Riding the Katy Trail and following in the footsteps of Lewis & Clark

When I started to write this blogpost more than a week ago, I was three days into my foolish endeavor to cover most of the abandoned rail line from St. Louis to Kansas City on a bike, in the middle of the summer. At that time, I came to the conclusion that I am no longer 25 years old. How had I ever been able to cover 125 miles for ten days straight on a fully loaded touring bike going from Miami to Dallas in 1979, also in the middle of summer? After three days of 38, 34, and 48 miles on the Katy Trail I was suffering, mightily. And let me tell you, from there the suffering only increased for the remainder of the 253 miles and six days on the trail.

It was on the day before our nation's 250th birthday that I flew to St. Louis where my friend Bob has been living since he left Lubbock a few years back. I had intended to visit him for some time, and somehow I hatched the plan to not only see him for a few days but to couple the trip with a cycling adventure. I spent the first two nights in Bob's apartment just off I-70 on the St. Charles side of the mighty Missouri River, just a few miles upstream from its confluence with the even mightier Mississippi.

The confluence: The Missouri enters from the left (west)

The Mississippi just a few miles downstream from the confluence 

July 4th started with a massive thunderstorm, a good time to put the Ritchey together and then continue what Bob and I had been doing the evening before: explore some new breweries. By late afternoon, the weather had cleared up and we walked to the St. Charles's Frontier Park where thousands had gathered for the fireworks, but since we didn't have chairs and didn't want to become sniper fodder we just walked back to the flat and watched the show from his balcony. That was much more civilized than mingling with the masses, we thought, and the way to the fridge was short and sweet, too.

After a hearty Bob Special Breakfast it was time for me to saddle up and start heading west. The Katy Trail starts in Machens, about 12 miles east of the trail access in front of Bob's apartment complex in St. Charles, but I did not feel any emptiness inside of me by missing this initial section. While some former railroad beds have been paved to give users a smooth ride, the KT features in its entire length a crushed limestone surface that is hard-packed and rolls surprisingly well. But, it is gravel after all, and after 15 or 20 miles the body starts to realize that. I used 32 mm tires for this trip, at 45 PSI, and that was a good compromise. I had installed an 11-speed 11-28 cassette in favor of the usual 11-42, coupled with the 36/48 rings up front. Railroads don't like steep inclines, and the maximum gradients that I encountered on the trail were no more than maybe 3% or 4%. (Inside of the towns, some short and steep pitches made me wonder whether I should have just gone with my usual low gear set-up, but fortunately those doubts were short-lived and unfounded.)

The beauty of riding the KT is that one is completely separated from motorized traffic, the entire time (with the exception of minor road crossings and some of the connectors into some of the towns along the way). No cars, just the occasional runner or pedestrian (close to towns) and a few recreational riders out for a morning spin. There were a few other cyclo-tourists who were riding the entire trail, in either direction, but there were far fewer than I had expected. I suppose that means that a whole bunch of people are smarter than I and don't come to Missouri in the middle of summer!

It didn't take me long to settle into a nice rhythm. For the first 150 miles or so—until Booneville—the trail stays mostly in close proximity to the Missouri, always on the northern bank of the river. Some of the long loops that the meandering river has carved have been bisected by the trail: Remember, the idea was to provide the most efficient railroad transportation between St. Louis and Kansas City. For a majority of the distance I rode inside sheer endless tree tunnels, providing shade but also bringing with them fallen twigs and branches that could have easily caused a damaged derailleur or even a crash if inattentive. Also, because of the canopy's density there was no discernable air movement below the trees, and the only relief from the muggy conditions came from the movement of the bike. Even on the coolest of days (meaning 82℉ instead of 92℉) I was soaking wet after just a short time of riding, as if I had just climbed out of a swimming pool.

It took me four days to cover the distance to Boonville, and according to my Strava files I did not even gain 1,200 feet in those 172 miles. (Remember, there were those feeders from the trail to the town centers where I stayed, and quite likely half of that climbing was recorded in those sections.) My average moving speed was right at 10.5 mph, regardless of whether it was the shortest day of the trip, 34 miles, or the longest, 52 miles. I took lots of breaks, either to snap photos or to simply take a breather and sit down at either one of the many depots along the way or in-between these rest-stops at one of the many benches. What I just called depots are standardized rest areas that feature toilets, water spigots, interpretive signage (that tells the story behind why the train used to stop here), and sometimes access to small stores, a restaurant, an Amvet Post, or similar amenities in what sometimes used to be—and more often still is—a tiny community along the Katy Trail State Park. Yes, you read this right: The entire corridor is a narrow state park. A superb map gives a full run-down of all the available services, accommodations, distances, and all kinds of other good information. Free maps are available at each stop, and of course the internet provides all the same info as well.

When not under the trees, the trail passes through farmland with immense corn and soybean fields (and—farther west—pastures and prairie land that is slowly being reclaimed). There are those sweeping views of the Missouri, a brown, unattractive river that moves tremendous amounts of water. Most of the time there is no ship traffic; it is rather rare to see a tug or a barge. I never noticed anywhere a river cruise ship or facilities to bring passengers onshore, something that one sees on the Mississippi. (An internet search showed me that such cruises are almost non-existent on the Missouri.) There are few bridges that allow vehicular traffic to switch banks, with the ones at Washington, Hermann, Jefferson City, and Boonville being almost the only ones (there are another two or three, I believe).

In my initial research I had read about the "spectacular bluffs" that one can see from the Katy Trail, but I have to say that the adjective is unnecessary. The height of the limestone and dolomite rock walls varies from 100 feet to as high as 300 feet, but one doesn't really have very many open views of them as the trees hide them most of the time. And also, when you ride the bike, trying to avoid whatever arboreal detritus that is littering the trail, craning one's neck to catch a glimpse is not always the smartest thing to do. Maybe it depends a little bit on whether one rides east-west or the reverse, but I was not overly impressed.

I just mentioned four towns and cities; that's where I spent the first four nights, in that order. My first day of riding—which had started with an ominous forecast—ended with almost two hours of pouring rain. The limestone "pug," as it is often referred to, starts to become somewhat soggy when it has to absorb heavy rain like on that Sunday. Lightning surrounded me in those final 10 miles, which were quite exposed, and I was ready to get to the River Sirens boutique hotel in the tiny town of Washington. Bike, panniers, and my legs were covered with limestone splash, and I was thankful that the hotel had a water hose that I could use to get this nasty grime off equipment and body. Quite frankly, it was not the most enjoyable day of bike touring, that day from St. Charles to Washington.

Drying out at River Sirens

Once the slow-moving system had finally cleared out and I had gussied up a bit, I went out to explore Washington, which, like all the other towns I visited, seemed to be almost devoid of people. Even the state capital, Jefferson City, seemed to have been invaded by aliens who kidnapped the citizenry. Hermann and Boonville were equally dead; maybe everybody had celebrated July 4 way, way too hard! My hotel in Jeff City, as the locals call it, was a non-descript Baymont for which I had traded 15,000 Wyndham points. But the River Sirens, the Herman Crown Suites, and Booneville's Hotel Frederick were historical, quirky boutique hotels that all catered to cyclists by providing a secure bike storage room, tools, and much understanding when a tuckered-out Lycra-clad geezer showed up, filthy and sweaty. Non of these hotels were cheap ($150 to $175 range), but with the judicious use of United Airlines hotel credits as well as balancing the remaining nights with point stays, my overall bill for accommodations stayed well below $500.

All photos were taken in Washington, my first stop

I had chosen the hotels for easy access to the "downtown" areas of the smaller towns. That's where you find independent stores, old diners, brewpubs. However, the dreaded Curse of Closed seemed to follow me as many of the businesses either had just locked their door for the day, or were not open on Tuesdays, or would open the next day, well after I had left. And others, like the Main Street Diner, completely gave up operations overnight by putting up a For Sale sign that surprised even the staff in the across-the-street Hotel Frederick. Missouri's small towns don't appear to be on an upward trajectory, it seems.

Nevertheless, people are friendly and helpful. When I showed up in the smoky Amvets Post 153 in Mokane, I was offered free bottled ice water, even if the kitchen was closed and there was no food; I would have liked to join the half dozen locals in their afternoon Bud Light rituals, but I knew that I still had 15 or 20 miles to go and made the smart decision. Whichever female took my money for a Gatorade or an IPA in a gas station or liquor store would "babe," "sweetie," and hon" me ad nauseam, but I guess that's just the way people talk in America's heartland. (Nope, I know better than to reciprocate.)

On the trail, I didn't meet very many folks, either. I had to be content with the companionship of dozens of white-tailed deer, the occasional muskrat, a turtle, southern cardinals and blue buntings, and countless squirrels and chipmunks. No bears, beavers, wolves, bison, or dogs, all of which were mentioned by Lewis & Clark as either having been shot ("1,001 deer, various species") or purchased ("190 Indian dogs") and eaten during their two-year expedition.

My second-longest day, 48 miles from Hermann to Jefferson City, was highlighted not only by some beautiful vistas of the Missouri but also the crossing of the large bridge leading to the southern bank, with views of the towering state Capitol overlooking the river. That was quite the sight, and later that afternoon, after getting settled in the centrally located Baymont, I walked up to the Capitol grounds and did some sightseeing before having dinner in a nice Greek restaurant with outdoor seating, in front of the government complex.

After Boonville, the Katy Trail veers south, toward Clinton, while the Missouri angles somewhat north-westerly. The terrain changes, with a gently rolling landscape that originally was more prairie than forestland. With the railroad and the settlers came agriculture, and nowadays only small portions of this area are original (or re-introduced) prairie. The rail corridor continues to be heavily wooded, and during those two days I had to somehow make my way over, under, or around two dozen toppled trees that blocked the trail. That was not much fun and made me curse more than once. The storm systems that had started to hit on the July 4 weekend had caused a lot of damage, and the few park workers had not been able to clear it all, yet. (One earlier section—on day three—had been closed entirely and I had to detour for about 10 miles on an adjacent road.)

Being on the KT you could easily miss the elevation changes as they are so gentle, thanks to the railway track engineers who painstakingly found the path of least resistance for the iron horses. All this happened with a minimum of tunnels (there was only one on the entire SL to KC route) and other ground modifications. Ingenious! Still, on the bike one does feel that there must be a slight incline, even though it all looks flat, since the effort increases and the speed drops. Similarly, the e-bike effect, as I call it, indicates that the slope is now minus one or minus two degrees. And as I said, it all looks flat—but the Strava track profile at the end of the day tells a different story, even in exaggerated form.

Uphill, downhill, or flat?

Sedalia, my last stop before reaching Clinton a day later, was not memorable. I passed through the unattractive 1920s downtown with its dark-reddish brick buildings, the most prominent of which is the Bothwell Hotel, and continued a couple of miles to the more modern (and even less attractive) western part of town where my (free) Econo Lodge and its magnificent staircase were located. Who knows what that motel had been in one of its earlier iterations!

The Katy Trail ends in Clinton, about 75 miles from Kansas City. So, don't expect to end up in KC if you ride the Katy unless you're willing to mingle with traffic. There seem to be plans to eventually extend the cycling route beyond Clinton by using other existing parks and trails, but that may take a while. Of course, it would be an even larger network of interconnected trails for cyclo-tourism, but despite its proven economic impact on especially smaller communities, lawmakers do not seem too much in a hurry to advance such a project. Remember, we're not in Europe!

And so, my bike tour ended after 253 miles in the pleasant Westbridge Inn in Clinton, a clean motel with a swimming pool and 3-minute access to a Subway and a supermarket with a good selection of local IPAs!

But the end of the bike portion didn't mean the end of my trip to Missouri! On Saturday morning, Bob drove from St. Charles to Clinton to pick me up and take me back to his apartment. When I had initially planned this trip I had envisioned riding the Amtrak back from Sedalia to St. Louis, but he had immediately offered to come out to Clinton. On the way back east we stopped in Jefferson City, which he had never visited, and enjoyed the entire trip chatting about my experiences.

For the remaining two days, we planned activities in the immediate vicinity, and luckily the weather held up. On Sunday, after I had disassembled and packed my bike, we drove across the Missouri and into St. Louis to visit the Gateway Arch. I have to say, I was totally awe by this experience! I think most of us have seen photographs of this iconic landmark, but seeing it in person in its elegance and beauty, on a picture-perfect day is something completely different. Before we ascended to the very top of the arch to enjoy our 10 minutes of gazing down from 630 feet onto the city and the Mississippi, we had spent ample time in the excellent museum that is part of the Gateway Arch complex. Both are an absolute must-see. 

After visiting the arch, we embarked upon an hour-long river cruise on the Mississippi. After Sandy and I had done the same in New Orleans I was hoping for some good views of the city and some insightful commentary, and my expectations were only eclipsed by what was offered. We had chosen the right time slot when we had made our reservation, in late afternoon. I think the photos bear witness to how impressive St. Louis and its bridges (and especially the arch) look from the river perspective. We sure nailed that day! Topping it off was an excellent pizza at Schlafly Bottleworks, flushed with a mediocre IPA while Bob stuck to his Diet Coke and whisky.

That left Monday, before my flight home scheduled for the late afternoon, for more culture. First came a walk to visit the Lewis & Clark Boat House and Museum in St. Charles, less than a mile from the apartment. If you are interested in what these two military men achieved with their expedition—which started close to here in 1804 and lasted for more than two years—there's no better place than this small but packed museum. Bob had never visited it and vowed to bring any future guests to experience its fabulous displays and interpretive texts. Putting everything into a complete context was a 50-minute abridged version of the stunning National Geographic film Lewis & Clark: The Great Journey West, which you can find on YouTube. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in the history of how the west of our country was opened. 

That left only the afternoon for more sightseeing. Schlafly may call itself "The Saint Louis Brewery," but that's a tough sell when you started brewing in 1991. OK, so it was the first new brewpub to open in Missouri since the prohibition, but let's be real: Anheuser-Busch eclipses Schlafly by magnitudes! What was initially called the Bavarian Brewery was founded in 1851, and the rest is, as they say, history. We joined one of the brewery tours not because of the questionable taste and palatability of this industrial beer but rather to get informed on the founders and history of the iconic Budweiser brand of beers. The A/B campus in the Soulard neighborhood of St. Louis is definitely worth a visit, even if you're not a beer drinker. 

Our tour guide took us to the stables of the world-renowned Clydesdales (there are four teams of them in different locations, working marketing events year-round), and we saw the brewhouse as well as the bottling facilities. Most of the work is automated with only a few individuals present. It is mind-boggling that the plant can eject 1.2 million bottles of the swill in one hour! Well, as I said, taste is to be found on the palate of every individual, and happily AB InBev (the new name after the 2008 takeover by the Belgian conglomerate) purchased Elysian Brewing in 2015; therefore, at the end of the tour one has a choice of a pint of Space Dust IPA or some of the more generally known Budweiser derivates. Somehow I had missed that the former Seattle-based microbrewery had entered the big leagues through this transaction to the tune of at least $24 million.

Bob insisted that on the way to the airport we'd stop by the iconic Crown Candy Kitchen for a quick bite. It's a small diner in a quiet neighborhood, and unless you know about it, you won't ever go there. Unfortunately it was right about closing time so that we had to take our monster sandwiches to an adjacent park and couldn't enjoy for a little longer the old-fashioned interior of this cool place. Next time.

I'd like to find a clever way to tell the rest of the story, but let's just make it simple: Bob dropped me off at the airport with all my luggage and I checked in and passed through security and waited at the gate, only to find out that weather delays had pushed back our departure by more than an hour, making it impossible to catch my flight from DFW back home (the last flight of the day). Rather than get stranded in Dallas for the night I decided to call poor ol' Bob to beg for one more night's asylum. With him being located so close to the airport, the extra transfers were not a problem, and after a few more m late-night calls to AA I was rebooked on a convoluted route home the next day: I left St. Louis around 9 a.m., flew to Charlotte (NC), and then turned around and flew back across the Mississippi to Dallas. I almost missed my flight to Lubbock because of a mechanical delay, but eventually I made it to LBB around 7 p.m., and Sandy picked me up from the airport. What a trip!

Jürgen