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 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.