Green Hills of Missouri Tour - Spring 05

I decided to tour up through Princeton Mo, where we lived for 3 years, 20 years ago. Its beautiful country up there, called the Green Hills region. Princeton’s about 15 miles from the Iowa line, pretty remote, especially the back roads north of Hiway136 up to the border. And yes, its name does fit – it’s very hilly country – it’s where I learned the mantra “I love hills!”

I drove up Fri evening to Pony Express Lake, a little area that looked to be a good starting point. I was delayed leaving town when just before I got on the interstate I heard a POW and saw my bike’s rear tire had blown. Didn’t take too long to go back and fix it then get back on the hiway, but it did seem a bad omen so I tossed in an extra spare tube.

Had a really nice campout Friday, so many birds and frogs in the morning, a delight to wake up in a tent. Easy start, my slightly skinnier (28cm) touring tires handled the gravel just fine, and away I go. First stop 8 miles down the road to get short sleeves, its going to be a warm one; an older couple were excited to talk to me about their town, its museum (not open) that housed a high wheeler, Maysville is “the only town to provide free lodging to the cross country tour” that goes through here. Folks just like seeing people do long distance rides, they seem so friendly, always want to help.

Nice riding up towards Trenton, I knew this part was going to go fairly fast because I was on state hiways and did have a bit of light tail/crosswind. Meadowlarks singing me from fencepost to fencepost; kestrels, bluebirds, killdeer, turkey vultures in the stubble field. The redbuds were in full bloom, the dogwoods in flower, and some white shrub perfumed the air with a beautiful fragrance.

Pancakes at a small town diner. Reading Herman Hesse, “Magister Ludi, the Glass Bead Game” a deep philosophical, utopian novel, perfect for this kind of ride. The waitress comes to refill my coffee, “Is there a spiritual reason for this journey?” I had told her my route when she brought the menu, but not much else. I was struck by her question at first, but then the answer came easily – “Gratitude.” She smiled, then brought me my pancakes.

I saw a mountain bike race near Trenton, brought back memories of how I was the only adult in Mercer Co to wear a helmet riding, if not the only one riding. And now these guys in full kit go flying by. Further down the road, lunch in Crowder State Park. Birds singing, sun shining, beautiful day. Great peacefulness. Then back on the road.

Riding this long lonesome road up toward Princeton, few cars, scattered farms, I get really reflective. This was a place of such conflicted emotion – the place where our children were born (well, actually KC but we lived in Princeton). There was such joy here, the kids being young, Katie being the county doc, friends visiting. But also such anguish, Megan’s health, me drinking too much, feeling really out of place in this small town. Who am I, where am I going? First clear realization that I was never going to be a high school Social Studies teacher. But here I am, 20 years later, kids are doing outstanding, Katie’s experience here became a foundation for her general practice, and I’m doing work I love and have the opportunity to ride this ride. Gratitude indeed.

Riding into town, the Calamity Jane Days billboard gone, replaced by a much more dignified Welcome to Princeton sign (it was one of those old time, garishly painted things). The hills! I had forgot how hilly the town itself was. Up down, no wonder I got better at them. Went by the old houses (3 in 3 years), asked a woman at the grocery store if she remembered Dr. Mroz, of course she did (“Katie, right?). The doc who replaced her grew up here, Katie mentored her somewhat, and she’s doing just fine. Town has survived, hog farms bringing in some money. Still pretty ragged place, it feels more like an outpost than some of the “exurbia” towns closer to cities.

After a long 97 mile day I was back out to Lake Paho to camp, It’s a beautiful area, I loved cycling on hiway 145 up through the park. Interesting visit with the other campers, 2 friends (and one’s wife) who were there for turkey season with their RV. Retired military (airforce in Vietnam, no less). Good Catholics, headed to town Sun morning for church, highball in hand Sat evening. We had a great conversation, they seemed delighted to see me camping. They’d never seen anyone on a bike up here in the years they’ve been coming, good for me for doing that. I mentioned I was a “recovering Catholic”, we talked about the Pope. I suggested that more coverage could have been focused on his opposition to the Iraq war, social justice, his condemnation of the material culture of the West. They accepted all that just fine, we bantered back a forth a bit, we from such different worlds but somehow camping brought us together like family. They invited me to join them for supper (elk burgers, they were great) and as I left for the night the wife gave me a big hug, the two men hearty handshakes.

Sunday’s riding was great, especially the first part. Great riding with a bit of a tailwind up to Pleasanton IA, and then the wonderful rolling hills into Cainsville. I used to substitute teach here, had some nice memories. Stopped at a little diner/pool hall/grocery, just about the last business still in town. Then over towards Bethany, roads I’ve never ridden. Yikes! Some of these hills were downright Ozarkian! Steep as can be, and one right after the other. Nice lunch in Eagleville, then down to the campsite. Luckily I had stopped to fill water at a mechanic’s shop, he told me I should camp at Harrison County Lake and not at the Conservation Area I was thinking of. Since I had changed plans after the long day to Princeton (I’m no good estimating mileage from these maps!) I had decided to go west instead of east, and was missing about 20 miles of map so I didn’t know exactly what to expect. If I had kept going to the CA it would have added about 20 hilly miles to my 53 mile day, I was relieved to finally get to the county Lake. Tried one side for camping, no water, drunk family, loud music out of bad speakers, hilly campsites. Went over to the other side, which turned out perfect – water pump right there, no one around, and even a flat spot right next to the lake. Ahh, that felt great to sit at the picnic table in the shade. Visited with a couple of folks in their boats as they stopped at the little dock, but by evening the park was empty.

Checked the weather Sun night, called for rain by midday with high winds. Ugh. I had what? 50? miles to go to get back to the car, mostly straight south. Got up early, on the road before the wind picked up. Really nice (hilly, twisty, remote) 20 miles out and around the CA to Albany, put me in line pretty much straight north of the park where my car was parked. Now the work. Decent hiway, nowhere near the twistyness of the roads north of 136 but still really hilly and the wind had picked up. By 10am it was probably 20 mph. As the day wore on the wind increased, I guess gusts up to 35. Ugh. No calling Katie this time, slug it out. Averaged well below 10mph on this stretch (after about 16 on Sat), so slow going. No real stops, just fill water and eat a cliff bar, keep on rolling. My guesstimate of mileage stretched out, be patient, just go 5 mile stretches at a time. By the time I got to my car at 2:45 I had done 70 miles that day, for a total of about 225 for the long weekend.

Driving home the wind was horrible, whipping me around on the interstate. Ahh, my legs loved cruise control, and the Backyard Burger and fries tasted so good. Got home, and Megan had cooked spaghetti, what could be better? And somehow the feeling “I’m never doing this again” had worn off somewhere along the interstate, and I’m already thinking about where to go for the next long weekend bike tour. Maybe in a year or two I can do a long tour, take a month and ride the pacific NW? Within 10 years can I ride across the country? Saturday that was the plan. Midday Monday I didn’t want to ride a bike ever again. Somewhere in between these two there’s a road that curves up and around, the birds are singing me along, gentle breezes, and I just have to go see what’s up there, rolling along on my bike.