Day 8. 363 Miles. Perfect Pack & Good News b/w Mighty Mississippi (extended remix instrumental).

I document here what I feel might be a perfect pack, clothing wise. Soviet Russia next level Tetris with the layers. Sans the spare underwear and socks. I’m able to wear almost all of this at once when it’s cold riding and cold non riding — which are two different colds. So far, this setup has worked wonders this ride, with temperatures fluxing from 32° to 75° in wind and rain and sunshine. I’ll document the specific items in an updated packing list page when I get home.


Ok back to morning here on day whatever day it is. 8. The ocho.

It’s mind-numbing here at the bare bones best western plus breakfast. I know my map position, is this really the best we got? it’s not even that I’m the only one here, or that the woman working asks if I’ll be here tomorrow, “it’ll be better tomorrow”. It’s my subjugation to the American news media. Right not right now it’s my first dose of the news in many moons. And. The news is that pumpkin patch visits are at an all time high?! This is where I use a phrase I never you. “I can’t”. I grab some apples and eat a couple push button pancakes with some pretty good coffee.

Some ladies walk in and we trade good mornings. They both do something here. Later they and another guy all get the news of reduced breakfast something we other. It’s deeper than I thought. There’s some sort of re start going on. Or something. I dunno. Like there wasn’t even any breakfast before today. My suspicions stir. I also couldn’t care less. Both. At the same time. The TV interrupts with breaking news and it’s a totally different not your usual-three-faces face on the screen, so it could be really real. Quick prayer to the spoke gods that Stevie Wonder is breathing easily somewhere in, I dunno — Bali. Whew. It’s just something about being Someone got shot and killed. Non descriptive. Def not Stevie. I can’t tell myself back in society, “I didn’t know someone getting shot and killed was still news in America”. The one lady responds “yeah, and maybe we could have some good news”. Hell yeah. She even knows about the brewery.

Good News Brewing

I’m glad I get some chilly anti inflammatory pool time and super stank laundry done. Worth the inside sleep and leaving the trail a bit for one night.

I’ve settled into this 8-9mph trail pace and 40-50 daily mileage. It’s less than my usual, but you know…. Also, less creative, more contemplative. Miles on a trail. The longest contiguous in the US and A. Other states please connect your trails into long ones.

Today is the pivot day and the cross the Mighty Mississippi day. I follow the Missouri River to the Mississippi river. Confluence. I pivot off of this non motorized rail trail to vehicular roads and other shorter trails for the next 300 miles to Chicago.

It. Is. The. Last twelve miles on the Katy. Imma miss you Katy. I think I’m in love. I still do my best to hang at as many trailheads as I can with only a few of them left. Then it’s even less than I thought. Too bad. So sad. A few moments of rest and electrolytes at Black Walnut. Some history here and there. Jim Beckwourth lived a hell of a life on earth. Puns. Funs. I enjoy the silence. The sounds of only nature… without speeding cage-like death machines that have illegal muffler things happening. Pavement is pending.

A side by side:

Trail:

Slower, no vehicles, more wildlife, no steep inclines, nearly infinite pee stops, sometimes hard to find drinking water. Mostly trailheads but the occasional super cool sitch.

Road:

Faster moving, navigation, loud music to drown out vehicular traffic times, hills, cold drinks a plenty, infinite road kill, much more stimuli in general.

Some MAMIL in bright latex screams at me, “You’re one of those screws heads!” as we cruise by each other on bicycles. Mean too. His look let me know. Welcome to Illinois Bike paths. I’m sure that guy has 1 million ways to list how I’m crazy or whatever. You may be right. I may be crazy. But it just be a lunatic that you’re looking for. Yeah, OK buddy. I gave you the Billy Joel so now relax. I just got here and I’m gonna be here all week so go hate yourself somewhere else. I roll off thinking, Fur realz tho if u wanna b mad letz hate the cars together.

I leave the trail at the terminus via a non sanctioned way. A way people beg others online not to do. Basically I allow a gps file for someone’s route on ridewithgps (they don’t pay me) to convince me to trespass. I change my route and instead of taking the grafton ferry, I save the miles and decide to head over the separated bike lane on Clark Bridge. US67 I think. This involves cutting thru the trees to a cross and existing rail line to a farm road that looks public. When I get to the end of it, I’m now clearly at the end of a shared driveway, the for sure public road is 30 yards away and there’s a 40 foot chain hanging across my way. I jump off and decide to just keep stepping. I duck under the chain near the far right post, I’m about 20 feet last the chain when I set of a motion detector and all hell of sirens break looose. Oh shit. I do not change walking pace but as soon as the gravel evens out I remount and roll. The squealing sirens finally cease as I turn right on the road and I wave and yell my apologies. Then I deal with cars and I cross the Mighty on this bridge. Traffic is low volume but there’s debris a plenty. I forgot that on the list up there. Nimble to avoid nails. Illinois. Land of Lincoln brings Lincolns and Landcruisers.

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Day 7. 322 Miles. Saint Chuck, not Lou.

It’s the gawd day son, fugheddaboutit. I don’t know shit about saints. Butt. I’ve hit that frequency where it all clicks in. I wake up and go go go. Miles. Kilometers, even. If I didn’t have to go back to work on Halloween (or ever again!), I’d likely just do this — just this — for the time being and foreseeable future. I don’t wanna write, I just wanna ride. Tonight I human it up in a hotel room in Saint Charles — not Saint Louis. My last night in Missouri. Aloha.

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Day 6. 282 Miles. Trail Things.

Cliche time travel mechanism to the ending as the start, because… why not. Destination: Marthasville. Martha Martha Martha. No wait. For reals it’s mile numero 77.7 — so how I can not? Why? How? Huh? What?! The internet-informed, supposedly-always-open-showers at the park R locked. Agua, señor. 77.7? Not very lucky, my guy. Desperate for water I double back to another pedaling-long-haulist I peeped tenting up near a closed down caboose of a restaurant. I call the Google number, no answer – and so I inquire with said mutual pedaling maniac… turns out, camping here is OK and there’s water and there’s a shitter and there’s a shower. Hell yeah. His name is Davis. I didn’t change his name because I say, “I’ll remember your name because of Jefferson Davis” – he’s a bit taken aback about the linkage of him and the Confederate president. I just came from Jefferson dolomite som! Plus it’s Thomas Jefferson’s fault!

Trying to be better at remembering peoples’s namez. Pattern interruption. Interrupting the pattern of forgetting, that’s how I remember someone’s name. We chat a bit. He started in Maryland. He’s done the C&O and the GAP, headed into sunsets to the West Coast. Yay yay. First time long rider so I give him some tips and tricks I’ve learned. Spare derailleur hangar, fiber kevlar spoke, etc. He shares some upcoming camp grounds, considering he just came down from Chicago. Good to finally chat with someone… it’s been a while since I’ve been around anyone for any length of time. Turns out Walmart has its limits. I’m back near vehicle roads and so the truck traffic keeps me up almost all night.

And now use said time travel mechanism to go back to the actual start of the day, scribed chronologically and rearranged hilariously.


After finally getting some sleep, I wake up super early, like that time where it goes from cold to colder. That aforementioned moments before the first dawn and I go from thinking “it’s not as cold anymore” too “holy fuck I’m freezing.”

Luckily I got this warm little shower house. So I’m gonna just list some things while sitting here all warm:

Road Kill Roll Call

  • Deer
  • Sparrow
  • Squirrel
  • Possum

Wild Life Living:

  • Eastern Bluebird
  • Wildin’ Turkey Vultures
  • All sorts of other birds I don’t know shit about
  • Deer with big white tails
  • Ginger tailed squirrels
  • Smallish snakes
  • Dogs and cats, the non-rain kind

I love you, Katy Trail. If anyone has a daughter, I have a suggestion. go with first name: Katy, middle name: Trail. After that any last name will do. I love all long rides; this is spesh. Every state would do themselves a service putting extensive trails onto all of the unused railbeds in their states immediately. Read that again. Say it louder.

I’m nearing St Louis and have yet to see a cardinal. But I’m hoping to. Come on you cute red fuckers, show up. What I also have not seen is me doing 5 full down to up and back down squats. I feel me doing them but there’s no visual proof so I can’t be sure. I think it happened. Is happening. Will happen. Not normally 5 squats is not a big deal for me, but I haven’t been able to do that many in months. So it kinda something something something. Maybe I have seen cardinal. Recover recovery recovery.

Espresso Laine in Hermann. Highly recommend stopping here!

Lists literally later. Luxury in Hermann right now. Outside seating. Latte on point. This Pumpkin Maple Bourbon Pecan Muffin which just sounded better as I read each word definitely tastes even better while it’s in my mouth right now. Crumbs crumbling and fumbling down on my thumbs while I tap away about it’s happening. So much that a bee lands on my phone and I just keep typing. He’s on my hand now so I use one thumb. I can’t take a picture of this obviously. I wish I could. I am not making any of this up. At all. About the bee anyway. No crumbs were actually lost, that part is creative license. The honey bee wants to join my adventure but instead I blow her off back into the atmosphere.

Last list. Maybe. It’s in picture format. All sorts of other trail things because a picture is a thousand somethings. Some weird shit out here. And I don’t feel like wordsing.

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