Last Big Ride

{First of two new posts, and photos posted to Detour to Independence.}

 



We moved out of Lexington quickly as the sun rose. The days now are starting off cool and dewy, but the fireball that rises in the East assured us we would have another day in the 80s. Russ quickly sprinted ahead, while Steve and I sank to the rear, for our usual lollygag. This was out last full day ride.

Once again Missouri offered us her hills most of which are planted in soybeans and corn. Big trucks carrying corn or ethanol roared passed every few minutes, which was somewhat unnerving due to the extremely small shoulder (about 18 inches). Precision steering was required all morning. Steve seemed to stop at every fruit stand, and there were many. I'm not sure how he managed to stuff all the jars of whatever he bought in his little rear carrier. Later in the morning, the headwind kicked in which made the last few miles to Marshal excruciating. After each rest break the stiffness and aching in my legs from lactic acid build-up takes longer to work out. Early in the trip this wasn't a problem. But now with more than 1,100 miles of relentless cycling, I feel like I am beginning to wear down. Perhaps if we had not had so many days of head-winds I would have more left in the tank. But I got just enough to finish.

Man in the corn.

 

Per chance, we stopped at a little dinner in Marshal (again, the kind with barstools) and wolfed down a couple of hamburgers, while being quizzed by the locals about our trip.

Rejuvenated by lunch, we were well on our way to closing the last 15 miles when Steve got another flat tire. This one was in the front. Tired changed, we made Arrow Rock at about 3:15 pm and found ourselves in what I would call the Mendocino of Missouri. While most of the towns we visited are decaying, this one, population 56, appeared to be thriving as a tourist destination. Who knew? The well kept Main Street boosted antique stores and some fancy restaurants. At one time, Arrow Rock was a thriving metropolis of 950. The town owed its existence to the neighboring Missouri River, where steamboats would arrive and off-load goods bound for the mule trains of the Santa Fe Trail. The decline started during the Civil War, then was amplified by the build-out of the railroads that ended the steamboat traffic. Today, the warehouses and docks that once made the town have returned to forest.

Our camp is about a mile away, a very pleasant one except for the voracious mosquitoes. I think the bugs are getting in their last meal before winter sets in.

The second-to-last supper at St. Paul's in Slatter, MO.

Dinner was several miles away at the St. Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church. We were greeted at the door by the priest wearing an aprons. The tables were set with silverware. Our last supper from a full days ride was a full-on turkey dinner, then pie. When we finished the sun was setting over the cornfields. The air was crisp and clear, the sky a brilliant melon. The wind had died. It was the perfect end to our day.

Tomorrow we ride only 21 miles to New Franklin, the first embarkation point of the trail. It will only take an hour or two, then we need to start getting ready to go home. It's hard to believe the great adventure will end.

Stats: Miles 60. Flat tire standings. Bob 5, Steve 3, Russ 1.  Steve is making a comeback, but Bob's ability to get flats in abundance early in the trip staked him to a big lead which may simply be too much to overcome. With only 21 more miles left, Steve will to need to run over the debris from a crashed pin-cushion truck to catch Bob. But it's never over until it's over.

Later that night...

I got to tell you that when night falls and there is no moon it gets pitch black around here. There is no ambient light here so the stars are brilliant. I can even see the Milky Way. And the nose from the woods. I know I have commented on this before but it really sounds like we are in the Amazon rainforest. There is the usual screeching and itching of crickets and cicadas. But now we have croaking, chirping, wheezing and honking and something that sounds like an out-of-control whoopee cushion. So picture, this Steve and I are sitting outside our tents on a picnic table in the middle of this black chaos, with only our headlamps and glow from the computer screens. We are slapping at mosquitoes, yanking ticks and jiggers off our legs and computer screens, all to bring you the latest from our adventure.