So we've been doing lots of walking on the local Rock Island Line rail trail, and we decided to use a bit of Spring Break to do a longer leg of the Katy Trail. So we drove down to Stover where the kids would spend time with their grandparents, and Debra's dad was nice enough to drive us up early the next morning to drop us off at a trailhead at Clifton City.
Dropped off with our packs in the very tiny Clifton "City", he heads back down to the cabin.
It was shockingly cold for some reason. Maybe low humidity or something made it feel colder than it was (I was an idiot who wore shorts).
And onto the trail...Clifton City is northeast of Sedalia and we were heading further northeast, toward Boonville.
Lots of cows on this section.
Keeping up a good speed was helpful to keep us warm.
Debra appreciated the rising sun. Can understand why early cultures so often had a sun god or other sun worship.
Rusty rail signal...
Cows on the hills...the trail is not very hilly because it is a rail trail.
Tunnel up ahead.
More cows.
First person we saw on this leg of the trail at all!
Collapsed telegraph pole.
Stream with quite a bit of erosion.
12 miles in, we got to Pilot Grove. Smallish town, but it had a Casey's, where we got sodas and sandwiches for lunch. This is the old city hall with an old jail cell below.
We ate at the trailhead, which had a convenient picnic table.
It did -NOT- have, however, working restrooms. Not even a porta-potty.
Grudgingly back onto the trail...we had a long way to go. We were listening to an audiobook (by sharing a pair of wireless earbuds) I've long loved...The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul by Douglas Adams (read by the author). It was gratifying that Debra occasionally laughed out loud at some bits. I have had many occasions (now that we are often walking on rail trails) to quote a line from the book, to paraphrase, where the character narrowly avoids being hit by a passing cyclist, who cursed and swore at him from the moral high ground that cyclists alone seem to inhabit. Chuffed that she got to hear the origin of the line.
Fox squirrels were out in force in this region.
You can almost see I-70 from here...we were going partially parallel to it, but would eventually cross via an overpass.
More cows.
The benches were not very common on this leg, so far from any city. But when they came along, they were appreciated.
Daffodils likely planted by the benches.
Colorful, somewhat rusty bicycle displays next to the trail.
I -think- Gretchen told me (via text, later) that this was a Fjord horse, albeit without its usual haircut and a long way from Norway. He's pinin'! What?? 'E's pinin' for the fiords! Lovely plumage, the Norwegian Blue!
Also barely visible...the travel center sign and a water tower next to I-70 that signifies the location of our hotel. Debra was developing blisters and increasing foot pain as we went.
Crossing over I-70.
Given that these were next to other obviously domestic fowl, we assumed these were pet/farm turkeys, not wild.
Then we got off trail with maybe a mile or less to the hotel. Debra was -not- a fan of this hill. At various points she bade me to go on, that she was done for.
But we got there and wow getting off your feet is an amazing thing...23 miles logged.
Debra at this point thoroughly and justifiably refused to do any more walking, so I went to various adjoining places for things...Pilot gas station for tylenol, drinks, candy, and trail snacks, and on the other side of the hotel, Arby's for a well deserved dinner. Debra got the gyro, I got the brisket sandwich. Every time I type brisket I first type briskey by the way, it's like a Tourette's type disability. Just can't avoid it. If it was a part of my job, like if I worked for a BBQ place and had to type orders in or was a meat packing office worker, I'd have to get therapy to get beyond that. The path to the Pilot passed a trucker parking lot with a field in which I had to dodge (what are hopefully) dog droppings.
Garmin was a bit more optimistic about distance travelled, probably assumes a bigger stride than I have or is overcounting steps.
Next morning, our feet felt better. A storm overnight had mostly done its damage but rain was expected to continue...which was great, as we need to get used to hiking in the rain, given our UK intentions. We ate well at the free hotel breakfast, knowing we'd burn it off in good time. Then rain gear on, and back to the trail.
Debra was marvelling at the number of discarded water and soda bottles along the side of the road by the Pilot and then was like why is the water in that water bottle yello..OH GROSS. Yes, it's the Official Piss Jug Discarding Zone. Thank you Truckers for Making Our Country Beautiful! 'Merica!
Rainfly on Debra's pack is not great, it needs hooks or something to latch the top part onto. But good thing to learn.
We were looping around the outskirts of Boonville proper for the morning. Tunnels gave us a break from the rain.
Boonville official trailhead about 4 miles in.
There was an adjoining Visitors Center, but it wasn't open. We did use its patio to shelter from the rain again.
Chamber of Commerce across the street, in an old mission style train station.
No I didn't climb on and play on this.
The Eagle Stop convenience store and gas station...we got a Second Breakfast, more coffee and soda, and Debra bought hand warmers.
Strangely, gambling laws must be odd here. Boonville is on the river and they have a casino, that is one of those "kind of built on the river" things so it is considered a riverboat. But this place was at least a block from the river.
Debra wanted me to let her go into the casino and buy a sweatshirt (she was cold). I said no because I am mean, in both senses of the word (I guess there are more than two...I meant both cruel and cheap, but I guess also "average" works as well!).
Downtown Boonville is fine. Not a no, to use our preferred and historically funny phrase to describe something that is not overly appealing but not objectionable either (no I won't be explaining the back story here...at least today).
Monument to fallen servicemembers.
Then crossing the Missouri River via the road bridge, but with a spot set aside for cyclists and walkers.
The sun emerged and illuminated the Isle of Capri Casino in a blazing display...Debra angrily pointed out that this was God's sign that we should have bought that Isle of Capri Casino sweatshirt after all. Alas, regrets.
The old train bridge. Probably not easily converted / safe for bikes and walkers so they divert traffic to this bridge, and then back to the rail trail.
Back onto the trail, slight wrong turn here by a Mennonite church on a Sunday morning, whose parking lot was filled with CARS I might point out its like we don't believe ANYTHING anymore you guys
I guess those purple fields are clover? I didn't get close enough to see.
You're supposed to stay on the trail, Debra.
The Katy Roundhouse, which seems to have burned down? This is in "Old Franklin". So named because of the adjoining town "New Franklin" that most of the residents moved to because it was higher elevation, less prone to flooding.
Debra wanted to wash her hands at this camping spot but the office seemed to be closed, this is the outdoor "concert" area apparently. That stage looks like it's just dying to give you tetanus.
Then over to NEW Franklin, where they have this little diorama about how the town was founded by early settlers, which has a very Blaine, MO feel. You can almost hear Eugene Levy shouting "how HIGH a ridge ah could not tell!"
BE....CAREFUL. Indeed, oh wise train. One must always.
More slightly creepy dioramas about the settlers in this completely enclosed little building with a covered wagon.
At this point Debra's feet were just in absolute flaming pain, multiple blisters. We had a long way to go and not a lot of options other than...going on. So she kept trying her various balms, blister bandages, etc.
One thing she found that worked...lidocaine patches. YES LAWD
Back on the trail, lots of cows.
Young calf looking over at us.
Bluff like cliffs over across the fields. This section was long, and straight. And aside from the slight reduction in pain from the lidocaine, increasingly painful for Debra. But having finished our other audiobook we enjoyed getting onto a new one which we'd both read before, The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith (JK Rowling). Good British detective series and this one was about CULTS. Much fun.
Tall silo or more likely, train-related building next to the path.
We crossed under 40 highway again, sat for a bit and ate some jerky. Here Debra is doing her favorite pastime on the trail, being the Good Samaritan and flicking branches off the trail with her pole. Takes all the fun out of it for the cyclists, not having branches to dodge, I told her, but she didn't listen.
Walking onward, with the bluffs up against the trail now. Nice and warm in the afternoon.
They get much bigger the next day, though.
Bit of a "tree tunnel" effect down the way.
They were bigger than they look here, anyway.
Vultures were circling over head. NOT TODAY my fine feathered friends NOT TODAY
That (dead) tree was massive. Wonder if it was struck by lightning?
Oh thank you sweet jesus we're finally getting here. The tunnel outside Rocheport, our destination. About 19 miles put behind us.
Crossing Moniteau Creek outside of Rocheport. You can tell how far east we are getting, given all these Frenchy names. We politely complimented a lady on her overly friendly dog and she responded "he's available!!!" as she dragged him away. Hahahahahaha no thanks!
A trail-side honesty shop! Didn't buy anything but was chuffed to see it.
Slowly dragging ourselves towards the place to stay, Katy Trail B and B, which was an unmanned complex of a few different buildings...with no other guests apparently there that day, so it was just us alone. The yellow building is the main one with the communal kitchen and laundry.
But we were staying in the boxcar, a converted, well, boxcar with tiny home vibes. Had gotten the idea from watching First Church of the Masochist Hikes Matt Hengst and Jen (whatever her last name is) on Youtube who stayed here on their attempt at the American Discovery Trail, of which our hike is only a laughable tiny fraction.
It's a neat conversion, very pretty and comfortable.
Bathroom, kitchenette, and second loft. The table folds down on the right for use.
After cleaning up and showering, I took our laundry over to the main house to do it.
Meanwhile I found books for sale about the Rock Island Trail, which started out with, you guessed it, beautiful RAYTOWN
Once laundry was done I had called in an order of pizza from the winery / pizza place in town, that was in an old converted church. I sat and talked to the owner and his mother who were the only ones inside at the time. We had planned to just go here and eat but as I explained to them, there would be no more walking for the wife tonight, those feet were on strike.
Food was great! I think I may have accidentally forgotten to tip them in my tiredness as I was signing the electronic receipt thing. It was not my intention. So I'm putting this as a reminder...if you go again, and you probably will...tip double.
Next morning found Matt and Jen's note in the guestbook for their ADT hike, which was kind of fun!
It's a pretty place, probably gets hopping during the summer, but was almost a little weird us being the only ones there (not complaining...weird in a not bad way, I suppose). But we'd love to come back.
Passing by the Rocheport trailhead, this is the winery / pizza joint. Will be back! And will actually tip this time!
This leg was by far the prettiest in my opinion. More traffic, probably because of that. But bluffs on one side, river on the other.
What am I going to continue to say about well, massive bluffs? Gargantuan bluffs? Really fantastically large bluffs? I mean, not THAT gargantuan but properly impressive size bluffs?
Some interesting whirlpool patterns in the river.
A spring producing a little green patch out of the rock.
This was an explosives storage shed once upon a time.
I-70 in the distance.
I imagine if you are a cyclist, you don't mind hopping off your bike and walking up a trail to have a nice restaurant meal at a place on top of the bluffs. When you are walking though...no one is going to volunteer to do that little detour on foot.
Yep that's I-70 and it's a biggun.
[insert unique bluff descriptor]
Well at least I can point out the weird hole in this one.
See if you can spot him. His beady little Canadian eyes.
SURPRISE BITCHES ITS A MOUNTAIN GOOSE
Dead armadillo.
I mean, it WAS pretty, I just don't have much else to say about it.
The Bluffholes could be a serviceable band name.
More daffodils planted by a (very welcome) bench.
A somehow Lewis and Clark related cave. I don't know if I read the sign.
Plodding onward.
A deer that didn't run off, on the floodplain. Possibly is just used to seeing humans on the raised trail and knows that they never get off of it.
Huntsdale, a weirdly "gated" community (on both sides of the trail) that we were hoping would have (at this Missouri River Center, pictured) bathrooms but the place wasn't yet opened for use.
This is allegedly a landmark, a Big Burr Oak Tree...the sycamore next to it seems like it is kind of stealing its thunder. Ohhhhhh there is a bad joke about how it would be welcome to steal its DONT SAY IT steal its lightning WOMP WOMP
More fox squirrels, the Big Game of the squirrel hunter community, of which I consider myself a retired member.
Probably more bridge than would be needed for a trail, but cheaper to just repurpose the old train bridge.
Then into the McBaine ('ach mein eyes, the goggles, they do nothing!!') trailhead. Not really a town, more of a water treatment plant with some questionable dwellings in the vicinity. Good place to stop and eat dried fruits, nuts, and jerky for lunch.
We had seen a Missouri Parks truck actually on the trail earlier...coming from this direction, and we got stupidly hopeful...maybe they are opening the bathrooms?? AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT
Then it got cloudy. I remember this stretch almost more from the audiobook we were listening to, with Cormoran Strike having a thick Cornish/West Country accent, which gave me a lot of epiphanies about British regional accents (Hagrid is West Country, as are pirates...eg Pirates of Penzance...in Cornwall!). The character Robin had the expected Yorkshire accent which is much milder to my ear. LOOVELAY.
Not sure if this chap rolled down the hill or was eroded. If the former, glad we weren't in its way.
Trees were making me a bit nervous, the hillside definitely didn't look like it was excelling at keeping trees from falling over...maybe thinner topsoil or something?
This was the marked "Roche Percée Natural Arch". Not exactly Arches National Park, but not bad for a beginner, Missouri, not bad.
When the entire tree is a widowmaker. Quickened my pace underneath this fellow.
At one point Debra...like every day, the morning started off better, but the afternoon ground her down into pain even lidocaine failed to ease...had sat down in the trail, no benches near by, to tend her wounded feet, and passing cyclists were like "are you OK?". Yes, her stupid husband has just turned her into an amateur through-hiker, that's it, she'll be fine.
This one was odd. I mean, there was nothing else even remotely close out here, but someone had built what appears to be a trail-side party shack here...but then marked it NO TRESPASSING. Bit weird.
Closing in on our destination, Debra refused to even slow down for this but I totally understand. But it was, indeed, magnificent. The majestic, the enigmatic, the beautiful, the mysterious...the transfixing spectacle of
B O A T H E N G E
Yeah, it's a real thing, even marked on Google Maps. Do stop to gaze in wonderment at it if you get the chance. Another quarter mile, if that, and we were at our destination, Cooper's Landing. A marina and camping spot.
It's a pretty place on the river, has bands (thumbs down probably) and snacks and drinks (thumbs up). No food trucks or bands today though. We had booked a glamping tent...basically a big permanent tent with power and a bed. Unfortunately they had a mixup and had given our tent to another party, but they realized their mistake and the other party (who had both of the tents) had to settle for just one. Possible they just forgot they had someone coming in with actual reservations (it did seem like a quiet time, it was a Monday after all during early spring).
Like the previous day, once she was settled, other than using the bathroom, there would be no shifting Debra any more that night. Our comfortable accommodations next to the river:
They had a New Zealand flag (along with an American flag) flying on the dock. Not sure the story there!
I was dispatched a couple times to bring snacks to my weary cotraveller before the shop closed up.
Sunset was pretty.
Meanwhile, while our original plan was to walk 22 miles from here to Jefferson City and get picked up the following evening...we had talked about cutting that leg short earlier and getting picked up 10 miles in at an earlier trailhead. But by that evening, with Debra's father in agreement, we opted to simplify further still...just getting picked up from Coopers Landing that morning.
Hey, my Pixel camera isn't half bad in low light! I mean, it isn't a fantastic picture but its not bad.
Restless night of slight cold (the tiny space heater did hardly anything), but happy to be up early with the sun.
Met a nice cat who was very friendly.
Our tent was right next to the other of their glamping rentals. Mom of three small boys seemed a bit frazzled, which made us appreciate and miss our kids. On the other hand, I literally heard one of them flatulate. Having a bit more space between them would be nice.
Out by the river.
Debra trying her feet out, though they would do a lot less walking today. Met the cat.
AMERICAT
While waiting for her dad to arrive, he had a fairly long drive for which we were super appreciative, I solo hiked a bit further on both to get my step count in and to see a bit further down the trail.
I got to what Google Maps called the Katy Trail Bridge, which was not particularly noteworthy, and realized I needed to book it back to get there before he did.
The extra bit was fine (not a no) but reinforced that maybe we had prioritized the better bit and weren't missing much cutting the final leg short.
Adieu cat, adieu.
Her dad arrived shortly thereafter and we drove back through Jeff City to Stover, getting Taco Bell (our treat! behold our great largesse!) on the way. Then we gathered the kids and piled into our car to head back to the city.
It was a useful expedition, about 60 miles in three days, and we learned a few thing...namely, pedicures are not helpful when they sand your feet down to tender fresh skin...callouses can help you. Debra might need a larger size shoe, too. But we'll be doing more of this kind of stuff as we prepare over the next couple of years. And Rocheport and Coopers Landing were nice places we might like to return to with kids in tow (or not, up to you Debra).
Victory chow that night in Raytown from Fiesta Azteca.
