September 16, 2022
Day Five: Elsah, Illinois to Marthasville, Missouri
I was up early for no good reason, since the ferry at Grafton, four miles away, didn't make its first run until 10:00.
So I did a few chores while waiting for the 8:30 breakfast, which I feared would be one of those fancy affairs that emphasized quality over quantity. When I'm on a bicycle tour I obviously prefer the opposite.
I sat at a table with a couple who'd come down from Hannibal, Missouri, for their 33rd wedding anniversary. I'd noticed bikes on the back of their SUV when they arrived last night, so we talked about riding for a while. The woman told me her longest ride ever was fourteen miles, on the Katy Trail. She also mentioned her tire had a bulge that caused a loud "thumping" sound when she rode. I dipped into the well of my vast knowledge of bicycles and advised her to "have that looked at."
The B&B lady came out with breakfast. It was as I had feared: A small quantity of eggs and a short stack of small-circumference pumpkin pancakes. I'd told the lady last night that I would not be eating meat, so the least she could have done was double my serving of eggs.
The B&B lady's husband came out to make small talk, which I immediately found extremely off-putting when he encouraged us to try some sort of salsa he carried in a small bottle. "It's called goose poop", he said.
I find the "p-word" one of the most irritating of all the "curse words", and despise what seems to be its increasing normalization in polite adult conversation.
I of course have been told, mostly by people with children, that I am overly sensitive in this regard.
The man kept talking about his "goose poop" while I was trying to eat. "It's made by a friend of mine named Goose! He's a pharmaceutical salesman! I've probably bought 400 bottles over the years!"
He finally browbeat the lady sitting across from into trying it. I observed her wrinkling her nose in distaste. She wasn't a fan.
I put the bags back on the bike and rode out onto the river road for the four miles to Grafton. I looked around the touristy town for a few minutes, and then I was first in line for the ferry.
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The ferry was almost empty for the first trip of the day - just me and two other cars. The trip was pleasant and uneventful. I noticed fish jumping out of the water a few times, which was cool.
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Once on the Missouri side of the river, I rode on a series of empty, flat roads. A woman driving a car flagged me down to ask if the road would take her to the ferry. I was happy to share my very meager knowledge of the local roads. A few miles later while I stopped and looked my map, a couple of road cyclists pedaled by. As is usually the case in this situation, they studiously ignored me, appearing to actually look away in mild disgust, even. I wonder what the deal is with the unfriendly roadies I encounter - is it my ugly Salsa Fargo bike? The loose, un-aerodynamic shorts I wear instead of tight padded bike shorts? My worn out bike shoes, which are literally falling apart at this point, and which may not survive this tour?
I arrived in Portage Des Sioux, population 305. While I was on the side of the street taking a photo, a man shouted out "Bonjour, monsieur!" He had the looks and mannerisms of a 60s hippie. I asked him if there was a store or café in town, and he replied "No, maaaan, not anymore. This place has really gone downhill!"
A block or two later, I pulled into a parking lot behind a bar and grill. It didn't open until the afternoon; unfortunate, since I was ready to eat again.
The guy working at the place was talking to a couple of delivery men. They were apparently discussing their weekend plans. I heard the bar guy proclaim "I'm gonna get me a bag of weed. I'll be a crazy fool!!!"
I was not able to hear the plans of the delivery men.
A few more miles of country roads later, I arrived at the Katy Trail, the entire length of which I suppose, unless I bail out, I'll be riding on this tour.
This is the third time I've ridden the trail, despite my neutral-at-best opinion of it. Both previous times I've suffered severe bonks, which is pretty embarrassing considering that the Katy is flat as pancake, and is favored by inexperienced cyclists who ride maybe a few hundred miles a year or something.
After some miles of scenery consisting of farm fields and some nice shady sections, I arrived at the gritty industrial outskirts of St. Charles.
I stopped at a trailside park in St. Charles and ate several granola bars dipped in Nutella from the jar in my food bag. I considered getting some hot food, but didn't want to deal with riding in the busy St. Charles streets looking for a suitable restaurant.
There was a lot of construction on the trail as I left St. Charles, and some of the detours were on heavy gravel. It wasn't a problem with the tough tires on the Fargo, though.
It took a while to get out of St. Charles and its outskirts. This part of the trail has a very different, urban feel than the rest of it.
It was a long 20 miles to Defiance, the next town with services on the trail, which now had a rural character. I grew hungry - the Nutella, sadly, hadn't cut it - and slightly morose.
The miles ticked down slowly. I was riding at eight or nine miles an hour now, and coasting frequently. But finally I arrived at the outskirts of Defiance to find a brewpub with a nice outdoor seating area just a few feet from the trail. A surprisingly good pizza, and lots of ice water and Diet Pepsi fixed me up, and I reentered the trail with new energy. It's not the first time that a pizza has revitalized me like this. What magical properties does it have?!
I arrived in Marthasville, population 1,136. It was late enough that it was clear I was done riding for the day.
I located the KT Caboose restaurant, where I'd heard that camping was allowed behind the place, and a hot shower was included for the low price of $10.
After dinner there (very good), I talked to Brice, a coast-to-coast touring cyclist also camping there tonight, then showered, got the tent set up, and went to bed to the lulling sounds of traffic on the nearby highway.
Today's ride: 67 miles (108 km)
Total: 392 miles (631 km)
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| Comment on this entry | Comment | 3 |
Besides that little tidbit, I just wanted to say I have dreamed about doing a no-plans, no-destinations tour for a few years now. Unlike you, I haven't quite been able to pull the trigger.
2 years ago
Are you ready to pull the trigger yet?
I'm going to do another random bike tour in early June, I think. This time, though, I actually bought a couple of Adventure Cycling paper maps, for their Arkansas High Country route. My idea is to ride from home here in Kentucky and connect with that route for a while.
So I guess this tour will be semi-random - if I actually end up using any of their route.
Jeff
1 year ago
Yes, I'm ready and willing, but not quite able to pull the trigger on such a tour with no destination, duration nor plan. At least not to the level of your destinationlessness, durationlessness, and planlessness. (All three of those words just got squiggly red lines under them, which means I must have invented them.)
I've kind of inherited some healthcare responsibilities for my 87-year-old dad who lives in Iowa. That includes trips down there once or twice a month to take him to oncology and cardiac appointments, so the duration part of any tour I do this year will definitely be limited. I WILL work in a tour sometime, though. I have no destination in mind yet, and when I get one, it will be pretty vague. And, as always, there will be minimal planning. I do see a possible two-week window of opportunity soon after my dad's June 7th visit to the heart surgeon who performed his aortic valve replacement last month.
If that appointment goes well, I'm thinking I'll do yet ANOTHER tour in Iowa (and perhaps another bordering state), which should bring me back to my dad's house in time for his next doctor's visit. As you can see, it's already a very fleeting plan.
Anyway, thank you for asking. Also, thank you for the heads-up about your upcoming tour. I'll be reading. From what I've heard about Arkansas, it can be very challenging. From what I've seen from your journals, you are always prepared for a bicycling challenge.
1 year ago