Hello, folks, I've finally grouped 25 of my favorite road trip photos for your more organized viewing pleasure. Also, the heat in my apartment has not worked since yesterday morning. It is supposed to reach -13C tonight. I suppose I will not turn off the computer tonight. Should I try leaving the refrigerator door open?
Hey, it isn't even completely dark yet!
Provisions on the eastern half of the trail are scarce, and on Sunday I had to stop somewhere, anywhere, to eat. A ways past the small town of Steedman is an even smaller town, whose name escaped my records, but in which there was supposed to be a "Bar and Restaurant". In many of these small towns the only visible sign of life - or food, that is - are bars accessible just of the trail. Anyway, this one was closed, and for sale. I found a grocery store that sold me a deli sandwich consisting of a random assortment of ingredients smashed between two slices of bread.
Well, I ate that up in a hurry and bought my own loaf of bread, as well as peanut butter, and jelly which came in a real gas jar! From then on, I would always have something to eat, even if it was just a fingerfull of jelly.
I arrived at Easley just before dark. This campground seems like it could be a fun place on the right night, and in fact when I got there a local band was playing down by the water. I decided to go down and watch after I secured some food and a place to stay the night - but in those few minutes they had left.
I set up my tent somewhere in the middle of the site, and discovered that the headlights from cars on 94 were aimed directly at me! Fortunately traffic stopped before too late, but unfortunately, on this night the ragweed began its efforts in earnest to ensure a future crop, never minding that most of its pollen would make its way into my extremely infertile nose, and serve no greater purpose than to keep me up all night.
Summary of the second day's ride:
Here's another picture taken at Grand Bluffs.
When I got back to my ride, I met a man who just pulled into the gravel parking lot in his red convertible. He seemed to be retracing the trail of Lewis and Clark, by car, instead of by bike, in honor of the bicentennial of their epic journey. I told him there was a sig at the end of the trail by a scenic overlook, but I think he decided it wasn't worth the hike. I don't understand the adventure he was on, but I hope he enjoyed it.
OK! Time to return to the tales of yesteryear…
Saturday night as I arrived at the campsite in the dark, there was a kind of kitchen in a 3-wall structure where one could purchase snacks and drinks on the honor system. I had a ton of snacks, paid for them, and pushed my bike up the hill to find a campsite. I didn't see anybody around, but the noise from the road made me expect to see carloads of people pull in at any time and disturb my peace. As it was, no one else showed up.
I slept late into Sunday morning, and did not get going until almost noon. A mile or less from the campsite there was a sign for the "Grand Bluffs Conservation Area", advertised as less than a mile up a gravel road. I decided to do some sightseeing and check it out.
The conservation area is primarily wooded. There was a trail out to a scenic outlook, which I arrived at just as a truck was leaving. I grabbed a walking stick and set out on a journey along the trail to where no man had been before!
The journal that I kept only says of the trail that it was "steep", which is probably true. Actually, when I started this series on my 2004 trip I had considered copying entries from my journal, but the tone of the text complains far too often. No great literary work was to come out of this trip. Anyway, I suppose on a bike trip like this at the time I took it, it was hot, I was hungry, my legs hurt, and my nose was plagued by allergies. Of course, a year later these things aren't bothering me.
Anyway, the footpath went up and down some hills until arriving at the scenic overlook. Well, wouldn't you know that Lewis and Clark had already been there, and erected a sign about how they looked out over the Missouri to map the river.
The river's moved since then, and the valley is now mostly farms and highways. I grabbed a couple pictures and started on my way back.
Karen was the only one who flipped, in the kayak against a log while out of sight of Jon and me. She took home some scratches on her leg as reminder of her first float trip - I hope those heal soon!
The van driver who drove us back to the rental center at the end of the float was trying to make conversation by telling outrageous tales, including being able to drive the 8 miles back in 4 minutes flat, and shooting his guns at "dogfighting" aircraft at night. Anyway, I was too tired and sore to argue with him, although I had to at least let him know I knew he was pulling my chain when he tried to retell this story. I'm not sure if he was trying to start an argument, or fishing for tales of gullible city-slickers to tell later.
Anyway, we ate at Ozark Orchard in town, which was pretty good. I had fish, Karen a burger, and Jon some kind of fish sandwich - and we all had root beer floats.
We rode highway 19 back, which was full of twists, turns, and impatient locals whom I fully willed to pass me when they had the opportunity. During the drive, Karen took pictures of our sunburned feet, which I will refrain from posting here. Mine look pretty purple today.
Here's a picture of the sunset someone managed to snap on the ride home. The sun was pretty far gone by the time we pulled up to my apartment at 11, but it was a beautiful day.
This is a quick break from Katy tour posts for some shots I took on my ride yesterday.
I'm not sure what to call this terrain. For about 3 miles between St Charles and Weldon Springs on the Katy Trail, there is a section that looks like it was once forest, that has now been flooded. The trunks of the trees still stand there, dead and branchless.
