Meeting Katy

Travel is meant to expand our horizons, help us become aware of our limitations and move beyond them. Usually, when we think of this sort of transformation, it's in the context of exotic climes: Machu Picchu, or at the very least, Tijuana. Come to find, as products of the East and West Coasts, we ourselves are the exotic ones, as we set forth to bike the Katy Trail. Originally forged by Lewis and Clark, the Katy Trail became a rail line, and is now a flat gravelly path that winds from St. Louis to Clinton, MO.*

L has invited me to join her and a group of four veteran cyclists who plan their own itinerary every year. As someone who uses GPS below 14th Street, I am impressed with their independent spirit and confidence. But it is still a biking trip, and that means the unexpected.

Our first adjustment comes with the rental bikes. Three of us have brought their own hybrids; the other three get these (only in blue):

http://www.the-house.com/qfjcst21lw17re13zz-fuji-bikes.html?CA_6C15C=600004150000857831

Sigh. Yes, they are clunkers. The first day, we try them on for size.

This is what we look like:

This is what we feel like:

We venture forth to see how they work on the Trail itself. We will be riding from west to east, the better to capitalize on prospective wind currents. Here is our route.

It's begun to mist by the time we reach the Trail Head.

And mist turns to rain, but we are rugged.

The path is beautiful, but sandy in this area. As the rain abates, we go from open stretches...

To riding through bowers of trees.

To beautiful bridges.

Views of farm houses and open fields.

Occasionally we cross a country road.

The rentals are as clunky on the Trail as I feared, the going is slow. We make the best of it.

But as it turns out, riding the Katy Trail is about a lot more than the riding. For example, where can a girl get a nice cup of coffee? At one of those quaint places we hear so much about in the Midwest? The ones with the organdy curtains, and the waitress who calls you "Hon?"

Going in search of that, gives us our first lesson in humility as we leave the Trail, get separated, hopelessly lost...

And wind up - like Lewis and Clark - portaging (over a guard rail)

To find our way back to where we started, coffeeless and minus an hour. 

We reconvene and mull over our misadventure, trying to gain from the experience.

Says BJ, "I think in the future we should try to maintain unit integrity."
"And," says L, "I think from now on we should go to the regular entry points."
"And that if we want coffee," adds MF, "we should just go to a gas station, cause there ain't no cute places"
"It's just wonderful, we have all these lessons so early in the trip," remarks KD somewhat mournfully.

We have many such lessons to learn.

Meanwhile, we are getting peckish and head towards Windsor.

To a modest restaurant that's actually on our itinerary. Lunch is good, though we are nonplussed that the mention of seltzer gives our waitress a sort of deer-in-the-headlights stare. We stare back (no seltzer). Well, we're bound to find that at one of the next stops. Meanwhile, L remarks in the parking lot, that the rain has loosened the sole on her bike shoe.

It looks bad. We ask her how long she's had these shoes. 

Fourteen years. 

Fourteen years? Who has shoes for fourteen years? She likes them she says, because they fit her well. And because they belonged at one time to her husband. We can all understand that. We can also see the sole is falling off. One more clip-out and she could be riding the Katy Trail barefoot.

Ever resourceful, L heads to a local hardware store for a strong glue, hoping to salvage them.

And while we're in civilization, cocktail supplies.

Meanwhile, L still has a shoe problem and we have some 21 miles to go to reach Sedalia, location of the nearest bike shop. That's a long time on the gravel of the Katy Trail - and we don't even know if they carry shoes. We ride hell for leather the last 10 miles to be sure to get there before 5. And there in Sedalia is truly a sight for cyclist's sore eyes: 
Pro Velo Cycle Sport.**

If ever we needed help, it's now. Because we have five days ahead of us, and the first day of riding is when we find out:

1. If the bikes we brought made it from home OK (not all)
2. If the bikes we rented need a tune up (uh, yah)
3. If they have shoes that are less than 14 years old. 

Hooray, they do!

L tries on a pair of shoes, pronounces them excellent on the spot and, much to everyone's surprise, happily lets go of her old ones. I get Espresso Love GU and BJ gets her hybrid bike tweaked (sorely needed); MF finds a good pair of cycling gloves, KA has a gizmo installed and KD's rental is pretty much reconfigured. The shop even stays open late for us, though we are clearly not big spenders. But we are certainly cyclists in need, and they respond in true kindred spirit. We leave feeling good as new.

As we wave a fond farewell...

We head towards the nearby Bothwell Hotel (excellent coffee shop!)

Where we celebrate our first cocktail hour, mulling over our bikes, the trail, and wondering what lies ahead.


*http://www.bikekatytrail.com/mkt.aspx
**http://www.pro-velo.com/