Less heat, but no lack of surprises
We were so happy to be leaving with windbreakers on!!!
Our first few miles were on a fairly busy road, but when you are leaving Jerseyville, IL, the traffic doesn't go on very long. We were soon feeling quite comfortable. Once again, the roads were mixed. Mostly they were good surfaces, but there was a short stretch of loose gravel, and it corresponded with the area where we began going up and down consistently. I don't know about you, but I am pretty nervous descending a steepish little hill with loose gravel. It's just not possible to anticipate how deep the gravel patch at the bottom of the slope will be, and I have heard plenty of stories about being stopped abruptly by a deeper bit of gravel. So I took my time (read: walked a bit) on a couple of the steeper ones. Before too long, though, we were back on pavement, and on a shady, winding road along a nice little creek, and soon after that we had reached the Mississippi!
There's a great paved bikes-only trail that runs along the river for several miles there. Oh, there was the occasional scoff-law pedestrian, but I can live with that. There are a couple of places with signs and stories about the limestone cliffs along the river. They are...very old. We took pictures, but I may not be able to send them along just now. Peeking ahead to today, Bruce got out his computer as we have just re-entered wifi territory. He turned it on. And waited. Not much was happening. So I am writing this standing up at the guest computer at our hotel in Saint Charles, MO. Maybe we can figure out how to load pictures, maybe not.
Back to Thursday. We rode happily along the river, stopping to read the signs and gazing happily at the bridge across the river we would be taking soon. We had been experiencing tail winds almost all morning. A great day! We reached a place where the trail dropped us back onto the road, and soon came on the approach to the bridge. Which looked more and more cars-only. I looked right and spotted a bicycle sign and a paved path that seemed to head to the bridge. Phew. So here's where we really need the picture: we rode maybe 30 feet, looked up and saw a sign on one of those sawhorse things that said bike lane closed, road construction ahead.
Bruce called the non-emergency police number to ask for options. Well, there's another bridge about 15 miles away. Any other options? The bored guy on the other end of the call didn't think of any, and didn't seem to care much.
Uber.
A very nice guy with over 5000! rides to his credit agreed to come in his pristine Cadillac SUV and pick up 2 stranded cyclists and get them over the river. He turned out to be a cyclist, too, so when we got to the other side of the bridge, he took us a bit farther to the beginning of the road that leads to the Katy Trail. We breathed easy once more.
It was a fairly major road, but we were still pretty far from town, so no problem. And in just a few miles we reached the turn to the trail. We headed up, saw a small, but permanent looking sign that said no trail access, but that was on the other side of the railroad tracks from the trail, so we kept going and found the trail! I headed on for oh, maybe 1/2 mile, and found a huge pile of rocks & felled trees blocking the entire trail alongside a big truck unloading what, based on the smell, had to be manure. I stopped & thought, & figured it would probably be worth finding our way across the rocks, but as I approached I saw one of those plastic orange nets blocking the trail another couple hundred feet ahead. I gave up.
So I went back, met Bruce, and we decided to get back on the main road. Bruce found an alternative that was shorter into Saint Charles so we took it. And other than the fact that we had now turned almost 180 degrees and so had either headwinds or crosswinds, we were happy again. For several miles. Then the alternate route merged back in with the main road, and we were close enough to town that there was no shortage of traffic, and there was zero shoulder, one lane each way, and a bunch of vehicles that really, really wished we were not there. One pick up truck stopped just behind us with a squeal of brakes, and gunned the engine when he found an opening to pass. One in the other direction honked loud and long. A big rig waited patiently behind us and honked energetically when a car behind him decided to pass him and us. I screeched at Bruce to stop as soon as we found a wide enough spot.
We were fortunately close enough by then to find a lovely route of almost entirely bike paths. We were very ready.
We soon arrived on the old town Main Street of Saint Charles, where one of our cross-Costa Rica companions has a little house he lets guests stay in. What a treat! He and his wife call it a pig (with lipstick). I call it a great refuge. Very comfortable, lots of fun. There are lights in the back yard that send little sparking bits of green and white and blue all around the yard - no trouble finding our place when we walked back from a very nice dinner in town.
We spent the next day on my favorite city tour ever. More on that later. Gotta go get the laundry now.
Our first few miles were on a fairly busy road, but when you are leaving Jerseyville, IL, the traffic doesn't go on very long. We were soon feeling quite comfortable. Once again, the roads were mixed. Mostly they were good surfaces, but there was a short stretch of loose gravel, and it corresponded with the area where we began going up and down consistently. I don't know about you, but I am pretty nervous descending a steepish little hill with loose gravel. It's just not possible to anticipate how deep the gravel patch at the bottom of the slope will be, and I have heard plenty of stories about being stopped abruptly by a deeper bit of gravel. So I took my time (read: walked a bit) on a couple of the steeper ones. Before too long, though, we were back on pavement, and on a shady, winding road along a nice little creek, and soon after that we had reached the Mississippi!
There's a great paved bikes-only trail that runs along the river for several miles there. Oh, there was the occasional scoff-law pedestrian, but I can live with that. There are a couple of places with signs and stories about the limestone cliffs along the river. They are...very old. We took pictures, but I may not be able to send them along just now. Peeking ahead to today, Bruce got out his computer as we have just re-entered wifi territory. He turned it on. And waited. Not much was happening. So I am writing this standing up at the guest computer at our hotel in Saint Charles, MO. Maybe we can figure out how to load pictures, maybe not.
Back to Thursday. We rode happily along the river, stopping to read the signs and gazing happily at the bridge across the river we would be taking soon. We had been experiencing tail winds almost all morning. A great day! We reached a place where the trail dropped us back onto the road, and soon came on the approach to the bridge. Which looked more and more cars-only. I looked right and spotted a bicycle sign and a paved path that seemed to head to the bridge. Phew. So here's where we really need the picture: we rode maybe 30 feet, looked up and saw a sign on one of those sawhorse things that said bike lane closed, road construction ahead.
Bruce called the non-emergency police number to ask for options. Well, there's another bridge about 15 miles away. Any other options? The bored guy on the other end of the call didn't think of any, and didn't seem to care much.
Uber.
A very nice guy with over 5000! rides to his credit agreed to come in his pristine Cadillac SUV and pick up 2 stranded cyclists and get them over the river. He turned out to be a cyclist, too, so when we got to the other side of the bridge, he took us a bit farther to the beginning of the road that leads to the Katy Trail. We breathed easy once more.
It was a fairly major road, but we were still pretty far from town, so no problem. And in just a few miles we reached the turn to the trail. We headed up, saw a small, but permanent looking sign that said no trail access, but that was on the other side of the railroad tracks from the trail, so we kept going and found the trail! I headed on for oh, maybe 1/2 mile, and found a huge pile of rocks & felled trees blocking the entire trail alongside a big truck unloading what, based on the smell, had to be manure. I stopped & thought, & figured it would probably be worth finding our way across the rocks, but as I approached I saw one of those plastic orange nets blocking the trail another couple hundred feet ahead. I gave up.
 |
| Beginning of the Katy Trail |
So I went back, met Bruce, and we decided to get back on the main road. Bruce found an alternative that was shorter into Saint Charles so we took it. And other than the fact that we had now turned almost 180 degrees and so had either headwinds or crosswinds, we were happy again. For several miles. Then the alternate route merged back in with the main road, and we were close enough to town that there was no shortage of traffic, and there was zero shoulder, one lane each way, and a bunch of vehicles that really, really wished we were not there. One pick up truck stopped just behind us with a squeal of brakes, and gunned the engine when he found an opening to pass. One in the other direction honked loud and long. A big rig waited patiently behind us and honked energetically when a car behind him decided to pass him and us. I screeched at Bruce to stop as soon as we found a wide enough spot.
We were fortunately close enough by then to find a lovely route of almost entirely bike paths. We were very ready.
We soon arrived on the old town Main Street of Saint Charles, where one of our cross-Costa Rica companions has a little house he lets guests stay in. What a treat! He and his wife call it a pig (with lipstick). I call it a great refuge. Very comfortable, lots of fun. There are lights in the back yard that send little sparking bits of green and white and blue all around the yard - no trouble finding our place when we walked back from a very nice dinner in town.
We spent the next day on my favorite city tour ever. More on that later. Gotta go get the laundry now.
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