Monday, November 26, 2007

Bike tour 2007

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October 28, 2007
Sunday
In Clinton, Missouri

We left Tulsa around 9:30 this morning in the VW wagon with Denise riding shotgun, my father in the backseat, and the tandem perched on the roof rack. After a failed attempt at lunch in Baxter Springs at a restaurant currently vacant yet recently featured on The Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives” we drove a few more miles until I saw a sign for Chicken Annie’s, just south of Pittsburg, Kansas. Checking the clock I saw that we were a good half-hour ahead of the Sunday church crowd, and yet the parking lot was filled with pickup trucks and a few expensive sedans, which I took as a good indication of what we’d find inside. Sure enough, Annie’s offers very good fried chicken and quite exceptional onion rings. Later we’d see signs for Chicken Mary’s. A family chicken feud?

As we neared Clinton and the start of the Katy Trail, I began to understand that Dad would soon drive away in the VW, and Denise and I would be in Clinton, Missouri with a bicycle and a map. We found the Safari Motel, unloaded the bike, and were reassured by my father who, when saying goodbyes, reminded us, “Remember, I can come and get you any time.” Dad, can’t you see the sign? It’s a safari, and we’ll get there. But, still, that was a nice safety net to have.

We did some minor reassembly of the bicycle in the motel room, and took off to find the Katy trailhead and see what there is to see in Clinton. It’s an old Midwest town with a downtown square and an old depot that hasn’t seen railroad duty since the MKT line was discontinued. We found dinner at Pizza Glen, which we were assured by our motel owner was better than the nearer Pizza Hut.

Stoker's notes -- Starting point for the Katy Trail portion of our ride. After Paul dropped us off today we immediately began to reassemble the tandem and attach the Arkel panniers. Two in front to carry tools, raincoats, and necessities. Two larger ones in back contain our clothing. The front fender was a bit wonky from the ride on top of the wagon. Chris tweaked and bent it to prevent rubbing and it seemed we were ready. We both laughed and grinned big with excitement and giddiness as our adventure begins.

A quick tour of Clinton revealed a typical small town with a nice square and main street. It’s Sunday night and the shops are closed tight. Our first of probably many dinners at local pizza joints. -- Denise



Sign of the Day: “No Smoking On Church Grounds”
-- Sir, please take your burning bush to the sidewalk.


October 29, 2007
Monday
In Sedalia, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 46

Breakfast pancakes were chosen out of a Rubbermaid container as we ate with the motel owner and his cronies. No one seemed to understand our choice of travel. The trail out of Clinton was pleasant, if not terribly interesting. Pastoral, and occasionally canopied, the Katy was little traveled today, as we passed only one cyclist and one pedestrian.



The morning was a little cool, but the sun was out and once we got going I was very comfortable under my fleece vest, wool zip up, and wool cycling jersey. The wool tights were worth their high price.

The pancakes didn’t last us very long, and we pulled over in Windsor to search for second breakfast. We were too late for breakfast at the Wagon Wheel, so we settled on first lunch instead. Entertainment was provided across the street when a guy in a maroon minivan with a white driver’s door came out of the Dollar General store with a can of bright red spray paint and commenced painting his driver’s door right on the street. No masking tape. No consideration for the white sedan that was parked next to him, downwind. And no forethought, because once he finished he didn’t know how to open the door without messing up his work. I imagine his wife yelling that she’s tired of driving around in a minivan with different colored panels, and would he please get it painted. Hey, why pay a professional?



In Sedalia we checked in to the Sho Me Motel, and later explored town. Dinner at El Tapatio where Denise had the worst chile relleno of her life.

Stoker's notes -- First day on the bike, just over 40 miles with town touring included. The weather was cool so we started with layers, shedding them as the day warmed.

Chris often asks what I’m thinking about while he’s watching the road, the Cat Eye, reading maps, and switching gears. I’m in the stoker position with no work to be done except pedaling – somewhat mindlessly when the terrain is flat. I’m watching the scenery. Noting the fields, colors, weather and thinking about knitting, yarn and people. -- Denise




Sign of the Day: “High Point - 955 feet” along the Katy Trail, yet impossible to know without being told. The Katy is flat.

October 30, 2007
Tuesday
In Boonesville, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 38

The motel clerk had recommended The Red Apple for breakfast, so that’s where we headed this morning, and even got a ham sandwich to go for lunch, which, judging from the map we seemed unlikely to find en route.

Not a lot happens on the Katy Trail. Generally one just pedals, gathers thoughts, enjoys the different way of life, and checks the Cateye for indications of slacking. But we weren’t alone on the trail today for a few yards. Denise spotted deer over to our left, on the edge of a pasture making use of the treeline next to the trail. They’d spotted us first, because when I looked up they were on the move, running with us. One doe crossed the trail in front of us, and we slowed down because where there’s one there’s likely to be another. Moments later an eight point buck joined us on the trail, his hind legs jutting out behind as he sped ahead of us and followed the first doe off to our right. They had both passed probably 50 feet ahead of us.

There are mile markers every mile along the trail, decreasing from west to east. I probably saw four of them today, so focused I was on avoiding bumps, sticks, and a couple of snakes. I count on Denise for color commentary as we roll along.



Tonight we’re at the Hotel Frederick, a worthwhile splurge. During an afternoon walk around town we hoped to find a coffee shop, and asked a woman filling up her car at a a gas station for advice. I should have checked her license tag first. “I’m from North Dakota,” she said, “I don‘t even know what a coffee shop is!”

Dinner at a pizza and pasta place across from the courthouse. Ehhh.

Stoker's notes -- Early in the ride today I had Chris stop so I could tramp back and pick up an Osage orange to show him the pebbly skinned fruit. After telling him they could be used for dying yarn he asked what color and I went into a rattle about mordents effecting the color in dying – until I saw his shoulders shaking and realized he wasn’t listening. Just laughing. Way more info than he really cared to hear, but when you get a knitter talking about yarn - we’ll just keep talking.

Lined with cornfields and cattle ranches, most of the trail is flat with very little grade, which means constant pedaling. We take breaks to shed clothes and rest our butts.

Chris was doing his job of checking gizmos and watching the road while I pedaled and watched the scenery as it passed his shoulder into my view. Suddenly I saw three deer to my left just beyond the fence line. They were running parallel our trail as I pointed to them and called out “Deer!” Then I saw the lead doe cut right and I knew she’d leap the fence and cross the trail in front of us, which she did, and just as swiftly cleared the fence on our right and was lost in the woods. On our left a younger doe and buck, running faster than we could pedal, continued looking for a place to cross. We began to slow down when I saw they were cutting right to cross the pass and follow the leader. There wasn’t time to stop or pull out the camera before the buck, with six to eight points, was directly in front of us. His size was staggering! We had an adrenaline rush for a mile afterward because of the excitement.

Today we encountered a few people on the trail – more than yesterday. The only ones of note were two older women from Clifton City. Helmetless and in jeans, they caught up with us when we stopped to eat the ham sandwich we’d bought to take with us from breakfast. This was only their second day out and they hadn’t ridden in over twenty years we were told by the louder chubbier of the two. She’s trying to get in shape to street minister during Mardi Gras. I don’t think she’ll be much appreciated or successful either. She seemed to want kudos for her upcoming efforts. The quieter of the two was in better shape than her friend and leading the way. She had great long gray hair. I wish I’d told her how much I liked it.

We’re staying in Boonville at the Hotel Frederick. It’s a beautifully renovated old hotel and a nice contrast to the tacky casino/resort that we passed coming into town. The décor is rich and dark. In colors of greens, golds, rusts, and yellows. Thick towels and robes, honey colored wood and copper pipe heating, including the towel rack. Unfortunately it’s not cold enough to fire up yet.

This town though isn’t much. Maybe because we’re in the older downtown area, just along the river. I don’t know what industry keeps the town alive other than the large bread company and gambling. Surely that can’t be all. Even the few citizens we spoke to don’t seem impressed or enthused about their home. -- Denise




Person of the Day: Jack, in Sedalia, who had spotted us outside Walgreen’s last night and recognized us again today at breakfast in the Red Apple. He’s a biker, and offered the services of his Jeep dealership if we needed anything.

October 31, 2007
Wednesday
In Hartsburg, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 39

The scenery gets better as we go east. In fact, I think the way to do the Katy Trail is to leave a car in Sedalia, blow off the Clinton to Sedalia leg, ride to St. Charles and them take Amtrak back to Sedalia. At Rocheport we finally began riding alongside the Missouri River. Limestone bluffs overlook the trail and river. I was more appreciative of the scenery today. A trip like this can be reduced to numbers -- mileage, average speed, cost of lodging, and number of breakfasts, but those numbers are a way to quantify. Yes, we’re getting to our destination. Maybe I was a little uncertain when we started, but travel mode has taken over, and I’m not as concerned about quantifying everything. I barely looked at the odometer today.



We’re at the Globe Hotel tonight, a hotel built in 1893 to service the railroad workers. These days, innkeeper Jeanette houses 99% bicyclists. Dotty’s café is the diner in town, and we were there for a late lunch and an early dinner. Dotty’s is decorated with 50’s nostalgia, with an emphasis on Elvis. While we waited for our cheeseburgers, Denise and I scribbled on a napkin to determine her connection to the King. Denise’s father’s mother was a cousin to Elvis’ mother, or something like that. Not close enough to get a Cadillac, but Denise can curl her lip like Elvis.



It’s Halloween, and Hartsburg is hopping. The population sign on the edge of town says 108, and Jeanette predicts she’ll hand out 100 Capri Suns before the night is over. We sit on the porch with her as she hands out treats, and are amazed at the names she can recall. As the evening goes on the trick-or-treaters begin to get older, and then farther and fewer between. A minivan pulls up to Jeanette’s with two hybrid bicycles in back. A middle-aged couple gets out, and they’ll be sharing the hotel with us. It turns out they’re from Tulsa, and live about three miles from us. They’re spot riding the Katy -- driving to a locale, riding a little and taking photographs, and then returning to the car to go back to the hotel. That certainly makes sense as a way to make time, but it’s a different kind of trip that ours.

November 1, 2007
Thursday
To Rhineland, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 50

Breakfast was with Jeanette and the Tulsa couple. Jeanette must be a vegetarian, because there was no bacon no sausage no sausage gravy no ham no sentient being of any sort for breakfast. I considered asking for a side of sentient being, but thought better of it. But breakfast at the Globe was good and generous, especially because Jeanette forced bagels and muffins on us when we left.

We dug into those muffins at about the 17 mile mark when we stopped on a little wooden bridge for a mid-morning break. The sun was shining, and we sat with our backs against the railing, facing into the southern sun on a cool morning. We had no car, were in the middle of rural Missouri eating leftovers, and agreed that our situation was much preferable to those with a car. Travel mindset had begun.

A stop at the Riverview Bar and Grill provided a lunch of a shared hamburger and French fries. For the first time in over a year I had a Pepsi with my meal. It just sounded right.

At Rhineland we were faced with a minor unexpected hurdle. In 1993, when the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers flooded, Rhineland was hard-hit. Houses were underwater, and in an attempt to keep the same problem from happening again, the residents were required to move their homes up the nearby hill. I’d been given directions to the Loutre Lane Bed and Breakfast when I made reservations, part of which were go uphill to the right, but wow, what a hill after 150 miles on the flat Katy. We made it up, and found our B&B. Our host drove us back downhill for dinner at the bar where it was dollar hamburger night. A double hamburger day didn’t sound right, so we ordered off the menu. One problem with the Katy is the predominance of bar food.

Our biggest physical difficulty so far hasn’t been our legs or butts, rather it’s my right ankle where a tendon is sore and creaky. After dinner at the bar we hiked back up the hill, and I really felt some pain. Ibuprofen helped enough. We were in bed by 9:30.

Stoker's notes -- We left the Globe Inn in Hartsburg with frost on the ground and a quiet Methodist from Tulsa seeing us off, his wife sipping her tea inside.

An uneventful but beautiful day on the Katy, we continued to stop and read the Lewis and Clark historical markers, often just for the butt break.

In preparation for the trip I’d read most of the Lewis and Clark journals and was kicking myself for bringing a novel and not the journals with me.

We had a second breakfast sitting in the sun on a bridge laughing and congratulating ourselves on the freedom of our ride. The grass was wet from melted frost, despite the cold we were warm and happy.

The town of Rhineland was divided into Upper and Lower Rhineland after the flood of 1993, the most recent of the great floods along the Missouri River. You enter Lower Rhineland on the Katy Trail but the B&B where we were staying was atop a serious hill at the end of a 50 mile day. We managed to ride up the hill, but not without some groaning and cursing on my part. The day we left Rhineland was another cold and frosty morning but a great ride. I especially liked when we’re along the Missouri River. The leaves are falling now with gusto. -- Denise



November 2, 2007
Friday
To Washington, Missouri



We got to go down that hill this morning at 25 mph in a chilly fog. Breakfast at the bar didn’t give us much energy it seemed, as we were a bit lethargic today. Perhaps the anticipation of tomorrow as a rest day slowed us down.

The Treloar Bar and Grill is worth returning to. We arrived shortly after 11:00 and stopped for a hamburger after I’d read about the place. It was a bar, but better that average bar food, served by a knowledgeable and talkative guy who seems content with his work.

At Dutzow, which is mile marker 74 on the Katy, we left the trail for good and set off on roads. The Katy is very easy for bikers -- there is no fear of cars, save the frequent road crossings, and the chat provides a constant sound and sense of motion and progress. Once we were on pavement again, we immediately gained about 4 mph in speed and felt fast for the first time all day. The chat must add some drag. Still, the Katy is a good ride.

We’d been on the north side of the Missouri River since Boonesville, and had to cross it to get to Washington. It’s a strict two lane bridge, and if there was no oncoming traffic I would get to my right and give cars plenty of room to pass us. If there was oncoming traffic, however, I would take up our lane to keep from getting squeezed. After the bridge, on which most drivers gave us plenty of courtesy, one guy in a pickup absolutely let us have it. I’ve been a biker all of my life, and I’ve been yelled at a few times, as most people have. This was exceptional, not for his language which was pretty expected and unimaginative, but for his ferocity and tenacity. The guy who was yelling wasn’t even driving -- perhaps he can’t -- and I’m not afraid of him ever reading this, because, again -- perhaps he can’t. He and his buddy passed us, sat at a stoplight 100 feet ahead of us as the passenger continued to berate, and turned left and pulled into a gas station, still yelling. We rolled on, and they probably put a good portion of a paycheck into the pickup. Good luck fellers. I hope whatever problem you have gets addressed, because we sure weren’t it.

We found the Super 8 Motel, and rolled the bike into the room. After a nap we called a taxi to take us back into old Washington for dinner. Our taxi driver, Denise, was helpful and generous, taking us to several downtown restaurants and reporting what she knew about them. We chose the American Bounty, and while we were menu shopping a young waitress noted that, in addition to the downstairs dining, they had an upstairs that was more casual. I looked down at my socks, sandals, and travel pants and laughed. “Oh, you think that’s better for us, do you? We’re traveling by bicycle, and this is as good as it’s going to get!” She laughed, too, but took us upstairs none the less.

After a very good meal we called for the taxi again, but instead of our earlier driver we got a guy who does magic and drives the taxi on the side. When he learned of the lavender business he got excited, but for the wrong reason. “So, you own your own business! That’s great! Listen, I belong to a group you should know about.…” and we began to get uneasy. “Since I joined I saved $4000 on a new car and got a great rate on my mortgage when I told the salesmen I was a member of this club. If you’re a Christian and want to be patriotic, you can’t miss!”

“I’m afraid we missed already,” I said, but he didn’t get my intent. “Hey, I’m just trying to help you out.” I paid the fare and gave the same tip I’d given the earlier driver. Perhaps I should have added that I didn’t think that Jesus had died so that he could get a good deal on a minivan, but I didn’t.

Stoker's notes -- We left the Katy and road the highway to Washington, MO. I flipped up my brown sweater to reveal my bright green top – hoping for extra visibility. Most of the motorists were polite, a few too close for my comfort and one redneck yelling profanities out the window of a pickup truck as he passed us on the narrow Washington bridge. We need to get bright clothing or vest with reflectors for the next leg of our ride.

The best meal, so far, of the trip was at American Bounty in Washington. We called for a taxi into Old Towne along the river. Denise, our driver, showed us the options of local fair and dropped us off. Finally something other than bar food. Traveling by bike doesn’t give you room for anything other than multi-functional sportswear. Beanies, Teva’s with socks, and pants that zip off into shorts will not get you seats in the formal dining room. They do however, get you a small table upstairs in the secluded wine bar. After a day of riding what more does one need than good food, cheese, wine, candlelight, fine service, and a loved one across the table? -- Denise





November 3, 2007
Saturday
Rest day in Washington

Today’s mileage - riding to downtown, to Lowe’s, and back.

Breakfast at the place the magician taxi driver had recommended. It wasn’t that good, so I’m sure the restaurant owner is part of his Christian business organization, and I was business sent his way. Afterward we rolled around Washington a little, saw our first taxi driver again and thanked her for the excellent dinner recommendation. We had coffees at a little shop downtown, did some laundry, and spent the rest of the day watching cable movies and fixing a couple of things on the bike. Dinner at a nearby Bar-B-Que place that was really pretty good. The waitress told us about a good spot for breakfast on our route tomorrow, so we won’t visit this morning’s place again.

November 4, 2007
Sunday
To Sullivan

Today’s mileage - 45



Our first day on pavement was refreshing. We had hills! One hill required a walkup, but no never mind -- today offered great roads. We had a noontime snack with a well-behaved dog outside a blue house with white shutters.

Sullivan, however, is a downer. It’s on I-44, and I’ve stopped here for gas before, but it isn’t much else than a lineup of the usual suspects -- Applebee’s, Steak and Shake, Pizza Hut, Cracker Barrel, and the like. Honestly, in our time here, we hit all of the above, for lunch, snack, dinner, and breakfast, respectively. That’s Sullivan.

Stoker's notes -- Sunday we hit the hills from Washington through Krakow and Union to Sullivan. This is phase two of the ride, incorporating a section of the Great Rivers South Route. The first big hill was so steep we had to walk the final third, but that was the only time. The trees here in the Ozarks are displaying their fall colors finally.

We’ve donned vests of day-glo green. Being highly visible is important, not just because of traffic. It’s hunting season and we hear shots ringing throughout the woods on both sides of the rode.

The people today were friendly and charming. We saw an older man golfing on his large rural yard, complete with cart. I called out and asked if it was the back nine. To heck to tee fees and country club dues! Later another man called to us from his front porch, a toddler son at his side. He asked about our ride and as we continued to pedal he wished us well.

There are Madonna shrines at many homes and the names on the headstones at the cemeteries we pass are largely German. I find the combination interesting and am curious about the settlement and history of the area.

Yesterday we topped 260 miles total for the ride. Breakfast at the Cracker Barrel I felt the first ping – not even a real pang – of longing for home. The smell of the fire going had me wishing for our wood stoves back home. How do the trees along the back road at the farm look? Are they shedding bright leaves? Are the deer and other critters scurrying and preparing for winter? I’m certain the answer is yes – as it should be. Nature doesn’t wait. Everything continues as it must whether we’re there to witness the changing season or not.

In The Unbearable Lightness of Being the author details four types of people and the attention they crave. How can we expect realistically to garner any constant attention when the world and Nature continues on her merry way, regardless of our presence? -- Denise



November 5, 2007
Monday
To Potosi, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 37

But what a 37 miles. Now we’ve done the Ozarks. This morning we rolled past Meramac Caverns, which I didn’t think were real, rather just an Ozark trend of paintings on barns. At a mid-morning muffin break we were given advice about a detour that would cut out a lot of dangerous road, but after discussing amongst ourselves we decided against the detour. In hindsight, we made the right decision, because the detour would have led us around the talking piece of the county -- a monster hill that everyone we encountered the rest of the day would ask about. Semis don’t make it up. We did, but by walking.

Lunch was at Mama’s Café in Potosi, which is closed for dinner. I figured these were the perfect people to ask about dinner possibilities in town, since they had no vested interest. Unanimous discontent with the Family Steak House near our motel. The motel was a Super 8, again, but not as plush as Washington’s. After we got the bike in the room, Denise went back to the office because when I checked in I saw that they had a few postcards for sale, and since no place we’re traveling to merits postcards, I thought we should take advantage of the situation. The desk clerk just gave them to Denise, because no one had purchased one in her two years working there. The clerk said to avoid the Family Steak House unless we liked nursing home food, but that their breakfast is pretty good. So we steered clear, and had good local Mexican instead. Our Mexican place wasn’t busy, but I could see the drive-thru at McDonald’s nearby, and the cars were five deep.

Stoker's notes -- We biked past Maramec Caverns and through Pea Ridge today. Both are places I remember from my childhood. I never dreamed of traveling the Ozarks by tandem back then, but I’m loving it. Some of the hills were monsters and sometimes we had to walk instead of pedal. The scenery was beautiful but what moves me is the sense of freedom and accomplishment. There are risks and dangers and it is living extreme but also quite simple. Pedal. When you can’t, walk till you can pedal again. -- Denise

November 6, 2007
Tuesday
To Ste. Genevieve, Missouri

Today’s mileage - 55

The Family Steak House is about as plain as a place can be. Decorations were limited to a sign promoting upcoming renovations and a bright green “JESUS” sign in the front window. And on the menu, right across from the breakfast specials, was a list of Potosi churches and their pastors. I’m beginning to fear that someone who quietly lives a Christian, and by that I mean Christ-like, existence, without advertising their beliefs to everyone else would be considered less Christian that someone who vigorously advertises with posters, bumper stickers, and fish symbols. It’s as if the promotion is more important than the life lessons. I know evangelism is part of the faith, but has it become, or was it always, more important than how one lives one’s life? I find advertisements of faith meaningless. And I see examples of Christ-like behavior much less frequently, but if one pays attention to small gestures, they‘re there.

None the less, it was a good breakfast.

We had planned a late start today because the forecast was for cold weather, but dressed up in our woolies and making great time with a tailwind got us to our planned destination by 11:00. We decided to go on to the next stop, another 29 miles away. We got into Ste. Genevieve around 4:00, after a few hills, and a snack on the steps of a church.

Ste. Genevieve is an old river town that manages to keep cash coming in, largely from tourism. There’s a quaint old downtown with plenty of antique shops, and the occasional tour bus idling in the visitor’s center parking lot. Our B&B was the St. Gemme Beauvais, an old inn with a long wooden staircase and an amazingly compact bathroom in our suite.

Dinner was at The Old Brick House, the oldest brick structure west of the Mississippi, next to an old wood stove, decommissioned since 1996, but used for 150 years before then.

November 7, 2007
Wednesday
Ste. Genevieve, Missouri

Mileage today - To the laundromat and library and back.



A rest day. We did some housekeeping, despite not having a house. We rode to the laudromat and washed our clothes in something other than a sink for the first time in a week. Mel kept us company, telling about his work with AT&T in the days before fiber optics, and how they would radio information between towers that now stand abandoned. We also stopped at the library and consulted topo maps for the next stages of our ride, and gathered motel phone numbers for likely stops.

Lunch at the Anvil, which claims to have the world’s best onion rings. Good, but not as good as Chicken Annie’s. Dinner was at Sirros for pizza and a few rounds of pool.

November 9, 2007
Friday
To Chester, Illinois

Today’s mileage - 26

A short day. After another breakfast of Janet’s pancakes at the inn, we rode upriver a few miles to a ferry crossing, and waited while the ferry made its return trip across the Mississippi. Our companions were two pickups, and the toll was $4.



Illinois roads are stamped with numbers in the concrete every few hundred feet. As we rode away from the river the numbers got bigger. I initially thought they were elevation levels, but the numbers rose faster than we were climbing. I never figured out what they meant. One notices things on a bike.

In Chester we found a Best Western, and for convenience had lunch at their nearby restaurant, the Harvest House. Denise ordered me an iced tea while I was checking out the buffet, but again, Pepsi sounded good so I had a lot to drink. The waitress seemed honestly cheerful.

In the evening we walked a couple of miles to downtown, and ate a really good pizza at Marcello’s. Chester is the home of the creator of Popeye, and squeezes that for all it’s worth. The pizza was their “Popeye” combination including, of course, spinach.

Stoker's notes -- This morning we crossed the Mississippi River into Illinois by ferry. I had recently read part of Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain’s fictional account of being a riverboat captain. As we watched the swift brown water and waited for the ferry to return to our side we could hear the rivermen talking on loudspeakers. Seems a lot has changed since Twain’s day.

Finally the barge left to cross to our side. The captain was bringing it in at an odd angle I thought. Still, he made a perfect landing and the ferry lined up with the dock as easy as pie. Some things haven’t changed apparently. The riverboat captain still must know the speed of the water’s current just by looking, and the characteristics of the shore intimately to dock a vessel, even if today he’s wearing Carhart overalls and mirrored sunglasses. -- Denise






November 10, 2007
Saturday
To Carbondale, Illinois

Today’s mileage - 43

Breakfast at the Harvest House, which Denise deemed the trip’s best breakfast. The same cheerful waitress helped us again. Denise went outside to retrieve our water bottles for filling, and when she didn’t return I went outside to find her explaining our ride and talking about the bike with a few middle aged guys. Time and again, it’s this demographic that is so impressed with our trip. Start riding, guys.



For the first 25 miles or so headed south along the Mississippi we had a fairly strong headwind which slowed our momentum and weighed on our psyches. We turned east towards Carbondale, and failing to find any place to eat had a little picnic on what I suspect was a septic tank. I could have napped on it, but we got up, climbed a pretty serious hill out of the Mississippi valley, had a little lunch at the Boatdock bar where a girl at the bar would not stop talking.



Once in Carbondale we stopped at a bike shop for a bike pump and suggestions for dinner. There were a few of us standing around as people offered suggestions, and when Denise requested that her desire for a beer be factored in to consideration, one of the customers gave her directions to a Wendy’s next to a liquor store. Instead of that we had surprisingly good Mexican at El Bajio. Really good. Denise said I had to stop telling the waiter that the food was really good.

Motel 6s have the most colorful bedspreads of all the cheap chain motels.

Sign of the Day - “Bait Shop and Adult Fun Center”

November 11, 2007
Sunday
To Harrisburg, Illinois

Today’s mileage - 39

Breakfast at Panera where, unlike the Panera on Cherry Street which we frequent when we’re in Tulsa, they toast the bagels for you behind the counter. A familiar setting and familiar bagels got us thinking about home. We had a second breakfast in Marion at the Triple E.

When we came back outside, clouds were gathering and I saw a few sprinkles on the handlebar bag. Before long it was raining, and we donned our jackets and unzipped the sleeve vents to keep from becoming rolling greenhouses. Within a few miles I thought we were dragging a little, and Denise said it was getting bouncy in the backseat, so we stopped to discover our first flat. In the rain. Now it’s a bike tour. A nice guy named Hal stopped his car and got out to investigate. He wasn’t a whole lot of help, but we were glad for the company and the flashing lights to warn drivers of us. There we were, changing a flat tire in the rain, and Hal said he was envious of us for our adventure. Of course, this is an adventure I wanted, so I’m predisposed to understand him, but changing a tire in the rain on a trip of your own making is exactly the point. We were having a blast. Riding in the rain was fine, but the new tube didn’t hold and we pumped it up a few times before we rolled into Harrisburg.

The Economy Inn provided a bed and, yes, another Pepsi, which we had as we finished off a bagel brought from breakfast. I worked on the bike tire in the afternoon, and we walked to Morello’s for dinner, which has been in business for two years in what was once a Cadillac dealership. We keep finding very good food in these small towns. I don’t think it’s just because we’re hungry from riding. We’ve been lucky.

Stoker's notes -- From Carbondale to Harrisburg we had our first rain and our first equipment problem. Extra bounce on the back tire signaled an impending flat. We’d stopped at the at the onset of sprinkles and put on our raincoats – which until now had just been taking up space in a front pannier for two weeks.

On all our breaks for snacks or trees to pee behind, no good Samaritan had stopped to check on us. But on the Illinois highway a man named Hal stopped to lend a hand in the rain. We didn’t, or I should say Chris didn’t, need much assistance but Hal’s company was much appreciated and I’m sure his car with hazards blinking added a note of safety as the Sunday crowds rushed to hot plates of fried chicken.

For the rest of the day we stopped every eight miles or so in intermittent rain to pump up the slow leak in the second tube we replaced.

It was surprising to us that the weather for two solid weeks in fall had been so perfect for bicycling. A day of sporadic rain had us proclaiming the trip a true bicycle tour.

We decided to combine the next two days of short riding into a longer grand finale ride into New Harmony. Chris called his father to meet us there the next evening. Fifty miles was easily doable. We’d have a tail wind most of the way and rain was forecast again for Tuesday. -- Denise



November 12, 2007
Monday
To New Harmony, Indiana

Today’s mileage - 54

This will be the last day. We had planned to get to Carmi, Illinois today, and go on to New Harmony tomorrow, but the forecast is for tailwinds today, followed by rain tomorrow, so we’re taking advantage and going all the way today. Dad will meet us in New Harmony. We thought he might pass us, because he’d likely get off the interstate and cross the same private toll bridge over the Wabash we intended to take.

We rode back into town to find breakfast. Granny’s Kitchen was filled with cigarette smoke and several tables of older guys, as I suspect it is most mornings. But today most of them were benefiting from a 15% discount to veterans. I don’t know how they decided on 15%. Ho-hum bacon and eggs, and what turned out to be an especially bad ham sandwich to go, which we would not discover until later.

We moved along briskly with a nice tailwind, had a little break by the side of the road joined briefly by a highway patrolman insuring that we were alright. In Carmi we found the remnants of a veteran’s day parade, but no place to eat. However, when we asked a guy where to eat and explained our trip to him, he said, “You know, the toll bridge into New Harmony is closed.”

No, I did not know that. I was kind of counting on the bridge.

We ate as much as we could of the ham sandwiches from Granny’s Kitchen outside a convenience store, and debated our options.

Option 1 was to try to get across the bridge. It’s a privately owned bridge, and someone should be there. We didn’t know if crossing it was a matter of their permitting us, or if the bridge was impassable.

Option 2 was to get to the bridge, fail to get across for whatever reason, and wait for Dad to come by and pick us up 100 impassable yards from the finish line. Not an attractive option.

Option 3 was to fail to get across the bridge, backtrack 8 miles, and then add 25 miles up to the interstate, cross the Wabash, and come back south into a headwind. Not an attractive option, either.

Option 4 was to forget trying to cross the bridge, and just add the 25 miles up to the interstate, cross the river, and go back south. Reasonable, but not preferable.



So we decided to try for the bridge. In the eight miles from our decision point to the bridge I had time to prepare my arguments and get my wits about me. The wind was blowing strong from the south, and I wanted this to work.

The bridge came into sight, and was closed off by a parked car in front of orange wooden barricades, which were in front concrete barriers. We rolled to a stop, and I knocked on the door of the house where the toll lady lives. When she answered, I said, “You know what I want.”

She said, “Yes, I do, but I’m sorry. I have responsibilities to my boss, and we’re not letting anyone across.”

I explained that we’d ridden 530 miles on this trip, including 53 today, and that New Harmony, on the other side of the bridge is the finish line. I recounted the times I’d driven from New Harmony over the bridge, just to turn around and go back just to pay the toll. They charge going into Indiana, as well they should, but coming into Illinois is free.

She wanted to call her boss, which I said was fine right after I said, “I know -- how about you DON’T call your boss, and this is just between us?”

She was gone for a few minutes while Denise and I tried to look as pathetic as we could. She came out to announce that she had begged for us, and that her boss would let us pass. The tease. We unloaded the panniers from the bike, lifted it over the barricades, refitted the panniers, and started to cross. “Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t I owe you a quarter for a bike toll?” She refused payment. Thank you.



Once in New Harmony we rode around town, stopping at the church without a roof, and Jim Stinson’s Old Rooming House where I often stay. Jim is no longer renting rooms, but I’d hoped to catch him there. We rode by the New Harmony Inn, looking for dad and the VW. We noticed the rear tire was bouncy again and was going flat. Before we stopped to fix it up, we saw my father turning a corner in the VW.



Trip totals - 530 miles
12 riding days
3 flats


Gear notes -

When planning this trip I spent a lot of time sweating equipment choices. It’s easy to focus on equipment, because you can buy it, and that’s easier than thinking about the things that you can’t control. Really, there comes a point when, on a rainy day when you’re inside checking specifications on one type of product over another online, you should get away from the bicycle website you’re on, go out for a ride on your bike, let the air out of your back tire when you’re away from home and change the tube in the rain.

Here are some good decisions we made.

Arkel panniers are strong, simple, and their yellow rain covers are useful even in the daylight because they are so visible. We got the smaller versions both front and rear, because if you have space you tend to fill it.

Icebreaker wool clothing. I don’t want anything else. I wore my merino wool tights everyday, and washed them once, yet they were still decent. Likewise, my Icebreaker zip neck sweater saw constant use, and was presentable enough for dinner ( albeit upstairs only at the American Bounty in Washington.)

Schwalbe Marathon tires, size 32.

We sized down from a 28 tooth inner chainring to a 24. Maybe a 20 would have gotten us over a couple of hills that we had to walk up, but maybe not. We could maintain 4 mph running 24 up front by 36 in back. Much slower and I couldn’t balance.