Coop's Corner: 2025 Iowa Moto Guzzi Rally

Wednesday, July 16, 2025

2025 Iowa Moto Guzzi Rally - 2025/07/11

Well I got it more right this time.....at least I took something with a piston'd engine.

The old KLR hadn't run for a few years.....lean (plugged) carburetor and fuel system had me conveniently and lazily pushing it deeper in the garage, only making the problem worse. Finally the nagging got serious enough that I made it a goal to 'award' the bike with a rally, the Iowa Moto Guzzi Rally.

As is my practice, thoughts and planning had started earlier this season....

".......do a carb kit?....I dunno...."

"Wonder how reasonable the Asian copies are for this one?"

The concept was voiced and shared with the guys at our Saturday coffeeklatch (I'd already decided). Of course the proper responses included.....

"you're lazy" in so many words
"how much are they?"
"do you have an ultrasonic?"
"I use......."

All from enthusiasts entitled to their positions on the matter.

When I announced the prices for the copy-carbs I'd seen, the head shakes, in general, took on softer vertical shakes rather than horizontal.

So, a couple weeks ago the very shiny carburetor arrived, it was plug-n-play and the only adjustment required after pushing the started button was a 1/4 turn of the idle speed adjustment to allow tickover speed to jump from 450 to 600 rpm.

549 miles for the trip, here the To on Thursday and From on Sunday....the bike ran as good as new.

My planned early start on Thursday had been based on predicted perfect weather. The radar made it easy to delay and finally by 10:30, woefully late for me, I left home for Iowa. Some drizzle for most of the trip, some real rain around Decorah.

There were the typically normal attendees for a Thursday and after getting things setup, we walked downtown for dinner at the Irish Pub, followed by a treat in the next block.

Friday morning.....Registration

Friday morning Mike had his Aermacchi Swan on his truck, his Enfield Bullet/Cozy sidecar rig on the trailer with hopes of finding a buyer for the Italian machine. Carb issues needed sorting, it finally started but didn't want to maintain combustion.

We decided to make our way to the Cassville Ferry with a lunch stop in Wisconsin's Cassville, in total 102 miles for the day. With that total mileage, Steve's 250 Ninja had a few more miles than that....more in a bit.

It had been quite awhile since I'd been at the Mill, I've never been inside or taken the tour. Greg had and was filling us in on what we'd missed.

I've led the fella's astray before and I promise this will have been the very last time as in almost never again.

To note here, Steve's Ninja rear wheel wasn't the only one that went further than we did.....my KLR's wasn't all that much better. We were heading downhill at this point and did manage to finish getting out of there albeit not as clean as we'd gone in.

It wasn't raining while we played in the mud but not long after it did start. Both because of the extra time it had taken while we were stuck and our later start time as well, I chopped much of the later gravel riding from the Route. So we got back on the pavement and in Edgewood we pulled into the Casey's for a break. While there, the serious rain began so it only made sense to sit (stand) it out. Not sure how long we waited but it must have been the better part of an hour.

County roads to Millville, C9Y and finally the puddle-laden gravel to the Cassville Ferry.

There were lamentations that all of our mud was being washed off in the rain we'd ridden through, erasing all proof that we'd actually been Adventure Riding....

Lunch on the south end of Cassville at the J&J Sandbar....Willie's Fish Sandwich Basket.

Back to the ferry for our ride back to Iowa....

While we were at lunch the weather Warnings were going off....

The Ferry Captain announced that we had 4 1/2 minutes before the weather Front hit us and that he was doing his best to get back to the Iowa shoreline in time for us to disembark

We made it before the wind/rain blast, wisely deciding to seek the best shelter that we could find.

Consensus was that we got wetter standing here than had we been out riding......well almost. Speaking for myself, I'm quite sure it was running off my helmet, down the inside of my waterproof suit and filling my boots.

There were 'hundred yard-long sections of Oak Road that were shoulder to shoulder puddles.

Back to Elkader for our Roast Beef Dinner courtesy of Johnson's Catering.

Saturday morning we enjoyed breakfast, another meal catered by Johnson's. After breakfast I led the group on another of my 'Themed' rides, this time the Waukon & Mississippi Railroad's old right of way.

Iowa's one and only Iron Ore Mine, just outside of Waukon....

On this Route map, the West-running Paint Creek path to Waukon.

We stopped in Marquette at the river overlook.....

Stopped again in the middle of the Yellow River State Forest, this bridge over Paint Creek.

Lunch in Harper's Ferry....

The annual Pork Chop Dinner courtesy of the Iowa Pork Producers....

Getting loaded up Saturday evening...

A mid-morning break in Rushford on my way home....

Another great Iowa Guzzi Rally put on by the Iowa Guzzi folks....some sticky heat, some rain, a few bugs here and there....all according to tradition.

Finally, a tribute to Sheila 'The Cookie Lady'. You were missed Sheila, not only for the cookies but for your disciplined distribution of same. Your stern look with that almost smile way out at the edges will not be forgotten, your volunteer help not only with the cookies but with the T-shirt sales, 50/50 tickets and anything else that the Club needed help with will be missed. I didn't know about your cancer.....you wore it well.

R.I.P. Sheila...

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"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)