Bed & Breakfasts

Biking the Katy Trail

Posted at June 30, 2006 15:47

By Danita Allen Wood

The young woman on her bike on a city street was a picture-perfect model for any bicycle ad: sleek and tanned, long blonde ponytail under her helmet, outfitted in black biker shorts, socks and shoes. Biking alone, with a little black suitcase fit on the rack above her back tire, similar to the one I’d just bought, she coasted to an intersection, reached down for her water bottle, lifted it, tipped back her head, and took a long swig. The setting sun captured the moment. Golden. Glorious. The image of strength, freedom and physical fitness in the great outdoors seemed to capture why I wanted to bike the entire Katy Trail.

The image stayed with me, although I’m fifty, only moderately fit, and not a regular cyclist. In fact, I prepared for my Katy Trail excursion by quitting my life-long exercise habit a few months before my departure date. Still, visions of a spectacular time rolled through my mind: The beauty of nature. Fresh air. A physical challenge. Time with my son. Time with friends. Really seeing Missouri.

So, last July (yes, the hottest time of the year), the Missouri Life Team, composed of my friend Nina Furstenau, my son Evan, and his friend Alex Finck, embarked on the 255-mile-long treasure of a state park, the Katy Trail. My husband, Greg, also joined us for a portion of the trail.

Named for the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad, called the MKT or Katy, the trail stretches from Clinton to St. Charles.

THE PACE:

Rather than choosing locations to give us the most even mileage, we chose locations by the towns we preferred to stay in. We planned to arise early and ride before it got miserably hot. Our destinations delighted us.

Clinton to Sedalia: 36 miles Uphill but beautiful

A few web sites I visited recommended skipping this leg because they said it was less scenic. They were wrong.

First, even though we didn’t start riding there, we visited the historic square and the old train depot downtown. Because of driving and preparation time, we had an early lunch at Breanna’s Soda Fountain. We began our ride about a mile away at the trail head.

Those web site comments may have been negative because it’s uphill. This stretch of the trail has the longest uphill climb to the highest elevation on the trail at 955 feet above sea level. Most uphill grades are two to five percent, though, and still easy to bike. If you skip this part, you miss the picturesque Calhoun elevator, several charming small towns and shops, the pastoral beauty of rolling plains, Highpoint Prairie, and the historic Sedalia depot with a fine railroad museum. It was a beautiful leg, accompanied by trees that have overhung the trail, providing a tunnel of shade.

Sedalia to Rocheport: 51 miles A killer day

If I ride the trail again, I will add one more day and stop in Boonville, bike up to the old Katy Trail bridge causing the controversy over whether or not it should be torn down, and relax. The next day, I would ride leisurely to Rocheport (only 27 miles), where I’d relax with a float trip on the Missouri River (see page 6) and explore antique shops.

Evan and Alex covered the distance in about half the time it took Nina and me. She and I hit the hot, muggy, airless New Franklin bottoms at the height of the afternoon sun. We stopped and rested frequently in the shade, but one time, even though Nina was eager to reach the end, I needed a longer, sit-in-the-shade, douse-the-head-with-water break. I was afraid I might have to call for a ride, but the longer rest and slower pace when we resumed did the trick.

And there is beauty in the bottoms, too. Running through what was once the meandering Missouri River bed, the trail takes you by a tile silo, the river bluffs, lone trees standing occasionally in miles-long farm fields — a testament to some farmer’s unwillingness to chop it down for the sake of straighter rows and faster farming. We heaved a huge sigh of relief when we entered the cool, dark tunnel that signaled Rocheport just beyond.

Rocheport to Jefferson City: 35 miles Along the river

Our friends Charlene and Caroline Finck, Alex’s mother and sister, joined us for this segment of the trail. I also convinced Greg, who had intended to work all week, to join us for the remainder of the trip. This is one of the most beautiful portions of the trail, sandwiched between tall limestone bluffs and the river. A marker points out American Indian petroglyphs.

On this day, the lessons we took about changing tires came in handy. Evan and Alex, who were ahead as usual, assisted two remarkable gentlemen from Florida, Jim Peraud and Carl Nelson, ages 67 and 71, who were also biking the trail but had a flat tire. They were struggling in our Missouri heat and humidity but assured us they would take it easy and stay overnight at the next stop, Hartsburg.

Lunch at Dottie’s Cafe at Hartsburg was a real treat: burgers, fries, and homemade pies. Jim and Carl arrived before we left and bought us dessert.

When we arrived at Jefferson City, we didn’t attempt to cross this busy bridge. We had been warned about it and arranged for the proprietor of The Jefferson Inn to pick us up. We enjoyed walking around the capitol grounds afterward.

Jefferson City to Hermann: 42 miles A bridge adventure

Spider webs surprised us this morning. We rode right into them, filling our helmets, shirts, and mouths with webs. Big webs completely crossed the trail every few feet. Dodging them was impossible. Greg left the trail and took to a parallel blacktop, but the Missouri Life Team stayed on the trail. After a shakedown to clear the webs and any surviving spiders from our clothes and hair, Evan and Alex became our spider samurai, riding ahead and attacking the webs with their air pumps as swords. Nina and I followed sedately and web-free.

We cooled off at Rhineland under a shelter house at the trailhead, where a flea market of sorts offered everything from sweet corn and clothing to collectible coins.

At Hermann, we had planned to bike across the bridge. We had talked to people who said bikers did it all the time. But as I rode uphill toward it (in the rear, as usual), I was filled with misgivings. I could see only the skinniest of shoulder on the bridge, just like the one in Jefferson City we knew we didn’t want to cross. Traffic was heavy, bumper-to-bumper cars and trucks zooming by at high speed.

We had hit Friday afternoon, ready-for-the-weekend traffic. At this moment, Alex received a call from his parents to find out how far from Hermann we were. They had decided to surprise us at our stop that day. They heard the same desperation in Alex’s voice that I felt, as he described the looming bridge and traffic. They told him to stop and wait.

Just a few minutes later, with providential timing, our guardian angels arrived in a Nissan Armada SUV. When Jonathan Finck spotted a small break in traffic, he pulled out, and we pedaled out in front of him as fast as we could. He slowed the traffic to a crawl and endured honks from impatient motorists who could not pass.

Hermann to Augusta: 34 miles The draft line

We started at six the next morning sans escort, determined to cross the bridge before traffic got heavy. We breezed back across the river to the trail. The day was hot, and the boys were tired and eager to finish. They no longer raced ahead, and we took turns drafting each other, using the mile markers on the trail as the signal to switch. We felt like the racers we’ve watched on the Tour de France. What a difference drafting made. I liked peeling away from the lead to the back slot, where I could almost coast, aided by my teammate’s draft.

Augusta to St. Charles: 27 miles Finish line at Frontier Park

By this time, as veterans of the trail, we looked forward to an easy day. And it was. Greg pulled out far ahead, and the boys decided to catch him. Without any of them saying a word, they knew they were racing. The boys won. They finally passed him about five minutes from the finish at Frontier Park. This part of the trail was as pretty as the one at Rocheport, but less traveled until we neared St. Charles. Exhausted but exhilarated, we celebrated with a lunch in the historic district.

THE TEENS ON THE TRAIL

Evan: Seeing in a new way

My legs are pumping, two wheels roll seamlessly against a gravel surface as I fly by the next mile marker at thirty-five miles per hour, according to my friend’s speedometer. I’m making decent time for a bike.

I’ve just ridden out of Windsor, and I’m on day one of my trip across the Katy Trail. As the scenery goes by on the leg from Clinton to Sedalia, I drift away in thought. The quiet countryside provides time to talk, reflect, or take in all the scenes.

As I look around, I realize that this view is about as close as you can come to seeing Missouri through the eyes of explorers like Lewis and Clark or the Plains Indians that once roamed this vast expanse of flowing grass. Before I drift away completely, I realize we are nearing Sedalia.

We sleep in Sedalia and hit the trail again the next day with an early start. At first, the trail winds through the streets of Sedalia, then it resumes its gravel course. The stretch from here to Rocheport is more unforgiving until you reach the high point, then it’s downhill all the way to St. Charles. It’s hardly noticeable, however, a five percent grade at most.

The stretch is mostly flat and provides less shade so we bring plenty of extra drinks as we become dehydrated more quickly, and there are fewer major towns between the two points of our journey. The trail cuts through Boonville’s streets very briefly, and navigating is quite easy. We then go over the river to Rocheport.

The next day’s ride is breathtaking. Roughly thirty-five miles of trail between Rocheport and Jefferson City, and every foot is beautiful. At the start, you ride with the bluffs on one side and the Missouri River on the other, then the bluffs slowly come down in height, and the trail separates from the river, leaving you with the forest and hilly countryside.

Along the way, there is a spur that leads to downtown Columbia, which is a route I often take when riding this stretch, but not today — today only forward. We ride swiftly. We stop for lunch in a peaceful town, Hartsburg, a few miles from Jefferson City.

We walk the grounds of the capitol and go out for ice cream.

The next morning, we hit the trail yet again. The stretch from Jefferson City to Hermann is full of eye candy, with miles of lush green corn stalks, tall forests, and wine country. If you are stopping in Hermann, don’t leave without visiting Stone Hill Winery, which has amazing food.

Next is Hermann to Augusta, another great stretch with plenty of shade. Also in this stretch, the trail meets the river once again briefly.

The last leg spans from Augusta to St. Charles, offering a mixture of all the stretches leading up to it and taking you right into one of the most fascinating towns on the trail, St. Charles.

Alex: Reaching a goal

Last summer, I went on a ride on the Katy Trail, a rails-to-trail route that winds its way across Missouri. There are parts of the trail filled with people biking or walking. Other parts are desolate and empty. Lucky for me, some friends invited me to ride from one end to the other. I jumped at the chance to ride my bike, be with friends, and enjoy the outdoors. We started at Clinton and ended up in St. Charles. In between, we spent lots of time sweating, laughing, eating, and having fun.

The scenic places along the trail kept me pulling out my digital camera. Seeing fields of corn growing in front of the state capitol, tunnels cutting through the rock, and my friends getting tangled in spider webs on the trail were just a few of the things I photographed.

I loved stopping at bed-and-breakfasts along the way. They were homey, welcoming, and we had the run of the place, instead of just a room. I also really liked the nice breakfasts.

There were a few tunnels on parts of the trail, and I always enjoyed riding through them. Maybe one of the most memorable times was when we got up early, with a heavy fog, and rode. You could barely see in front of you, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Getting up early and riding is always the best thing to do (except for those of you who aren’t morning people).

I absolutely loved the feeling I got when I had just finished a day of riding my bike. I felt tired and worn out, but it was tremendously satisfying. Before going on the week-long ride, I’d only gone on short half-day rides.

We ate at several fun places, but I have to admit that I was so tired from riding that I can’t remember them well. One lunch that sticks out in my mind was Dottie’s Cafe in Hartsburg. That was the day that my mom and ten-year-old sister rode with us from Rocheport to Jefferson City.

Before going on the Katy Trail, my friends and I spent an evening at bike school to learn how to repair and maintain our bikes. This turned out to be a great benefit. Along the trail, we came across two older men with a flat tire … a really flat tire. I got off my bike, pulled out my tool kit, and went over to them. My friends rode up, and we proceeded to fix their tire in the July heat. They were very grateful for our help and thanked us repeatedly.

While riding away, I felt pride that I had helped out people with a flat tire. Just a month earlier, I wouldn’t have known how to fix one. And, if we hadn’t learned to check for thorns, they would have had another problem later. The bike school, I realized, was simply part of being prepared to spend miles out on the trail alone. Lucky for our group, we made it through the trip without any problems beyond squeaky brakes, a little sunburn, sore muscles — and a big sense of accomplishment.

WHERE WE STAYED

Hotel Bothwell, Sedalia. This grand historic hotel is only a few blocks from the trail. We were exhausted after the first leg of our trip and ate here too. Cyclists are invited to take bikes up the elevator and into the rooms.

The Carriage House Room, Rocheport. This bed-and-breakfast, right on the trail, is within a few blocks of three great places to eat. As we were exhausted, inviting lounge chairs were more appealing than the numerous antique shops. The Crab Shack provided a memorable meal and evening with friends.

The Jefferson Inn Bed and Breakfast, Jefferson City. Proprietor Rachel Boessen picked us up at the trailhead and ferried us across the busy bridge here. She fixed a full country breakfast with biscuits and gravy, worth trading a few hours of cool early-morning riding to partake.

Schiller Guest Suites, Hermann. We enjoyed Bahama Mamas here before dining at Stone Hill Winery. Proprietor Constance LaBoube had provided a cheese, fruit, and snack tray for our arrival and muffins, yogurt, and cereal for the extra-early departure we desired.

H.S. Clay House, Augusta. This bed and breakfast, featured in the October 1999 Missouri Life provided a welcome pool for the boys, even though it’s known more as a romantic get-away for couples. The home is a museum in itself, full of antiques and collections.

June 2006

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