Katy Trail 2012 Reflections/Epilogue

Reflections

Our time on the Katy Trail was wonderful.  With the exception of the rain and the hills the only obstacle was getting back to St. Louis.  Although the Amtrak is limited in its capacity I believe it is the best method of starting/ending the ride.  Along the trail there are stations in Washington, Hermann, Jefferson City, and Sedalia, but I believe the train goes on to Warrensburg and Kansas City.  If I could do it all over again I'd make a few amendments to our trips.  I'd adjust the schedule to spend more time in the major cities and of course enter and exit via train.  Also make sure you don't ruin a day by booking a train ticket only to be booking it to catch the train.  We thought ahead of time how miserable it would be to kill ourselves trying to catch a train 30 plus miles away or the agony of missing it altogether.

Assuming St. Louis and our friend's place is a base of operation we would:

• Day 1: Train it from St. Louis to Sedalia then head to New Franklin to stay at Katy Roundhouse (40miles)
• Day 2: Leave New Franklin, visit Rocheport and head to McBain (20miles), then head up Spur to Columbia for dinner and a visit (9 miles plus city riding).  Leaving Columbia we'd come back to trail and camp somewhere along river (9 Miles plus camp distance). (40-50 miles altogether)
• Day 3: Leave camp and head to Jefferson City (20 to 30 miles). Enjoy Jeff City then head to Tebbetts (13 miles plus city travel). (40-50 miles)
• Day 4: Leave Tebbetts Hostel and head to Augusta for dinner at the brewery and camp at Klondike Park (65 miles) - long day but no side trails.
• Day 5: Leave Augusta and head to Hermann (40 miles) to enjoy the city and catch a train back home either that day or early the next.

This itinerary would have us double back a ways, but it'd be worth it to spend more time in Hermann and take a leisurely train ride back.  This way does skip out on the major trailhead of St. Charles, but to be honest that city didn't appeal to me.  Although the beer at Trailhead brewery was nice, the quality of the food was lacking - nothing compared to to Augusta Brew Company's - and the town was too quiet.  For those of you that enjoy history and ketchy shops on cobblestone roads St. Charles is a great place, I just recommend having a ride ready to take you out of the city.

For those of you who are pedal pushers you might want to steer away from this schedule as well.  Forty to fifty miles in a day is not strenuous.  If you prefer seventy or eighty miles a day be my guest, but as I told my friend Marty in a email, our trip will be about enjoyment not mile pushing.  I recognize that mileage is a part of touring and the fact the you must pedal your way home holds some of the appeal, but as I learned only after I pulled a muscle in Jeff City you've got to enjoy what's out there just off the trail.  An entire "cottage economy" has grown around this trail in the last decade and the people who own and operate the businesses couldn't be nicer.  So make sure you stop at a few wineries if that's your thing.  Eat a nice meal at least once a day.  Camp if you can't afford B&B's.  And most importantly give yourself an extra day just in case.  We needed it and it turned out to be one of the best days we had.

Epilogue

Our last day in Missouri was Easter Sunday.  We had originally intended to be home or at least on the road home that day, but plans change as they are want to do.  That Sunday was glorious and we found ourselves in the beautiful city of St. Louis.  This extra day afforded us the chance to do all the touristy things in St. Louis we couldn't do before.  So leaving our packs behind we cycled around the city.  Thanks to our friend's bike map and a well organized street system, biking St. Louis was a breeze.

We rode through downtown and stopped at the Arch.  We didn't go up it but we had a picnic along the waterfront.  The park was crowded as we were not the only ones enjoying the day.  Afterwards we biked back through downtown and headed in the direction of Lafayette Park.  It seemed only fitting to end our day in a park which bears the same name as my hometown, Lafayette, LA.  We had a wonderful Easter brunch at, you guessed it, another brewery. That make the total four breweries in six days.

The Square One Brewery/Distillery has gone through many names, but one clever slogan, "the spirits of St. Louis."  They were serving their normal brunch menu as well as a special Easter Sunday Brunch Buffet.  The waitress convinced me to order what I thought would be disgusting, a Beermosa - orange juice and beer.  Upon her recommendation I had the OJ with their Sterling IPA and the taste was phenomenal!  The sweetness of the OJ complimented the bitterness of the hops to give it the right feel for springtime, and a unique way to end a tour.

Katy Trail 2012: Day 5

Day 5

Augusta to St. Charles 25 miles

Highlights: Defiance, St. Charles, Trailhead Brewing Co, St. Charles Riverfront, Homecoming

Though the night was a little cold the high-caloric beer kept us warm.  We awoke the next morning and had a leisurely breakfast.  There was a convenience store in Augusta towards the top of the hill where you could buy supplies, but we just ate leftover cobbler and I drank too much coffee.  We lingered perhaps a bit too long to allow our tents to dry in the sun, but time didn't matter too much.  The end of the line was a short 25 miles to the quaint town of St. Charles.

The first obstacle we encountered that day was water. Save for at the brewery there was no water to be found. The trailhead at Augusta had a latrine, but no running water. We looked at the maps and it seemed that this was the case for the remainder of the trail - the next furnished trailhead was past St. Charles. We were incensed indeed, and we weren't the only ones. At several of the trailheads, most notably Greens Bottom right outside of St. Charles, graffiti signs indicated the lack of water for the next 30+ miles and even offer some colorful language to fully impart the frustration of the situation.

We filled up at a hose, not sure of the quality of the water, but comforted by its presence. The day was gorgeous and being a Saturday the trail was busier than I had ever seen it. We rolled out just as the brewery was opening and the people were already line up at the bar. It was tempting to stay for one more round, but we had another location in mind for lunch, St. Charles' Trailhead Brewing Company.  For those of you keeping track that the third brewery of our visit.

With our water of questionable quality we stopped at the quaint little town of Defiance, MO.  Dana assured us its downtown was just off the trail and we could find sustenance at a local biker bar - that's biker bar, not cyclist.  But the leather-clad barkeep was exceedingly nice and in addition to filling our water she indulged my sense of nostalgia by showing off her antique Falstaff Tapper, one of the first commercially available personal draft systems in the US.

We left Defiance's downtown without stopping at their winery or their ice-cream stand.  Oh well.  The green canopy of the trail was as lush as ever, and the weekend warriors were out enjoying the day.  The trail was congested to say the least.  Everyone was very amicable and they all wanted to chat about where we were going or how long we had been traveling.  We were happy to recount our journey and it was obvious that Missourians took a great deal of pride in their trail.

Not to be ungrateful or discourteous, we answered their questions but kept up a swift pace.  We were in a hurry to be finished with our 5 day ordeal.  Even with - or perhaps because of - our equipment we outpaced other cyclists on the mostly downhill path into St. Charles.  This trip we certainly learned what mid-western courtesy was and all about had our ears talked off more than once - not that we minded.  On our way into town we made friends with Joey, another traveler and self-proclaimed "booster for Missouri."  No one took greater pride in his state.

We traded stories about our journeys.  Joey was coming from Columbia to be with his parents for Easter.  They lived just on the other side of the river outside St. Charles.  He packed very light and was only on the trail for two days.  Which meant that he made it from Columbia to the trail - some 8 or 9 miles - to McKittrick - another 70 - then renegade camped - a Katy Trail no-no - to wake up and bike to St. Charles - another 65 miles.  We were impressed with his speed and determination, and decided that one person could move faster and regulate stop times more easily than half a dozen.  We parted ways with Joey, but it was not the last time we would encounter this young man.

We started to regret not grabbing a bite in Defiance or even back in Augusta as the day dragged on.  Hungry, my wife and I pulled ahead and we made it to the brewery before most.  We didn't wait too long until the others started to trickle in, and who with, but Joey, Joey the liar.

Dana encountered Joey again on the trail and insisted that he join us at the brewery before journeying across the river to be with his folks.  Joey agreed then during the ride he conceded that his original story was not entirely truthful.  He did not camp on that cold cold night outside McKittrick, instead he stayed at Joey's Birdhouse - no relation - the same place our companions stayed the night before.  He just wanted to seem more hardcore.  It wasn't a big deal, just a little white lie but it caused us to question his other stories.  Had he really traveled 70+ miles on those days.  Not an impossible distance, but rigorous no doubt.

Despite the less than truthful nature of his story Joey was a nice guy.  He told us all about where he lived in Columbia and he made us wish that we had taken some time to stop there.  He talked about life in Missouri and how much he loved it and baseball.  Joey, like so many others in the mid-west, had the gift of gab.  We tried to pay for his stout but he insisted against it and left cash on the table before withdrawing.  We were left to enjoy our drinks, eat a big lunch, tour the town of St. Charles and then find our way home to St. Louis.

St. Charles was the town where Louis and Clark started their expedition out west to the Pacific Ocean.  The Katy Trail criss-crosses their supposed path and there are milestone all along marking their way as well as historic markers naming their campsites and discoveries. There are museums and statues all along St. Charles' riverfront dedicated to the two explorers and their dog.

Our way out of St. Charles seemed as monumental a task as these two had.  Joey the liar took the path across the Page Avenue Extension Bridge over the river.  A possible exit plan was to leave a car on the other side of this bridge waiting for us in the parking lot when we arrived.  This bridge leads to Creve Coeur County Park, a large park in a northwestern suburb of St. Louis.  From here bikekatytrail.com has some recommended paths leading to downtown St. Louis.  We poured through these options and read the comments trying to determine the safest, quickest path.  Basically it doesn't exist.  We could have made a dash for the airport and caught the metro to downtown, or we could have followed a long path through the park through the suburbs.  Either path was dangerous and both added 30+ miles to our journey.  Luckily our new friend Dana arranged a ride for us.  Her husband met us in St. Charles with his electrician's van and all 5 of our bikes fit in the back.  We made our way back to St. Louis via Nicole's brother, had dinner in their neighborhood, and slept like angels.

Katy Trail 2012: Day 4

Day 4
McKittrick/Hermann to Augusta 35 miles
Highlights: Tin Mill Brewery, Sausage, Augusta Brewing Company, Augusta Beer Garden 

We awoke the next morning slightly groggy from the night before, but Maggie Meyers had the cure.  She and Eldan had  a full pot of coffee ready to go, as well as a wonderful breakfast.  Maggie's pancakes are famous, and deservedly so.  Eldan showed us the story about them written up in National Geographic Traveler.  They are made with oats, topped with bananas and filled with all kinds of goodness.  I have a theory about pancakes, that one cannot finish all the pancakes on one's plate regardless of how many there are - that no matter the quantity you will be unable to finish the last one.  In other words if you want to eat 2 pancakes you must order 3.  Well that theory did not hold water in Maggie's Kitchen.  My wife and I ate up all three of our powerhouse pancakes followed by scrambled eggs and cheese and ending with almond teacakes.  It sure beat the energy bars we had been eating for breakfast the past few days.

So my wife and I are pretty much in love with Hermann, MO.  That morning we left our bags in McKittrick and headed back into the city, this time planning to tour their downtown brewery and enjoy the sunshine.  We got there at 11, when it was suppose to open, but I guess they too were a little groggy that morning as the sign still indicated closure.

The Winemakers of Hermannhoff Welcome You

So we biked around the downtown unencumbered and got more coffee and tea.  We visited the river front and the Amtrak station we had passed earlier on the train to Sedalia.  The Hermanhoff Festhalle is where their festivals take place.  They have Oktoberfest there every weekend in October as well as wine stomping and sausage parties.  It turns out, in keeping with German tradition, that Hermann houses a world class sausage house, though sadly we could not partake due to unfortunate timing with a Lenten resolution.

We did not visit any wineries - I don't care much for the stuff - but we did see the rolling vineyards and sunny tasting area.  The brewery finally opened up and we had beer and snacks all afternoon.  In addition to the Red Caboose and Midnight Whistle the brewery had Skyscraper Pilsner, First Street Wheat, and two specialty beers - the Imperial Pilsner and the Hopplebock, a hoppier interpretation of their Dopplebock.  We stayed in their beer garden and enjoyed the beautiful day snacking on sour kraut and other German fare.

 

Unfortunately we couldn't stay in Hermann all day.  We returned to McKittrick to gather our things and hit the trail with new found vigor and enthusiasm.  My leg wasn't even bothering me.  The air was crisp and still a bit chilly, but when the sun was out it was glorious. 

We followed the river for  a time and enjoyed ourselves immensely.  It was already late in the day but somehow that didn't seem to matter.  The first part of our voyage was a lot of pavement pushing - well, crushed limestone pushing - but our time in Hermann left us with a new sense of enjoyment and satisfaction;  That perhaps the most enjoyable part of the Katy trail is not the trail itself, but the amazing places on the way.  That maybe here or there is better than between here or there, and we should stop and smell the roses more often.

The day dragged on into dusk and we were overdue to check into our campsite at Klondike Park, two or three miles past the town of Augusta.  The town itself was strange, almost as strange as the ghost town of Franklin/New Franklin.  Whereas in Franklin there were trailers and the howls of dogs, in Augusta there was only houses on a hill and the roar of dirt bike engines.  Augusta seemed like quiet little settlement but the people there must have been in a hurry because nearly all of the vehicles peeled out with outrageous tire squeals and tore off into the night.  Really the prize at the end of the Augusta rainbow, the reason we intended to stop here - and this should come as no surprise - was the Augusta Brewing Company.

The town of Augusta, MO sit atop a large hill.  We did not traverse that hill instead we remained at its base, right where the Brewpub's beer garden was.  We started with the idea of buying a couple of growlers and taking them back to camp, but after examining their menu we decided to stick around for food and suds.  The food was wonderful and the beer was world class.  If Herman's brewery encompasses the German tradition, this brewery embraces the new world style of brewing - the anything goes style of American craft ale. We had their pale ale, their IPA, their award winning stout, their aged farmhouse saison, and the uniquely American Pumpkin Ale.

Betraying the quality of their brew, I believe the town of Augusta is named for that patron saint of St. Louis suds, Augusta Busch, founder of Busch Beer and Budweiser.  My friend Marty noted that he and his St. Louis Brewery University have a long standing history in the area because "hey, not just anyone can make shitty beer."  Be that as it may I discovered a unique fact about Augusta beer while reading the Saison beer label, it's not brewed in Augusta.  It's brewed in the neighboring town across the river, Labadie, a city whose claim to fame is a coal power plant.  Perhaps its the extra charge in the air or the soot gives Augusta beer its wonderful flavor.  At least the plant is not nuclear, then the beer might glow in the dark. 

In addition to their wonderful brew their food is excellent, gourmet even though I am no expert on that matter.  I had veggie stir fry with wild rice and my wife had seared tuna salad, fresh as I've ever tasted.  I was incredibly surprised with the excellent food, beer, and hospitality of a town as tiny as Augusta.  It truly is a culinary oasis right off the trail.  The restaurant, an open air dining hall, closed for the night, but even after closing they allowed us to stay in their beer garden and enjoy their fire.  We did end up getting those growlers and enjoying the libations all through the night while tending the fire.  I couldn't imagine a better way to spend our last night on the trail.

Katy Trail 2012: Day 3

Day 3

Tebbetts to McKittrick/Hermann 30 miles

Highlights: Cold, Meyer's Bed & Breakfast on the Hill, Joey's Birdhouse, Hermann, Tin Mill Beer

God bless Tebbetts and the Turner Katy Trail Hostel.  This shelter was a former grocery store around the turn of the (twentieth) century.  It has now been restored and maintained by the Conservation Foundation of Missouri Charitable Trust.  It is a functioning hostel with hot showers, a fridge, toaster ovens, microwaves, and various mugs, plates and silverware.  It houses over 40 bunk beds, and though they operate on a first-come first-serve basis they have never all been filled.  Someone commented on how much the rows of bunk beds resembled the illustrations in the children's books Madeline, only with less nuns. We made it to the hostel past 9 o'clock that night.  Though it was locked, we had instruction as to where to find the key; outside, available for anyone who knew where to look.

We arrived cold and wet and tired.  We took a few minutes to explore the place and I confess to totally geeking out about how neat it was.  Granted it was a little spooky being there alone at night.  If any of us would have had unprotected teenage sex and/or drugs I'm sure a guy in a hockey mask and machete would make us pay for it, but we were too tired for debauchery that night so no homicidal maniacs. 

In addition to the furnishings listed earlier there was a large picnic table inside and two more outside.  Aside each bunk was a lockable cabinet to store your stuff should you decide to leave the hostel unencumbered for a time, we of course didn't need it as we had the whole place to ourselves.  Upstairs there are more bunk beds and even a ping-pong table!  Nice.  There is a spacious balcony good for enjoined the sights of Tebbetts;  You can clearly see both grain silos from there.

But without a doubt the best feature of the hostel is their bike room.  It has a ton of tools, some donated bikes available for day use, and even a bike stand to prop your bike up with while you work on it.  We stored our bikes here overnight and the next morning spent several hours getting them back into working condition.  We removed the caked on limestone crud, oiled our chains, and tightened our shifter cables.  All of this plus a luxurious breakfast caused us to get a very late start, not leaving until 1 or 2 in the afternoon.
 

Farther down the road we spoke to a B and B operator who was voicing concerns about the hostel.  It's openness could possibly lend itself to unsavory characters.  I can see that possibility.  All the websites and guidebooks I've read recommended bringing ear plugs in case there is some wild party going on.  Alone, I'd be a little concerned about my safety and I certainly wouldn't leave my wife there by herself.  All and all though I'd say this place is great.  Tebbetts didn't seem like a big place, but the presence of this oasis at the half way mark of the Katy makes this town a milestone that I will never forget and will continue to visit every time I ride the trail.
 

Even at one in the afternoon, it was cold that day.  We had originally intended to do another 60+ miles and head from Tebbetts all the way to Augusta to all but end our journey, but with our late departure from the blissful bunks of the hostel plus my new leg injury and a cold front settling in we compromised.  We opted to used our wiggle room day, Easter, and divided the 60 miles up into two days.  We would make it to Augusta after a night in Hermann, MO, an interesting town we heard a lot about.  It seemed fitting that we go there.  One of our close friends, Mr. Kirk Herrmann - two "r"s and two "n" - helped me begin another hobby of mine.  His name bears a resemblance to an attraction in that town, the Hermann Brew Company.  While the brewery has changed it name to Tin Mill Brewery it seemed worth investigating.

So Hermann is 30 miles down the Katy and then 3 miles off the trail, over the Missoruri river at a trail spur near McKittrick.  We bundled up and headed out of the Hostel to the wide open trail.


It wasn't long until we stopped, however.  We didn't make it but a few feet out of the Hostel before we realized we needed more clothes.  We bundled up more so, some with socks on their hands, and looked into accommodations for the night.  There didn't seem to be any formal camping anywhere near Hermann, but just outside the hostel we saw advertisement for some B&B's in McKittrick.  We called up two of them and our friend's got a place at Joey's Birdhouse, my wife and I at Meyer's Hilltop Farm.  Although it seemed a shame not to camp and to spend all that money, it was a weekday so it'd be cheaper and the low that night was 38!

The trail that day was more of the same.  I'm not saying that it was mundane but after a few days of the same scenery and a leg injury to dull your senses it becomes difficult to appreciate.  We made good enough time and warmed up with our blood moving.  The rock faces seemed more eroded around the river's bend, plus the steel railroad bridges were more frequent.  We were in the Missouri river delta and markers could be seen marking various floods over the years, some over half way up this rock!



We passed through many small villages with their own grain silos, but one that stood out was Rhineland.  It wasn't particularly hospitable, no trail head or water service, but it did have a glorious church, a baseball diamond and a strip mall.  For those of you with a keen eye and close attention to detail, just past the strip mall in a cave in the bluffs near a small farm, you might see this little guy:

Hullo

Partially because I stopped to take 80 pictures of this guy and partially because I was injured in the first place I fell behind the front runners in our pack.  I really pushed some pedal to catch back up but after 15-20 minutes of this my leg started to remind me what a bad idea it was.




Our party was often split up, but usually for a good reason.  It turns out McKittrick was just around the corner from Rhineland and the sun was setting.  A few of us pulled ahead and met up with Rich, who opened up Joey's Birdhouse, a one room converted store house with a kitchenette, a claw foot tub, and a Murphy bed.  My wife asked Rich if he knew where Meyer's Farm was and he pointed to a hill.  Go up that hill, he said, take a right and when you see another hill go up it. And up and up and up, he said.

Meyer's Hilltop Farm, is a Farm on top of a hill.  If that's not descriptive enough then I should note that at the highest hill in McKittrick, is another hill. Yet another hill that sits in the middle of that one marks the start of the hill Meyer's Hilltop Farm is atop.





After desperately pedaling the first hill, my wife caught the Meyer's sign at the entrance of the second hill.  She switched to her granny gear and took it.  I said "nope," got off and walked.  Halfway up that hill is a hollowed out trunk of a massive tree.  Six bikers could fit in it!  My wife was still pedaling when we passed it, though I was walking faster than her.  At this point she dismounted and we both pushed our bikes up the hill, wheezing, as Leon the Donkey looked on.




The Meyer's were lovely people, but at that point we weren't.  We entered their gorgeous home and after only a short conversation this morning via cellphone, they welcomed us with open arms.  It was a little intense at first; meeting new people in the condition we were in and seeing their warm sunny smiles while our miserable countenances betrayed our graciousness.

But without much ado we were led to our rooms.  We both felt better after a shower although I still had to limp up and down the stairs.  Maggie, the kindly matron of the establishment - originally from New Jersey - welcomed us once again with an assortment of menus for the evening.  The menus were from a variety of restaurants in downtown Hermann, across the river.  We picked an establishment from the menus and Eldan, Mr. Meyers, drove us into town and picked us up when we were ready.  It was great to be ferried across the river and Eldan was even so kind to give us a tour of his fine city.

As you might have guessed Hermann was settled by German immigrants.  It's downtown was filled with large brick buildings ornate with gables and pillars; fine masonry only a German's meticulous hands and could build.  There were shops and hotels, large festival hall, an old mill, and the former Concert Hall, now a tavern. In fact it is the Oldest Operating Tavern West of the Mississippi!

If you were wondering how Germans got to mid-west Missouri, then fear not I have an explanation.  A large population of Germans settled in Philadelphia, PA.  Some of the more well-to-do members of the community made their way out here on the railroad and admired the rolling hills and winding path of the river.  It reminded them so much of the fatherland, they brought many others from PA to settled the area.  Passing though Rhineland, MO earlier it all suddenly made sense.  The Germans were so in love with the area and optimistic they built the streets of Hermann twice as big as the streets of Philly, thinking it'd grow to twice the size.  I guess they couldn't stand the inefficiency of street congestion.

In Hermann, the German traditions remain, and unlike more conservative areas of the mid-west, their attitudes towards good times seem to be positive.  Their festivals are supposed to be quite a spectacle, and the fact that it is attached to a bike trail lends itself to a safe good time for everyone.  There are two wineries in town and a third not far away as well as a brewery, Tin Mill, in the heart of downtown that makes wonderful, traditional German beer.  We were only in Hermann for a night and another afternoon, but you could feel the sense of community through the town.  At dinner they served the local beer and wine.  The aforementioned tavern's wine cellars were filled with local vintage, and though they had Bud and Coors in cans, their draft was strictly Tin Mill.  My wife particularly enjoyed the Midnight Whistle Dopplebock and I their Red Caboose Amber lager.  Gotta admit that was the best full flavored lager I've ever had, sorry Abita Amber.

Eldan picked us up at the tavern around 10:30 and was happy to drive us home to a warm bed and rest.

Katy Trail 2012: Day 2

Day 2:

New Franklin to Jefferson City to Tebbetts 65 miles.

Highlights: Loose Limestone, Diana Bend Conservation Area, Hellacious Hills, Pulled Hamstring, Reunion

Day 2 we awoke from our campsite around 9.  The shade provided at campsite 12 allowed us to sleep in a bit longer than the usual tent slumber period.  We went about at a slower pace, but surprisingly neither of us were sore from the day before.  We made a hearty breakfast of eggs and beans in tortillas then made tuna pita sandwiches for lunch on the trail.  We didn't actually hit the road until 11 and we still biked more than any other day.

Just outside of New Franklin was the most flat and barren of all the terrain we'd encountered thus far.  The trail stretched for miles and with the area so flat you could see all of the nothingness.  However as we neared the Missouri river the terrain did a complete 180.  Rocks started to appear.  Then bluffs.  Then we were riding alongside a huge rock face on one side and swamps on the other.  We had entered the Diana Bend Conservation Area.

The conservation area was beautiful.  Probably the most beautiful scenery on the whole trail - though my opinion could have been colored by the strong juxtaposition with area around New Franklin.  It was here that we saw buzzards living in the bluffs circling the swamps, harks soaring through the air, and our first trail snake! Bum Bum BUMMM!

My wife hates snakes, but they are quite common on the trail.  The first one we encountered was just off the trail, but we ran into a couple sunning right in the middle.  Mostly they were black in color and likely non-poisonous, mostly.

The Diana Ben Conservation Area ended at the city of Rocheport.  The entrance to the town was a tunnel carved out of the very rock that surrounded it.  It was bad ass.  We were charged about the scenery and we spent some time in Rocheport snacking and enjoying the glorious weather.  I'd highly recommend Rocheport.  Although we didn't stray far from the trail there were several park areas and side trails that led to green spaces and lush wilderness.  The conservation area continued as well.  On the other side of the tunnel it snaked around the bluffs with a lovely walking path.

We couldn't linger long in Rocheport. We had to meet up with our friends.  You see there was a few snags in our initial plans.  One of those was that St. Louis' Amtrak could only transport 4 bikes at a time, really not enough room for that; -1 for Amtrak.  We reserved our seats ahead of time along with 2 other women who boarded the train just outside of the city.  So our St. Louis traveling companions could not board with us.  Because of this, my wife and I spent the first day by ourselves.  On the second day they got on the same train from St. Louis, but only took it to Jefferson City.  Being further east, they arrived at 11:30, got lunch, and headed on the trail west while we headed east.

The original locomotive line must have been carved into the cliffs in this area as the trail was wedged between the rock face and the river.  I wasn't complaining.  The ground was quite flat, the limestone quite compact, and there was always something to look at.  We passed through the riverside shanty town of McBane.  As usual the trailhead history charts proclaimed this settlement as a former railroad boom town now in decline since it shutdown.  It's only claim to fame now is a water refinery whose artificial levee made it one of the few places that didn't flood in 1993.  As I understand it they call that *the* flood or the great flood.

Another notable fact about McBaine is that here is the Columbia Spur, an 8.8 miles shoot off that leads to the hip town of Columbia.  My wife's cousin used to live in that town and, after he talked it up, we intended on hanging out there.  He moved, however, before our trip so we ended up avoiding it altogether in favor of catching up with our travel partners and spending some time Jefferson, the capital city, some 25 miles further.

We passed by numerous settlements along the riverfront.  Most seemed like camps that were only in use at certain times in the season.  Some had full sized houses with make-shift general stores in them.  Advertisements for beer and food tantalized me, but we pressed on.  I almost lost it when we passed by Chim's Thai Restaurant.  I mean seriously, a Thai restaurant along the Katy trail nestled between RV's, tents and lawn chairs.  It turns out they have a location in Jefferson City and Columbia - I paused to note the Jeff City location while ascending the worst hill of my life!



Around 4 o'clock the clouds rolled in.  A strong head wind hit us and the sound of distant thunder could be heard.  It was at this time that I really noticed the utter flatness of Missouri.  Louisiana is flat and all but Missouri's stretching nothingness allowed us to see for miles.  The iPhone radar said the rain was passing very south of us, but I swear I could see it hitting some areas within our view.

We pulled in to Hartsburg.  You might guess it was a quaint little town with bed and breakfasts and eateries - Dotty's has got all you need - but the camping there is just a city park.  They'll let you camp but a fire or facilities is questionable.



What's that up ahead?  Could it be?  Our friends Marty and Nicole on their twin Long Haul Truckers coming down the road!  They had been biking east out of the capital, Jefferson City.  After lunch, and a meeting with their local congressman, we met up here in Hartsburg.

These guys gave us a second wind that carried us through the rest of the long day.  We found ourselves 10 miles down the road at N. Jefferson.  I don't know if North Jefferson is a town proper or just an area near Jefferson City much like New Franklin was to Franklin.  What I do know is that our arrival into Jefferson City started the beginning of what turned out to be the most miserable night of the trip.

I'm sure Jefferson City is a lovely town, but goddamn those hills!  The city proper is only 5 miles off the trail, but first is this gigantic gangplank to reach the bridge.  You must spiral around 5 ramps before reaching the crossing.

Once you do make it over the bridge you are met with a busy intersection and a total loss of bike lane.  Taking a left past 2 roads of traffic fully loaded, we then plummeted down a huge hill to be dropped off at the bottom of a equally steep hill this time ascending.

This new hill faced the capital building, which was gorgeous.  Puritan preacher, John Winthrop's "city on a hill" allusions were not lost on the good people of Missiouri.  We continued to climb; past the capital building, past other government facilities, past Chim's Thai Restaurant - hey! - until we met up with our new friend Dana Gray. 

Dana had tossed in with Marty and Nicole in St. Louis to join our tour.  She had gotten dropped off in Jeff City and actually visited with her congressman concerning bicycle policies.  While Marty and Nicole forged ahead to meet up with us, Dana scouted the area for places of interest.

We didn't arrive in North Jefferson until 5 or 6 and making our way through the hellish capital hills we met her at a pub 30 minutes later.  A few moments after we arrived, the rain started.  The food was just ok, but we were all thankful to have drinks that were cold and wet and to be somewhere warm and dry.

Perhaps what followed was our fault.  Our merry-making might have lasted too long.  The number of pints quaffed might have been too many, but we left that town close to 7:30 and didn't hit the trail until well after dark.  Our destination for that evening was Tebbetts.  There is a fantastic bike hostel there with bunk beds and showers for an honor donation of $5 per person per night.  It was about 10 to 12 miles away from N. Jefferson.  If you think we were cramming too much into one day I think you are correct.

So it was raining.  It was dark.  Real dark.  Missouri dark.  Clouds and rain and nothing else.  We had at least an hour ride.  It was at this point that I started to feel a strain in my leg.  While riding those hills through the capital city I had pulled something - hard.  It would bother me for the rest of the trail and slow us down considerably. 

I won't tell you about how we made it.  I won't tell you about the noctural night life on the trail.  I won't tell you about the conditions of the hostel.  Just reliving this day has tired me.  No, I shall save those stories for another day.