St. Charles awaits...

St. Charles turned out to be a very nice town. Quite honestly the trail into town was not much to crow about as the railroad right of way made its path into town through some of the more industrialized areas.  As we got closer to town more and more folks were on the trail yet the trail seemed to get narrower and narrower to the point where you had to pass single file. Runners and walkers shared the crushed limestone path with those of us atop our spoked steeds. Today's route was only 26 miles so we arrived in time for an early lunch at the Trailside Cafe and Bike Shop. Once you actually find an open establishment the food is remarkably good, or perhaps anything would taste good to two hungry cyclists.

The trail ends in a beautiful park across from St. Charles historic Main St. section. Cobblestone streets go on for several blocks with all sorts of unique specialty shops. As I write this I'm perched on a shaded park bench while Sophie avails herself of some quality girl time perusing the wares  available in the boutiques. Thank god we are on bikes and don't have room to carry anything else other than our essentials, otherwise I'm afraid to see what she might come back with.

The weather, now that we are officially done with our ride, has turned slightly cooler and I think I have the best seat in town. The street scene really would lend itself to the painter's brush and easel and Colorado's Aspen doesn't have anything on this quaint section of St. Charles. 

The flowers here are incredible and Colorado gardeners can only dream about the kind of blooms I see all around me. I guess the heat and humidity don't bother the foliage as much as the people and to call it lush and green would be an understatement.

Our shuttle back to Clinton is running late which is okay. On all the rides we have done we never let a good park bench go to waste and the one I'm on will be no exception. It's apparently a three hour drive by motor car back to the western terminus of the trail in Clinton. I'm glad we got to see the State at a much slower pace. Whizzing along at 70+ mph in my book is no way to create memories, and even the sound of traffic is slightly grating to the ear after 5 days on the KATY trail. I'm sure we'll get used to it again, more's the shame, but for now I'm still in trail mode with my feet itching to turn the pedals a few more miles down the path. Alas, our journey ends here, but these five days have introduced us to a new State and a wonderful trail. Thank you KATY for allowing us to visit if just for a short while. Perhaps we'll meet again under hopefully more clement conditions. I hear the Fall colors here are spectacular...

Final Two Days...

Didn't post last night because the town we spent the night in, Augusta, didn't have WIFI at the B&B and Verizon didn't have service ("Can you hear me now? NO..."). The ride from Rhineland to Augusta was hot, flat, and boasted of far less shade than most sections of the trail. We had spent the night in Rhineland at the Doll House B&B and Amanda, the proprietor knew how to cook some very serious breakfast. Egg tort with peppers and cheese, fresh fruit, and french toast filled with cream filling and caramel sauce surrounded us as we sipped our orange juice. Needless to say we cleaned our plates before heading out to do battle with the elements.

Being Thursday, with eating establishments now open for their four day stint, we got a chance to stop for lunch at a hole in the wall bar and grill that served up a surprisingly tasty taco salad for me and a delicious looking southwest chicken wrap for Sophie. We also drank the requisite gallon of ice tea (each). Arriving in Augusta we actually had to climb our first serious hills as the good townsfolk were not having any of this Missouri River flooding stuff and had taken the precaution of building the town on the highest point of ground they could find. If there is a 15% grade in a State Sophie and I will inevitably find it and Augusta was not about to disappoint. The climb was worth it however for the cute little B&B that awaited us at the top - the Augusta Cottage Guest House. The owner greeted us and showed us around. She also runs the local antique store and the B&B was decked out in an antiquer's heaven.

 Dinner last night was at a restaurant by the name of Abigail's Rose with an aviation theme inside. Apparently the owner of the building is a pilot and actually has his first Piper Cub hanging from the ceiling. The food was everything we could hope for at the end of another long ride and our appetites did justice to Chicken Cordon Bleu and Sole Almondine.

The B&B had a nice porch and swing but unfortunately the mosquitos had already staked their claim so it was indoors we went. Sophie and I agree it would be difficult for us back here as we really are outdoors people and it seems that in Missouri, as in many southern states, the summers are just too uncomfortable to spend much time outside.

All of the homes have wonderful porches and I'd guess that come Fall and the cooler weather folks will make more use of these wonderful additions. Houses in Denver don't have real front porches with people opting to spend their time on their backyard decks. I can imagine it would be nice to chat with your neighbors a la front porch to front porch when the weather allows. Living in our back yards surrounded by our ubiquitous 6 ft. fence doesn't lend itself to interacting with those around us. The final day of our ride awaited us so it was time for turning in. With the air conditioner working busily in the corner sleep came quickly and the 6 a.m. alarm chirped us out of bed way too soon.

Life on two Wheels and Journeys Back in Time

Jefferson City to Rhineland sees the KATY trail do a dance with the Missouri as it meanders across the several mile wide flood plain. At times we ride along its banks watching the murky current slink downriver. Other times the river is nowhere to be seen though you can always feel its presence as it dictates life in this neck of the woods. At one point in the trail we pass Standing Rock which stands as a silent sentinel to the rise and fall of floodwaters through the years. As early as 1903, and perhaps even earlier, people have used the rock to mark the high water mark of each successive flood. The most recent major event marked on the rock was 1993 so we are riding by at the 20 year anniversary. The flood water is both a blessing and a curse. For those who have built in harm's way the rising water can spell disaster to both individual homes and whole communities. For farmers however, the almost yearly inundation of floodwater brings a new layer of rich sediment that will help their soybean and corn yields compete in today's global food markets. Standing rock, as we pass by today, looks none the worse for wear and the peace and quiet as we contemplate the markings on the rock belie what can happen in this spot.

As we continue on our way the trail is marked with signs highlighting the travels of the Lewis and Clark expedition which traveled this river 200 plus years ago. We can only imagine what it looked like then, but I'd guess in certain sections of the KATY trail it probably doesn't look too much different. Of  course the Corps of Discovery didn't have a nicely graded bike path, let alone steel steeds to ride upon, but it's nice to pretend if just for a moment what this part of the country was like in the 18th and 19th centuries. 

This part of the country is rich in history. Last night sitting out on the porch of the B&B we spoke with the owner of the local pub out walking his dog. He pointed out that the house in which we were staying dated from the early 1800's. Our home State of Colorado didn't become a State until 1876 and   was a late-comer to the history that surrounds States to its east. Sadly people in Colorado don't really seem to know, or care much for that matter, about the history that the State does have but back here people seem to relish their historical past and a sure way to start a conversation is to simply ask about the local history.

Tonight we are staying in the Doll House B&B in Rhineland which is a converted farmhouse just off the KATY trail. Cold lemonade and fresh chocolate chip cookies awaited us when we arrived. We arrived just in time as once again the temperatures were starting to soar. The proprietor told us the heat index was 106 degrees. All I know is that I'm tiring of drinking gallons and gallons of water from plastic water bottles and a camel back "hydration system". When we are riding all our clothes are soaking wet from perspiration, from our shorts to our jerseys to the cycling gloves we wear on our hands.

This morning at breakfast (in my opinion the more important of the two B's in B&B) we spoke with another couple also riding the KATY from west to east. They were from Peoria, Illinois and had parked their car in St. Charles and hopped the AMTRAK train with their bikes to Sedalia (home of the wonderful Bothwell Hotel) to start their ride. They looked to be in their late twenties and acknowledged this was their first cycling adventure and that they had brought too much stuff and had already sent much of it home. 

As much fun as I still have on our cycling getaways I'm envious of them in that stage of just discovering where two wheels and an uncomfortable saddle can take you. For those of you who are cycle tourists you know it's not just distance or miles covered that I'm referring to. Cycling becomes a state of being when you are on a bike journey. A sore butt, tired legs and aching hands are not the things I'll recall next January when I think back to this trip. Instead I'll remember the steady whirring of the wheels beneath me as I pedal along a tree-lined path and watching my wife zoom by me as she high-fives the low hanging tree limbs above her head. And as I watch the Colorado snow fall outside my window I'll almost miss the near-100 degree days, lack of water, and no food along the route that's characterized the journey thus far. Almost...

Day Three lives up to it reputation

Cyclists will debate which day of a multi-day ride is toughest. In my book its usually day two or three. On the KATY this year it was definitely day three. It wasn't the length of the ride, only 39 miles. It wasn't the heat, in fact we had a cooling breeze most of the way coming off the Missouri River. More than anything it was the lack of food that caught up with us, as once again, it being a Tuesday, everything was closed. We weren't the only cyclists dismayed by this - on the menus posted on the community section at the trailhead sign others before us had written their thoughts about the fact that Sunday through Tuesday good luck at finding anything to eat along the trail. I guess this means that you have to start on a Wednesday to finish by 12:01 a.m. Saturday if you want to not just ride, but actually eat and ride along the KATY. That gives you only four days to complete the journey, which for us would be pushing our self-contained touring into some distances too long to be comfortable.

The terrain is changing somewhat now that the trail basically follows the meanders of the wide Missouri. Crossing some of the bridges it's interesting to note the high water mark from the annual floods. Some are above our heads, and as hot and tough as this ride has been so far I can only imagine  doing it with a snorkel.

The highlight today was the trailhead at Huntsburg. As my wife Sophie aptly put it - no food, no restrooms, and no water. That's demoralizing to a cyclist, so we kept going to Jefferson City. From about 6 miles out of Jefferson City you get some nice views of the State Capitol in the distance. From the KATY trailhead there is a spur trail that takes you the 3 or so miles into town via a very fancy pedestrian/bicycle bridge high above the river. Once across it was just a short distance to tonight's lodging at the Cliff Manor B&B, which true to its name sits high on the bluffs overlooking the Missouri River. The guidebook for the KATY trail has yet to steer us wrong when it comes to lodging and tonight's room features another cozy bed AND a two person jacuzzi spa which we plan on making use of before turning in.

We asked our host about recommended dining options and she mentioned the Bar and Grill at the foot of the hill. Since our legs were not yet sufficiently tired (yea, right) we opted to continue into downtown Jefferson City and the Capitol district. Ultimately we settled on the Madison Cafe off of High Street. The food was good but the service was better. The waitress tolerated our appetites and thirst by keeping both food and beverages coming and kept up a friendly banter throughout. Though my Southwestern chicken salad (what else would one order in the middle of Missouri?) was delicious  it will be the friendly and attentive waitress that we'll remember long after the calories are burned off in tomorrow's pedaling. Oh, and the apple tart (hot and a la mode) was not too bad either.

Walking back to the B&B we strolled (more like limped in that curious walk that bikers adopt after a long ride) past the State Capitol which really is something to see. As far as Capitol buildings its one of the more beautiful I've seen. Perched high on a hill with beautiful lawns and fountains it shows the pride Missourians take in their State. Apparently its somewhat modeled after the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. and is the second one after the first burned down. Tomorrow's ride heads back out the spur trail to reconnect with the main KATY trail and from there its east to some other town who's name escapes me and I'm much too lazy to get up and find the map to check. I guess we'll know it when we get there (here's hoping) but for tonight my tummy is finally full and life is oh so good.

Hot, hot, and more hot

I'm not sure if global warming is fact or fiction, but on June 24th, 2013 in Missouri it was a tad bit warm. One of the grocery stores was showing 90 in the shade. Out on the trail in the full sun it was at times like a Turkish sauna. I told the lady in Boonesville that I had never perspired so much in my life and I meant it. Cyclists know that in really warm weather you get to the point where it is hard work to keep drinking  enough fluid to stay anywhere close to hydrated. Today it felt that as soon as I swallowed something to drink I could immediately feel it started to drip off me in the form of sweat.

Lesson learned - not recommended to do the KATY trail at the end of June. We even had a rain shower around 10 a.m. out on the trail, but that was just a brief respite before the oven got really cooking. When we'd stop for snacks people would ask us it was hot enough. As the day wore on my answers grew much terser and to the point - "its really not that bad - nothing like Death Valley or the Sahara..." I can only imagine the shock of getting out of an air-conditioned car into the blast furnace conditions of today. And from what I've been told this is normal weather for these parts. My wife commented that she can know understand and empathize with the obesity problem back east. During the day we saw almost no one out exercising, unless you count the stretch of the legs from the car to the grocery store as healthy exertion.

But I digress. Today we found contentment out on the trail before our brains were fried by the searing sun. Where I normally ride in Colorado my jaw muscles get almost as much exercise as those in my legs with shouts of "On your left!" being shouted out every thirty seconds or so. What the KATY trail lacks, at least in the western sections we've covered thus far, are crowds. Today we went miles and miles, sometimes more than an hour at a time, without seeing anyone else on the trail.There are organized group rides that do the KATY but they would have no appeal to us after being spoiled by real peace and solitude riding along the trail these last two days. It takes a different mindset to enjoy this type of quiet alone time while bicycling. Even cross country solo riders have the company of cars whizzing by two feet to their left, but on the KATY about the loudest thing you'll hear will be the birds chirping in the trees. We even startled a red deer who was standing on the trail looking the other way until we were close enough to him to suggest that he might want to move.

50 miles precisely is what we racked up from Sedalia to tonight's stopping point of Rocheport. Rocheport is a nice little town with homes immaculately kept up. It also boasts 4 restaurants, which it being Monday were all closed. Fortunately the place we are staying, the Katy Trail B&B (Bed & Bikefest is what it says on the sign) has emergency food rations in the freezer in the form of DiGiorno's self-rising pizza at the bargain price of just $5.00. The owners must know that Missourans  apparently only eat Tuesday through Saturday. Better yet we are actually spending the night in a converted Caboose complete with queen size bed at one end and shower and toilet facilities at the other. In between, french doors opening onto our own personal deck, and inside old lumber plank flooring sanded and stained to the color of molasses. Needless to say it was a fight to see who got to the shower first, but tonight there will be no struggle involved in visiting dreamland. Tomorrow is a shorter day, thank goodness, with only thirty miles or so to Jefferson City.

Clinton to Sedalia

Day 1 of the actual ride. Yesterday was spent flying through Kansas at 75 mph. Today we averaged about 10. Last night was spent at the Bucksaw Resort on Lake Truman about 7 or 8 miles out of Clinton in a motel room actually floating on the lake. Tonight we are in the lap of luxury at the Hotel Bothwell in downtown Sedalia. The Bothwell is about 6 blocks from the Sedalia Depot on the KATY trail. It caters to cyclists with special room rates and a welcome gift in the room of bottled water and trail mix (gorp). Both hit the spot as it was pretty darn hot out on the trail today. Fortunately a tailwind was also going from Clinton to Sedalia and allowed us to hop a ride. We've ridden RAGBRAI and SAGBRAW over the years and you'd think we'd get used to the heat and humidity but that never seems to happen for us. By the end of the first mile we were dripping sweat. Of course getting a late start (9:30 a.m.) didn't help and tomorrow you can bet we'll be up and out at the crack of dawn. That is if we can pull ourselves away from what looks to be a fabulously comfortable queen bed at the Bothwell.

The KATY trail is supposed to be flat and today it certainly lived up to that reputation. There are sections where it stretches on interminably in a straight line disappearing finally in a haze of humidity. I've never cycled anywhere quite so flat for quite so long. My Garmin bike computer shows the grade and all day long it went from 0% to 1% to -1% grades with the occasional foray into much steeper inclinations of 2-3% for short sections before inevitably returning to more sane angles of ascent and descent. Still, 38 miles on a mountain bike loaded for touring in hot and humid weather is not all a piece of cake. One of the nice things on the KATY trail is that they have mile markers along the way. One of the not so nice things about the Katy trail is the same thing - you get to slowly watch them go by, one by one by one, all the way to your destination. Apparently you never have to guess where you are on the KATY trail which takes all the fun out of my wife continually asking how far it is to the next town, to lunch, to the next restroom, to our final destination. There's just not the same type of fun pointing at the mile markers slowly going by, and with their mathematical precision gone are my feeble attempts at "its just up ahead" or its "right around the next corner". I can't even use my Colorado favorite - "its at the top of this hill" because by mile ten or twenty today my lovely wife had caught on that there were no hills.

In one of the small towns that the KATY trail wanders through we came upon a trail traffic jam when we had to pass a mother and her two small kids. Other than that we saw a couple of lone cyclists heading toward Clinton (congratulations to them, I thought, as they went by as they were likely nearing the end of their east to west transit of the trail). Granted the smart cyclists don't do the KATY trail in June, July, and August but still we had anticipated seeing more people on the trail. Most of the way we were completely alone, left to ponder our solitary thoughts, wipe the continual stream of sweat from or brows, and tick off the mile markers.

There are certainly things to see especially in the small towns. Kids playing and splashing in small backyard pools, people mowing lawns, folks sitting on porches drinking cool drinks and waving to idiot cyclists lacking the brains to get out of the heat. If insanity is repeating the same action over and over again while expecting a different (cooler) outcome then count me as certifiable because tomorrow we'll be out there yet again this time heading for the town of Rocheport. Until then sweet dreams from the world's most luxurious hotel bed in beautiful downtown Sedalia.

Knees are a wonderful thing

Knees are a wonderful thing. When they work well you can do almost anything. When they don't, well that is another story. Still on the recovery rebound from a January mountain bike crash my knee this year dictated that my summer plans follow a somewhat less aggressive program. We had planned a trip to Canada to ride the Kettle Valley railway trail through British Columbia. Instead, we are now headed for the  (as I understand it, but yet to be determined) slightly less challenging KATY trail in Missouri. I've never spent much time in Missouri so this will be a first. Usually the only prerequisite of a Mabry vacation is that it includes mountains, so this year will be quite the change as I'm given to understand that Missouri lacks much in terms of vertical elevation. Humidity yes, but sadly mountains no. Still I'm cautiously optimistic about the trip as the KATY trail is renowned as America's longest rails to trails conversion. There's even a guidebook which my wife Sophie has been faithfully reading. Me, I'm a little more simple. Point me down a trail and off I go, satisfied just to discover whats around the next corner.

Driving out of Denver on a Friday afternoon is its usual adventure with bumper to bumper I-70 traffic  in both directions. Fortunately most of the eastbound drivers are not heading to Missouri (what do they know that I don't?) so quickly the highway transforms itself from urban gridlock to suburban sprawl to suddenly vast swaths of farmland as we head east towards towns I never give much thought to. Flagler, Arriba, Limon drift by. We stop at a Subway in Limon for dinner. Its a hopping place with three busloads transporting migrant workers to fields unknown to harvest the lettuce, peppers, pickles, and jalepenos I ask for on my sandwich. Then its off down the road heading for tonight's stop in Goodland, Kansas.