout the year. 

In the heart of Ferryville, Wisconsin, where the rolling hills of the Driftless embrace the mighty Mississippi, sits ændre arthouse. Located on a 16-acre property near Copper Creek, ændre arthouse is a place for dreams: live music, art happenings, intimate local meals, and creative connection in the Driftless. 

Founded in 2022 by Sarah Farrell and James Mackessy, the non-profit hopes to bring communities together through art. Sarah is originally from Indiana, and James grew up in central New York, but has family in Wisconsin. After living many years on the West Coast, the couple decided to create a life closer to their families in the Midwest.

Their journey to founding ændre arthouse is as eclectic as their many, diverse artistic endeavors. Sarah’s and James’ paths first crossed in the bustling service industry of Portland, Oregon.

“Sarah worked as an actress, arts volunteer coordinator, house manager, clown, and a client service specialist for a performing arts ticketing company. I was a furniture builder, gigging musician, meandering-engineering-then-music-major, amateur sound and lighting guy, bartender, and handyman,” James recalls with a smirk.

In the early 2000s, they were both working in the same restaurant together. One night, while Sarah was handling an event upstairs and James was working in the bar downstairs, he rode the elevator up and handed her a matchbook with his phone number. It took a few years, but she finally called. They met to hang out and play music, and so it began. 

The two went on to create music, art, and, eventually, a home together. They married in 2012 and that same year, moved down the coast from Portland to California. In 2015, they opened lille æske, a venue for visual arts, live music, culinary events, and performance in the heart of Boulder Creek, California, in the Santa Cruz Mountains. There they witnessed the profound impact of art and music on a community, and it proved to be a recipe for their future dreams.

“Taking care of people, making art and music, loving the art and music of others, and maintaining a platform for visual, performance, and culinary artists… Through it all we got the sense that those types of experiences provided so much of the richness of life in community – not just for us, but for everyone participating,” says James.

For their next project, they wanted to create something similar in the Midwest. They moved to Wisconsin in 2019 and started planning. It was the height of the pandemic, though, and they realized this creative gathering space would need to have a new approach in order to be successful. They decided to launch the venture as a non-profit community asset. 

They officially received 501(c)3 status in July of 2023, which allows them to apply for different funding opportunities and focus on making a greater impact on the arts community and its supporters.

“We wanted to grow this project as organically as possible, in sync with our community, our artistic impulses, and our lives,” Sarah says. 

The name “ændre” – Danish for shifting or altering – reflects Sarah and James’ philosophy of constant evolution and adaptation. It embodies their commitment to embracing change. 

“After moving across the country, recalibrating what we really wanted to focus on, and trying to live closer to nature, the name holds as a guiding principle for our own creativity as well as a record of everything we’ve done,” James says. “As a non-profit arts collaborative, ændre’s name encourages the community it serves to see life, art, and meaning as creative acts – ever-shifting and never static. It is about growth and the immense reward that comes with shifting our context and our expectations.” 

So far, they have hosted eight music-centric shows at ændre. Starting with their opening show in October 2022, followed by one show per month from April through October in 2023. Along with the music, each event had a spread of locally sourced homemade food and a bar that offered a variety of options including a cocktail made with seasonally foraged ingredients. They have also collaborated with chefs from Salt & Tipple in Viroqua and Coffee On The River in Lansing for a couple of the events.

“What really makes the whole thing sing is a core ethic of collaboration, and a commitment to that process,” James says. “This will become even more evident as our partnerships grow and develop, and as we develop the space on our property to be able to host art and artists in more established and sustainable ways, via gallery space, residencies, dinners, and more.” 

They hope this momentum will catalyze economic growth, promote tourism, and elevate the cultural vibrancy of Ferryville and its surrounding rural communities. 

“We were drawn to this area because it has a reputation for natural beauty and serenity – it seems to attract and nourish nature lovers and artists, any folks who value peace and beauty, really,” Sarah says. “This valley…our perch near the Mississippi River and the generous, adventurous spirit of the Driftless Region…there’s a community of national and internationally touring artists that we cherish who are eager to visit us here.” 

Many of those artists will have their first experience of the Driftless because of their show at ændre arthouse. 

“Having them share their talents and experiences with our local community, and having those artists in turn recharge and gain inspiration from our community and our region’s natural beauty… that exchange is at the heart of what the arts really have to offer participants,” she says.

As they start their second season, Sarah and James reflect on some of their favorite memories from the first full year of events.

“The nature sounds interacting with the music adding a sort of spell over the audience,” Sarah says.

“The glow of the lights through the hoop house. Having people explore the property on trails we made or gathering around the fire pits… these little moments all add up to big magic,” James says.

“Also, being able to host the musicians overnight, getting to know them better and adding another level of hospitality to the whole experience,” Sarah continues. “That level of care really guides us. Having worked in both the music and service industries, we have seen the opposite, and we really want to put extra effort into everyone having wonderful and memorable experiences at ændre.”

Looking toward the future, Sarah and James envision ændre as a place of inspiration and possibility, showcasing a deep appreciation for the magic that happens when art and community collide…reminding us that true beauty sometimes lies in the act of creation itself.

“It’s jobs, it’s quality of life, it’s mental health, but most fundamentally it’s that sense of place and connection that is much of what makes life worth exploring, and we’re here to facilitate, share in, and celebrate all those opportunities,” Sarah says. “We try to put a lot into what we do because we get so much from our community and the people we work with. Sometimes it’s subtle, sometimes it’s staggering, but it’s always inspiring!”

Lynsey D. Moritz

Lynsey D. Moritz is a Decorah, Iowa, native who has planted roots in rural Southwest Wisconsin. She is a graphic designer, freelance writer, and budding herbalist. Lynsey enjoys learning traditional skills, adventuring with her husband, and being a part of this inspiring driftless community! lindenfern.com Instagram: @LindenFern

Coon Valley is a picture-perfect village nestled in Vernon County, Wisconsin. Just 20 miles from La Crosse, it’s teeming with bluffs, natural beauty, and miles of rural roads perfect for cycling. The bluffs were a huge part of what originally drew Borah Teamwear owner Chris Jackson to the area as a UW La Crosse student in the 1980s, and they would eventually lead him to put down business and life roots in the Valley. 

From selling copiers to building a successful independent bicycle rep business to creating Borah Teamwear, Chris has always been driven to be his own boss and climb the next hill in front of him – metaphorically, and on two wheels. 

Borah Teamwear, founded in 1998, has now become an iconic brand of active team sports uniforms and clothing – and is, in fact, the only USA manufacturer of Alpine ski racing suits. Through technology advancements in dye sublimation (with all water-based inks), laser cutting technologies, and online team portals, Borah Teamwear leads the way in this industry across the country and beyond.

The company is also a major philanthropic force in supporting high school scholastic mountain biking and alpine ski racing and is also a huge part of large cycling events like the Borah “Epic Bike Fest,” which has made major donations to the Cable (Wisconsin) Area Mountain Bike Association as well as the Wisconsin and Minnesota NICA (scholastic) Mountain Biking leagues.

In Borah’s day-to-day business, it all comes down to people. Chris credits his employees first and foremost and works to treat them right by creating a work culture that folks want to be a part of. Take the multiple miles of single-track flow trails right outside the office door that employees can spin (on the company fleet of bikes!) during lunch, or the extended breaks that encourage walks during work hours. People matter, culture matters, giving back matters. These are the paths Borah Teamwear has forged in the world-wide active sport uniform industry, all from the rural heart of the Driftless.

Name: Chris Jackson
Business: Borah Teamwear
Year Business was Established: 1998
Website: borahteamwear.com

Tell us about the “leap” moment. When/how did you decide to jump in and become your own boss?

I grew up in the Milwaukee area and ski raced all my young life. I ended up near Atlanta with my mom in the 1980s – had loved skiing– and was a fish out of water. If you had an awesome car, you were super cool, but nobody skied. My older brother got into bicycle racing really early and it was at a peak time in the road racing world – Greg LeMond, Michael King, the 7-11 Team, Jim Ochowicz, Tom Schuler – and I was pretty inspired by that. If I couldn’t ski, I might as well get out and ride. 

I ended up coming back to Wisconsin for High School and then came to UW La Crosse in the summer of 1985. I rode all the time – something about the hills and valleys that has always pulled me in, and I really fell in love with the bluffs. I graduated with a sports psychology degree from UW, did some ski coaching in Colorado, and then went to work in Minneapolis selling copy machines for three months. I tried to sell a copy machine to a friend that was managing a bike shop, and he was like, “Dude, what are you doing? You could be selling bike stuff!” 

I figured out most of the guys doing that were independent reps, and so I discovered the CABDA (Chicago Area Bike Dealers Association) show, literally put on my suit and tie, and on the day of the 1991 Halloween Super Storm (blizzard) drove down to the show from Minneapolis. I got down there and started handing out my resume and kept bugging companies until a couple folks gave me a break. Allsop Softride was one of the first – Sampson fat wrap (handlebar wrap), another helmet line – and I just started driving around the Midwest and calling on shops. In fact, Iowa was always really good to me – Barr Bikes, Bike World, and Rasmussen – all around Des Moines – a lot of those folks were my friends and best customers. 

I would attend these annual sales meetings with the companies I was repping, and somehow, I always had it in me that I wanted to do my own thing. And then the category of casual bike wear started to become a thing. I always liked cool sportswear, so I developed a line of casual bicycling wear – baggy mountain biking shorts, which were super new at the time. That was where I really started to leap – 1997 I was producing my line with a seamstress in St. Paul and selling out of my car. Borah came about as I was hanging out with a friend in the Idaho Mountains, and Mt Borah is the highest peak in the state – I just rolled with it! 

It was also around this time that I started to get burnt out in Minneapolis and wanted to get closer to riding and outdoor opportunities. I had ridden all over the rural areas around La Crosse and often stopped in Coon Valley on rides – it always just seemed like a cool little town. One thing led to another – I found two sewing companies in the area, one that made cheerleading uniforms, and then four sisters who ran a sewing business out of Portland, Wisconsin (near Cashton). I moved down to Coon Valley in the fall of 1998 – and the folks on the industrial board knew I wasn’t quite ready for a commercial building – but one of the guys had a space available in an old grocery store for $350 a month. That was it – the leap moment. I said, “Let’s go for it and commit to Borah.” So we did, I successfully handed off my bike rep business, and went all-in. I had one employee, and we came down and fixed up the space and got to work. It was wild – we’d cut parts by hand, send them up for sewing, and then have big “bagging & tagging” parties at the original space until two in the morning so we could get orders out the next day. It worked.

What’s the best thing about being your own boss?

Mostly, you know, it’s all I really know (haha!) – I’ve been my own boss for most of my adult life. I would definitely say the flexibility, setting my own schedule. 

How about the worst?

The fact that it’s always there – it’s so hard to leave at the end of the day. You live and breathe it and your business becomes a part of your life. It’s always on your mind.

Was there ever a hurdle where you just thought, “I can’t do this?” How did you overcome it?

I’ve never thought that – but I do remember one time having the president of a bank we were working with literally look at me and say, “You know, it’s great to have dreams, but you might want to think about going out and doing something else.” 

But I think a lot of entrepreneurs – you know, you’re going to tell me I can’t do this, and I’m going to show you how I will. I’ve always had a lot of competitive drive from sports and having an older brother – and I’m the kind of guy that’ll figure out a way around it.

Any mentors/role models you look to/have looked to?

I had a CPA in Viroqua, Marty McEvoy, who became a really great mentor – both in personal and business life – that was really helpful. I also took some courses with Fred Kush in La Crosse who is well known for his organizational leadership work. Bob Proctor, who is now gone, but a lot of big thinking – just believing you can do it.

 What’s the one thing you wish you had known before you started?

I think I had to do the process the way I did it, running into all the stumbling blocks. Looking back, would you do it the same?  No way, but the stumbling blocks, that’s how I learned – the school of hard knocks. I had no apparel experience – just figure it out as I go. I knew nothing about printers, once we got into the whole dye sublimation world – printing and dye sublimation for fabric – we definitely had to learn as we go. For every problem there was a solution, and then for every solution there was always going to be another problem – but you just have to figure them out.

How do you manage your life/work balance?

The bluffs – ha! When we bring people in – industry people or whatever who might not get why we’re here – we’ll go for a ride, and 30 miles later they totally get it. The roads we have here – the bluffs, the natural beauty we can take in on a lunch ride.

 Our mission is to create a positive and healthy work environment at Borah. I get a lot of enjoyment raising the bar, and I push pretty hard for employees to be their best. Hopefully we inspired them to live a more positive and healthy life. We also incorporate a lot of things into our workdays – we have Tai Chi class on Tuesdays, and an extended lunch break if they want to punch in and go outside for a 15-minute walk. So hopefully people are just a little bit happier and healthier because they work here.

I heard once that if you don’t think you have time to go for a run or a bike ride or a walk, then you definitely need to go for another run or a bike ride or a walk. Carving out that time will make you more productive in the rest of your day. You’re too busy not to!

What keeps you inspired? 

The biggest advantage and thing that keeps me inspired has been the great people that live in this community that we’ve been able to employ – and they’ve stuck with me. There are so many talented people, and that have an incredibly strong work ethic. They’ve been a big part of the success, and they’ve become family. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the people. The Village of Coon Valley has also been so great to us over the years – working with us on land for our facility, and then land for our trails. Also – the bluffs, and amazing road riding – just go for a ride.